In the Last edition, Professor Lyons shared with us his love of walking. In this edition, I'd like to do the same and share with you my own favorite form of transportation: taxis. My uncle owned a taxi and let me drive it, basically, whenever I wanted to. Most Saturday nights, whilst a student, I could be seen whizzing around town taking sober people out to get drunk and then later, home again. The Saturday night shifts were my favorite for two reasons: I made money instead of spent it, and I got to meet about 300 people a night. They really were fun times.

The job was so much more than talking to drunk people. Every shift I would meet people from all walks of life, from drug addicts to sport stars, and priests to politicians. They all had between 5 and 30 minutes completely alone with me. They would talk to me, or I'd talk to them, or sometimes we'd just travel in silence listening to music on the radio. I can think of no better way to explore that variety of humanity without spending any money, and without leaving your hometown.

I soon realized that some people had more than one reason to catch a taxi. Yes, going from point A to point B was the main reason, of course, but sometimes it wasn't just that. Complete strangers would pour their heart out to me. They would tell me their life stories and problems, sometimes secrets they had told no one else. At first, hearing those closely guarded secrets came as quite a shock, but soon it all began to make sense: these people had no one to talk to. Sometimes we need someone to talk to, and sometimes it feels safe to tell a complete stranger.

How often in our lives do we have someone sit with us and truly listen to us? How often do we feel safe enough to tell others what's troubling us? I think not often enough. How often do we not tell those around us our problems? I think too often.

A lot of people I encountered seemed to be just in need of some support, someone to agree with them and affirm their actions and existence. Of course I knew I was hearing only one side of the story, but so what? A small comment like, "Oh really, that's terrible," or "I would have done the exact same thing," seemed to affect them positively. Plus, no one tips a cabbie who disagrees with them.

Sometimes their stories were sad, sometimes uplifting, and sometimes just plain crazy. So crazy, in fact, that I would drive a little faster to shorten our time together, usually not caring if they had any money. Sometimes the trips would be too short, and I would feel a sense of sadness upon our arrival at their destination.

One such passenger, whom I will never forget, was an 80 year old man. He told me about the woman he loved. He told me about life in the Netherlands during the Nazi occupation. His story about love during wartime enthralled me.

The third happiest day of his life was when she agreed to marry him the second happiest was their wedding day. The saddest day of his life came a few months later as they said goodbye, not knowing if they would ever see each other again, each more in love with the other than ever before. The Netherlands in 1940 was not a safe place to love a Jew. Loving a Jew could get you killed. 75% of the Netherlands' Jewish population was exterminated over the next five years. Miraculously, my passenger's wife was not one of them, and even more miraculously, they were reunited after the war. The happiest day of his life was, not surprisingly, that day.

I remember glancing towards him as he told his story. I knew he didn't see the cars and trees that I saw pass by. He saw his wife's young face. He saw guns, swastikas, death, and war. I think he wanted more than a simple journey from A to B. I think he wanted to see his dead wife's face again. Talking to me helped him to do that; talking helps. It was not only the most moving experience I had driving taxis, it is the most moving experience I've had in life, so far.

I know taxis are not the cheapest form of transport, and believe me I know taxis here in Daegu aren't all that safe. I also know part of my interest in taxis is probably due to a laziness and disinterest in walking, but taxis bring back some wonderful memories and experiences for me. My taxi taught me a lot about human nature and life. True, they weren't all good experiences, but even the bad experiences are now fond memories, proving the adage that "whatever doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger."

Next time you're in a taxi, why not ask the driver to share his most interesting experiences? I'm sure you'll hear some amazing stuff. If you have a problem and no one to talk to, well, perhaps the taxi driver isn't the best person to talk to. There are some crazy taxi drivers around; I met more than my fair share. If not a taxi driver, then I hope there's someone in your life who can listen to you in your time of need.