Uber vs Cab 805

Dear cab companies,

I have recently been using your friendly competitor Uber more than a teenager uses the word “like”. I, like, love them. No seriously I really really do. But I find myself having rare (and by rare I mean hardly ever at all) thoughts about how Uber (did I mention I, like love them?) are harming your industry. Then I caught cab 805 last night. Uber offers bottles of water, mints, chewing gum, a clean car and a usually friendly and enthusiastic driver. Cab 805 offered me some different things. These included but were not limited to — a cab which I’m sure went under water in the floods and was home to a school of diseased cat fish for three months, a musty bordering on awful smell akin to the breath of a professional blue cheese taster, a driver who’s grasp of the English language was only slightly superior to most people who’ve never ever spoken English and who despite being told repeatedly that we would show him where to go, insisted on programming his 2007 Navman all the same. Then the driver kept a consistent ten km under the speed limit at all times, ensuring that after travelling 5000km in 28 hours, I’d get home just that little bit later. I got the driver to stop for one minute while I raced in to a shop to grab a surprise for the kids. BUT the surprise was all mine. See the driver must have had a little tummy upset. When I bounded back in to the car I was greeted with a stench which was operating at level 100 on the “ohfuckwhat’sthehellisthatometre5000”. 
It was like some sort of rancid korma karma. I was stunned at first and shook my head in both disapproval and an attempt to stay conscious as I tried to find the window button through my now teary burning eyes. Our friend the driver should be commended for his stoicism at this point. He knew. I knew. But he just carried on like nothing had happened. I think he was actually laughing on the inside but I’ll never know. He may have mentioned it to the mystery person he whispered to on his phone headset for the whole journey. Like, who in L Ron Hubbards name do these people speak to for so long? I suspected it was the trolley guy at the shops I had stopped at who was of the same ethnicity and who was also deeply engaged in a long phone call. Maybe they were speaking to each other. I’ll never know. What I DO know is that for all the crap driving, poor English, mange ridden car seats and the pièce de résistance Olympic level flatulence display, the fare was almost $70. About double what a clean, friendly, non fecal scented, like, uber would have cost. So I will worry no more cab industry. You’ve written your own destiny. And to cab driver 805? Seriously dude, eat a fucking salad. Zero puppies were subjected to this cab ride.

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