Claim's Cabbies Corner. Repo Revenge.

[NorfolkNWeigh]

WTC’smention of ‘death runs’reminded me of a couple of horrible journies.
Milton Keynes used to hold the biggest crane expo in Europe, every couple of years. In 98/99 I got a job picking up a bloke from a Chinese restaurant at 11pm to take to Durham- some 200 odd miles away. it was a middle aged businessman type , half pissed and very subdued , after a few miles he tells me his Dad has just died and obviously he can’t drive home. Then he started to cry, a lot. In fact he wailed and sobbed for about 3 hours, I just sat there feeling pretty awkward. When we got to the house he left the car and rushed in, no sign of paying me my , pretty substantial, fare. What do I do? The family is all up in this massive mansion and I’m just sitting there not wanting to appear a dick but also wanting my £250. In the end I phoned base and they called his employee that had called us, he paid up on a credit card, so I sneaked way and left them to it.
The other was after the husband of a customer had topped himself by driving head on into an artic on the A421 , she called me to collect their 15 year old daughter from her boarding school near Bath. But, the daughter didn’t know and I wasn’t to tell her!
The whole journey she kept asking why she’d got to go home and why hadn’t her Dad come for her. Then she started saying how worried she was about her Dad . Fuck me! I could barely see to drive , the tears were running down my face, luckily it was dark. When we arrived at the house there were a couple of Police cars in the drive , I could tell she knew before her Mum came out.
After the funeral, she came over to me and hugged me and thanked me for not saying anything, yet again I was reduced to tears.

It’s not all a barrel of laughs, this job.

[Warren t claim]

WTC’smention of ‘death runs’reminded me of a couple of horrible journies.
Milton Keynes used to hold the biggest crane expo in Europe, every couple of years. In 98/99 I got a job picking up a bloke from a Chinese restaurant at 11pm to take to Durham- some 200 odd miles away. it was a middle aged businessman type , half pissed and very subdued , after a few miles he tells me his Dad has just died and obviously he can’t drive home. Then he started to cry, a lot. In fact he wailed and sobbed for about 3 hours, I just sat there feeling pretty awkward. When we got to the house he left the car and rushed in, no sign of paying me my , pretty substantial, fare. What do I do? The family is all up in this massive mansion and I’m just sitting there not wanting to appear a dick but also wanting my £250. In the end I phoned base and they called his employee that had called us, he paid up on a credit card, so I sneaked way and left them to it.
The other was after the husband of a customer had topped himself by driving head on into an artic on the A421 , she called me to collect their 15 year old daughter from her boarding school near Bath. But, the daughter didn’t know and I wasn’t to tell her!
The whole journey she kept asking why she’d got to go home and why hadn’t her Dad come for her. Then she started saying how worried she was about her Dad . Fuck me! I could barely see to drive , the tears were running down my face, luckily it was dark. When we arrived at the house there were a couple of Police cars in the drive , I could tell she knew before her Mum came out.
After the funeral, she came over to me and hugged me and thanked me for not saying anything, yet again I was reduced to tears.

It’s not all a barrel of laughs, this job.

Maybe five years ago a woman rang our office on a busy Saturday night in tears because she needed to get to the hospital to see her dying father. It was rammed with jobs running late but the operator dragged me off another job to take the distraught woman to hospital.

I nailed my Mk4 Mondeo up the three junctions of the M53, seeing 130mph on the speedo. I get there and tell her that the fare's a fixed price of £9.50 and while I'm telling her my thoughts are with her she throws me a tenner and runs out of my car.

As I sit outside the hospital savouring the aroma of clutch linings I hear a bang on the roof. It's the same lady demanding her 50p change that she forgot to ask for...

[paulplom]

Was she Scottish?

[Warren t claim]

Was she Scottish?

Nope. White English.

[Eddie Honda]

Was she a Yorkshirewoman?

FTFY

[brandersnatch]

Great stories guys. Keep them coming.

[AutoshiteBoy]

I thought they were bomb-proof?

[Hooli]

I thought they were bomb-proof?

What Yorkshire women? no they just seem it.

[AutoshiteBoy]

fuck me, I missed this page as I was mesmerised by the Toyota.

[Warren t claim]

fuck me, I missed this page as I was mesmerised by the Toyota.

I'm prepared to accept that the Toyota D4D engine is reliable due to the owner of the firm I worked for ran one for 300,000 miles without any servicing whatsoever.

I've had a Mk2 and 3 Avensii and both shat their engines in no time at all. The Mk3 had a rebuilt motor and refused to run for more than half an hour before going into limp mode despite the efforts of Toyota main stealers.