It's not a special taste. An American composer should have something to say to a cab driver.

The cab driver must have been a big fan.

Everything he said matched what happened, and I told them I am the cab driver.

I had a cab driver that was so happy and excited to give me a ride that, when I got out to pay him, he got out and gave me a hug. (The fame) has gotten a little crazy, but I love it. I think it's cool.

You can buy a cab and a driver for everybody that would use (light rail) and it would be cheaper. The bottom line is, there's no cost benefit to leaving your car at home in Pinellas County. None.

They drain you sometimes. They really do.
"What's it all about then mate? What's the secret of life? You should know. You're a fucking cab driver."
Yeah, right. (As if I'll learn the secret of life talking to arseholes like you all night).
"Got any saucepan lids, mate? I've got two. I hate them. Bastards, they are. Ruined my life. I hate the bastards."
I keep quiet
"Don't try and rip us off, mate. I've got a key between my knuckles."
(Whatever).
The life of a cab driver. Glimpses into other people's lives.