Snowing On Squak Mountain & Rumors: All The Bad Things I Am Doing

The daylight hours this weekend were wonderful, hints of Spring and blue skies enticing Seattle winter Neanderthals out of their lairs.  But at night, especially the early morning hours late Winter punched early Spring in the nose, frosting the cars and atop the near peaks in Issaquah, filling elevations above 800-1000 feet with snow flurries.

The first half of Saturday was good, meeting what I call my second minimum which meant the day held potential for something special.  I am always persistent but a new focus occurs when big money becomes a possibility.  Many in this business either relax or go home altogether after some initial success.  As I said, that is not my style.  A charity event was ending in the Fremont, with the announcement that their would be voucher customers waiting.  I had checked it out earlier but drove away having become impatient with all of the valets clogging the street with cars.  I got a twenty dollar fare else where but a further announcement prompted my return.  This time I decided to be smart and park in front of the congestion.  Sure enough within 2 minutes I had a female customer going east to Issaquah and up and up to one of the neighborhoods residing atop one of the smaller Cascade peaks.  By that time the predicted rain storm had hit and driving was extremely hazardous.

The woman was fine but I wanted her to stop saying that all her friends get lost trying to find their way off the mountain.  It was a circuitous route though nothing I haven't encountered before.  My concern was that I was almost out gasoline.  "Yeah," I thought to myself, "what a perfect place to get stranded."  Anyway the fare was sixty-six and she threw me a twenty on top.  There was the snow and poor visibility.  Pulling out of the spectacular driveway I recounted by route, swearing that I would stop at the first gas station I saw regardless of the price.  Nearing the bottom I realized where I was and immediately found gasoline at $3.87 per gallon.  There was Front Street and off to Chinatown for fishball noodle, more than happy that my guess translated into eighty-six dollars.

Rumors

A taxi colleague (and friend) asked me more than once that, "so it wasn't true" that I was having secret meeting with Novan (a primary owner) and the president of Yellow taxi, delivering lists of misbehaving taxi drivers for punishment and execution.  It was simultaneously funny and outlandish and appalling.  How I would have both the time and interest for such a project is something I don't understand.  All I can say, taxi will make you crazy.  We all know that.

Another rumor is that my colleague Chris and I gave someone $100,000 for what purpose I can't imagine.  As I told the person who called me up worrying about this nonsense, if I had that much money I would be giving it to myself.  End of story.  Nuts!