Feature: Hell Called. It Wants Its Cabs Back.

When the Parking Authority took over Philly cabs five years ago, we were supposed to get a cleaner, safer, friendlier experience. But many city taxis are still junkers, and the drivers are often surly and clueless. Why are we being taken for such a ride?

 

Speedy stops on the corner of 12th and Spruce around 8:30 to pick up a sharply dressed man in a dark suit and tie who asks to be taken to Penn Station.

“Penn Station?” Speedy chuckles. “Penn Station? When you’re in Philly, make sure you say 30th Street Station, dude. You say Penn Station and we gonna end up on the Turnpike.”

Speedy, like almost every other cabbie I met, says he’s not going to be in this for much longer. Once his son graduates from college, he’s packing his bags and moving back to Jamaica.

After his passenger gets out at 30th Street Station, Speedy loops around the station, puts his cab in park, and waits in line behind a dozen or so taxis for another fare. As we wait, he takes out his cell phone. He has a picture he wants to show me.