“Autonomous” column: When taxi drivers become intrusive


When taxi drivers get intrusive

"Autonomous" column: When taxi drivers become intrusive-column

The taxi sign is usually a sign that you will get home safely. But not always

Source: dpa

Is it the possibility? Then a taxi driver begins, hardly has he started to hit on his female passenger. And that with completely unsuitable means – a double embarrassment.

D.he success of the automobile is also based on a special feeling of security. Because the vehicle is ours and because we can lock the door behind us, we feel at home in it. Some people feel so comfortable in the car that they pick their nose, although it must be clear to them that everyone can watch through the windows.

But that doesn’t matter: My car is a piece of my home, and if you don’t believe it, you should go to car sharing. I feel like I’m in good hands in the car, and strangely enough, I feel the same way in a taxi.

They drive like the hangman

Let’s leave aside the fact that many taxis today look like rolling garbage dumps, that drivers hardly speak German, don’t know their way around or drive like the hangman. That doesn’t matter, because behind all these inadequacies the basic feeling that a car offers emerges again: safety.

Take a taxi, that was always my mother’s advice when she suspected that it would be late (and that I would drink a lot). I’ll take a taxi, that’s what many say to themselves who don’t want to wait for lonely underground stations at night to be attacked.

Stories from his lonely house

This is exactly what my wife thought last week when she let a taxi take her home late at night. But then the taxi driver started talking to her. And he didn’t stop anymore. He told about his ex, who had left him, about the house with many rooms, which now, now that the children are grown up, seems much too big for him, but which is just waiting to see a woman again.

Then he asked for my wife’s phone number and wanted to know if they couldn’t go for a drink together before dropping her off in front of the front door, on our deserted, semi-dark dirt road in our small village. My wife was not only puzzled by the more than clumsy pick-up method, she felt above all: not safe.

He still got a tip

She was annoyed and so confused she even tipped this creep. Unfortunately, I wasn’t at home that evening, otherwise I might have added a little more – a couple of slaps.

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