““Nope. I got no gunshot wound April 16. I got a reported coronary went to Mount Sinai, May 4,1979. A DOA.” “Why would I want a DOA? And I told you, April 30. It’s April 30, 1979.” “Okay. Okay. Don’t blow your stack. I’m tryin’ to help. You can see I’m up to my ass in work here. I got a sick dispatcher, and five drivers out with flu and the shits and Godknowswhatelse. I don’t need all this aggravation.” The two men stood in the untidy rear office of the Fordham Cab Company on 138 Str...eet, just off the Grand Concourse. Beyond the large glass window of the office was a gloomy, cavernous garage. The light emanating from within it was a kind of aquarium green through which the rapid flashes of cab yellow darted like tropical fish. From beyond the glass, horns blared, drivers shouted, brakes squealed, taxis hovered, stranded in the air atop hydraulic lifts, while mechanics probed their innards from below.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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