The wind beneath my wings

I have found a regular taxi driver. His name is Max and he’s awesome. He drives me around at night in a beat up old hatchback. His car always smells of gasoline. One day we drove through a puddle and my feet got wet. Sometimes we run out of gas (people here tend to drive with very little gas in the car.)

He loves singing, and we frequently sing together in the car. He’s a romantic, so he likes to sing romantic pop ballads from the 80s. He does a fantastic rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings.” He’s into word games too, referring to our car singing as “cara-oke.”

He offers fair prices without having to bargain, and sends me inspirational text messages on occasions such as when I ran the 10km race yesterday.

Speaking of that race, there was a picture of the runners on the front page of the New Vision today. If you look really closely you can see me standing next to my friend Shannon. I have saved it to lord my moment of fame over you all! (Just kidding, of course).