Every morning started more or less the same. The coffee was half-heated, sometimes with a burnt taste, other times forgotten on the table. And outside, the old taxi, its seats already half-worn, was waiting leisurely. It had been cruising the city for years, picking up people with stories that were repeated more than usual. Sometimes it laughed to itself, wondering if life would ever throw something different its way, something that didn't smell like the same old thing. Well, friends, I'm telling you about Ronan the taxi driver. One day—he doesn't even remember if it was a Monday or a Wednesday, it doesn't matter—he was waiting for one of his regular customers, a quiet guy who lived at the end of a cul-de-sac, when suddenly some guys he didn't know at all got into the taxi. He felt embarrassed to send them out, so he said, "Where are we going, guys?"
One of them, with his cap backward and the smile of someone who has no idea what he wants but is still going all out, replied, "To the studio, but then take us to record something." They looked at each other, as if they had everything planned, and laughed at something he didn't understand. The trip began with silly jokes and songs they played from their cell phones, but as he drove, he couldn't stop wondering if these guys had gotten into his car by mistake or if they were up to something strange. At one point, one of them made the offer, just like that: "Don't you want to be our driver?" I mean, definitely, every day. It would be a great fit for us; the truth is, they had taken a liking to him. Perhaps because of his noble personality. These guys actually belonged to a famous local band and were looking for a personal driver.
He burst out laughing, more out of nervousness than humor. "Do you really want me to get on board with this daily madness?" "I don't know if you're all right in the head," he said, but it was obvious he was thinking about it. And boy did he think about it. He didn't sleep very well that night. He turned the matter over in his mind. What if he left the familiar routes, the badly made coffees, the long waits in front of sad buildings, to enter the world of these kids with guitars, cameras, and messes he still didn't fully understand? The thing is, he accepted it. He doesn't know if it was out of boredom or a desire for a change, but he accepted it. Although I think it was more out of a desire to get away from the same old thing every day, it was an interesting change.
On the first "official" trip, so to speak, everything felt a little more serious. The band (because yes, they turned out to be a band) was talking about interviews, new songs, a music video they had to record on a rooftop. One of them, the quietest, suddenly blurted out, "Sometimes I feel like this fame thing... I don't know, like I have to be good all the time." No one said anything at first. Then, the driver, who didn't usually get too involved in such things, blurted out, "I just hope I don't get lost on the way." There was a laugh, kind of awkward. It wasn't a joke, but it wasn't a sermon either. It just lingered. On another random night, one of the guys came in with a long face and after a while blurted out, "I argued with my dad today. Again." He told me this isn't life, that I should get a normal job.
He didn't know what to say right away. He slowed down, as if that would help, and ended up saying, "Well, I don't know... sometimes you have to laugh even if it hurts, what do I know?" It wasn't great advice, but at least it didn't sound fake. Over time, the trips became a kind of messy ritual. One day they were all energetic, another day they were asleep, another day they were fighting. Sometimes, he thought about his old life, about his old routine, and a nasty doubt pricked him: What if this changes me so much that I forget who I was? He didn't say it out loud, but one day he muttered it while one of them was searching for something in the glove compartment: "What if this new life makes me lose what I always was?" And without looking up, one of the guys replied casually, "Maybe you weren't so interesting before, were you?" They both laughed, half seriously, half jokingly.
There were strange moments too. One night, after a show that went badly, the tension could have been cut with a knife. One of the musicians, the one always on the verge of exploding, shouted, "Don't you realize we're playing with fire?" From his seat, he barely turned his neck and said, "I'm just trying not to crash into walls." And he kept driving. Sometimes, a poorly spoken phrase was better than an entire speech. The taxi, which remained the same as always, with the same noises and the same air freshener that no longer smelled, gradually became a kind of rolling confessional. There, a lot was said and more silence fell. Sometimes, someone would say they missed someone. Another would confess they were afraid of failing. And amidst all that, the silences were as important as the words.
One day, someone said something that stuck, although he never told anyone about it. At least, in this car, complications have a soundtrack. And they laughed. Because yes, because sometimes there's no other choice. Time passed, even though no one suggested it. He no longer knew if he was still a "driver" or if he was part of the group, albeit without playing or singing. He never quite understood why he accepted this change. But he didn't seek explanations either. Every trip was different, even if it was a minor detail. The only thing that was clear was that he was still driving. With doubts, yes. But also with a bit of laughter, a bit of noise, and that feeling that, sometimes, without meaning to, one ends up living stories one didn't even think about.
The change was for the better because it took him out of his same old everyday life. It was a more hectic life, yes, but at least it was a new experience and adventure. With his new team, they slowly became a small family; he was always the older dad who gave them advice, even though that wasn't his job. But the band appreciated him greatly for his sense of justice and sound advice. Only the future will tell what awaits him in this new job.
Credits: The images used are free to use and royalty free. They were taken from pixabay.