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| We held on, exclaimed wildly. Yet he carried on. |
Within my Teen years, there was a cab. Towards a Spanish hippie camp. There was cab who we picked from the airport. Yeah, all I knew, this was going to be more than the ten quid provided by my family at that time. Right in the dark.
Out of the rucksacks and camping gear within the back.
He knew he had to go somewhere, and this place was an odd place. An arid middle-of-nowhere where one could not figure out left and right.
A left turn from the usual civilized road, smooth wheels, onto the barren rock. All did he dare to go with the shocks we had, he had to calm down with the increasingly jumpy ride.
A bumpity and a toss with the pathfinding, there was a road that lead to an unmarked dead end, he kept asking, but we had to trust our intuition. Terror coming and going within the dark midnight of the journey.
Towards the desert dunes, a camp with hot fire and organic chilli.
It was then I knew he was more than a hack, the cabbie took us on a wild ride. Worth every penny.
More than a hack.