Word: cabs
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...optical illusion," she says, laughing. A cab driver this morning gave her an "uh-huh" reaction when she said she was a model. The days are gone, clearly, when a model getting out of a New York taxi meant furs, a flash of great legs and a telltale hatbox. Clotilde's mufti is early L.L. Bean ? galluses, a checked shirt and baggy cords ? because it is easy and inconspicuous, unlikely to attract muggers in the scruffy neighborhoods where photographers' studios are often located. What Clotilde and most of the other successful models...
...drive well," says Herblock (real name: Herbert Block), whose cartoons occasionally picture autos as demented beasts. Who could be censured for preferring the luxury of a chauffeured limousine, particularly if someone else is footing the bill? It is still possible to enjoy a ride with a civilized or silent cab driver. Suburban car pools will usually accept a nondriving member, so long as he does not spill his coffee on a seatmate's crossword puzzle...
Nonetheless, in the America of the superhighway and the supermarket, the carless face redoubtable problems. Getting home from a party, for example. "You let people hear you calling a cab," says Herblock, "and they insist on giving you a ride. Then you have to wait while they have another drink. The only way out is to say, 'Sorry, the taxi's already...
...saga over. One night in 1975, according to Larry Jr., a moonlighting Boston policeman drove a cab into a parking lot where the younger O'Donnell worked, and blocked the entrance. When asked to move the car, claims Larry Jr., the officer slugged the young attendant and, with the help of plainclothes colleagues who rushed over from the street, thoroughly beat him up. Now they are defendants in a $175,000 suit filed by Larry Jr., who has a book about police killings due to be published later this year...
...metronomic beat begins. The alarm clocks-one square, one frilly, one sensibly round-start ringing. Kiss the kids goodbye. Stop for a red light. 7:55. A city full of female legs: walking, running, bicycling, escalatoring. Hands hail a cab, finger a watch, exchange coins for coffee. The coffee spills on her new pumps. 8:50. Speed-read the morning paper, run for the elevator, just miss it. One pert, frazzled woman checks a scrawled address, enters the anonymous skyscraper, ascends to her new job. The elevator doors open, then begin to close. She realizes that this is her floor...