In the late 1960s, I found myself behind the wheel of a De Luxe Red Cab, navigating the bustling streets of Sydney.
The De Luxe Red Cab Company, established in the 1950s, was one of Sydney's most prominent taxi services. Known for their distinctive red and black vehicles, the company quickly became a trusted name in urban transportation. By the 1970s, they had cemented their reputation as the go-to service for both locals and tourists navigating the city’s bustling streets. The company continued to operate successfully until the early 2000s. Sometime around 2006, the De Luxe Red Cab Company ceased to exist, closing a notable chapter in Sydney's transportation history.
Two of my vet school classmates, Geoff and Hal, were regulars at this job. They urged me to give it a try. After passing the rigorous licensing requirements, which included a comprehensive quiz about Sydney's streets and the shortest route between two locations, I only drove the cab a few times before realizing I wasn't cut out for this job. My cab depot was Kings Cross, in Sydney’s red light district; a neighborhood that pulsed with life day and night. The Cross was a paradox - it offered an intoxicating mix of glamour and grit, where neon lights illuminated the faces of both the hopeful and the hardened.
Every shift in Sydney was an adventure, but it wasn’t without its risks. The 70s in Kings Cross were notorious for crime, and cab drivers were easy targets for hold-ups. Stories of drivers being robbed at knife point, or worse, were common, and I wasn’t about to become another statistic. So, I developed my own survival strategy: selective stops. On a good night, I could make $120, which for a student in those days was good money. It might sound odd, but I became adept at sizing people up in an instant. Well-dressed patrons - those in suits or smart dresses - were more likely to get a ride. I’d glide past anyone who looked too scruffy or shifty. It wasn’t foolproof, but it gave me a semblance of control in an otherwise unpredictable job.
One particularly memorable group of passengers were the American servicemen on R&R (rest and recuperation). They were easy to spot - clean-cut, confident, and often sporting their military demeanor. They had a reputation among cabbies for being excellent tippers. A ride with an American serviceman could turn a slow night into a profitable one. I’d hear tales of their adventures or simply listen as they shared their appreciation for Sydney’s lively nightlife.
Navigating Kings Cross meant dealing with its chaos, but it also had its moments of beauty. There were evenings when the city seemed to glow, the streets filled with a sense of possibility. On such nights, driving felt less like a job and more like being part of the city's pulse.
Despite the challenges, my brief stint driving that De Luxe Red Cab taught me resilience and the art of quick decision-making. Kings Cross in the 70s was a world unto itself, and I’m grateful for the lessons it taught me.
People often ask what my favorite story was from those days driving a cab. One night stands out vividly in my memory. It was a Friday evening, and I had just picked up a well-dressed couple near a swanky hotel in Kings Cross. They were headed to a jazz club on the other side of the city. As we chatted, they revealed they were musicians, newly arrived from the United States, and were performing their first gig in Sydney that night.
Halfway to their destination, the man suddenly realized he had left his saxophone at the hotel. Without it, the night’s performance was doomed. Seeing the panic on their faces, I made a split-second decision. I turned the cab around, sped back to the hotel, and waited as he dashed inside to retrieve the instrument. Time was tight, but I promised them I’d get them to the club on time.
We weaved through Sydney traffic like a needle threading its way through fabric. When we arrived at the club, the marquee lights were just coming on, and the man’s relief was palpable. They thanked me profusely, the woman slipping an extra $20 into my hand - a small fortune in those days. As I drove away, I couldn’t resist parking nearby and sneaking into the club to hear them play. Their performance was electric, and for one night, I felt like I’d played a small part in their success.
Looking back, my time as a cab driver in Sydney was short-lived but unforgettable. The streets of Kings Cross, the passengers I met, and the lessons I learned all became part of a vibrant tapestry of life’s experiences. While I wasn’t cut out for the job in the long run, those nights in the De Luxe Red Cab gave me stories I’ll cherish forever.
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