The Taxi Driver

On Wednesday I visited my friend, Dave, in Ogikubo. He’s 98 years old now and has trouble getting around by himself. We usually take care of things like computer upgrades, run errands, and go out to lunch at the station. Dave also had a home dentist visit that day.

On the way back from the station, we took a taxi to his apartment. The taxi was a new type, with sliding doors, easy entry for him, and a big Tokyo Paralympics logo on the side.

The driver was especially nice and insisted on taking Dave’s wheelchair himself and folding it up and putting it in the trunk. He helped Dave get in the cab, and get out again, and made sure he was settled properly. Just an unusually helpful and friend taxi driver.

It wasn’t until I saw the driver get back into the taxi that I noticed for the first time… he only had one arm. His left shirtsleeve was tucked up to his shoulders. I saw how he turned the car around using just one arm as he smiled to us and drove away.

Dave has been sort of down lately because he mostly is confined to a wheelchair now. When I told Dave, he was actually moved to tears.

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