This week’s column is about one of the unsung heroes, and soon to be casualties, of the taxi industry: the window man.
On Saturday morning, I turn in my cab around 7 a.m. Before making the long trek to the 24th Street BART station, I hang around the National office, chatting with Jesse about the corner market he recently bought on Silver and Cambridge. While it wasn’t in the greatest shape when he took over, with the help of his sons, they’ve cleaned the place up, started carrying fresh produce, stocking craft beer and reopened the deli. Business is booming.
“So … how much longer are you gonna stick around this dump?”
I Drive S.F. 