The Truth Will Always Have A Market.

In All My Years Of New York Cab Riding I Have Yet To Find The Colorful, Philosophical Cabdriver That Keeps Popping Up On The Late Movies.

There Are Fewer Things More Thrilling In Life Than Lumpy Letters. That Rattle.

Manhattan Cabs Are Born Old.

The Bumpuses Were So Low Down On The Evolutionary Totem Pole That They Weren't Even Included In Darwin's Famous Family Tree. They Had Inbred And Ingrown And Finally Emerged From The Kentucky Hills Like Some Remnant Of Attila The Hung's Barbarian Horde. Flick Said That They Had Webbed Feet And Only Three Toes. It Might Have Been True.

Can You Imagine 4,000 Years Passing, And You're Not Even A Memory? Think About It, Friends. It's Not Just A Possibility. It Is A Certainty.