Riding in cars with cab drivers

In a way, I feel bad for cab drivers, because it must be hard for them to know how to drive for each customer.

My cab ride home tonight was the type of ride I hate. It was the kind where the driver does 50 MPH on streets where the speed limit is 35. Where they speed into the intersection, slow down when they've already hit the middle of it, and then speed up again. That is not the "South Philly slide." The South Philly slide requires that you slow down before the intersection, so that the oncoming traffic won't, ya know, kill me. It was the type of cab ride that makes me terrified for my life, and really not want to tip all that much.

I have been in three car accidents in my life, all of which I have been a passenger for. Since the first two (the most recent one was a non-serious fender-bender) I have become scared of being in cars that I'm not in control of. For the first few weeks after the second accident I couldn't even be in the car with my mother driving without gripping the seat in terror and freaking out at every car that appeared in the intersection.

The first accident happened when I was being driven home by a girl from the suburbs, so she didn't realize that every intersection in the city either has a stop light or a stop sign. A truck was parked illegally on one corner, blocking her view of the stop sign, so she plowed into the intersection and t-boned a car driven by a 17-year old kid, spinning it around a few times. It became a virtual pinball, knocking into a parked car, bouncing off of that into another, and then finally hitting a fence.

The second accident, the one that left me in tears (perhaps because I am selfish since I didn't cry over the accident that almost killed a minor), almost killed me. My friend had the right of way and was making a legal turn at an intersection, only to be t-boned (fate's revenge?). I got the brunt of the other car's impact, the metal and airbag colliding into my arm, as the car spun around more times than I could count. All I could hear was my friends' screaming, and the tiny voice in my head going "wow. That's how I go?" I walked away from that crash unable to lift my arm for a month.

The reason I feel bad for cab drivers is because how are they supposed to know that every time they drive fast they activate horrifying memories for me and lose a tip. My best friend hates being in cabs where they drive below the speed limit. She feels that the driver is only going slow to rack up the meter and make her pay more. Perhaps this is partially true, because I've certainly had some cab drivers obviously try to screw me in the past*, but when she's in the cab, if the driver makes a full stop at every stop sign, he loses a tip.

I suppose the only way for a cab driver to ensure he's doing the right thing is by actually following the traffic laws, and not go too fast or too slow. But this is Philadelphia. Driving correctly will probably cause an accident.

*My personal favorite was when the cab driver assumed I was too drunk to do basic math, and when I paid for a 7 dollar cab ride with a 20 tried to give me back a 5.