New York subway is the most direct and convenient way in and out of my neighborhood. Other than last-minute schedule changes or going to the airports, I rarely use hired vehicles, be it yellow cabs, black sedan or Uber.
When we were little, there were very few privately owned cars. Buses were reliable and affordable. Whenever necessary, one could hail a cycle rickshaw (三輪車, three-wheel vehicle) to get around town. Cycle rickshaws are hybrids of tricycles and old-fashion rickshaws. They could seat two adults comfortably. But it wouldn’t be too hard to squeeze a child in between. For my family to ride together, mom or dad would hold Little Cop on her or his lap.
In addition to street-pickup, there were informal hubs of rickshaws in every neighborhood. My family used the service of one driver regularly. Old Fù was medium-build, skinny and dark-skinned. His large eyes and high cheekbones gave him a very striking but sincere appearance. He talked energetically but never in a hurry. From his accent, one could tell that he was a Mainlander, most likely a veteran. He took us to special events, to our pediatrician and, from time to time, to our extra-curriculum activities.
As a third grader, I began full-day schooling. It was customary for kids to bring their lunches in metal lunchboxes. The boxes would be collected in the morning; steamed and brought back to the classroom at lunchtime. Since not all foods would taste good after reheating, many stay-at-home moms would prepare special lunchbox dishes the night before or in the morning. My mother had an even better idea! She would make fresh items, put them in a lunchbox or a soup container, and ask Old Fù to deliver them to me at lunch time. I remember clearly walking to the school backyard. Old Fù would pass my lunch to me over the low brick fence with a big smile on his face. However, my steaming hot wonton soup and other items in strange-looking containers would, sometimes, make my classmates turn their heads.
I couldn’t remember how long my “Fresh Direct” lasted. On June 25, 1968, Taipei City banned the use of rickshaws completely. Although the government had plans and funding to help the drivers transitioning into other lines of work, many of them fell on hard times. I didn’t know what happen to Fù. . .. Did he become a taxi driver? Did he retire? Although, strictly speaking, our connections with Old Fù was simple business transactions, for many years, he was part of our lives. I owed him a big THANK-YOU personally.