The taxi ride had been perfectly normal—until it wasn’t.
The passenger sat in the backseat, watching the city lights blur past as the cab weaved through traffic. The driver was quiet, focused, the kind of guy who had clearly seen it all. No small talk, no radio—just the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the road.
After a few minutes, the passenger leaned forward and lightly tapped the driver on the shoulder.
What happened next was… unexpected.
The driver flinched like he’d been hit with a jolt of electricity. He let out a high-pitched scream that could have shattered glass. The taxi jerked wildly across lanes, nearly sideswiping a delivery truck. The driver’s hands spasmed on the wheel, and for a few terrifying moments, the cab swerved uncontrollably.
Brakes screeched. Horns blared. The passenger braced for impact.
Finally—miraculously—the driver managed to regain control and pulled over to the side of the road. He sat there, gripping the wheel, breathing like he had just run a marathon.
The passenger, still clutching the seat for dear life, blinked. "Uh… are you okay?"
The driver slowly turned, his face pale. “Sorry about that,” he wheezed. “This is my first day as a cab driver.”
The passenger frowned. “First day?”
The driver nodded, still shaking. “Yeah. For the past 20 years… I drove a hearse.”
Silence.
Then, it hit the passenger like a punchline.
“Ohhh,” he whispered. Then he burst out laughing.
The driver, still rattled, sighed. “Yeah. Not used to people tapping me from the backseat.”