I realize it’s been about a week since the last 375,000 mile ex-NYC taxi cross-country adventure update, and that’s on me. I apologize. I’ll just come out and tell you that the taxi made it, incredibly, climbing those Rockies like a champ, barreling down them like some other champ, and I, an entirely different manner of champ, managed to curtail my deep and powerful urges to drive it right smack into one of those runaway truck ramps. I was really tempted. One day, Jayjay. One day.
Again, I did not drive at full breakneck speed onto one of those huge gravel ramps used to slow down trucks, and that is part of why this story is such a tale of triumph, but only a tiny, infinitesimal part. The real reason is this incredible taxi itself, which somehow refused to quit, and, I suppose, all of the work put into this miserable little basket case of a cab by Stephen Walter Gossin, David Tracy, Andy King, and yes, even me.


Remember, this was our assessment of the taxi before David and I really got down to work on it:
Not great! And yet, after an awful lot of work, some of genuine quality, but an awful lot of those repairs – mostly the ones I did – should give you some intense feelings of slipshodenfreude – after all that this taxi has really achieved, if not the impossible, then definitely the extremely improbable, and made its way, under its own power, all the way across this vast and great land of ours.
Oh but before we left Denver, we did remember to finally check the cabin air filter. Matt pulled it out to change it, and we compared the old and new ones:
Holy crap. I’ve been breathing air through that for how many days? And my son? Oy. I should be immune to pretty much everything now, right? Right? Someone help me justify not being a horrible parent here.
When we left off last time in Denver, and everyone at the meetup was pretty apprehensive about the cab’s ability to make it over the Rocky Mountains, which are, to be fair, pretty steep. They are mountains, after all, and rocky ones a that, and that presents two significant challenges, which we’ll call up and down. Getting up the mountains – especially at the high altitudes that will deprive the engine of power due to the lessened air density – will really test this little taxi’s engine. It’s a big climb!
Matt, in the nice new Honda Passport chase car, gave me a nice vote of confidence by going out and buying a trailer tire that he intended to mount on the front of the Passport in case he had to push me up the mountain, an act that I suspect he was simultaneously completely unsure of how to perform and also desperately excited to try to perform it [Ed note: I could have made it work! – MH]. Happily, he never got the chance, and just blew like $50 on a trailer tire that I guess we can make into a planter, or something.
The NV200 taxi just dug in and climbed those mountain roads. The revs went up to the highest levels of the trip – about 4,000 RPM (at 65-70 mph the taxi usually rev’d at about 2,000 to 2,500) – and, sure, I did feel the power loss and we weren’t exactly tearing ass up that mountain, but we were getting the torn ass of this taxi up it, steadily and surely.
Honestly, it did great; it was cool enough out that I used the hood switch to turn off the A/C compressor clutch, making sure the engine had all the motive power it could muster, and there were no overheating issues or anything of the sort. Even that ominous Xtronic CVT kept on variably adjusting those not-gear ratios just fine. Once again, this crumpled yellow box defied everyone’s expectations and fears and just kept on going.
Then, of course, came the way down, the inevitable aftermath of going up, and, yeah, it got a little nervy as gravity dragged that taxi down the mountain at a sometimes alarming clip, and, then, of course, there was my own perpetual fight with my inner demons to not try out one of those runaway truck ramps, which, again, I did not, at least not yet, but the brakes worked as intended, and I also tried putting that CVT into low range but that did cause the revs to spike pretty significantly, which alarmed me more than the speed, so I soon went back to D.
The point is it made it. And, really, without any major drama, which in itself is ironically dramatic.
Then came the desert crossing through Utah into Nevada, which was stark and beautiful, despite all of the discarded crates along the side of the road for ACME jet-powered roller skates and batwing outfits and various explosives. The desert was overall a breeze, the janky A/C kept conditioning that air, and at this point I was confident enough in the taxi that I could really enjoy the sights.
Like the bustling metropolis of Green River, Utah, optimal environment for a New York City taxi:
Or the majestic road elephants!
Seriously, we passed several trucks carrying these (wicker?) elephants, all heading West. Where were they headed? Vegas? The Pacific?
I’m not really sure, but I think all told we saw like four trucks with elephants, some with lone big ones, some with three smaller ones. Based on the citrus-colored laurels and decoration, I wonder if these are related to Vishnu? Whatever they’re doing, I hope they enjoy their new lives, wherever that may be.
In other elephantine news, right above is a picture that I think defines the two boldest and most influential vehicles on the road today. Between that Cybertruck and that old taxi exists the entire spectrum of the carscape of 2025, somehow. Maybe that’s the residual road madness talking, but there’s something there. Also, I’d like to note that I passed that Cybertruck.
I mean, sure, eventually they passed me in turn, but for a moment there, that yellow taxi and I were as gods.
I did pass over driving to Matt for a one-and-a-half glorious hours, where I played a bit of Centipede and had a nap. The taxi beeped at Matt the whole time he was in it (the parking brake wasn’t quite down all the way) and I think Matt was happy to both have tried driving the taxi, and to be done with it.
We eventually emerged from the desert into the illuminated and wildly chromatic ordered chaos of Las Vegas, that bastion of capitalism on fat rails of cocaine, and while the lights were exciting, I was pretty exhausted.
Viva Las Vegas, right? Right?
Also, I find Vegas to be a sort of exhausting city even when I haven’t been behind the wheel of a ramshackle taxi for 12 hours nonstop, so in some ways this last haul into Vegas was some of the more challenging sections of driving that I encountered. There’s just this general sense of a whole entire city designed to try to extract as much money from you as possible, and you can sort of feel that, everywhere.
My Vegas tolerance limit is about 24 to 36 hours; once, years ago, I had a startup webcasting company and we’d go to Vegas for tradeshows, and have a booth we’d have to run while there. After about a week the Desert Madness and Vegas Madness would conspire to erode your rational mind, so much so that by the end of the week, I got into one of the biggest, longest, most vitriolic and intense argument-fights I’d ever been in with my longtime friend and colleague in the business, and guess what it was about?
Go on, guess. Give it a shot.
Whatever you guessed, I can promise you, what we were fighting about – near to the point of coming to blows – was vastly stupider. We were fighting over whether salt was a condiment or a spice. I wish I was kidding. And for the record, I said spice, and I stand by that, but probably not to the point of Vegas-induced rage. I’m still embarrassed about that.
Anyway, in much happier news, we had some dedicated readers show up when we hit Vegas!
From there, we finally went to our hotel to collapse, a hotel in a casino, as they all seem to be, which meant a great opportunity to examine Casino Carpeting:
I bet multiple people in the comments will be able to tell where we stayed based on this carpet-simian.
As a treat for Otto, who had been an absolute champion this entire grueling trip, we took a pit stop to Omega Mart, art collective Meow Wolf’s amazing installation in Vegas.
It’s a sort of twisted grocery store, but with lots, lots more, and if you’re around the area, I can’t recommend it enough.
One last leg of driving. Not a long leg, but the knowledge that this was the last leg made it feel longer. But soon, traffic density started to increase, and you could feel the salty glamour of Los Angeles creeping up on you. And then, there it was:
Our final destination, the Galpin Mothership. A long-desired tuna melt awaited, along with another batch of fantastic Autopian readers ready to welcome the victorious taxi after its incredible journey.
I’d like to point out that this is one of the only reader-meetup photos Otto agreed to be in, as you can see him looking sternly over the taxi’s roof there.
I’m still sort of in awe that this actually worked. That this miserable, about-to-park-in-death’s-driveway taxi somehow made it all the way from North Carolina to New York to Los Angeles, and did it with so little trouble. It’s astounding and inspiring. You can’t ever really be down for the count when there’s so many people around you ready to lift you up and give you a chance. And I think that’s exactly what we did with this taxi.
This cab was a worker, all its life. No glory, no glitz, just getting people – probably often cranky, tired people – to where they needed to go, taking abuse from potholes and traffic and weather and rough people and trash and time and everything that the elements and world could throw at it. Now, I think it’s a hero.
This taxi deserves our respect. Look at this odometer.
That’s 378,790 miles. We put about 3,000 miles on this thing since we dragged it out of that Copart lot. The total mileage is enough miles to go to the moon and get about 2/3 of the way back home. Most of those miles were hard, New York City miles, and that last chunk was an unexpected dream of open-road freedom.
I hope wherever this taxi ends up next is somewhere where they’ll respect its unassuming determination and strength, and I hope someone will find a fun next life for this saffron-colored little lump, a lump I’ve grudgingly grown very fond of.
Thanks for the ride, taxi.
All the good photos: Griffin Riley, all the potato photos Jason Torchinsky
Those wicker elephants could’ve been for an Indian-American wedding. My former coworker arrived at his wedding atop a gigantic LIVE elephant festooned with flowers, in the US (not India), and it cost a friggin’ fortune. He was dressed like the pope crossed with a Vegas showgirl.
Maybe the wicker ones are a cost-saving measure.
OMG, the fixation on the spice versus condiment part of this article is truly baffling to me, especially given the fact that this absolute pile of janky junk actually made it all the way across the country!
Salt is neither a spice or a condiment, it’s a mineral!
And maybe the only tasty one? most minerals are bland or toxic
It’s a rock.
As a Professional Geologist, i can unequivocally state that salt, specifically sodium chloride (NaCl), aka Halite, is a mineral. For what it’s worth (those student loans have to be useful somehow), minerals are inorganic solids that occur naturally and have specific crystal structures and chemical compositions. The mineral Halite has a cubic crystal system and is composed of sodium and chlorine, and is one delicious and beneficial naturally occurring inorganic solid!
Rocks, on the other hand, are a collection of minerals, and sometimes have pretty colors and patterns that look great as a countertop or to build a house or wall with. Rock salt is the sedimentary formation where halite is formed, but rock salt contains many other minerals, making it more suitable for de-icing, less suitable for ingestion without processing, that is unless one prefers the crunchy goodness of some calcium carbonate or silicon dioxide on their pretzel!
This is similar to the confusion between cement and concrete- concrete is like the rock, as it is the collection of cement for bonding, sand & gravel size fractions for strength and volume and wear characteristics, and water to activate the chemical reaction. Water replaces the Pressure/Temperature and Time factors needed for lithification of rocks and makes it so i can build my bridge foundations on schedule and not wait a million years. Instant rocks, just add water!
OK I get it. But concrete is just cement with aggregate added to it.
And don’t even get me started on asphaltic concrete, AKA asphalt.
You should strip the VIN off, remove the plate, and leave in LAX’s long term parking -forever. Or is it in the crusher already?
How did the windshield washer hold up? I have a personal interest in this question.
What was the final fare?
I think as Part 2, Mercedes need to turn this thing into a mini-camper/overlander and survive in it for a week.
Even better: Set the dates for that week in advance so she has a deadline. Then if she leaves it parked in a field and never actually touches it, well, she’s sleeping on the seats I guess. Hope they recline.
This thing was way too reliable for her to own.
Make it two weeks. It needs to be a proper challenge.
The rest of the team has been reluctant to let me touch the staff cars after what I did to Ski-Klasse. But omg I love this idea! 😀
Do they make a lift kit for the NV200? I mean if you’re going to overland, you need to do it right. Also, any excuse to get rid of the tragicomically small stock wheels.
That last third is all down hill. Just put it in neutral and hit the run-away ramp (ocean) at the end.
Things commenters on this article are obsessed with, ranked:
1) the proper categorization of salt
2) the use of “Bitches” in the headline
3) what was the fare, NYC to LA?
4) good job, crap taxi
5) good job, Jason & Otto (HRN)
6) good job, Jatco Jetronic CVT
7) wtf elephants
… and yet only two (okay, now three) kudos for the portmanteau coinage “Slipshodenfreude,“ now one of my favorite new words? Heathens. Torch is quickly rising to the rarified literary air of Lewis Carrol and Douglas Adams, both of whom have enriched my vocabulary with useful, perfect words understood by precious few. And that’s a manxome shame.
I too stopped cold at “Slipshodenfraude” just now and said to myself, “Wow, how could a word so relevant to my life be missing all of this time. I really need to use that in a conversation today”
Torch, you are forgiven for your stupid salt argument.
I’m a member who never comments until now. Your comment is excellent! +1 about Jason’s writing.
This was a great ride. Otto has a nice “Kilroy Was Here” vibe going on.
“I’m just wild about Saffron …”
Great read, better than Brock Yates’ old Cannonball tales, and I loved those.
Also, I’m not sure if salt is considered a spice or not, but if the Spice Girls had a Salty Spice, that’d be the one I’d lick.
Electrical banana is gonna be a sudden craze.
When are you going to reveal the final fare?
That cabin filter is the personification of New York City. Yuck.
Personally, I would rather go to Eagle Butt South Dakota again in the middle of January than ever set foot in NYC again, but that’s just me.
Yes, it’s technically Eagle Butte, but if you have ever been there, you know.
Given the happy ending and can-do resilience of this poor, beaten-down cab, I think Jason should use his knack for writing and illustrating and make a children’s book about it. It would sell tens of copies!
Perhaps leave out the ‘bitches,’ though.
“The Yellow Box That Fuckin’ Did It”
Or, yeah, make it an Adult Coloring Audio Book!
Narrated by Andrew Dice Clay. (Ooooooooh!!!)
Congrats gentlemen, great story and sharing the installments along the way were fun to read. Kudos to the old taxi- she’s a beast!
Salt is a ROCK that you EAT. Forget spice vs condiment. It is a ROCK.. that you EAT.
Eating rocks is metal AF.
So a condiment, then?
The 375,000 Mile Taxi That Everyone Thought Was Dead Drove All The Way From NYC To LA, BitchesThe headline is either insulting the readers of the article or the comma is the journalistic equivalent of “and”, indicating that the taxi is complaining about having to drive to LA.
I use cuss words as much as anyone, but they do not belong in journalism. They make it look like you are trying too hard to be cool because you think you are not.
Four-letter words and their five-letter brethren are low level language. Journalism should demonstrate that the authors are literate, understand their subject and can express themselves with art and dexterity in the use of the King’s English.
The headline makes the readers want to read the story and be on your side as the protagonist, and “Bitches” is superfluous and unnecessary.
I do see your point and feel that it must be used sparingly, but I thought this one was a valid use. Is it insulting me because I assumed that it would die before even getting to NYC? Probably, and I laughed heartily at it.
Geez. Who pooped in your Cheerios!?
I’m a linguist by profession, and pay close attention to how people talk and how they write.
Have you ever noticed how, like, some people, like, always like, say “like” over and over in the same, like, sentence?
Or how (mostly women) end every sentence with “and” instead of a period, and just keep on talking?
Or ask “you see what I’m sayin’?” when they have barely finished one simple sentence?
Among men, the word “bitch” refers to a man in prison who has to be the “woman” for his cell mate/protector. Calling your readers “bitches” insults them, although it probably was meant in jest. There is no context established yet at the point of the headline, so the joke falls very flat.
”bitches” has been broadening in use in my limited experience, to mean something along the line of “fuckers.” In context it’s meant as a put down, but a friendly one.
there has been plenty of context for regular readers, and honestly the headline itself tells us the context: everyone thought it was dead.
would I expect to see this in the hallowed pages of the gray lady? Used as an example in the ap style guide? No. But in such an informal publication as this one, it’s totally appropriate.
*sigh*
The article’s title is being playful with those readers who have expressed, in the commentary to previous articles in the series, severe doubts as to the author’s ability to succeed in this automotive venture. In that context, I see “Bitches” as more a humorous rebuff to those commenters than as motivated per your take.
I read the headline as celebratory and smiled. Torch is a gentle person who draped the word over his shoulders and waved to a cheering stadium.
Is this how linguists are cunning?
I disagree because you’re missing context. If by “journalism” you mean the NewYorker and even Fox News then yes. But this place – while also journalism- is satire, tons of crassy and informality. Says so on the box, so you should accept it as their makers intended.
Oh shucks, it’s meant to be humorous, not linguistically correct.. you know this. Either way- the CVT hero made it home. That’s what’s up!
Had this been a proper new vehicle review, certainly professionalism would be expected.
For this, the silly tale of The Little Cab that Probably Shouldn’t, I can forgive the casual tone.
You could just..not read anything that you find offensive. Bitch isn’t even a curse word. Its perfectly acceptable to say “That was bitchin'” as a compliment. Or “That test was a bitch” to denote that it was difficult.
In the context of the headline, it is synonymous with ‘haters’ or ‘disbelievers’.
As a linguist, I am sure you understood that.
You would also understand that your personal preference for a specific writing or langauge style is immaterial to how someone else chooses to express themselves. As a reader, you can choose to read or not read something you dislike.
I took the headline as a reference to the meme of the man in the hospital bed with the caption “I lived, bitch”
“Chris D” sounds like he’d be a blast to have a beer with.
“, Bitches!”
You ended that sentence with a preposition. No beer for you.
In Torch’s defense “Bitches” rolls off the tongue a lot easier than “doubters, nay sayers and skeptics”….
But what was the taxi charge?!?!?!?!?!?!
What kind of sociopath calls salt a condiment?
It’s not a spice. A spice is ground-up vegetable matter. Salt is a mineral.
Is there some rule I’m not aware of making these the only two categories that can be used??
Besides, the act of seasoning food is not limited to plant based matter just because most spices are that. I reject this classification.
Salt enhances flavor and doesn’t change the flavor like a condiment. I can make up rules too.
In the original story, the only two options were spice and condiment. You implied it’s not a condiment, and I refuted the only other option per the original story.
Which means it’s neither, as you justly point out.
@Mitch Williams above states it is an edible rock. Are there other common taste enhancers that can be described as such? Truly, a unique option.
All rocks are edible if you’re not a coward.
Touche
Paging Monsieur Mangetout, paging Monsieur Mangetout…
(The name translates as ‘Mister Eats-All’)
Heck, he once ate an airplane.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michel_Lotito
To generalise Pratchett …
“Anything is edible. Sometimes more than once.”
I would say salt is BOTH a spice and a condiment. Spices are generally things you put in food while preparing it, condiments are generally put on food to taste after it is prepared. So salt is both. So is pepper.
Loved the whole series. The photos of a decrepit NYC van-cab in all sorts of weird places really sells what a great choice this was.
Not bothering to change that obviously filthy cabin air filter until the end of the trip is classic Autopian. That thing looks like a rug I’d watch someone pressure wash for an hour on YouTube before bed.
Looks like a rug someone would pressure wash for an hour, and then decide to throw away because it was still too disgusting. Eeewwwww.
“We were fighting over whether salt was a condiment or a spice. I wish I was kidding. And for the record, I said spice, and I stand by that, but probably not to the point of Vegas-induced rage. I’m still embarrassed about that.”
Maybe this is a bad time to bring this up:
“condiment. noun [ C ] formal. uk /ˈkɒn.dɪ.mənt/ us /ˈkɑːn.də.mənt/
a substance, such as salt, that you add to food to improve its taste”
https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/condiment
As for spice:
“Is Salt Considered a Spice?
Salt is often a staple in kitchens around the world, but is it considered a spice? The short answer is no – salt is not a spice. In fact, salt falls into a separate category altogether. While spices are derived from the seeds, bark, roots, or fruits of a plant, salt is actually a mineral. This means that it is not considered a spice, but rather a seasoning. However, it is important to note that salt is often used in conjunction with spices to enhance the flavor of a dish.”
https://www.chefsresource.com/is-salt-considered-a-spice/#google_vignette
Great story and journey! Now let’s see how long it can keep going, then keep it as it was and display it somewhere. You know, a taxi-dermy…
It deserves a place of honor, like how the Corvette museum chose to display some of the sinkhole cars in their as-retrieved state.
Thanks Torch for such a fun and interesting read! And congratulations to you, Otto and the cab for making it in one piece! And salt is a spice used as a condiment.
In part, I think it’s a testament to the durability of modern vehicles, something that’s underappreciated in all the grumbling over our cars’ various little gremlins. Sure, you had to disregard the DNR directive on this poor thing, but the point is you COULD, and so you were able to make this unlikely voyage.
Word. If you’re Gen-X or older, you remember a time when “my car wouldn’t start” was a completely reasonable excuse and that people had to regularly “tune up” their cars for anywhere near decent performance.
JT..Not that it should be argued again, but salt is a mineral and could be referred to as a seasoning. Glad I got to be a small part of the journey!
I’ve had the same feelings about runaway truck ramps and I’m looking forward to hearing what the meter ended up as! JJT