The memory was triggered by a tune played on the car radio on a balmy December day last week. A tune I’ve played hundred’s of times since it was released in 1991. A tune that sits on top of the same playlist that has been transferred from iPod to iPod to iPod to various iPhone upgrades for almost 25 years. It’s Marc Cohn’s hit “Saving the Best for Last.”
Got into a cab in New York City
Was an Oriental man behind the wheel
It wasn’t an Oriental man behind the wheel. It was a cab in New York City. He was in his 60’s. He didn’t do much talking, and certainly not about mansions in heaven.
Started talking about heaven
Like it was real
Said “They got mansions in heaven”
Yeah the angels are building one for me right now…
It was July. The midday heat exploded, and like a desert mirage, the waves were radiating off the Manhattan asphalt. All four windows in the cab were down, hot air was gushing in. I took my jacket off, and loosened my tie.
I couldn’t get the words out: “Can you please turn on the A/C?” It was as if my tongue was jacked with Novocain. A/C Broken or conserving petrol?
We’d lock eyes in his rear view mirror. A Suit staring into the deep dark eye of an elephant, with its leg chained to steel spike.
And I know…
They’re saving the best for last
Look around this town
And tell me that it ain’t so
They’re saving the best for last
Don’t ask me how I know
‘Cause it must be
Saving the best for last for me
There was a 34 oz plastic bottle resting in the console, the Polish Spring label worn from the refilling, the hundreds of grips and re-grips, and the punishing heat magnified through the front window.
Classified ads sit on the passenger seat, folded neatly. A black Bic is clipped to the top left, the plastic cap marked with deep chew marks. Continue reading “Riding Uptown. Saving the Best For Last.”
