Eugene weekly., April 26, 2012, Page 13, Image 13

Yes, Penselin’s witnessed sex in the backseat and, yes, he’s cleaned
up more than his fare share — no pun intended — of gorp, puke,
yawn, hork, hurl. Every now and then he fi elds requests
like the one we heard this past Saturday, “FIND US VAGINA!”
and sometimes, in his role as psychologist and
father-confessor, Penselin is victim to TMI.
This proved a no-go. “I just didn’t feel that I was
making much progress toward the goal of raising the taxi
standard,” Spurling explains. After three years plus change
struggling in a management role, he decided to take the
leap. “I severed ties to begin what I hoped would be a
better taxi company for the independent contract driver and
the customer,” he says.
At the time, the perception of taxis as a shit industry in
Eugene was well deserved, Spurling says. “It was my belief
that the ride experience was more often than not poor for the
customer because the majority of taxi drivers were miserable
in their profession,” he says. High leases for drivers and too
many cabs on the road contributed to a self-perpetuating
sump of bad feelings and perceived sleaziness.
Spurling and Korinek at once tackled the root cause of
taxi discontent — the drivers. “My theory for a solution
was simple,” Spurling says. “If the drivers had a better
environment in which to do their work, they would have
better attitudes,” which, in turn, would lead to a more
congenial public image and repeat business.
Even for a person as wary as Korinek, this newfangled
business model has proven successful. “Because the
company is fair, because we set it up that way,” Korinek
explains, “we don’t have to cheat anyone.”
Call Me
Like priests and proctologists, taxi drivers tend to inherit
the sort of private info most folks keep from even their best
friends. They are privy to the deepest drunken desires and
conked-out confessions of absolute strangers and, because
of this, cabbies tend to be either sullen, pessimistic loners
or gregarious philosophers of the street.
Go Taxi driver DJ Penselin is of the latter persuasion.
He is the polar opposite of Robert Deniro’s Travis Bickle,
the alienated cabbie anti-hero who cruises Manhattan pick-
ing up all the “whores, skunk pussies, queens, fairies, dop-
ers, junkies, sick, venal” fares in Martin Scorsese’s Taxi
Driver. Sharp, fl irty, smart and always ready to talk, Pense-
lin is the anti-Bickle — a man of the people, especially if
the people are women.
“I have noticed that the more entertaining and outgoing
the driver is,” Penselin says, “the more, and better, their
fares and tips become.” To generate a steady and loyal
clientele, Penselin networks during his down time through
social media like Facebook as well as by texting friends and
generally trying to spark excitement about getting in his cab.
It’s a canny move: Not only is Penselin drumming up
business and advertising himself as a kind of local celebrity,
but he’s maintaining a regular Rolodex of familiar faces — a
faithful posse that sometimes fi lls an entire night’s worth of
driving. He has more than 600 contacts in his cell phone —
names, addresss, sometimes notes to himself about who’s a
good tipper, who’s prone to ditching rides. He knows most
of his fares by name, and he’s one of those avuncular dudes
who can call women “honey” and “sweety” and not take a
shot to the chops. The guy has game.
He’s also a virgin. “I’m an open book,” says Penselin, a
Eugene native who graduated from Willamette High School.
Just a few years back, he was studying to be a minister at
Northwest Christian College, and he is not oblivious of the
irony of the synaptic gap that yawns between serving Jesus
and working a job where he can wind up with a stripper’s
ass in his face. Penselin is strictly straightedge, though he’s
not necessarily against drug use — he draws a distinction
between natural intoxicants and “dirty” drugs like meth —
and he certainly has a thing for strippers.
“This is a great job,” Penselin tells me, and I believe
him. He usually drives Wednesdays through Saturdays,
from 5 pm till 5 am, and whenever he’s driving, he’s also
dispatching Go Taxi’s weekend fl eet of between fi ve and
seven cabs. He keeps track of everything in his head,
juggling times and locations — which cab’s where, how
long before arrival, who’s doing the airport run. He rarely
uses his GPS. An evening’s take can range anywhere
between $100 and $250, Penselin says.
Yes, he’s witnessed sex in the backseat and, yes, he’s
cleaned up more than his fare share — no pun intended
— of gorp, puke, yawn, hork, hurl. Every now and then
he fi elds requests like the one we heard this past Saturday,
“FIND US VAGINA!” and sometimes, in his role as
psychologist and father-confessor, Penselin is victim to
TMI. “Sometimes they tell me too much,” he admits of
certain chatty passengers.
Despite all this, Penselin seems to fi nd something
more than just fi nancial remuneration in his role of
tooling Eugene peeps about town for money — a means
of plugging into the scene in a meaningful and rewarding
way.
Much of this job satisfaction Penselin attributes directly
to Go Taxi itself, which he sets apart from other local cab
companies. “I wanted to work for a company that looked
out for both drivers and customers,” he says, “not be greedy
like other taxi companies ... I get upset when customers
think I am ripping them off. Not all taxi drivers are out to
screw the customer over.”
Takin’ a Ride
I Touch Myself
Korinek is a tough nut — wry, scowly, taciturn. He can
seem reluctant to offer strangers the benefi t of the doubt,
opting instead to wait, watch, listen and basically withhold
judgment until he gets a good read on your character. For
people guilty of overabundant faith in the goodness of
homo sapiens, Korinek’s cautious demeanor might come
across as downright cynical or snobby, though really he’s
just being shrewd. Caution is a smart way to go — for taxi
drivers at least, if not for people in general.
“This is one of the darkest, shadiest industries on
Earth,” Korinek says not long after picking me up for a
late-night ride-along. “Sometimes I’m in here with the
scariest people in town.” He says he’s seen a lot of people
go into the taxi business thinking they’d make great cab
drivers, then burn out quickly.
“Most people could be a great cab driver,” Korinek
says. “It’s usually other factors that keep people out. First,
many people hate doing it. Seems easy, then after their fi rst
day, they are done.” Another obstacle to being a taxi driver
is “all the things that can happen in a decent person’s life,”
such as DUIs, traffi c infractions, accidents or poor health.
In the end, however, whether someone takes to driving
seems to depend on intangibles like attitude, tolerance and
fl exibility. “You just have to like it,” he says.
Saturday, approx. 11 pm, Go Taxi ride-along notes: Prim
and pretty, our grade-school teacher was on fi re, having
located that perfect fulcrum of drunken equilibrium where
we shoot our best pool and charm even ourselves. She was
burning bright inside the cab. There was nothing sloppy
about her. Our teacher was the quintessence of elegance.
“You put me in the karaoke bar, and I’m gonna turn
everybody’s shit on!” she told us. Her friends took turns
egging her on and cautioning her that the enemy of privacy
was riding in the passenger seat.
But she was immune to warning. This teacher would
have her moment. “The truth of the matter is, the general
public is going to say, ‘A teacher drinking? Fuck yeah!”
she shouted. “I’m really stressed out! Me touching myself
tonight is the best thing that’s happened to me in six
months! I’m a great teacher! I am jackpot, pretty much,
any way you slice it!”
“There’s a reporter in the car,” somebody warned from
the backseat.
“I’m not giving him any permanent information that
could get me fi red!” she shot back, pertinently. It was
glorious to behold. This was the beauty and terror of
driving cab — unpredictable, explosive, fragile, heartfelt
and totally human.
ew
ADAM KORINEK
WWW.EUGENEWEEKLY.COM
Taxicab Confessions
DJ PENSELIN
EUGENE WEEKLY APRIL 26, 2012 13