For those who don't know, the black hacks go up and down the area like buses, all day long, and are reasonably cheap. They're quite an experience, a bit like riding in a rickshaw in China I would imagine. Five people, who don't know each other, squashed into a confined space for their journey. It's a bit like Big Brother on wheels. The black taxi drivers are a breed of their own, the men often going bare-chested on hot days (the only part of them that gets a tan is the forearm, which is perpetually bent out the window), and you can always be sure to hear David Dunseith on Radio Ulster's Talkback when travelling in the early afternoon. Drivers have their own spoken and sign languages, which is a curious mix of pigeon Gaelic and Belfast slang but are amongst the hardest working people in the city.
I love the black hacks.
... that is until I get my car back on the road again. Then when I'm stuck behind one, or one pulls out in front of me without indicating, I'll be back to calling them all the fuckers of the day.
