Taking a different sort of knowledge
Within less than three minutes, three motor cyclists passed me by, intent on their mission. Each had an A-Z map of central London fastened to the windshield of their motorbike. Each man was concerned with one issue only at that moment: ‘taking the knowledge’. Each was a trainee cabbie.
It takes far more than an ability to sit behind a steering wheel in order to become a taxi driver in London. That is how the expression ‘taking the knowledge’ came to birth.
As a trainee cabbie told me, some years ago, “We have to know at least three hundred routes through London, the shortest distances between any major pick-up and put-down points, be examined by the police and know enough about the important sights of the city to act as a tour guide.”
He continued. “Most of us take six months off work, if possible, so that we can ‘take the knowledge’, which is what we call our training to be a cabbie. The police can examine us on any route and so the only way to learn is to buy a motorcycle and a copy of the A-Z.”
“It’s not easy learning to be a tour guide in order to drive one of the traditional London black cabs. A friend of mine failed his exam just because he could not remember the name of the stone of which Waterloo Bridge is made. It is the sort of question a tourist might ask because they have heard that Portland Stone is self-cleaning in the rain.”
Perhaps that is the reason why, in his house, stuck firmly and conspicuously over the fireplace, at least for his training period, the cabbie had fastened a super-large map of central London. His patient wife agreed to the unusual decoration only because of the long-term benefits that would appear in days to come.
Another taxi driver had his own comments to add. “They test my cab every six months. It has to be in perfect condition to go out and to carry passengers. Even if there is a tiny tear in the seat covering, the car is taken off the road, so it pays me in the long run to make sure that I look after the vehicle.”
It is a very different situation in many other places in the world.
On the one occasion that, in desperation, I took a taxi in Zambia, I had to sit on the metal edge of the seat because there was no padding left. A gaping hole indicated where, once upon a time, there had been something that was vaguely red in colour. Also, my whole journey was one of prayer… for my survival. It seemed as though I had found one of the many taxi drivers who was not only working without a licence to operate a taxi, but also had no driving licence! The ten-minute journey was terrifying! It was also expensive as the fare increased threefold as soon as he saw the front gate of the convent.
…and in Rome? There is a sliding scale of charges depending on the individual’s ecclesiastical or tourist status. The more there is the likelihood of purple or scarlet robes, or of being an unseasoned, well-meaning tourist (preferably American), then the higher the charge. If the cab has a meter, then the longer route will be taken so that, of course, the fee is perfectly justified. Why would anybody want a 5-minute journey when there is the possibility of one that takes 25 minutes, touring places that perhaps even God did not know existed?
In this country, it is so easy to take for granted the existence of certain jobs.
We see taxis around our towns and cities and perhaps never think of the amount of effort necessary to obtain that precious piece of paper that is the licence. It is easy to miss the background work that goes to ensure that passengers are safe and comfortable.
Taking that one step further, how often do we think of the grocers, greengrocers, refuse collectors, street cleaners, Post Office workers, farmers etc, who make it possible for us to live our daily lives in at least some degree of comfort and convenience?
We might forget them or take them for granted… but God doesn’t. Wouldn’t it be easy to occasionally take a leaf out of his book? Wouldn’t that be taking a different sort of knowledge?
