He would have built his car from scraps.
Paint, wheels, bolts, all found in the back
alley of his apartment building.
He would have known a truck driver
named Henry Muhammad who
knows a guy named Steven Grove who
has a cousin named Terence Wright whose
father invested in a cab company.

He would have gotten the job.
He would have started on a half a tank
every morning,
and would have still doubled
what the other drivers made.
But it wouldn’t have been enough.
He would have stayed up at night,
thinking of ways to triple
what he was making.
On his off days he would have returned
to where it all started.
Working on the mechanics
of his car.

He would have invested that full tank one day.
And would have realized he could make six times
as much as the other drivers.
Eventually he would have
enough money to stop driving.
Enough money to feed his family.
And some friends.
Enough money to buy
the company,
and their competition. Enough money to live,
where ever he wanted to.

Eventually he would have
the respect of every cab driver,
because there would have been absolutely no doubt,
That he would have been the best
cab driver of his time.