10 signs your taxi driver competes on weekends in demolition derbies

Every green light is treated like the start of a race, with the taxi lurching forward as if it’s gunning for pole position.
He seems to have a knack for narrowly avoiding collisions, often swerving at the last moment, leaving you clutching the door handle in terror.
The taxi looks like it’s been through a war zone, with dents, scratches, and patches of mismatched paint covering its exterior.
Lane markers are mere suggestions. He frequently straddles two lanes or drives on the shoulder, muttering about “making his own path.”
He spends more time glaring at other drivers in the rearview mirror than watching the road ahead, occasionally shouting challenges or taunts.
Tailgating isn’t just a habit; it’s a strategy. He gets uncomfortably close to other vehicles, as if trying to see which radio station they are listening to.
The taxi makes a variety of concerning noises — from ominous clunks to high-pitched squeals — which he dismisses as “just the car’s way of talking.”
The seatbelts are frayed or don’t work at all. When you point it out, he just laughs and says, “Who needs ’em?”
The dashboard is littered with old racing gloves, broken speedometers, and faded photographs of smashed-up cars, which he fondly refers to as “the good old days.”
Instead of a smooth stop, he slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. As you pay, he smirks and says, “Survived another one, huh?”