Life in a Limo

I would have liked to describe it as Nigel Mansell driving a limo.

At least that was the thought in my head when I took a job driving a limousine on September 16, 1993, looking, as always—the perennial freelancer—to fill in some of those vital holes in my financial plan. Facing almost constant near extinction in freelancing, the editing work not being what it was, I found myself applying for a job with Ken Fortin’s Capital Limousine Service. After a two-hour interview, I was hired on the spot, with no driving experience, which speaks mostly well for the education my parents provided me.

The first few days I was trained by Stanley, an excellent guide, who showed me the workings of an inside of a limo and told of how people will come up and breathe and lay their hands and fingers and mouths on the limousine, and how you’ve got to wipe it off every time—all part of the protocol and tight detail work required in prepping the big ride for public service.

My first day was spent inauspiciously in the brake shop. But soon Stanley took me out in the stretch limo and put me behind the wheel, a surprise treat, having been told I would probably start with a sedan, a less risky proposition from a driving standpoint.

The best way to equate driving a limousine is to say that you are a captain of a ship. You’re looking at something about 26 feet long. You’re talking about a yacht, a land yacht, as limos are often called. And with good reason: Piloting them is no different (having captained my own 26-foot mahogany Chris Craft cabin-cruiser for 10 years). It has been a good and accurate analogy, one that came in especially handy when parallel parking for the first time.

I’ve not hit anything yet.

After my first week at the limousine service, I’ve still got a clean slate: no nicks, no scratches. It’s a record I’m proud of and will work hard to maintain, not wanting to incur the wrath of Kenneth Fortin, a down-to-business kind of owner but a very fair man, and a nice man too, I might add. Ken is also letting me violate some of his personal rules of etiquette for limo drivers. I am, from what I understand, the first limousine driver—ever—to be allowed to keep his ponytail. Many enter the training period with ’tails, but, as soon as they are judged worthy of working out, are asked to head for the barbers and submit to the clip. Ken views everyone closely, and somehow has seen the glimpse of a far-off rebel with a cause in me, approaching me with respect, if not a little forbearance. He is a man task and duty oriented. And with good reason.