"Do you mind if I put on some music?" the cab driver asked.
"Please do," I said. The driver was an African-American gentleman of a certain age, and I waited with interest to see which radio station he would tune in. Then I noticed he was reaching for a CD case.
New York consistently defies one's prejudices and expectations. My middle-aged cab driver selected a recent Melissa Etheridge CD, and sang along with the first four tracks on the disc. He had a not-unpleasant, very deep bass voice, and the "duet" sounded good.
"I can't get enough of this record," he said. "It's good to hear her happy again."
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