If you want to call yourself a taxi in New York, you've got things to live up to. Take tradition. A New York taxi always beat everybody to the punch. It was the first away when the light changed, weaving through otherwise orderly rows of cars and trucks, just in time to beat the next light. The ride not only was fast, it looked fast. The driver, all the while, dispensed worldly wisdom on any theme, and if you asked, could name the best oyster bar in the entire city. He spoke New Yorkese - an "R," (if pronounced at all) could be a "W" or a "V" - but it was English. Etched in his mind was the map of the five boroughs, and all their one-way streets. He was friendly, considerate, and caring - waited until you were indoors when he dropped you off, before cruising away for the next fare.