The Taxi Driver Who Delivered More Than a Ride

It was a rainy night, one of those storms that makes the city look like a broken mirror. I had been driving for ten hours when I saw her on the corner of the main avenue, drenched, one hand on her belly, the other waving desperately. I pulled over, and before I could say anything, she opened the back door.

“Please, please,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I need to get to San José Hospital. The baby’s coming.”

I looked at her in the rearview mirror. Young, maybe twenty-five, her face twisted in pain. Her cheeks were wet—rain or tears, I couldn’t tell.

“Get in, get in,” I said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get there.”

I drove fast, but carefully. Every red light felt like an eternity. She took deep breaths, trying to control the contractions.

“What’s your name?” I asked to keep her calm.

“Carolina,” she gasped. “Oh God, it hurts so much.”

“Almost there, Carolina. Breathe the way they taught you, okay?”

“I didn’t go to classes,” she admitted, voice breaking. “I couldn’t… I don’t have anyone. The father left when he found out I was pregnant.”

My throat tightened. I thought of my own daughter, about her age.

“Now you have me, okay? You’re not alone. We’re going to make it.”

The traffic was awful from the rain, but I took side streets I knew by heart from twenty years of driving a taxi. Carolina groaned in the back seat.

“I can’t pay you,” she said suddenly. “I spent everything on my apartment deposit. I… I’m so sorry.”

“Forget about that,” I replied. “Right now, what matters is that you and your baby are safe.”

When we finally arrived at the hospital, I ran to get help. Two nurses came out with a wheelchair and rushed her inside. She looked back at me before entering.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“Roberto,” I yelled. “Roberto Méndez! But don’t worry about that now. Good luck!”

I stood there in the rain, watching the automatic doors close behind her. I returned to my taxi, switched off the meter I hadn’t turned on, and drove home thinking of that young woman alone, about to become a mother.

Days passed, and I thought I’d never know what happened to Carolina and her baby. Until one afternoon, three weeks later, I received a call from an unknown number.

“Mr. Roberto Méndez?” a woman asked.

“Yes… who’s calling?”

“It’s Carolina. From the taxi… do you remember me?”

“Of course I do! How are you and the baby?”

“Fine, thank God. I had a beautiful boy. His name is Matías. Mr. Roberto, I… I need to see you. I have something very important to ask.”

We arranged to meet at the park near the hospital. When I arrived, she was sitting on a bench with a stroller. She looked different—calmer, her face lit with a smile.

“Mr. Roberto,” she said, standing up. “Look, this is Matías.”

I peeked into the stroller and saw a tiny sleeping baby, fists curled against his little face.

“He’s beautiful, Carolina. Congratulations.”

“You saved me that night,” she said, her eyes shining. “You didn’t just get me to the hospital—you made me feel like I wasn’t alone. That meant everything.”

“I just did what anyone would,” I said, embarrassed.

“No, that’s not true. Five taxis passed before yours, and none stopped when they saw I was pregnant and soaked,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath. “Mr. Roberto, I have no family here. My parents live in another state, barely talk to me since I got pregnant. Matías’ father disappeared. But I want my son to grow up knowing there’s good in the world, people like you.”

She bent down and carefully lifted the baby, holding him out to me.

“Would you be Matías’ godfather?”

I froze, holding that warm little life in my arms, looking into his slowly opening eyes.

“Carolina, I…”

“Please,” she insisted. “I have no one else. And you’ve already shown you’re the kind of man I want him to look up to.”

My throat tightened. I looked at Matías, who grasped my finger with his tiny hand.

“It would be an honor,” I said finally, my voice breaking.

Carolina covered her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered over and over.

The baptism was simple, in a small chapel in the neighborhood. I invited my wife and daughter, who instantly fell in love with Matías. Since then, Carolina and I have kept in touch. I’ve helped her get a better job, my wife brings baby clothes my grandchildren no longer use, and every month I visit them.

Sometimes, when I drive my taxi at night and see someone in need on the street, I think of that rainy night. I think of how a simple act of kindness can change not just a moment, but a whole life.

Now, when I take Matías to the park on Sundays and he says “Godfather” in his tiny three-year-old voice, I know that that ride without charging was the most valuable of my entire career.

Because in the end, it’s never about the fares we collect—it’s about the lives we touch along the way.