![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/822ad3_daf412973c374dfa8c6f5d7e588cee83~mv2_d_2036_1309_s_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_630,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_avif,quality_auto/822ad3_daf412973c374dfa8c6f5d7e588cee83~mv2_d_2036_1309_s_2.jpg)
UBER
DREAMS
![Peking boat.jpg](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/ee699b_5d6bc31781ee434e962be9978345fdb5~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_209,h_170,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_avif,quality_auto/Peking%20boat.jpg)
My name is Billy Tashman, and I drive Uber and Lyft. Since arriving in New York City on Halloween night in 1979, I have, mostly through work, gotten to know the city. I’ve been a yellow cab driver, substitute public school teacher, photo-retoucher (before Photoshop made that craft---and the master
retouchers—obsolete), regular public school teacher, journalist, CUNY professor, hotel owner, and now, again, a cabdriver. Driving Uber has allowed me to see parts of the city that I rarely saw driving yellow, almost all in the outer boroughs. I love a building that gives me the shivers, that makes me want to stop my car and linger. The further you go from midtown, the better this city gets. I believe a strip of immigrant-owned stores under the Myrtle Avenue El, is way more interesting than the Hudson Yards’ phony wow-isms or Madison Avenue boutique.
To paraphrase Jim Bouton, I’ve spent a good deal of my life trying to get a grip on this city, and in the end it turns out it was the other way around.