The Crazed Boyfriend

My healing work continues.  Many of my most dangerous situations and interventions happened while driving a taxi in San Francisco. Several times I have been called a hero, and found it to be very moving and powerful.  I would like to think that there has been value in some of the things I have done. But there is an element of anonymity that is a mixed blessing.  I wonder if The Lone Ranger would sit around the campfire with Tonto, musing, "Do you think people appreciate what we've done?"  The Lone Ranger left behind a silver bullet.  I just left.  But there was satisfaction.

I remember driving a young man home to the outer Sunset District, about 1:00am. As we headed out Lincoln Avenue beside Golden Gate Park, a woman carrying her shoes, overcoat open and flapping, ran madly into the street screaming at us to stop. We stopped and she ran around to the passenger side. She frantically asked us to get her out of there.  I popped the lock and she climbed into the front.  I turned off of Lincoln to start evasive twists and turns while getting details about her situation.  Her boyfriend was quick to get to his car.  He came skidding around the corner while we were still on the first block, and he accelerated fiercely.

The woman said she was afraid he would hurt her, please call the police.  This was before cell phones.  I called dispatch, who questioned me about what kind of drama was I getting involved in tonight.  They then called the police.  I drove around  for 10 or 15 minutes, unable to lose the boyfriend.  I went around many corners, at one of them the woman opened her door and bolted from the cab.
 The boyfriend was not in view at that moment.  She sprinted to a nearby home, ran up front stairs and stepped into the shadows by the front door.  I backed away from the house to the farthest corner of the block.  The boyfriend  stopped his car and apparently could see she was no longer in my front seat.  He drove back and forth for several blocks checking doorways from the car, but didn't see her.  My passenger said, "Why don't I go deal with him?" and tried the door, but I had locked it.
"Please don't get out of the car."
"I'm a National Champion Collegiate Wrestler, I can handle myself."
"I have no doubt you can.  You might even kick his butt if he's a martial artist, but what if he has a gun.  Let's let the police deal with him."
Dejected, he answered, "You're probably right.  My mom's a cop, and she'd say the same thing."
"Yeah.  Right now this is kind of an adventure, let's not let it turn into a tragedy."
"Yeah, OK."
After a couple of passes trying to find the woman, the boyfriend gave up, blasting west toward the beach.  I described the car to the cops. They stopped the boyfriend a couple of miles away.  A second squad car came to us, and we led the officers to the woman, who gave the details of her night.  Boyfriend was arrested, but she was cautioned that he will probably make bail.  She had a friend, unknown to the boyfriend, who could put her up.  She'd be safe for the night.  My wrestler passenger was OK with driving her to her friend's.
My passenger and I enjoyed  a very unusual ride: we got to rescue the fair damsel in distress, we each got a story to tell, nobody got hurt, I didn't let the heroic young man put his life any more in danger, the lady and the police were grateful, all ended safely and well.