Manhattan cabs are born old.

Some men are Baptists, others Catholics; my father was an Oldsmobile man.

In all my years of New York cab riding I have yet to find the colorful, philosophical cabdriver that keeps popping up on the late movies.

The hand of fate had dipped into the ragbag of humanity.

There are fewer things more thrilling in life than lumpy letters. That rattle.

Being a White Sox fan meant measuring victory in terms of defeat. A 6-5 defeat was a good day. A big rally was Wally Moses doubling down the right- field line.

The truth will always have a market.