Cab driver spent his final shift getting others home safely

By Meg Jones of the Journal Sentinel

Posted: Oct. 31, 2008
Bruce Mosher saw the sign-up sheet at Madison's Union Cab and scribbled his name to work the Deerfield Fireman's Festival, giving safe rides home to folks who had imbibed too much. He worked both nights of the festival, providing nearly 50 people with lifts.

The taxi driver was heading home in his cab when he met another person who had too much to drink. But instead of being in the back of Mosher's cab, 20-year-old Luke Goudreau was behind the wheel of his Honda Prelude on U.S. Highway 12/18 in Cottage Grove, almost twice the legal level of alcohol coursing through his veins. Their cars smashed into each other on July 13, 2003, with such force that both men died instantly.

"The thing he was trying to do was to get everyone home safe," said David Lee, operations manager at Union Cab. "He got everybody but one person."

Mosher, 43, was a gearhead who loved motors and driving pretty much anything powered by an engine, whether it was a Harley, a semitrailer truck or a taxi. He built go-karts and scooters as an only child growing up in Madison. When his mother was on her deathbed, she made Mosher promise to use her life insurance money to buy the motorcycle of his dreams. He did.

An intelligent, well-read, opinionated man, Mosher didn't mince words, wasn't politically correct and was known for his colorful language, said friend and fellow cabbie Larry Sharp. He enjoyed reading racing magazines and Hunter S. Thompson; "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" was a favorite. A member of the Ho-Chunk tribe, Mosher stuck a bumper sticker on his car - "Pow Wow - a way of life" -shortly before his death.

Mosher once told Sharp: "I'd rather be disliked than ignored. I'd rather have a few good friends that respect me than a lot of acquaintances."

Judging by the motorcade of dozens of taxis that were part of the funeral procession, Mosher had more than a few good friends. They spread his ashes on Indian burial grounds overlooking Lake Monona, in a peaceful place within earshot of the cars on Atwood Ave. and the boats on the lake.

"To not allow him to hear motors would have been an insult," Sharp said.