Ehailing Diary with bazikd

19/02/2026

Quite moments,Loud truths PT 3

Be kind on the way. You were kind. You saved my last days." He closed his eyes. Heart monitor flatlined. I stayed another hour. Couldn't let go. He died with someone. That mattered.

His funeral had six people. Me. Three nurses. A lawyer. One former student who saw the obituary. That's it. A man who taught for 43 years. Loved a woman for 52. Lived 81 years. Six people. I spoke. "Mr. Patterson taught me something in his last two weeks.

Every stranger is someone's whole world. Every Uber passenger has a story. Every person you pass is living and dying and hoping someone sees them. He paid me $500 to drive him through his life. But he gave me something worth more. The knowledge that kindness to strangers isn't extra. It's everything. Because we're all strangers. Until someone stops. Looks. Listens. Stays." I keep the $500 in my glove box. Never spent it. It's a reminder.

Every passenger might be taking their last ride. Every stranger might be saying their last goodbye. So I drive different now. I ask questions. I listen. I see people. Because of an old man who needed one last gentle night. And a stranger who stayed. Be that stranger. Please. Someone's taking their last ride tonight.Make it gentle.Copied

19/02/2026

Quite moments,Loud truths PT2

I started crying. Right there. "The house - that's where I raised my kids. The school - where I found my purpose. The diner - where I fell in love. The cemetery - where I said goodbye. And here. The hospital. Where I'm checking in tonight. Hospice floor. I'm not going home." He handed me $500. "Thank you for driving me through my life. You're the last stranger who'll ever be kind to me. I wanted it to be gentle. You made it gentle."

I refused the money. "I can't take this." He insisted. "Please. I have nobody to leave it to. My kids don't talk to me. I have no friends left. You gave me three hours of kindness. That's worth more than $500 to me." He got out. Grabbed his small suitcase. Turned back. "What's your name?" "Marcus." "Thank you, Marcus. For being the last good thing." He walked into the hospital. I sat in my car. Sobbing. For an hour.

Couldn't stop thinking about him. Went back next day. Asked for him. "Mr. Patterson. Room 412." Brought flowers. Knocked. He was in bed. Smiled when he saw me. "Marcus. You came back." "Couldn't leave it like that. Are you okay?" "Dying. But I got to see my life last night. So yes. I'm okay." We talked for two hours. About his wife. His students. The kids who stopped calling. The life he lived.

I visited every day for two weeks. Brought coffee. Read him the news. Sat in silence sometimes. He told me everything. The regrets. The joys. The moments he'd relive. "I thought I'd die alone," he said one day. "But you're here. A stranger who became family in my last days. That's a gift." I held his hand. "You're not dying alone. Not anymore." He cried. "Thank you for seeing me. When I was invisible."

Mr. Patterson died on a Tuesday. 3:17 AM. I was there. Holding his hand. His last words: "Tell people. Tell them to look at strangers. Really look. Everyone's dying. Some faster than others. But we're all heading somewhere.

19/02/2026

Quite moments,Loud truths PT 1

I drive Uber. Night shift mostly. Last week picked up an old man at 11 PM. He got in and said: "I need you to drive me to five places tonight. I'll pay you $500. Cash. But you can't ask why until we're done." Handed me five addresses. First stop: a house in the suburbs. He sat in the car. Stared at it for ten minutes. Crying silently. "Okay. Next one." I drove.

Second stop: elementary school. Empty. Dark. He got out. Walked to the playground. Sat on a swing. Stayed there twenty minutes. Came back to the car. "I taught here. 43 years. Best job I ever had." Third stop: diner. He went inside. Ordered coffee. Sat alone in a booth. Didn't drink it. Just sat. Looking around. Fifteen minutes. Came back. "My wife and I had our first date here. 1967." Fourth stop: cemetery.

He got out at the cemetery. Walked to a grave. Stood there. Talking to it. Couldn't hear what he said. Thirty minutes. When he came back his eyes were red. "My wife. Three years today." Fifth stop: hospital. He asked me to park. Wait. "This is the last one." He looked at me. "Now I'll tell you why. I have stage four cancer. Weeks left. Maybe days. Tonight I wanted to see my whole life. One last time. Before I can't anymore."

17/02/2026

The rain had just stopped when Aisha booked the ride from Gwarinpa at 10:47 p.m. She slid into the back of the silver Corolla, still damp from the dash to the car, and gave the driver—Usman—a tired smile. He was in his late twenties, neat beard, calm voice, the kind of man who didn’t rush passengers.
The expressway was quiet. She asked about the night shifts; he asked about her long day at the office. Small talk turned easy—shared jokes about Abuja traffic, the new flyover, how everyone pretends they’re not tired. She noticed his hands on the wheel, steady, strong. He caught her watching in the mirror and held her gaze a second longer than necessary.
At her gate in Lifecamp she paused, keys in hand. “You want to come in… just to dry off? The rain might start again.” Her voice was soft, almost shy.
He switched off the engine.
Inside, the living room lamp cast warm shadows. She offered water; he stepped closer instead. Their fingers brushed, then lingered. A quiet laugh, a shared breath, and suddenly mouths met—slow, searching, certain. Clothes fell away like forgotten plans. On the soft rug they moved together, unhurried, every touch deliberate, every sigh real.
When it was over they lay still, listening to the ceiling fan and the distant hum of the city, two strangers who no longer felt like strangers.

14/02/2026

14/02/2026

゚viralシalシ

Night on the Expressway

Tunde, 24, eased his silver Toyota onto the Expressway just after 9 p.m. The Bolt ping had come from C*D to Gwarinpa—easy money for his mother's medicine and his sisters' school fees. He greeted the two riders warmly: "Evening, bosses." They slid in quietly, hoods up, one clutching a phone like a lifeline.
Conversation died fast. "Change route," the bigger one barked. Tunde's stomach twisted. He knew the stories—drivers vanishing, cars stripped in the bush. "Please, sirs, this is the fastest way," he said softly, voice steady for his family's sake.
At a dark stretch near the toll, the knife flashed. Struggle erupted—elbows, shouts, Tunde's desperate pleas: "I have mama waiting… take the car, just leave me." Blood bloomed across his shirt. His last thought was Fatima's smile when he promised new books.
They dumped him in the weeds and sped off.
Three days later, under relentless rain, police stormed a Kubwa mechanic shop. The stolen car sat half-repainted; Tunde's blood still stained the seats. The two—Emeka and Chidi—were dragged out in cuffs, faces blank with shock.
In Lugbe, Amina's wails pierced the night. Neighbors lit candles along the street, a silent vigil for the boy who drove to feed dreams. Justice came cold and late, but the flames burned on—proof that even in Abuja's shadows, one life mattered.
゚viralシalシ

14/02/2026

゚viralシalシ

13/02/2026

Does Compressed Natural Gas(CNG)destroy Engine?
No, CNG (Compressed Natural Gas) does not inherently damage a car's engine—in fact, when used properly, it often has neutral or even positive effects on engine longevity compared to petrol.
Here's a balanced breakdown based on how CNG affects engines:
Key Advantages for the Engine
Cleaner burning: CNG produces fewer carbon deposits, contaminants, and harmful by-products than petrol or diesel. This leads to less buildup on spark plugs, valves, and pistons, cleaner engine oil (which can last longer between changes), and reduced overall wear in many cases.
Lower maintenance in the long run: Many sources, including manufacturers and fleet operators, report extended engine life, fewer breakdowns, and lower repair costs due to the clean combustion. This is especially true for factory-fitted CNG vehicles or well-installed conversions.
Higher octane rating: CNG has a high octane (around 120–130), which allows for efficient combustion and can reduce knocking/detonation issues.
Potential Drawbacks and Risks
Power loss: You typically lose 10–15% (sometimes up to 20%) in power and torque on CNG mode, leading to slower acceleration. Drivers may rev higher to compensate, which can indirectly stress the engine if done excessively.
Dry fuel nature: Unlike liquid petrol (which provides some lubrication to valve seats as it washes over them), CNG is a dry gas. In older engines or poorly converted ones without hardened valve seats, this can cause valve seat recession (valves sinking into the head over time due to higher heat and lack of lubrication), leading to compression loss or the need for earlier repairs.
Higher combustion temperatures: CNG burns hotter, which can accelerate wear on certain parts (like valves or electrodes in spark plugs) if the engine isn't tuned properly or if maintenance is neglected.
Conversion quality matters hugely: Poorly installed or low-quality aftermarket CNG kits (common in some markets) can cause issues.

13/02/2026

SOMETIMES IN LIFE YOU MAY HAVE TO USE LESSER £VIL TO OVERCOME GREATER £VIL