To a New York taxi school, and step on it! : Meet your cabdriver: safe, reliable, courteous. Mandatory classes help hacks improve their fare-power.

Come, climb into the back seat and I’ll tell you taxi tales--secrets of savvy cabbies maneuvering to make a living on the streets of New York, where the asphalt is coated with angst.

But before we begin the ride, you should know the meter is running.

Where to, sir? You said Rockefeller Center, sir? Any particular route, sir? Notice how I called you sir a lot and repeated the destination. I turned around and looked directly into your eyes. Just one of the things I learned at taxi school, Harvard for hackies.

They taught me that taxi transference and good conversation can bring in big tips. So if you don’t mind my talking, here’s a little history.

The first taxi was an Egyptian water cab, whose driver cruised for fares around 4000 BC. The meter, if there was one, probably ran with Roman numerals. That will be XVII for that ride to the Forum, Brutus. You say you’re going to meet Julius Caesar?

In the 17th century, horse-drawn taxis were the rage in Paris and London. Over the years in New York, yellow cabs have become symbols of the city, just like the Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building. There are 12,053 yellow cabs, the kind that are allowed to pick up passengers on the street.

Before they are licensed, all yellow cab drivers not only must pass an English test, but also score 70 or better on an exam covering geography, passenger relations and the 40 pages of Taxi and Limousine Commission rules.

Drivers also must attend taxi school, where they study routes and neighborhoods, how to find riders, trolling for tips, survival skills and other subjects.

The taxi business has always been an immigrant industry, and nine in 10 cabbies these days are from somewhere else. Taxi academy can be their introduction to the American dream and to education in the United States. A good cabdriver who hustles can make up to $13 an hour--much more than at other starting jobs.

As an experiment, New York City is planning to send a group of people on welfare to taxi school to try to lift them from poverty. The Taxi and Limousine Commission also is trying to find more female drivers. Only 505 of the more than 40,000 licensed cabbies are women.

Sorry, sir. I got carried away. My wife says I talk a lot.

You want to know about taxi school? Three licensed schools compete for business like three hungry cabbies who spot a guy in Times Square with big suitcases who looks like he wants to go to Newark Airport.

I went to Master Cabbie New York Taxi Academy, in a three-story red brick building near the 59th Street Bridge in Queens. You don’t want to get stuck in rush-hour traffic on that bridge. It’s like death--only longer.

Terry Gelber, the school’s director who drives a cab himself, does more than teach you how to pass the test. He shows you how to steer around some of the potholes of life. He even throws in a little poetry.

Gelber met his girlfriend while driving a cab. He had just dropped off a fare and honked his horn to see if a woman was hailing. They got into a conversation. One thing led to another.

The other day, students from the Dominican Republic, Bangladesh, Russia, Haiti and the Ivory Coast sat in his class.

He drilled them on what East Side Manhattan streets enter Central Park (97th, 85th, 66th and 79th streets) and on water crossings.

“George Washington Bridge. Toll round trip: $4,” Gelber said. “If they want to go to Tenafly, N.J., the meter says $36. They have to pay me $40. I have to pay the toll coming back.”

He said schmoozing can lead to finding fares.

Gelber recalled the night he drove a couple in evening clothes to the Intrepid Naval Maritime Museum for a benefit. He learned 5,000 people would be leaving the dinner around 10 o’clock. Naturally, he was waiting when the crowd from the former aircraft carrier spilled into the street.

Tuxedos and gowns were all over 12th Avenue. Almost no other taxis were in sight. For three hours, he shuttled back and forth finding fares. Bonanza!

He handed the class copies of a Rudyard Kipling poem and asked someone to say the first lines.

“If you can keep your head when all about you

“Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;”

The student read in halting English.

“Madness comes out of traffic, absolute madness,” Gelber lectured. “You have to find a way to deal with your own stress. . . . If I find that I am losing it, if it is just too much coming down, I pull the car over. It is time for a break. You have to take care of yourself so you can take care of your passengers.”

He rattled off tricks of the trade: Pick up all people who want a ride. Always start your shift with lots of change. If you run out, go from store to store buying things. Keep the bullet-resistant partition closed if you are nervous. Don’t fight with cops who give you tickets. If you have a big number on the meter, don’t let the passenger go into a delicatessen for a quart of milk without paying first. Stores have back doors.

He turned to tips. “We affect the tip by our attitude, by communicating with our passenger. The guy who carries on an intelligent conversation with his passenger is worth $3,000 to $5,000 more a year than the guy who doesn’t talk.”

Anyway, I talked too much, sir. I almost chewed your ear off. We’re at the end of the ride. You gave me a $20 bill. The fare on the meter is $7.10. You say keep the change?