There is perhaps no more judgmental perch than the back seat of a New York City taxicab.

Every driver is too distracted, every fare too high. Every route appears imperfect, particularly in hindsight.

But about twice a day, in a land unrivaled in its capacity to appear unimpressed, taxi passengers in New York have something nice to say about their cabbies — their experience so memorable that they take the unusual step of telling the city about it.

The drivers’ deeds have ranged from heroic — leaving the cab to confront the assailant of a pedestrian, returning a diamond ring, caring for a college student after a mugging — to frivolous.

Praise was won for the proper use of headlights. An eagerness to discuss the flowers of Central Park. Being Sri Lankan.