Like most illegal cab drivers, Wang - who refuses to share his given name - wants out of his trade. But this is the only living the Beijinger has been able to find since he was suddenly laid off in 2007 and then spent a year afterward looking for work.

A friend got him into the trade in July 2008. Most times, they park outside the gates of an apartment complex in Chaoyang district's Wangjing area to wait for customers.

"When my friend wasn't there, the other drivers would intimidate me, and I had to leave without making any money," he says. There are about six other drivers in his neighborhood.

"By now, we're all acquaintances and, in some cases, friends," Wang says.

The gray-market industry is subject to turf wars, he explains. Claiming a stake in a community is the sector's basis for several reasons, he says.

"Most of our customers live in our neighborhood," he says. "They see us every day and have come to trust us."

He has two regular customers, who found him on the neighborhood's online forum in 2008.

One is a boy he takes to primary school at 7 am, and the other is a girl he drives to kindergarten at about 8 am. He then rushes back to pick up whoever is on the way to work. He sometimes approaches people who are hailing taxis but believes it's better business to work with people from his turf.

"It's safer and the income is steadier," he says. He usually earns about 150 yuan ($23) from the average of 10 trips he makes a day.

Wang says he feels lucky compared to drivers who lurk outside subway stations, as he did in 2009.

"I hated asking people to take my cab there," he says. "It made me feel inferior to them."

Subway stations are more profitable but tougher territory, he believes. There are gangs that monopolize the business around subway stations in the outskirts.

"If you want to make a living there, you must obey them," Wang says, so he left the subway station orbit after a month. But he still fears the traffic police and chengguan, or urban management officers.

"The fear of being caught hangs like a sharp sword over our heads every second," he says.

Another pirate taxi driver, Li, has been fined three times.

"Getting caught once can cost a full year's salary," says Li, who started working as an illegal van driver in 1998. He had to pay 3,000 yuan in 2006, 6,000 yuan in 2008 and 8,000 yuan last month.

Li studied the relevant laws to better defend himself but says the language about penalties and fines is "too vague" and discretionary. He appeals to higher authorities or "pesters" officials to reduce his fines, he says.

So he joined a "transportation company" for 600 yuan a month, which in turn provides him with a light that reads "transportation". The light also lets people know he's an illegal cabbie. The illicit company can use its connections to reduce fines if Li gets caught.

Li bought a van to drive part time after his son was born because his monthly 660-yuan wage as a welder couldn't support his family. He started driving full-time after the plant shut down in 2000.

"The demand for cabs was high then, and I made good money - about 2,000 yuan a month," Li says. "I also made a lot of friends. Many remain my regular customers."

But, like Wang, Li wants out.

"I don't want to live like this," he says. "But I have no skills, and, therefore, no choice. I've tried to find other jobs, but failed."

You can contact the writers at sundayed@chinadaily.com.cn.

(China Daily 10/23/2011 page3)