There tend to be few blue-collar or no-collar memoirs. Writers, tycoons and politicians are readier to talk themselves up (or pay someone to ghost it) than taxi drivers, say, or builders. It's probably less a matter of loquacity than self-importance. Exactly where bike messengers fit in this typology isn't wholly clear. But Travis Culley's account of his days as a Chicago courier in the 1990s is a fresh addition to the genre.
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