Someday, friends, we’ll tell our children of the Cash Cab, the mythical vehicle that contained magical, cash-y surprises, despite looking like nothing more than a simple taxi. (We’ll also tell our children what taxis were, for context.) And we’ll tell them of the Cash Cab man, the stand-up comic who welcomed people into the cab, asked them trivia questions, and then handed the winners their cash. “What was his name?” our children will ask, in whatever guttural language remains to the poor future remnants of our planet. “Ben Bailey,” we’ll answer, after a quick Google search. “And this is the story of how he was left behind.”
Last month, we reported that Cash Cab was aiming for a revival, courtesy of its old home channel at Discovery. The new show will feature all sorts of tweaks to the formula, including “social media shoutouts,” and the terrifying ability to stop pedestrians on the street and make them help you answer trivia. What it doesn’t have yet is a host, something Ben Bailey himself has apparently noticed. The Emmy winner did his own call for social media support shortly after the news broke, rallying his followers to demand that he be placed back in the glistening info-womb where he spent six cash-dispensing seasons.
The responses were swift, with many insisting that there could be no Cash Cab without Bailey. Indeed, that Ben Bailey was Cash Cab, a terrifying hybrid of man, carefully pre-screened contestants, and cheerfully flashing lights.
Also, some of them were apparently trying to score points with their moms:
Discovery has suggested it might recruit a team of guest hosts to fill the Cash Cab master’s duties; if so, it’s always possible that Bailey could return for a nostalgic stint. Still, it is the way of things: Children outgrow their parents. Baby chicks leave the nest. And no Cab of Cash can stay solely one man’s forever.