Yet another of many stereotypes blown, I thought to myself as we approached the first drop-off on Redstone Campus. My image of autism was emotional lockdown: people with neither the means nor the desire to connect with others. I guess I had known that there were more and less severe variations of the condition, but this woman in the back of my taxi was positively engaging, even warm - not personality traits I'd ever associated with autism.

The college kid got out and we continued down the hill en route to 230 St. Paul, the public housing complex where the couple's friend resided. At 11 stories, it's the tallest building in Vermont. That fact always puts a smile on this ex-New Yorker's face.

"So what do you do for a living?" I asked the woman. I had considered trying to engage her partner, but I sensed from his ultra-shy demeanor that he might not be comfortable conversing with a stranger.

"I teach Spanish at a college in South Carolina," she replied.

"Really? I would have guessed that language skills are a challenge for folks with autism."

My customer chuckled. "I actually speak six different languages. Autistics seem to fixate on one particular thing, and my obsession has always been language."

As we pulled in front of the Vermont skyscraper, I said, "You know, I'd love to check out your friend's website if you have the address."

"I'd be glad to," she replied and reached into her handbag. "I'll write it out for you on the back of my business card." She passed it over the seat. "Is this your actual name or a nickname?" I asked when I saw her name on the printed side.

"No," she replied with the patient smile of someone who has probably heard the question a million times. "My name is really 'Love.' I had hippie parents."

I flipped the card over and read the web address Love had inscribed. It incorporated an unusual word, perhaps Latin or German: ballastexistenz.

Love caught me staring at the card. "It means, literally, 'ballast' or 'worthless life,'" she explained. "This was the Nazi label for the so-called 'mental defectives,' including autistics. Along with other undesirables, the ballastexistenz were designated for extermination."

I scooted around the back of the cab to unload the luggage, placing their two bags on the sidewalk. The couple stood there as Love counted out the fare. Eyes downcast, she passed the money to her husband. He whispered, "No, honey - the cabbie is over there," discretely motioning in my direction.

Love laughed out loud - delightedly, with no trace of self-consciousness. "This is what happens when you don't look people in the eye," she said, handing me the money.

I laughed along, and, for just the briefest moment, she glanced up - giving me, her lucky cabbie, a glimpse into the eyes of Love.