I pulled up to a gas pump off I-80 this morning, somewhere between the Bay Area and Sacramento, and had a funny thought:
“I don’t know where I am, but at least I’m out of there!”
My buddy Betty recently commented on the fact that I had no beach shots. Well, I was just waiting for the Pacific Ocean beaches to have nobody on them but me.
Ok, the Elephant Seals were hanging out, but they live here on this nude beach!
I was heading to Grant and Skoge’s place out on Masonic but I missed a critical exit and dropped into downtown at the beginning of rush hour. No problem I thought, if I can find Van Ness I can find Geary and then Masonic. Besides, I survived L.A., I can handle this.
And hour later I had been in the Castro District, up on a big hill via Market Street, all the way along the Embarcadero, with thousands of tourists, through Fishermans Wharf with millions of tourists and I still hadn’t found my streets. Hey, it’s been a long time since I drove this insane town!
I finally got there and Skoge (my friend of 40 years) and I had a great time playing with her I-Pad. So, as to my opening comment, San Francisco was “there”.