When I worked processing the words of fools at a big fascist law firm in San Francisco in the mid- and late 1980s, I actually resided in Santa Rosa, around 52 miles to the north, and commuted to work on Golden Gate Transit buses, on which I spent around three hours daily because the traffic on Highway 101 slowed to a crawl in southern Novato, and stayed that way all the way into The City Boarding the southbound bus on Mendocino Avenue at 6:20 each morning, I made it a habit to say to the driver, “San Francisco, please,” as though it were a taxicab he was driving.
Share this post
The Mario Andretti of Mass Transit
Share this post
When I worked processing the words of fools at a big fascist law firm in San Francisco in the mid- and late 1980s, I actually resided in Santa Rosa, around 52 miles to the north, and commuted to work on Golden Gate Transit buses, on which I spent around three hours daily because the traffic on Highway 101 slowed to a crawl in southern Novato, and stayed that way all the way into The City Boarding the southbound bus on Mendocino Avenue at 6:20 each morning, I made it a habit to say to the driver, “San Francisco, please,” as though it were a taxicab he was driving.