Day 54 - Lombard St

San Francisco used to be fun. I only hear the reports about it now but all my friends who claim to live in San Francisco actually live in the suburbs or across the bay so that tells me something. 

I just bought a Honda Scrambler like the one I used to own when I lived there. In those days you could ride in the hills south of the city. The ones you see from the freeway as you drive in from the airport. It was legal before the Green Taliban took it away to be used by only the carefully anointed. Sharing has never been their thing.

We were a young and smart set who drank cocktails and drove sports cars. At one party the talk turned to cars and who was faster than who.

My Triumph will beat your MG. My Alfa will walk all over your Triumph. My Jag will eat your Alfa alive. And so forth.

All in good fun until the 3^rd or 4^th round of martinis.

Somebody had the grand idea that a little competition was good for the soul. Since the party was over by Ghirardelli Square it was decided that racing down Lombard Street was a reasonably good idea. This would take away the power advantage from the big cars and put a premium on handling and brakes.

If you don't know Lombard Street it is a steep downhill stretch of tight hairpin curves. Look closely at the picture and you will see that the surface is paved with bricks. One of the favorite pastimes of the residents is to go out and water the little gardens which drains onto the bricks. The yahoos who think themselves great and speedy drivers hit the wet bricks and then the retaining walls all to the amusement of the onlookers.

That night our plan was simple, a couple of people went to the bottom at Hyde Street and got out stopwatches to check the times. The rest of us lined up at the top on Leavenworth. The ones at the bottom would beep their horn and start the Heuers. As the car passed by at the bottom they would record the time and note the driver. Somebody measured the distance and could calculate the speed from the time elapsed.

It didn't take long before San Francisco's finest showed up in their black and white. However, they didn't stop the fun. They found it rather amusing and let us proceed. In fact, to make it all official, they handed out City of San Francisco Timing Certificates to each driver proclaiming that they had actually gone XX mph down the hill.

True, I had to go to court to pay the fine for the frivolity but I got to keep my Timing Certificate (speeding ticket) which I treasured for years.

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