My parents shared stories about picking cherries illegally from orchards and riding horses down Interstate 280 when it was being built in the 1950s. When I was young, I would stare skyward as the Blue Angles soared over Moffett Federal Airfield. Later, my husband and I would ride our bicycles along Shoreline, admiring sea birds and views of the southern San Francisco Bay.
You’ve grown into a bustling concrete jungle — with tech companies sprouting from old orchards. Where the most intelligent and talented people are imported from around the world to develop only the best technologies, birthing a cultural and economic melting pot of diversity.
Millionaires live next to blue collar workers, but you’d never know it. Instead, you’re a proud mix of granola-chic with your Sunday Farmers’ Market, featuring only the best locally grown produce, dairy and meats. Not to mention your delicious Indian, Japanese, Chinese and Vietnamese restaurants lining downtown’s Castro Street.
I escaped the yard, broke into the neighbor’s house, and woke him up by climbing into bed and licking his face. Then I played with his dog till my owner came and got me.
8 bolts, baby!