The squashed skunk and the runaway train.

So, I have arrived in San Francisco. The sun is shining and the diners are full.

The journey here was somewhat of an adventure. It started upon leavin the motel. I packed up the bike and was about to leave when I realised the mud guard was scraping the wheel. It must have been bent whilst hitching a lift. Still I didn’t really have time to fix it and anyway it was likely to get a bit bashed in transit. I went to hand in the key when the point arose that perhaps the bus I needed didn’t leave from the same place as th greyhound. So, I phoned the helpline (automated message!!), eventually I got to speak to someone and they gave me the departure address. As I was passing, the greyhound was there, but I decided to follow through on plan and cycke to the ‘train depot’. In that way that farcical accidents happen the following all occurred within about a minute – but every second counted.
1 – 6 s Waiting at junction till all clear
7-12s Pulled into road and started peddling afap, but guard scraping
13-18s I, in my wisdom, decided to try and pull guard away from wheel whilst moving (big mistake)
19–24s I began to lose control of bike
25-30s truck behind started honking (I began to panic aware of impending collision)
31–36s I tried to get out of his way but there was a car accelerating in the other lane
37–42s I try and hold bike line and almost make it.
43–48s I see car pass and check oncoming lane – it’s clear
49-54 I ‘bail’ off bike – landing on hand, elbow and my twisted knee (ouch!)
55-60s I pick myself up and truck driver slows traffic
61-90 We move bike, I hitch lift from him to get bus.

5 minutes later, shaken but not stirred, we arrive at ‘train depot’. He offers me an energy drink and a Malboro to smoke. He explains a little about the ‘cowboy’ country I am leaving where the ‘Skunk train’ only runs in summer. Reading between the overgrown train lines, this is to stop the tourists getting stoned as this time of year is harvest season and the skunk smell is not necessarily the squashed small mammal we passed. He asks if I’m ok and says if I get stuck he’s sure there’d be work fr me ‘harvesting’. I gracefully decline. The bus arrives and I spurt “I’ve just been rescued by someone who nearly killed me!”. The bus driver shines. ‘Danny’ my rescuer says to him “take care of this girl, she’s very special and she’s hurting”. He then gives me some cash and says “Do something good with it.” I get on the bus sit down and well, write. Quite a thing…

The man behind me reminds me of one of the red woods I have just left behind. My impression of him is as tall and established, carved and elegant; handsome and steady. I feel safe. It turns out he has retired from 32 years service in the SFPD.: very fortuitous. He gives me the low down on San Fran and the best/worst areas. His wife is a retired head teacher.

The bus then stopped and I waited for the train. This section of the journey was spent with a Tour truck driver and I learnt a bit about the current music climate in the US and life within the US music industry. He helps me onto the bus and gives me his email address.

The next bus is a bit strange as the bus driver is in a rush and doesn’t have time to speak English to me.

Still, a young girl helps out, drawing me a little map. We dismount and I head to hostel. It is not really in the safest of areas and there are numerous people begging, apparently drawn here by the warm climate and rich pickings.

I check in and go to check out what’s on. I begin to feel a little unsafe. The last time I felt I was being ‘hunted’ like this was whilst working with the giant tortoises at Jersey Zoo! So I ask 2 guys if I can walk with them. We look for somewhere to eat and find a piano bar. So after a glass of the finest Californian Pinot Noir and some chicken skewers with cucumber salad, fries and spicy ranch sauce, I am feeling a little more in myself. It turns out the two guys are trainers for Apple. One of the guys goes out with a Chemistry teacher. They make me feel really welcome. We are joined later by a Canadian colleague of theirs and spend an hour or two seat dancing and singing along to our requests. Believe it or not we were not the most embarrassing people in there – there was a guy who was intent on expressing his inner woman. Very funny! San Fran and the ‘creatve vortex’ seems to be bringing out the mild side of the local financial district. Bring the campness on. See what I’ve done there…. Damp camp sites to campness in Van ness, SF. Another night alone in another big city. Oh for some friends! Lucky I have no shame. Thankfully people so far have been very welcoming despite my rather weather beaten appearance. Welcome to the REAL california!