Up early Tuesday a.m. ( Oct.30th, 2012) on the road by 8:30. Hard to believe we were going back again, after our first fairy tale visit to San Francisco five years prior to celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary. Never thought we’d get another chance to return, not to mention ever dreamed our next trip would have our son and girlfriend along, Lloyd driving, Eric navigating and we girls in the back chillin’.
Sitting on the Bay (Toll) Bridge, was nothing close to the laid back lyrics, “sitting on the docks of the bay, watching the tide roll away”. Let’s just say it’s not my favorite pit stop, but not my worst, although I couldn’t help but panic a bit. A tad claustrophobic after counting five lanes of traffic one way, but the realization a potty stop was out of the question was the real clincher. Suddenly I found myself dreaming of the future when x-ray waves scanned all passengers while still inside the car and emptied bladders as quick as toll attendants emptied pockets. Not like I’m cranky about toll bridges, I understand our dollars help the upkeep. No money for maintenance, more chance of cars in the ocean, and we don’t want that. I shared my future “bladder control” revelation out loud much to my son’s chagrin. I found the prospect amusing, but mother’s aren’t suppose to be funny, they’re suppose to be serious. I laughed harder than anybody else, probably because the thirteen lanes of traffic in total had finally condensed to a mere thread and began to wind their way into the city. Relief!
The bridge construction parallel to the one we were one, was well under way when we visited last, and much to my surprise, hadn’t stretched much further. I mused “must be a “large undertaking”, or is that “over taking”? In all seriousness, I respect bridge engineers and the detail and weight of responsibility they carry.
I watch the toll booth attendant’s face as money is exchanged through our car window and find myself thanking God I don’t have a job like that. I know someone has to do it, but I’m glad it isn’t me. Do these kinds of jobs put the attendants at greater health risk for lung related illnesses, from the exhaust they breathe, day in and day out ? Oh my, does claustrophobia have instantaneous symptoms capable of changing optimists to pessimists?
I see a florist van whiz by, covered in sporadic flower decals, gives me an idea for our envoy – scattered decorative frame decals to advertise our picture framing business?
On the Golden Gate bridge our son decides to film our coordinates for the world, half way through the sun roof, but no one will know who he is, with the force of the wind pushing his lips back to his ears.
Sausalito here we come!