A good day in San Francisco, CA

Yesterday was a good day. I mean, it really was.

I wasn’t planning on the news that I heard from the mechanic back in Seattle. From the sound of it, his jarbled mechanic-speak translated to me that my car’s insides were completely churned and mashed into a massive hunk of oily metal. Apparently my mechanic friends that fixed the car in Oregon make better friends then mechanics. I don’t understand it, because I’m inept, but it seems like Isaac just shoved some parts in there, banged around with some tools, and then handed me the keys.

My car is destroyed. It’s not coming back to life.

My camera also seems to be on the fritz. Many of the functions are starting to fail. And that particular hunk of metal (and glass) means a lot more to me then my car… it’s my livelihood. It’s as if I was a traveling salesman, wandering about the earth hocking my wares, and somebody has stolen my wares.

My camera is dying. And I need it to live.

But it was still a good day. Because after getting some work done I went out into the city:

The sunset was beautiful, the San Franciscans silhouetted against its glow.

I stopped by Borders and read some magazines and had a cup of coffee.

Then I walked through the city, which is brimming with color:

Chowder at the wharf:

And a street show:

And a clear shot of the bay:

And a ride home on the cable car:

Truly, things aren’t that bad for me. Quite the opposite. I can’t help but feel enormously blessed. Bad days happen to everyone, but perspective and fresh air illuminated the reality for me: that so many have it far worse. So I grabbed a cup of coffee, and let the salty bay air bite at my nose while I walked back to my hostel.