Fifteen years ago today I found myself stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge.
I remember that time very clearly because it was the first time I had ever crossed to San Francisco from the East Bay. I remember thinking “this can’t be the Golden Gate because it isn’t orange.”
I had just driven 2,235.3 miles westward, most of the time on I-80, to move to San Francisco on a whim.
Now it is fifteen years later.
I think I am a “local” now.