From our window seat at Dosa on Valencia this past Sunday afternoon. We stopped in for a late lunch and, as it was a warm and sunny afternoon, sat in the window seats that give directly on to Valencia Street.
We spotted this guy sitting in his weathered, slightly rusted off-white ’53 Chevy as he intently monitored the comings and goings at the Blue Fig across the street.
He was accompanied by a nylon bass fiddle case riding shotgun on the passenger seat. For the purposes of our completely made-up story, he could have hidden anything in there.
A short time after this photograph was taken, our imaginary hero abandoned his surveillance. His expression never changed as he checked his watch one last time, started up the old Chevy, dropped the three-on-the-tree shifter into first gear, doggedly cranked the steering wheel to the left (no power steering), checked his side mirror and idled away, leaving behind a blue cloud of exhaust that dissipated quickly in the afternoon breeze.
I love San Francisco.