The rest of us think he's from Burlingame.
Actually, I think he's from Mars.
I just drove home, from where I grew up in Mill Valley to my flat in the city, heading across the Golden Gate Bridge, through town in the rain.
And I am from San Francisco.
If anyone in the world had been on that drive with me tonight, they'd be from San Francisco too. The city's lit up and shiny tonight, it's crisp and clean and cold. Hardly any cars were on the roads and everything felt like mine. Every corner had a memory and every song on the radio suddenly seemed to apply.
I was just driving by myself, bundled up with the window down, thinking about my day and my family and my friends and my life. And I was driving home...