It would seem, now that your shift is over, that your work here is done. Soon, you’ll be home in Oakland, lying in bed, reading about the latest atrocities on Facebook. But you don’t have a car anymore. You lost that in the breakup. So you’re at the mercy of public transportation.
And since the first BART train doesn’t hit 24th Street until 4:20 a.m., you gas up at the Chevron where you don’t have to prepay, turn in your cab and wait outside the office smoking with the other drivers, building up a head of steam to make the 30-minute walk to the station.
I Drive S.F. 