Christian started it. That picture he posted on Facebook of his cab outside Buster’s triggered a hankering for a Buster’s Burger that I couldn’t satisfy with just one. Or two. Or even three. Pretty much any fare to North Beach over the past few weeks was an excuse to hit up Buster’s …
Last Friday night, after dropping at The Boardroom, I make a beeline to Columbus and Vallejo, hoping for rock-star parking at the green meter on the corner.
When I get there, an SUV is hogging the space and part of the red curb next to the fire hydrant, preventing me from squeezing in without blocking the crosswalk.
I consider giving up, but my Buster’s craving is too strong. I go around the block searching for another spot, then head to the Vesuvio taxi stand, which, fortunately, isn’t overrun by Uber drivers.
Just as I’m getting back into my cab, two guys approach me.
“Are you available?” the first one asks, opening my back door.
“Sure,” I say, thinking, Well, the fries are usually hot as hell anyway.
“We’re going to Parc 55,” the first guy tells me. “The address is — ”
“Parc 55,” I reply, cutting him off. “I got ya.”
“See, he knows where he’s going,” the other guy playfully chides his companion.
I take a right on Pacific and head down Stockton. As the cab bounces and jerks over a battle zone of potholes, buckled asphalt and metal plates, I apologize for the rough terrain.
“Does San Francisco have many streets that are in bad shape like this?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’ve driven on dirt roads that were smoother than most of these streets.”
“Are there certain ones you intentionally avoid?”
“There are plenty of streets I’d like to avoid, but it’s almost impossible since so many are ripped to shit.”
“What are some of the streets you think are in the worst condition?” he asks.
I rattle a few off the top of my head: Van Ness, Haight Street, Broadway and Fourth Street.
“Potrero was a total shit show for like five years,” I add. “But they finally repaved it, although there’s still a stretch between Division and 17th that’s a complete suspension killer.”
When they ask me to spell out Potrero, I realize they’re writing them down.