Lombard St. is always an entertainment point for Matt and I on weekends. The rental cars are in abundance lining up to experience the break killing windy part of Lombard honking, taking photos, and killing their clutches the entire way up. A few recent isms on Lombard:
- Clutch-ism...or lack thereof: last weekend a family from Nevada (I knew by the plates - my Law and Order skills kicking in) started their way up Lombard. We're lucky enough to see the steepest incline as the main part of the hill starts just under our living room window. Half way up the hill it was very apparent the driver wasn't used to such climbs - we heard a boom, then saw smoke, then smelled rancid toxic gas pouring out, and finally saw Lombard covered in red oil. An hour later the hill was closed, a tow-truck was lugging the sedan down the hill, and white powder was poured to cover the explosion.
- Who needs to drive when you can dance: after hiking for a good portion of the day and finally sinking into the couch to veg, my TV brain melting was interrupted with Madonna booming out our window and hoots and hollers. Running to the window I was greeted with San Franciscism #8,953,624. A red convertible followed by a yellow convertible was blaring music hosting a dance party to the driver and passengers. At the base of the hill, just where the stops signs meet and in the perfect place to cause a traffic jam, both cars stopped and all the occupants (except the driver of the leading car) got out to dance and flash the other cars. The highlight of this dance troop was the transvestite who loved showing their sparkly thong. Crewd, I know, but it wasn't me being indecent on the street!
- Photo-ism: At the top of Lombard the sights are almost as fun as the sounds of screeching that can be heard at the bottom. The crest of the hill is always adorned with photo-op seekers all of whom seem to take the same pose - the sideways lean, peace sign, and pho smile.
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