San Francisco Rush

-in portland at time of posting-

Early Californian sun shot through the bathroom skylight. Shower steam condensing on beer bottles created an appropirate type of fresh morning dew. Droplets on the side of Rolling Rock ale from the night before. Our last night in San Francisco. I was underslept and over-stressed. I knew we would have a massive day ahead. Over 24 hours had already passed since the car was supposed to be picked up and gone. We were supposed to be unhindered and free to return home to Canada.

Stepping onto the balcony, I saw him sitting below. Same spot he stayed parked for the last three days. Morris, you coagulated gravy and hot dog bun eating bastard. Why was he still there? I had called the charity- rather they called me, wanting my registration information. I was told prior to travelling there would be no problem, but they assumed my Canadian car would have a California title. I had to travel to Oakland. The woman on the phone, Brenda. She told me to take my ICBC registration to the tow yard, they would fill out a form, and we would be safe to go see the Painted Ladies.

7:12AM
Bus 41 to California BART
We had walked two blocks to Union st, paid our fare and boarded towards the Bay Area Rapid Transit. A combination subway and above ground light rail system. We had taken it to the airport, SFO, several days before to see a man about a horse. Now we would be travelling beyond the city limits, across the bay to Oakland. Home of the Raiders.

7:28AM
Boarded BART to Colliseum/Oakland Airport

7:58AM
Arrive Colliseum/Oakland Airport. We needed to walk about 1.5km to the tow lot, in the middle of a very poor neighbourhood and industrial district, jumbled between an elevated freeway and two rail lines. First in the office of the yard, it was just after 8 o'clock. The woman had no idea what we should do and directed us to the Oakland DMV. Forunately for us, it was only around the corner. Another 2km or so through some of the poorest neighbourhoods I have ever experienced. Trash and broken bits of cars piled up between the freeways. Open sewers ran beside the streets.

8:30AM
The lineup at the DMV was wrapped around the building. It wouldn't open until 9. We were already running out of time. Not knowing what we could even accomplish we began taking action. I was on the phone with the ICBC in Kamloops asking about forms and policies. Mitch was setting up Greyhound tickets for our departure- at 5:30PM. What if we couldn't scrap the car? How could we pay to bring him back? What kind of forms do we need to find? There were no answers. The lineup built longer and people became agitated. We had decided the Canadian consulate was about to find a happy surprise in their parking lot today. If of course, we couldn't work this out.

9:00AM
The DMV opened, for once. From one line to another, to a ticket dispenser, from one clerk to seats and another clerk in another location. The first woman was sure we would need special documents direct from the state capitol. It would take weeks, she insisted. It wasn't until 9:30 when we began a sort of negotiation with a second clerk and her supervisor. And at nearly 10 in the morning we left the Oakland Department of Motor Vehicles. I agreed to pay 38 dollars and the Great State of California agreed Mitch and myself built Morris in a shed when we arrived here on Sunday, and would issue us an American title.

But first the inspection.

10:00AM
Filling out forms and writing sworn statements set us back. Check-out for our room was 12 o'clock. It would take close to an hour now to return to the hotel. We needed to get the car inspected, return to the DMV, get issued a junk title, call a tow company, and board the last bus to Canada at 5:30PM.

We ran to the train station and returned to San Francisco. Glad to be the flying fuck out of Oakland. Returned too far into San Francisco in fact, passing our stop by three. Wasted about ten minutes but finally returned to the Embarcadero station. There was no time for the bus, our transportation the rest of the day was by hailing taxi's, GTA style.

11:58AM
Checked out of the hotel. Two minutes early! Morris lay in the parking lot. No inspection. I frantically made calls to every body and organisation capable. The police department sent me to highway patrol. Erik Estrada was out of the office, and then fully booked for weeks. The internet gave me the name of a woman in Marin County. At last a break, she picked up right away and fit us in immeadiatly. She could be at the hotel in an hour. We needed to be at the bus station for check-in within 5 hours and then we would be gone. She arrived just after 1PM, inspected the car, completed a form and for this I paid $150. American.

1:45PM
The taxi to the San Francisco DMV was just about $15, just like every taxi ride taken today. I lost count how many. We wouldn't leave the DMV for another 2 hours. But we had our forms, they gave me a scrap title to the car. It was a Californian vehicle, finally. Plus, I'm getting sent a cheque for $35 USD, for reasons I do not understand. It will probably bounce anyway, the state doesn't have any money. Their employees are currently accepting IOU's instead of paycheques. No joke.

The time was now 3:45 and we ran up and down Haight St trying to find a cab. Exhausted and nearly defeated, we knew we couldn't catch our bus. A cab finally caught sight of us, and back to the hotel and Morris. During the trip I called the charity that would be taking the car. We would need to return to the tow lot in Oakland with the title. It was then I realised with the title in my hand, any tow company could take the car away.

Bad news for us, it was a 2 hour wait. And since the towing service still didn't fully accept Morris as an American citizen, there was another fee. One Hundred Dollars. And we didn't make our bus.

We cabbed again to the bus station and it was now getting near 7 o'clock. Fortunate for us, a mere $15 fee got us on the very next last-bus-to-Canada. I took a walk down Mission st to relax. And I write this tale now, sitting somewhere between Sacremento and Redding. It's 12 hours to Portland, and another 30 to home. I just "showered" in the handicap stall of the men's room of a Sacremento bus stop. Everything smells like pee.

It cost $290 Canadian, not including fee's, taxi fares, train tickets and late charges, to see Morris off. That is ninety dollars more than we paid for him!

-steve

ps.
and we never made it to the outlet mall in ogdenville!