Steve McQueen, eat your heart out

Despite growing up in the city whose hills were made famous in a car chase scene of the 1968 flick Bullitt coupled with my somewhat reckless city driving, I had never actually caught real air before. By my old apartment in Noe Valley, there's a steep section of Diamond Street four blocks long with no stop signs. When I lived there, it was a pasttime of mine to blast a favorite tune, start from a full stop at the top of the hill and accelerate quickly, rising up slightly after the dip at each intersection. I'd turn the car around and go back for a few more cheap thrills before turning right and heading the few blocks back to my place.

Yesterday I took the afternoon to play tour guide. My former roommate Helen's cousin Nathan and his friend Greg both work for MTV (Australia and UK respectively) and were in LA shooting the MTV Video Music Awards. After LA, they had a day in SF and I volunteered myself as their personal chauffeur and guide. (I consider it my civic duty to give foreign visitors the best possible impression of my city.)

Aside from a look at Adidas shoes, Nathan requested a drive around some of the hills from Bullitt. This has been a common request of me on previous tours of San Francisco, but not only have I not seen the movie, but I'd never researched which streets were involved in the chase sequence. This time I decided to do it right. Google to the rescue and we were off.

We started at Bullitt's house, a large multi-level building at the corner of Clay and Taylor that currently has a 4-bedroom flat for rent. After a brief daydream about becoming detectives and moving into Bullitt's old digs followed by a photo session involving Nathan and Greg smoking cigarettes and generally looking like badasses on the front porch, we hopped in my Toyota and began the chase.

Nathan readied the camcorder and demanded "Action!" As fast as my 4-cylinder engine could carry us, we gunned it up the steep ascent of Taylor Street to the blind intersection with Vallejo. As I felt the car rising up from the ground, I hastily prayed that the strained revving of my whiney Japanese engine would alert all in the vicinity to stand clear. As Alcatraz Island rose up over the pavement horizon, we lifted up off the street a good few inches before slamming down on the other side. An elderly onlooker on the sidewalk stood with his mouth agape. The camcorder jostled violently and then regained composure as we continued the chase, over to Larkin Street, sharp left on a steep curve where Larkin becomes Francisco (where, in the movie, the pursuing Dodge Charger loses a hubcap).

We escaped unscathed. Damn that was fun. Anyone want to come for a visit?

Recent good times...