Okay, that's it.
I can't stand it another minute.
I have to get the fuck out of San Francisco for the weekend.
I've rented a brand-new, hot silver w/black interior 2005 Mistubishi Galant LS with a hot, torquey 3.8l V6, it's got a full tank of gas, so I'm on my way to Los Angeles. My friend Dan is there, staying at a hotel on Santa Monica in West Hollywood, and he said his room has an extra bed. I haven't seen that boy in 3 years, and I need a vacation.
I-5, here I come. I can't wait to eat at Pea Soup Anderson's in Santa Nella...it's an authentic roadside Americana faux Danish roadside attraction, complete with a huge fake windmill, in the middle of the fucking San Joaquin Valley. Even the waitresses dress up as little dutch women, although most of them are plump and Mexican. To make it even better, it hasn't been remodeled since...oh...1970 or so. The kitsch factor is just off the charts, and to be honest...the food is actually pretty damn good.
Of course, I need to make room for Harris Ranch, located on "the five" halfway between SF and LA. They have wonderful pot roast, and a good wine selection. Pot roast with garlic mashed potatoes and hot, freshly-baked bread and a big glass of hearty California Cabernet is my favorite meal there...maybe on my way back up.
I really dig that Mitsubishi...it's a fun car, fast as hell, and because I rented it at the O'Farrell Street office where I used to work last summer, I got a total deal on it. I had quite a few adventures while working there...and I had interesting co-workers as well.
Anyway, I snapped today's photo across the street from the San Francisco Hall of Justice. A bail bond place with a full open bar and an ATM for your convenience.
Now that's what I call service.
When you're outta luck, and outta cash...sometimes you just need a cocktail. Dad's Bail Bonds. We'll take care of ya.