I’m originally from California. For simplicity’s sake, I usually say that I’m from San Francisco, but—technically speaking—that’s not true. From the time I was born in 1969 until the time I left for college, I lived in a tiny town called Brisbane that’s just south of San Francisco.
Now, despite its proximity to the City, Brisbane had little in common with San Francisco at that time. It was a town of 3000 people at the base of San Bruno Mountain with three churches and five saloons. The jukebox at the local pizza joint played both kinds of music: Country and Western. Few roads were paved. And the town’s young philosophers enjoyed re-building their Mustangs, getting into high-speed chases with the police, wrecking their cars and going to jail—only to get out and do it all over again. In short, it was Hazzard County (though, unfortunately, none of the men were anywhere near as handsome as Bo and Luke Duke).