Wednesday, June 12, 2002

There have been 2 serious accidents in the last 24 hours on Grizzly Peak Blvd above Berkeley. We used to drive up there often, either a bunch of guys and a few six-packs, or me and my latest "love-of-the month" in my roommate's car. The view was fantastic.

You would drive (fast) up the curved roads, pushing your car and your skills. It felt straight up, out of the city and into the clouds, getting away from classes, the library, homework, all your worries. You were far above the lights, the noise, and the crowds. The stars twinkled, the skyline of San Francisco shone, and the possibilities seemed endless.

Many nights we'd sit on that big rock near the top, near the antenna towers, and just talk about nothing, or everything, drinking our cheap beer and getting a slight buzz. Or two of us, more intimately parked off the side of the road, snuggling in the warm car, listening to "The Quiet Storm", the lights of the radio and the moon the only illumination of whatever might be revealed that night. It was an awesome place to experience life, but it would be a terrible place to die.

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