Wow. They tell you about the hills here. They warn you about it, even. But it doesn't really sink in until you come across a street where the sidewalk literally has a staircase cut into it. Uphill, downhill, cresting four peaks walking eight blocks... if you see someone riding a bike in San Francisco, they're either a tourist, or in peak condition, or mad.
I am not in peak condition. By that fourth hill, I was puffing and wheezing like a steam engine, barely able to maintain my co-ordination. I must have been a bit worse off than that, actually, because I finally failed to clear a curb. A simple curb, no more than an ankle's height, but it nearly did me in. I lurched forward, and my hat flew off. As any good student of comedy will tell you, it's not a fall until the hat comes off.
However, I managed to get my feet ahead of my momentum with a little two-step. One quick lunge, and I grabbed my hat before it fell, and tossed it back on my head. Then, I looked up and saw a young lady who had seen the whole thing. I smiled, and tipped my cap to her, as if to thank her for playing the audience. She smiled back.
mojo status: 13/100