I have a good friend who invited me to stay with him for a week up just North of SF in Mill Valley. I have to admit the 10 or so hours on the Ducati was the toughest non-self-powered-two wheel ride I'd ever done. Once I made it into SF, though, I felt at home again, driving by SFSU and a few places I rented on 19th while going to school. I understood for the first moment in my life why people stay in particular cities their whole life. Every corner I turned and every bus stop, gas station and even a particular telephone pole (where I had once thrown up fish sticks and tater tots) dislodged a memory. It was as if every instant my life expanded and it felt good.
Made it to the bridge and was finally only about 10 min. from a plush, comfy air mattress set up in an unused bedroom.
(This pic stolen, too...wasn't about to try and take a left handed pic while driving on the bridge, but it captures the scene and my mental state perfectly.)