I remember first falling in love with the Bay Area crossing the Bay Bridge and leaning back, looking out the back of the hatch-back as the suspension cables went up and down. I would plead, “drive in the middle” as this would help foster my fantasy of the bridge raising and lowering the car with every tower. The sun was shining and I would count out the towers silently as we went past. One, two, three, four and then I would ask how come the bridge to Treasure Island doesn’t have cables. Just the kind of question an adult loves to answer.
