Fillmore Street

It is not Driving over the brow of Fillmore at Broadway hill, the glorious panoramic view of Marina district, Alcatraz, and Golden Gate Bridge fills my windshield. After many years conditioned in the technology way of life, I started to believe that this beauty could only be enjoyed and experienced by going to the IMAX theater, or by watching a Discovery Channel "Planet Earth" Blu-Ray DVD on a Sharp Aquos 52" 1080p LCD TV. But today, I experience this beauty from the comfort of my Recaro bucket seat while listening to the Audi Symphony Bose stereo system playing the Tony Bennett’s "I left my heart in San Francisco."

Earlier this morning, I was woken up by the sunlight shining on my face through my bedroom window. I looked at my T-Mobile MDA phone and it was 8 am. My mind drifted to the small talk I had with the girl behind the counter yesterday at The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf store.

"How are you today?" I said as she was handing me my decaffeinated mocha with light whipped cream.

"Living the dream!" she said with an ear-to-ear smile.

I was surprised by her response. It was unique.
I opened the window and stared at the top of glowing red Golden Gate towers behind the rooftops of the Edwardian and Mediterranean Sea Cliff houses. The morning air was balmy. I soaked this postcard-like scenery framed by the bedroom window. I asked myself, "Am I living the dream?"

Due to the comfort of routines, the security of familiars, and the tranquility of repetitions, I took everything around me for granted; thinking that everything would always be there and stay the same. So I decided, today, I would slow down and smell the roses. I would roam around my beautiful town and hunt for the steepest roads of San Francisco in my beloved Audi S4 Avant.

The Pacific Heights neighborhood is still waking up. The sonorous burble of the 4.2 liter V8 engine bounces of the houses on Fillmore Street as I scale down this steep hill. The Tiptronic transmission allows me to downshift to the first gear using the paddle shifter even though I have left the gear on D mode. The smart logic knows that I am performing engine braking, so it doesn’t shift up.

Many couples and singles live near Fillmore, as it offers stupendous things to do after work hours and weekends. The famous annual San Francisco Jazz Festival is held on Fillmore Street at the end of June. Historically, Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Billie Holliday played in the Jazz clubs on Fillmore Street. Diverse ethnic restaurants setup tables on the street, nourishing the music lovers from morning till late at night. A few dance Swing, Jitter Bugs, and Shag to the effervescent and energetic big band music.

Pacific Heights is populated by gigantic luxurious homes with well manicured and sculptured stamp size gardens. Many of the houses on the hills have panoramic views of Golden Gate Bridge, Marina district, Alcatraz, the sister city Sausalito, and the hilly Marin headland National recreation area.

As I go up and down the hills, I pass rows of houses with distinct architectural styles. A Victorian house stands next to a French Chateau. An ancient Greek architecture house sits next to an Art Deco style apartment building and an Amsterdam ginger-bread house on the other side. On the next block, an Italian Renaissance house with its intricate carving and statues is right across from a minimalist sterile modern white house. Pacific Heights is a place where global architectures coexist.

Having the power of 340 Spartans under the hood makes driving around San Francisco a treasure hunting; searching for steepest road to climb. This Audi ignores the 25 to 31.5 percent gradient of the San Franciscan steepest roads. I put the gear on the S mode and I gun for the hill. My internal organs are squashed by the acceleration force. The sky is approaching at a very high speed. This must be the view observed by the Space Shuttle astronauts during lift-off.

The car-chase scenes from the classic Steve McQueen’s Bullitt pop up in my mind. No, I don’t want to catapult the car up in the air and hit the ground with sparks coming out from the undercarriage. So, I apply the oversized 340 mm fade-resistance disc brakes. Slowing down to a crawl, the car uses its remaining explosive launch momentum to reach the top of the hill. I still can not see any road in front of me due the angle. I pull myself forward like Calvin and Hobbes pretending to drive.

Earlier this morning, I was woken up by the sunlight shining on my face through my bedroom window. I looked at my T-Mobile MDA phone and it was 8 am. My mind drifted to the small talk I had with the girl behind the counter yesterday at The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf store.

"How are you today?" I said as she was handing me my decaffeinated mocha with light whipped cream.

"Living the dream!" she said with an ear-to-ear smile.

I was surprised by her response. It was unique.
I opened the window and stared at the top of glowing red Golden Gate towers behind the rooftops of the Edwardian and Mediterranean Sea Cliff houses. The morning air was balmy. I soaked this postcard-like scenery framed by the bedroom window. I asked myself, "Am I living the dream?"

Due to the comfort of routines, the security of familiars, and the tranquility of repetitions, I took everything around me for granted; thinking that everything would always be there and stay the same. So I decided, today, I would slow down and smell the roses. I would roam around my beautiful town and hunt for the steepest roads of San Francisco in my beloved Audi S4 Avant.

The Pacific Heights neighborhood is still waking up. The sonorous burble of the 4.2 liter V8 engine bounces of the houses on Fillmore Street as I scale down this steep hill. The Tiptronic transmission allows me to downshift to the first gear using the paddle shifter even though I have left the gear on D mode. The smart logic knows that I am performing engine braking, so it doesn’t shift up.

Many couples and singles live near Fillmore, as it offers stupendous things to do after work hours and weekends. The famous annual San Francisco Jazz Festival is held on Fillmore Street at the end of June. Historically, Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Billie Holliday played in the Jazz clubs on Fillmore Street. Diverse ethnic restaurants setup tables on the street, nourishing the music lovers from morning till late at night. A few dance Swing, Jitter Bugs, and Shag to the effervescent and energetic big band music.

Pacific Heights is populated by gigantic luxurious homes with well manicured and sculptured stamp size gardens. Many of the houses on the hills have panoramic views of Golden Gate Bridge, Marina district, Alcatraz, the sister city Sausalito, and the hilly Marin headland National recreation area.

As I go up and down the hills, I pass rows of houses with distinct architectural styles. A Victorian house stands next to a French Chateau. An ancient Greek architecture house sits next to an Art Deco style apartment building and an Amsterdam ginger-bread house on the other side. On the next block, an Italian Renaissance house with its intricate carving and statues is right across from a minimalist sterile modern white house. Pacific Heights is a place where global architectures coexist.

Having the power of 340 Spartans under the hood makes driving around San Francisco a treasure hunting; searching for steepest road to climb. This Audi ignores the 25 to 31.5 percent gradient of the San Franciscan steepest roads. I put the gear on the S mode and I gun for the hill. My internal organs are squashed by the acceleration force. The sky is approaching at a very high speed. This must be the view observed by the Space Shuttle astronauts during lift-off.

The car-chase scenes from the classic Steve McQueen’s Bullitt pop up in my mind. No, I don’t want to catapult the car up in the air and hit the ground with sparks coming out from the undercarriage. So, I apply the oversized 340 mm fade-resistance disc brakes. Slowing down to a crawl, the car uses its remaining explosive launch momentum to reach the top of the hill. I still can not see any road in front of me due the angle. I pull myself forward like Calvin and Hobbes pretending to drive.

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Fillmore Street

It is not Driving over the brow of Fillmore at Broadway hill, the glorious panoramic view of Marina district, Alcatraz, and Golden Gate Bridge fills my windshield. After many years conditioned in the technology way of life, I started to believe that this beauty could only be enjoyed and experienced by going to the IMAX theater, or by watching a Discovery Channel "Planet Earth" Blu-Ray DVD on a Sharp Aquos 52" 1080p LCD TV. But today, I experience this beauty from the comfort of my Recaro bucket seat while listening to the Audi Symphony Bose stereo system playing the Tony Bennett’s "I left my heart in San Francisco."

Earlier this morning, I was woken up by the sunlight shining on my face through my bedroom window. I looked at my T-Mobile MDA phone and it was 8 am. My mind drifted to the small talk I had with the girl behind the counter yesterday at The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf store.

"How are you today?" I said as she was handing me my decaffeinated mocha with light whipped cream.

"Living the dream!" she said with an ear-to-ear smile.

I was surprised by her response. It was unique.
I opened the window and stared at the top of glowing red Golden Gate towers behind the rooftops of the Edwardian and Mediterranean Sea Cliff houses. The morning air was balmy. I soaked this postcard-like scenery framed by the bedroom window. I asked myself, "Am I living the dream?"

Due to the comfort of routines, the security of familiars, and the tranquility of repetitions, I took everything around me for granted; thinking that everything would always be there and stay the same. So I decided, today, I would slow down and smell the roses. I would roam around my beautiful town and hunt for the steepest roads of San Francisco in my beloved Audi S4 Avant.

The Pacific Heights neighborhood is still waking up. The sonorous burble of the 4.2 liter V8 engine bounces of the houses on Fillmore Street as I scale down this steep hill. The Tiptronic transmission allows me to downshift to the first gear using the paddle shifter even though I have left the gear on D mode. The smart logic knows that I am performing engine braking, so it doesn’t shift up.

Many couples and singles live near Fillmore, as it offers stupendous things to do after work hours and weekends. The famous annual San Francisco Jazz Festival is held on Fillmore Street at the end of June. Historically, Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Billie Holliday played in the Jazz clubs on Fillmore Street. Diverse ethnic restaurants setup tables on the street, nourishing the music lovers from morning till late at night. A few dance Swing, Jitter Bugs, and Shag to the effervescent and energetic big band music.

Pacific Heights is populated by gigantic luxurious homes with well manicured and sculptured stamp size gardens. Many of the houses on the hills have panoramic views of Golden Gate Bridge, Marina district, Alcatraz, the sister city Sausalito, and the hilly Marin headland National recreation area.

As I go up and down the hills, I pass rows of houses with distinct architectural styles. A Victorian house stands next to a French Chateau. An ancient Greek architecture house sits next to an Art Deco style apartment building and an Amsterdam ginger-bread house on the other side. On the next block, an Italian Renaissance house with its intricate carving and statues is right across from a minimalist sterile modern white house. Pacific Heights is a place where global architectures coexist.

Having the power of 340 Spartans under the hood makes driving around San Francisco a treasure hunting; searching for steepest road to climb. This Audi ignores the 25 to 31.5 percent gradient of the San Franciscan steepest roads. I put the gear on the S mode and I gun for the hill. My internal organs are squashed by the acceleration force. The sky is approaching at a very high speed. This must be the view observed by the Space Shuttle astronauts during lift-off.

The car-chase scenes from the classic Steve McQueen’s Bullitt pop up in my mind. No, I don’t want to catapult the car up in the air and hit the ground with sparks coming out from the undercarriage. So, I apply the oversized 340 mm fade-resistance disc brakes. Slowing down to a crawl, the car uses its remaining explosive launch momentum to reach the top of the hill. I still can not see any road in front of me due the angle. I pull myself forward like Calvin and Hobbes pretending to drive.