Eureka!

I remember it well.

That first time I entered the California Republic I was 15. Couldn’t drive. Couldn’t shave. Could dream. About moving out west and soaking up that Bay Area fog and the beautiful people and the scenery and vibe. The cab ride from the airport to the Presidio was all I needed to feel that I, too, had found what my life was missing.  So this is for all y’all missing (or just loving) home on the left coast.