Sunday morning we ate sourdough toast at Boudin (my new happy place) and then drove over the Golden Gate Bridge and away from San Francisco. Spending less than 24 hours in San Francisco for our first visit to the city was ridiculous. We will definitely visit again.
Many hours in the Charger ensued. Many, many hours. My head was so fried that at one point I forgot that I was driving an automatic and I stomped on the brake pedal with my left foot. You know, to hit the clutch so I could shift. I was pulling out of a gas station so I was going very slowly. It could have been worse; I could have stomped on the brake pedal while on the highway or something. I conceded defeat and gave up the drivers' seat after that.
Finally we hit the redwoods. Out of everything on the trip, I was most looking forward to seeing the redwoods. We didn't get to spend much time there but we had enough time to drive through the hollow tree and feed crackers to a cranky goose and eat hot dogs cooked by a lady who looked as though she would stab someone with her bbq fork if she had to answer one more question about trees.