I’m coming down California into Grant when, all of a sudden, the entire car is engulfed in unnatural silence. All of the sensations that normally accompany a cable car—the rattling, the humming, the vibrations—disappear in a heartbeat. It’s as if the car just passed out in a narcoleptic fit. This can mean only one thing.

The rope is down. It’s late—there aren’t many passengers onboard—the Chinese restaurants have closed. The dead stillness only adds to the spooky atmosphere. I feel like some mass evacuation has been ordered—‘Martian Invasion Fleet Sighted’—and I’m the only one who doesn’t know.

After a quick consultation with my conductor, I try to coast the car downhill as far as possible (gotta outrun those Martians). We get as far as Sansome before momentum gives out. Over the radio comes, “Cal rope down for the night.” The wrecker’s going to have to come down and retrieve each car individually. By the time they get around to me, it’ll be time to go home. All I have to do is sit tight and wait for the truck. Simple.

Now…nothing is ever simple at Cable Car Division. If it seems simple, you’ve got trouble around the corner.

The fact is, my conductor and I are caffeine junkies. He prefers his hot. I like mine cold. When you consume large amounts of coffee and soda, your kidneys will hold only so much before the inevitable Call of Nature. There are facilities at both ends of the route, but not a whole lot in between. The nearest relief is four blocks away.

In other words, we’re in trouble.

I’d passed another cable car on the opposite side of the street whose crew was pushing it up to Montgomery. I went to help, as California is slightly upgrade on this block, plotting furiously the whole time.

‘If only I could’ve kept up the momentum to roll through the intersection…the wrecker won’t be here for at least a half-hour. If I could just somehow get something to push the car down towards...’

It dawned on me that the car I was pushing was headed uphill—barely, but uphill nonetheless... This meant that my car was pointing downhill, if only slightly. Only four blocks to the terminal, and blissful relief.

I ordered my conductor to release the brakes and stand by the controls.

[Meanwhile, a few blocks down the street, a Golden Gate Transit bus waits at a light to cross California, as a cable car comes rolling down the street...very slowly...even for those antiquated things...abnormally slow... No doubt the bus driver wonders why the cable car is dragging along at walking speed. There are no riders aboard, just one guy standing up front at the controls...he seems awfully happy...in fact, he’s laughing hysterically. At the rear of the cable car, the other crewman is pushing...wait a minute...that guy is pushing his cable car...by hand? All the way down California Street?]

The expression of shock on that bus driver’s face is priceless.

The whole procedure goes pretty smoothly, actually. Once the car is moving, I jump off and give it a boost from time to time, standing on the running board, pushing along with one foot (imagine the world’s largest skateboard…).

And eventually, we make it down to Market Street. The crew of another car approaches us, puzzled as to how we managed to make it down there.

“Hey Val, how did you—”

“Gotta go!”

“Yeah but, the rope is down…how did you—”

“I pushed—I gotta go!”

“You pushed? From up there? You mean to say you actually—”

“I gotta go!! Now!! Get outta my way!!”

“Well, geez, you don’t have to—”

“Talk later!! MUST GO!! NOW!!!”

I really have to cut back on how much I drink on the job… I’ve found that too much soda makes my legs hurt afterwards…