Transamerica circa 1978, picture me as a bicycle messenger. It was truly, the wild west. We rode 3 speed bikes with little or no brakes. There were no helmet laws and traffic signs were more like suggestions than actual rules of engagement. We had two way radios, no cell phones, and would meet, in mass, 3 or 4 times a day to smoke joints at the base of this building. I lived to tell. Many did not. On rainy days Poppers got you up the hills. It was scary wild.