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I spent a lot of time around Marin when I was in college in the early ’60s. (I watched them build the Civic Center.) I can remember evenings driving around Sausalito or San Anselmo, trying to find a girl’s house, and the fog would be so thick I had to get out of my VW and practically climb the street-sign pole to figure out where I was.
I climbed Mt. Tam three times with friends while I was there, up the spiraling fire trail. And we used to meet at “Maria’s,” the beached ferry boat-turned-coffee house on the waterfront in Sausalito. (Any of you other old timers remember that place? You rented the use of a cup for the night — your only charge.) I drove all up and down the coast in my free time, as far as Goat Rock on the Russian River, just to enjoy the scenery.
I loved that whole area — but I suspect strongly that it would bear little resemblance today to my memories.