Working at the Cable Car Division is different than being at a regular Muni Division. After a while, it becomes easy to forget that you’re responsible for a world-famous, National Historic Landmark. Episodes like the one I’m about to describe help to remind you that this is definitely not the 38-Geary.

It started out as an ordinary day. As I arrive at the barn, I get a phone call from another gripman, a good friend of mine. He tells me about a special charter he was supposed to do with Mayor Willie Brown. Now, special VIP charters are something I’d really rather not deal with. It means you’ve got to be on your very best behavior—no inappropriate scratching, cussing, spitting, or picking your nose. It’s like when Grandma would come over to the house when you were a kid... ughh.

He tells me the charter has been postponed (the Mayor’s running late, as mayors do) and that he won’t be able to do it….

[Friend] “I talked to the superintendent, and I suggested that maybe you could—”

[Me] “What?”

[‘Friend’] “Well, the boss likes you, he thinks you’re a good gripman, they wanted someone who can—”

[Me] “...What?”

[Acquaintance] “C’mon, it’ll be fun! You can meet the Mayor, besides, the Supt. is expecting you to—”

[Me] “............What!?”

[Person I Work With] “Well, I told him you liked doing this sort of thing, so I—”

[Me] “...You...did...what!!!???”

[Total Stranger] “Well, I just thought, you know, you might—”

At this point, my phone suddenly went dead. Phones do that when you throw them at solid objects, like brick walls.

I get down to Hyde & Beach, sweep out the car, empty the garbage, hell, if I’d had Windex, I’d have wiped the windows. There are supes and Muni bigshots all around. No one seems to know what’s going on, apart from the fact that the Mayor is (still) running late. I ask one of the suits if they know what this is all about. I get a shrug in return.

Finally, the Mayor’s limo shows up, then a Hollywood TV crew, with boom mikes and cameras the size of VWs. Makeup people start working on Willie Brown. I feel very scruffy in my uniform. I start to wonder if there’s any way I can get out of this (“Excuse me, Your Honor, but I think I just broke both of my ankles...”).

As this thought is racing through my head, a tall, blonde guy surrounded by five very attractive women walks up to my cable car. All activity suddenly goes into overdrive. Cameras are rolling, sound people are running around with their fur–covered mikes, people are tripping over each other. Tourists in line for the car start screaming “Bob! Bob! Look, it’s Bob!!”

Bob? Who the heck is Bob?

“That’s Bob, the bachelor....”

Yeah well, he certainly doesn’t look like he’s married....

“No, no, The Bachelor!”

As in the TV show The Bachelor? That Bachelor? Well now.... All I have to do is grip a cable car with the Mayor of San Francisco, a TV celebrity, Muni brass, and about five TV cameras onboard. How hard can that be?

Surprisingly easy, as it turned out. The phalanx of police cars in front and behind was a great help in keeping autos out of the way, filming went without a hitch, Bob and his ‘harem’ were nice people after all, and to top it off, I get to be on national TV!

The best part of this whole episode... as I passed Union, there was a 45-bus driven by a buddy of mine. When I told him I was going to cables, he said, “Are you nuts? It’s cold out there, you’ll get soaked, it’s hard physical work, you’ll get hurt, for what? You can make the same money on buses! You’ll be back—you’ll be sorry!”

The look on his face when I rolled through the intersection, with the Mayor, The Bachelor, five beautiful women and the TV cameras on the car—my cable car....

Sure the work is hard. It’s not easy, and it’s not for everyone. It gets cold, you get wet, and muscle aches and pains are a regular part of being a gripman. To paraphrase the commercial: sweater—$20, aspirin—$3, this job... priceless.