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San Francisco parking is a bit like dirt in the movie Waterworld: so precious and rare a resource that its presence stirs forth a half spiritual, half murderous hysteria and the quest to find it never really ends, which is why you can find yourself yelling, “Look! A parking space! Oh my God, another one!”, like you just saw a Bald Eagle or a bobcat, not only when you have no plans to park but when you aren’t even in a car.
