 Duh, Milena said. Then she added sweetly, don't cry, to make sure that I knew she loved me. I think that was when I realized that at some point I would write about San Francisco, about 1974, about that year when so much changed, that year when the city looked like it did in vertigo, even though it didn't. I think it was then that I knew I would try to describe those nights when the neon-striped Tony's windshield disappeared.