SAN FRANCISCO—As I drove over the Bay Bridge and passed into the city on a recent Friday afternoon, I faced a crisis of will. Was I truly willing to attach a hot pink Carstache—which is precisely what it sounds like—to the grill of my black Toyota in the name of journalism?
I pulled onto Harrison Street, into a section of the SoMa (South of Market, San Francisco’s startup hub) district that’s full of new high-rise residential buildings. I stepped out into the summer afternoon, opened my trunk, and whipped out the ridiculously large but definitely distinctive Carstache. I walked to the front of my car and did the deed. Carstache affixed. Now I was set to begin my first work shift.
Last week, I completed my orientation and training as a driver for Lyft. It’s the
