I say goodbye to my cycling buddies and text Max.

What an amazing town this is!

I’m glad you like it. It’s one of the prettiest in the Bay Area. Some say the prettiest. Do you want to relax a little? Catch your breath?

Yes, please, I say.

When I look at my watch, I can’t believe this whole cycling tour was three hours.

It’s mid-afternoon now and the sun is not so strong anymore. I’ve finished the two water bottles I bought for the ride—thankfully the guide reminded us to get some—and I’m thirsty and tired. But a good kind of tired. I’m still smiling and in awe of everything.

I think I know the answer to this question, but here it goes: the beach with snacks and a drink OR a terrace?

The beach, I answer without hesitation.

I only got to spend those few minutes on the beach earlier in the morning, and I’m dying to go back. I grew up dreaming about it. After I moved to New York for college, I never saw the ocean except for the occasional Long Island trip. And I had never seen the Pacific until now.

Max tells me where I can get something to drink and the fastest way to Carmel Beach.

Impressive how he gets all of his directions so right, but, as a Lift driver, you kind of have to know your way around, don’t you?

I text him from the shop the moment I see a rack full of sunglasses.

What do you think? I ask and send him three photos with three different pairs. I’m holding them in my hand, not wearing them, since we’re staying away from anything personal.

Get the pink ones. Seeing life through rose-colored glasses is allowed on one’s birthday.

Back on the beach, I lie in the sand, staring at the clouds and listening to the waves. I could see myself living here. My life would be so different, wouldn’t it? New York is always in such a rush. Time seems to stand still here. It gives you room to catch your breath.

Whose turn is it? I ask.

Yours if you want.

Alright. Let’s go with number 22.

What’s your pet peeve? he asks.

This is like the list of fears. Too many to count. But I’ll try: loud chewing, being late, people who say honestly before telling a blatant lie, and those who say literally before a non-literal thing, people stopping suddenly in the middle of the street.

That last one is such a NYC pet peeve, he says. And it’s a good thing we don’t know each other in real life because I’m that guy who chews loudly, is always late and says literally and honestly all the time. Honestly.

Ha-ha-ha. I don’t believe you, I text.

Why not? he asks.

You just don’t seem like that type of person.

What type is that?

The obnoxious one.

I just fooled you because I’m a master texter.