Rushing onto the N-Judah today to head downtown for dinner with my old college roomie, I spun the ol’ iPod wheel until I found something soothing. I settled on - cheesy as it is - Tony’s version of “I Left My Heart In San Francisco,” a song I didn’t even know I had.

Enjoying the rare, nearly sunny July evening, my mellow was broken only by the obscenity-laced screaming of a homeless man who WANTED TO GET OFF AT CARL & COLE. CARL & COLE. IS THIS CARL & COLE?

At 4th Ave, it still wasn’t Carl & Coal. At UCSF, it still wasn’t Carl & Coal. At Stanyan, it still wasn’t Carl & Coal. In fact, it so wasn’t Carl & Coal that the MUNI driver, tired of the screaming and the old man hovering for 4 minutes in the doorway at each stop, delaying the whole train, that he must’ve radioed in the cavalry.

Because what to our wondering eyes did appear, but one of those MUNI heavy-duty pick ups, zipping up and pulling quickly to the side of the road.

Which would’ve been fine except for that principle we all learned about in either physics or crappy science fiction movies that two bits of matter can’t occupy the same space.

The Muni truck driver cut in so quick and so sharply, he managed to hook his right, rear-wheel well onto the front bumper of a white Honda Civic. Pop! Off it came in a twisted, dangly bit, it’s sad little headlight left rolling in the street.

The frustrated, yet calm, Muni offical came over to the door and escorted Mr. Yelly off the train. Mr. Yelly started to protest and the Muni official said, roughly, “You know you just saw me have an accident, come on now.”

Such a San Francisco song - and such San Francisco sights.