Red truck, 3 dogs. February 6th, around 1 pm. Me: standing at the corner of
Mission and Freya/Greene waiting to cross. You stopped at the light, rolled
down your window to let your dogs stick their heads out, then backed up out
of the crosswalk (thank you). We exchanged nods. You then smoked the truck
next to you off the line (they were checking you out, you ignored them). I
cheered, wished I had asked to pet your dogs.