There was this story I worked on forever that never ran, and it still bothers me. It involved Bob Dylan and a San Francisco bus driver—who also happened to be a great singer.
In Dylan’s 2005 memoir he described rehearsing for a tour with the Grateful Dead in this building in San Rafael, north of San Francisco, in 1987. Dylan was at a low point. Burned out and just going through the motions. One night he wanders off to a bar.