One of the first guys I met was a 79-year-old retired San Francisco cop who was stronger, faster and tougher for four miles up one of the meanest trails in the South Bay. He told me he retired, bought a house in Milpitas and never returned to The City. Really, like never.

Another was an Iranian pharmacist who arrived in the United States with his family, a few thousand bucks and all the possessions they could fit into suitcases. He was the one who told me about all the cool hiking in the hills near Las Vegas.

Another was a young, smart, totally modern guy from India who was in an arranged marriage, and quite happy about it. I did note, however, that he didn’t have his wife along.

Don’t remember any of their names.

So what are your stories, folks?