In the afternoons and on the weekends, the cable car is packed with eager tourists, but early on a weekday morning the riders are actual San Franciscans going about their normal business. Being so close to the start of the line at Fisherman’s Wharf, I’m usually the first passenger to board the Powell & Hyde street car. Years ago, before the lawyers frightened everyone, the cable car was a participatory event. The passengers helped turn the cars on the human-powered “armstrong” turntables at the ends of the line, and holding on to a brass post and hanging out into traffic while the gripman clanged his signature bell ring was an integral part of the experience. Today, the gripmen shoo away help turning the cars, they constantly issue nanny commands if you lean out into traffic, and the bell-ringing is extremely subdued. It’s still a gas riding the ancient little cars.