I lost my lock in San Francisco

So, we're now in Oregon, in Reedsport to be precise and we're having a jolly good time riding Highway One (and 101) from San Francisco up to the Columbia river. (Except that it was raining pretty strong tonight and that we had to stay in a motel instead of camping out as intended).
But let us tell the story from back where we left it: San Francisco, where the Triumph had to stop by for an oil change. It all started with my lock, a big U shaped black thingie, dropping from my very precarious packaging and making a few loops in front of Steve's Ducati on Highway 101 just before the Golden Gate. He did not like it a bit and did not stop to pick it up amidst all the morning rush hour traffic and I therefore lost my lock in San Francisco (on the tune of "I lost my drill on Blueberry Hill" by Fats Domino. By the way, did he make it out of New Orleans ? He was reported missing for a while).
San Francisco, to my mind the most European of all American cities, even more than New York where the skyscrapers contradict the european atmosphere of the Village or Chelsea. But every time (I've only seen the city twice, mind you...) I look at it from across the Bay, it reminds me of one of the fabled interstellar cities in Flash Gordon (Guy l'Eclair pour nos amis francophones). Don't know why. The sky is hanging over San Francisco like a dome and the reflection of the sun in the sea makes the city shine like if it were illuminated by some artificial light.
On a more earthly note, we rode the tramcars, we went shopping in the embarcadero aera and visited Grace Cathedral, built from 1928 to 1966, pretty much at the same time as Washington Cathedral was erected. I like these American neo-gothic Cathedrals. At Grace, they did not put any brick "filing" in between the "croisées d'ogives" (I don't know how to say it in english but that's the stone that comes on the top of the ogival vaults in gothic architectural style) and that makes the nave look like a giant spider web. A nice guide lady told us that they couldn't do it for lack of money.
We left San Francisco on Tuesday afternoon, hitting Highway One immediately. Boy, it's twisty and sometimes outright treacherous. We stopped for the night, camping out, at Point Reyes, a pretty spectacular lighthouse, taking it very easy on Wednesday, stopping at almost every vista. Then we camped out the next night at Salty Point, the tents right next to the water, on the edge of a little cliff. Highway One lives out to all the expectations. It's the most fabulous road I know of in the United States and doing it on a motorcycle beats everything. The only drawback is that it is very long. We hit it on Tuesday afternoon and it is now Friday night and we're still not seeing the end of it.