I didn’t know who Fred Lyon was when I first saw this photo, I just knew it hit me. It’s one of those black-and-white masterpieces—Nob Hill, Pine Street—with a dapper Joe mid-step, hat at the right, The swagger is undeniable. The backdrop? Cars parked at an impossible angle, clinging to the hillside like they might slide off into oblivion at any moment. (If you know the stress of getting in our out, parked at than angle, you know!) .I just knew it hit me. The City’s hills, the parked cars hanging on for dear life, that guy striding down the stairs like he owns the block—it all felt so familiar, like a memory I never actually lived but somehow still knew.

So I looked the photographer up. I saw the rest of his photos. And suddenly, it all made sense.