Ladies and gentlemen—the Carstache. Carstache SAN FRANCISCO—As I drove over the Bay Bridge and passed into the city on a recent Friday afternoon, I faced a crisis of will. Was I truly willing to attach a hot pink Carstache —which is precisely what it sounds like—to the grill of my black Toyota in the name of journalism? I pulled onto Harrison Street, into a section of the SoMa (South of Market, San Francisco’s startup hub) district that’s full of new high-rise residential buildings. I stepped out into the summer afternoon, opened my trunk, and whipped out the ridiculously large but definitely distinctive Carstache. I walked to the front of my car and did the deed. Carstache affixed

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My car has a hot pink mustache—and it just might disrupt the taxi business