Our horses’ hooves were muffled by the moist ground on the trail that afternoon. The path meandered along the emerald hills that led to our destination. I sat atop my beloved steed Rosy Nante, and Mr. Harada bounced along next me on his rented pony, Gerald. Adventure had beckoned us once again, so we left the comforts of our superfluously luxurious estate in the city and headed deep into the outlaw hills of the wild west.

We had been called upon once again to use our deep skills and powerful connections to influence the destiny of the world. All in a day’s work. I just hoped they had tacos.

The town we were heading to is famous for its raucous population. They have no regard for rules or laws. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. This is why Mr. Harada and I left our usual trend-setting wardrobes at home, and decided to trot into town camouflaged in the local fashion.

I wore an understated, bespoke, business-casual dress shirt under a purple goose-down vest. The vest was emblazoned with corporate logos in several strategic and casual locations. My lower bits were sheathed in lycra-infused hyper-denim. I was stain, wrinkle and fashion resistant. Mr. Harada, was disguised in a black sport coat that sometimes flapped open to reveal his tie-less white dress shirt which always remains unbuttoned up top. His pants matched mine. We looked flawlessly effortless, which is essential when you’re infiltrating a lair of trouble makers like Portola Valley.

We were to meet with our potential client at the Alpine Inn, a genuinely charming roadhouse that’s been in operation for about 170 years. It was opened in 1852 by former San Jose mayor Felix Buelna and is now best known for serving cold domestics, hot links and juicy burgers. We turned the corner and sighted the ancient redwood beams that framed the weathered 19th century facade. Something was amiss. The parking lot was empty.

We pulled up to the front of the place, and I noticed a note on the door. Did the Marshall close it down because of a gun fight? Had the proprietor lost the deed in a rigged poker game? “Stay here Harada, keep a lookout,” I said approaching the note on the door.

“Says they’re closed due to website renovations.”

“Well, ain’t that a dandy Harada?” I inquired as I scrambled back up atop Rosy Nante. “Looks like we need to get a hold of this guy and find a different place. Do you remember which app we used?” Mr. Harada looked at me motionless. That usually means he has no answer.

I looked at my cellular-data-network-enabled smart device. There were 57 messaging apps and all had hundreds of unanswered solicitations. I imagined the type of person we were supposed to meet up with, and what kind of tool would he use to communicate. After an hour of searching, we found it. It was just a regular text. This guy was super old timey.

We moved the meeting to Buck’s, a legendary cacophony of bric-a-brac pretending to be a diner. The place is famous for being the spawning ground of every Silicon Valley powerhouse (except Apple—Steve Jobs and Buck’s owner Jamis MacNiven had beef).

We arrived quickly, tied up our equines at the hitching post and headed inside. Walking past the large replica of the Statue of Liberty and under the gravity racer, sliding past the giant slide rule, we were seated just in front of the shark with jet engines grafted to its torso—you know… the booth that has the talking, pull string-operated Pee-wee Herman doll and Chairie. I think it’s where they started Google.

Our man and his assistant were waiting for us. We sat down and shook hands awkwardly across the table, knocking over the salt and pepper shakers and getting ketchup on each of our understated, bespoke, business-casual dress shirts. The assistant pulled out a tablet and showed us a slideshow collection of prestigious scholastic brands, then another slideshow of prestigious tech corporate logos. They were all there, Hass, Stanford, Wharton, Hogwarts, you name it.

“I’m impressed,” I said as I scanned the menu. “That must have taken you some time. That’s a lot of logos to organize into a slide show. What was that, like a couple hours?”

The man belched a hearty guffaw in reply, “No way dude! We have top technologies, so all I have to do is right click the image on Google and then just drag it to the slideshow. It was like 45 minutes tops.”

I was convinced. This guy was a tech wizard. We were ready to listen, but first we were ready to eat. I ordered chili cheese fries to start, to which the waitress responded, “We don’t have chili cheese fries.”

“I will then have the fries, topped with chili, and add cheese, with a side of onions tossed on top of that.”

The man and his assistant stared at me with mouths agape. Finally the man blurted out, “So you are an innovator and disruptor as well?”

“I’m both in one, I’m what they call an interrupter, and I’ve been interrupting people since I can remember. And I’ll also have the tacos when the waitress comes back, thanks.” I said as I slid past Mr. Harada. This is the point where I like to pretend I need to use the bathroom during meetings. The trick is to have the other guy order your entree, so it ends up on his bill just in case the meeting goes south.

On my way to the lou, I marveled at Buck’s myriad tchotchkes. It reminded me of the spirit of this part of the world during the 1990s and early 2000s. Back then, there was so much potential swirling in the air that no one could make any sense of it—we just knew exciting things were about to happen.

That’s how Buck’s still feels. It buzzes with energy, and the promise of a better future. Only the occasional layer of dust on some random decoration belies the fact that the future is now, and the innocence and blissful ignorance of those original tech wizards is a quaint memory.

Back at the table I was greeted with a splendid mountain of fried potato and hearty chilly. The chili at Buck’s features large chunks of steak, which made for spectacular chili cheese fries, arguably the best I’ve ever had. Mr. Harada ordered the crab cakes, which were unavailable, so he settled on the fiery chicken wings, which were also unavailable. Ultimately he munched on a very good burger.

The man and his assistant didn’t eat, they just looked at a slideshow of various graphs.

The tacos arrived with a thud. They were obscenely stuffed, overflowing with juicy bits. Each taco could have easily been divided into four generously adorned tacos. Such is the reality at a place where billionaires decide what devices and marketplaces the rest of us will use to buy our branded apparel. Legend has it that Google started as a Buck’s taco.

After lunch we got to business. The man was the CEO of a startup that was developing an app that could give users their flu shot with just a swipe. The way it works is the user gets a notification that there is a flu shot available, and then they swipe right to get the shot, or swipe left to get infected with the flu. He wanted us to be brand ambassadors during the early stages so that he could secure funding.

We accepted and are now working as social media “influenzers.” The plan is to find out how to give people the flu through Instagram, and then people will have to download the app to get the flu shot to be cured. It’s pretty simple. It’s like the TurboTax for vaccinations, or like the DoorDash for Uber.

That’s how it goes down at Buck’s. One minute you’re in a quaint and quirky diner nestled in a bucolic setting, and the next thing you know you’re activating untapped revenue potential, disrupting the status quo, and at the same time getting some lucky kids a few days off of school.

It’s a little out of the way, but go and check out Buck’s. The food is great, the history is excellent, the decor is very entertaining, and you might accidentally get funded so bring a good idea.