
There I was this morning, meandering through wooded streets on my way to work in Central Baltimore. The ground was wet and more filled with gravel than I thought it would be, so I was taking it slowly to avoid having to clean myself and my drivetrain later. (My current fenders suck hard.) My fingers were warmer than they should have been, and I was trying to remember why yesterday felt like an important date.
Yesterday was three years since we actually sold the car and took up legs and transit and trains to get where we need to go. I’m probably not much thinner and don’t really have a ton of money saved (I made more money as a grad student than I do as a VISTA), but I’m much happier.
I feel like I should have some reflections on being carfree, but I’m too tired to think of much. Like how you avoid the guilt that one of my neighbors told me about this morning, of driving everyday alone. Or how you really do see more of your city and meet more people and stay in at least slightly better physical shape. Or how you should try it.
But it’s hard to really try being carfree. We decided to sell our car a few weeks before we actually handed over the keys and $6,600 to a Saturn dealer — because Thanksgiving was coming, and we were on the way to Baltimore, and we couldn’t meet with the car guy to sell it until we got back. So we had time to get used to the idea. How will I get here? Should I stock up on stuff because I don’t get there as often? If I still owned a car, I don’t think I’d be able to think very creatively about transportation and fun because the four wheels would always be there to make that commute quicker or that trip a little more comfortable. That could certainly be my own weakness speaking, but it’s like imagining what it’s like to be a vegetarian. Until you’re faced with what to eat at a steakhouse you go to with a family member (and when, like the car in the garage, you could just eat the meat), there are alternatives that are fun and alternatives which are just unpleasant that are hard to imagine unless you have to. It’s not a matter of weakness or strength or ethics. It’s hard to imagine the tight spot that vegetarianism and being carfree can each be unless you’re in it.
I’m certainly not trying to get preachy or anything. Even with the rise of cycling as transportation, I don’t actually know anyone in my family or circle of friends who is intentionally carfree. I do know some car-light folks who cycle as much as possible, and that’s more awesome than I can say. But there’s still the car when you “need” it and the difficulty in imagining being very carfree. I know people without a car because of money or a lack of license. But swearing off the auto is hard business. I think I’m stubborn enough to be able to stick with it, that stubbornness being a weakness dressed up like a strength in this instance. But there are definitely times when a car would make some things easier. With the way things are laid out and constructed around cars in the US, this is bound to be true. I’m not saying that we don’t live in a great country; nor am I judging it. But the US is arranged around cars for the most part, and that’s not just my opinion. Look around, or read up on what smarter folks have written about it.
In the end, though, cycling, walking and transit make a boring trip a mega-fun adventure. Going to The Charles to see a movie is a pain in the ass if you drive. If you cycle from North Baltimore, it’s a fun ride, and the theater is warm and inviting. Imagine grocery shopping without ever having to look for or fight for a parking place. Being able to lock your bike right by the door at work. The cool looks you get when you go to a dinner party or a wedding and tell people you rode there on a bike or walked.
All possible without a car.
[More BIKE LIFE photos.]
[If you think cars are the best thing ever and want everyone to have one, you should direct your energies toward a blog on that topic (I'll read it), rather than wasting it on trolling comments that won't get published. Just sayin.]
Photo Friday: White.