A few years ago I went through a car phase. Leased one: stupid. It wasn't the most financially viable option (if I had to get one at all) but I'm not really a car-owning type. The less I'd have to think or work, the better.
There are some things I like about cars -- they can be both cool and useful -- but I don't find cars to be nearly as useful as the money I save by not having a car, and don't enjoy driving as much as I enjoy, say, simply listening to music. Come to think of it, listening to music is half the fun of driving (and driving is definitely un-fun without it).
Other ways of getting around are fun too. I happen to enjoy walking -- I need to walk regularly. Cycling is great too. As Ruby pointed out in her last piece:
That was the catalyst: I accepted a job at a place I couldn't realistically access any way except by car. Also, I was also going through a phase in my impressionable early 20's -- kind of inverted quarter-life crisis -- in which, instead of doing crazy non-conformist things, I started doing crazy conformist things. Getting a car was one of them.
I started realizing it might have been a mistake almost immediately, I noticed the way people were slagging the ways I'd been getting around:
For years the bus picked me up around the corner and dropped me off right at work; I didn't have to worry about parking, I didn't have to scrape my windshield or shovel my driveway in the winter, and I lived close enough to amenities that I could walk everywhere else -- it was just easier.
As far as I was concerned, the car was a bigger burden. It came in very handy maybe eight times per year; other than that it seemed like a fairly balanced trade-off of (in)conveniences -- not even counting the huge financial cost, nor considering civic and environmental problems they cause.
By the time my lease-end was coming due, I couldn't wait to be rid of it.
Then I started to question myself -- feeling embarrassed by how little I knew or cared about it. I wasn't capable of having a meaningful conversation with a mechanic. I went for the bare-minimum maintenance and never really asked what they were doing with it. My side of the interaction usually went something like,
It's not really healthy to have that attitude towards anything we spend so much time with. I'm thinking in sort of a Buddhist sense here. I'm thinking, "mindfulness." It's good "practice" to cultivate competence and mastery -- especially relating to objects that are such significant components of our daily lives. Conversely, it's unhealthy to neglect things.
So I wondered, "If I do this again, maybe I'll get an older one, cheap and I'll spend the time to learn how it works and really develop a sense of ownership and responsibility." Maybe even end up with an antique that'll be worth something someday.
I wasn't thinking that way because because cars are inherently worth it, but because it's good to care about something, and it's fulfilling to look at something and recognize our own competence and accomplishments in it.
But then I realized that I'm already cultivating that sort of relationship with other things in my life -- things which "car people" maybe don't care about (and often don't even acknowledge), such as music and philosophy, which I think about and practice daily. Other people are maybe more into sports, gardening, woodworking, collecting, video games, whatever. Everyone has something.
Then my next thought knocked me back.
In the same way that I neglected my car, I wondered if people who drive everywhere are maybe neglecting the community a little. It's like they're just leasing a little part of it, not showing much ownership or responsibility to the whole, not really seeing how things work just below the surface -- as if to say:
Someone who does all their moving-about in their car might be slower to notice the subtle signs that something's starting to fail -- same as someone who never opens the hood of their car and never gets their hands dirty from time to time will be less likely to pick up on the pings and rattles that indicate an adjustment is needed... before something bigger and harder-to-fix happens.
When we're walking or riding the bus, we see a lot of different people, we hear them talk about their problems -- which in many cases are public problems (our problems) -- we're exposed to a wider range or opinions and perspectives. More importantly, we're forced to interact and relate with this vital variety on a daily basis.
Leaving our cars behind opens up worlds of opportunity to discover and create value in our communities -- not just institutional value, but hard-to-quantify human capital. It allows us to build on (or simply enjoy, for their own sake) the fortuitous little moments that occur in public spaces, where people from different walks of life mingle.
That's what community is: a continuous intertwining of experience, a gradual accumulation of shared memories, an ongoing deliberation of values and practices...
As long as we're all riding separate, it's easier to collide than to truly correspond.
This is the small cognitive step people have to make: ownership, taking responsibility for something over a sustained period, is a lot of work. But it's an investment that pays off -- both in the process and in the end. No Tweets
There are some things I like about cars -- they can be both cool and useful -- but I don't find cars to be nearly as useful as the money I save by not having a car, and don't enjoy driving as much as I enjoy, say, simply listening to music. Come to think of it, listening to music is half the fun of driving (and driving is definitely un-fun without it).
Other ways of getting around are fun too. I happen to enjoy walking -- I need to walk regularly. Cycling is great too. As Ruby pointed out in her last piece:
it was found that those who commuted by bicycle were the most likely to report that they enjoyed their daily commute (69% of cyclists versus 40% of motorists).Unfortunately, other people have different ideas. Other people prefer to scatter themselves around, miles away from anything except a bunch of other people hiding behind garage doors. Other people have don't think twice before starting a business where there are no sidewalks or access to public transit.
That was the catalyst: I accepted a job at a place I couldn't realistically access any way except by car. Also, I was also going through a phase in my impressionable early 20's -- kind of inverted quarter-life crisis -- in which, instead of doing crazy non-conformist things, I started doing crazy conformist things. Getting a car was one of them.
I started realizing it might have been a mistake almost immediately, I noticed the way people were slagging the ways I'd been getting around:
"Doesn't it feel great to not have to take the bus? So annoying... and you used to walk all the way downtown, didn't you!"I can't sympathize with that. It just never really occurred to me to complain about taking the bus. It wasn't just "not that bad," there are ways it's better for me. Public transit isn't merely for people who can't afford a car; it fits into many people's lives better than driving does.
For years the bus picked me up around the corner and dropped me off right at work; I didn't have to worry about parking, I didn't have to scrape my windshield or shovel my driveway in the winter, and I lived close enough to amenities that I could walk everywhere else -- it was just easier.
As far as I was concerned, the car was a bigger burden. It came in very handy maybe eight times per year; other than that it seemed like a fairly balanced trade-off of (in)conveniences -- not even counting the huge financial cost, nor considering civic and environmental problems they cause.
By the time my lease-end was coming due, I couldn't wait to be rid of it.
Then I started to question myself -- feeling embarrassed by how little I knew or cared about it. I wasn't capable of having a meaningful conversation with a mechanic. I went for the bare-minimum maintenance and never really asked what they were doing with it. My side of the interaction usually went something like,
Here are the keys. Change the oil. Whatever. Do as little as I need to keep the warranty valid. I'm going for a coffee... Thanks.And then I'd sign something and somebody would drive it around to another shop in the back where they did who-knows-what. Mechanic stuff. Their job, not mine.
It's not really healthy to have that attitude towards anything we spend so much time with. I'm thinking in sort of a Buddhist sense here. I'm thinking, "mindfulness." It's good "practice" to cultivate competence and mastery -- especially relating to objects that are such significant components of our daily lives. Conversely, it's unhealthy to neglect things.
So I wondered, "If I do this again, maybe I'll get an older one, cheap and I'll spend the time to learn how it works and really develop a sense of ownership and responsibility." Maybe even end up with an antique that'll be worth something someday.
I wasn't thinking that way because because cars are inherently worth it, but because it's good to care about something, and it's fulfilling to look at something and recognize our own competence and accomplishments in it.
But then I realized that I'm already cultivating that sort of relationship with other things in my life -- things which "car people" maybe don't care about (and often don't even acknowledge), such as music and philosophy, which I think about and practice daily. Other people are maybe more into sports, gardening, woodworking, collecting, video games, whatever. Everyone has something.
Then my next thought knocked me back.
In the same way that I neglected my car, I wondered if people who drive everywhere are maybe neglecting the community a little. It's like they're just leasing a little part of it, not showing much ownership or responsibility to the whole, not really seeing how things work just below the surface -- as if to say:
Here are my taxes. Do whatever you need to do to keep the utilities running, and fix the potholes... Thanks.It's not that they're intentionally neglectful, or don't care out of principle. It's that it's more difficult to be constantly mindful, more difficult to cultivate much positive, hands-on efficacy in the community.
Someone who does all their moving-about in their car might be slower to notice the subtle signs that something's starting to fail -- same as someone who never opens the hood of their car and never gets their hands dirty from time to time will be less likely to pick up on the pings and rattles that indicate an adjustment is needed... before something bigger and harder-to-fix happens.
When we're walking or riding the bus, we see a lot of different people, we hear them talk about their problems -- which in many cases are public problems (our problems) -- we're exposed to a wider range or opinions and perspectives. More importantly, we're forced to interact and relate with this vital variety on a daily basis.
Leaving our cars behind opens up worlds of opportunity to discover and create value in our communities -- not just institutional value, but hard-to-quantify human capital. It allows us to build on (or simply enjoy, for their own sake) the fortuitous little moments that occur in public spaces, where people from different walks of life mingle.
That's what community is: a continuous intertwining of experience, a gradual accumulation of shared memories, an ongoing deliberation of values and practices...
As long as we're all riding separate, it's easier to collide than to truly correspond.
This is the small cognitive step people have to make: ownership, taking responsibility for something over a sustained period, is a lot of work. But it's an investment that pays off -- both in the process and in the end. No Tweets
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Or perhaps they live in a rural community where you can't get anywhere without a car. Or in one of the many suburbs that you need a car to get to. I hate Urban sprawl as much as the next person, but the assumption that not having a car promotes social values seems to gloss over many of the conditions that trap people in the cars and on the road. You seem to be talking of those lucky of urban dwellers where biking and busing is viable alternative to owning a car- not everyone is that privileged. Preserving public space and community is one thing, bread and butter is another.
Outside of gentrified inner city neighbourhoods often times the only place people can afford to live is the suburbs or commuter communities. People don't necessarily drive for 1-2 hours every single day for fun, it is usually because they cannot afford to live close to their job- it works out cheaper to commute. That isn't a choice, that is what people need to do for survival.
Mahmud: I grew up on a farm, my parents and a lot of my childhood friends live on dirt roads. I have a pretty balanced, nuanced position on this issue as well; I just wanted to single out this insight for now.