One less key

I did it.

On October 30th I took my car out to CarMax (a bit of a haul from where I live - the ride took about 40 minutes) and got it appraised. This was not a glorious process, and the price offered was not high. After all, I had owned the car for almost fifteen years. I had toured in it when I was a musician. I had used it as my main vehicle for not one, but two, long-distance recruiting jobs (Outward Bound an Vanderbilt's Programs for Talented Youth). All told, I had put almost 200,000 miles on the car myself, and it had close to 60,000 on it when I bought it. It looked like Hell, but it ran. It got me where I needed to get to.

And where I needed to get to, spiritually and existentially, was here: the place where I no longer need a car.

This sentiment has been brewing in me for a long while. It started when I briefly lived in Europe, and saw how de-automobilized travel is and can be. In Germany, France, and the Netherlands I have experienced city life and travel that is convenient and easy thanks to both a good train system and my own two feet.

When Kira and I lived in Nashville, we tried to walk as much as we could, but in a lot of the city it was just impossible. No sidewalks, for one. This lack, combined with a sadistic ethic of urban planning that actually made it impossible to walk in some retail areas without jumping fences or endangering one's life, kept me driving, even as I dreamed of car-lessness.

In that regard, moving to Memphis has been a breath of fresh air (in more ways than one). The area in which we live, the Cooper-Young neighborhood, has lots of sidewalks, as well as a good supply of stores and restaurants nearby, within easy walking distance. We can get groceries and necessities, as well as a good variety of meals on nights we don't feel like cooking. Best of all, I am a seven minute walk from work.

I have been building up to this switch. When I first arrived, I used the car a lot. Over the past two months, however, I have been steadily, and rapidly, tapering off my driving. After I went four weeks without using my car, and not feeling the pinch of not using it on my life, I was ready to take the plunge.

The real moment for me, though, was a couple of weeks back. It has been raining like cats and dogs in Memphis through most of the month of October. One day in particular, about three weeks ago, it was really coming down - just bone-soakingly torrential rain. I was due to teach my morning class, and I wavered. Was I really going to try to walk in this? I should just take the car...

I cowboyed up. I gave Kira a kiss, shut the door behind me, and set out. By halfway down the block, I was drenched. I had on a really good rain jacket, so my top was dry, but my pants were soaked through. I put the contents of my pockets into the secure pouches of the rain jacket and trudged on.

Almost all the clothing I wear is somewhat rain-ready, so the pants were manageable even though they were so wet. Once I got to school, I made a quick stop by my office, where I have a towel (stashed there for just such occasions) and did my best to reduce the immediate moisture. My top was still dry, so it wasn't completely uncomfortable. I set off to teach, and made it through the day just fine.

(What I learned from that was not that I should have taken the car. What I learned was that I needed a good set of rain pants. They came in the mail a few days ago, and are now a permanent part of my rain gear. I am looking forward to the next storm, so I can try them out.)

A lot of what kept me from getting rid of the car sooner was fear. Even after I had proven to myself that I could survive just about anything - including a monsoon level storm - and be okay, I still wavered. I dislike change, and the unknown. I had never in my adult life been voluntarily without an automobile before. The couple times I had been without a car and hadn't wanted to be had sucked. Would this suck, too?

After a solid week of non-ownership, I can tell you, no. It does not suck to be without a car. It does not suck to stop paying auto insurance, to no longer have to save for repairs, or to no longer buy gasoline. It does not suck to no longer so directly participate in or support a bloated petrochemical culture. It does not suck to regularly get fresh air and exercise, to see things I like because I have time to notice them as I walk by, or to have an excuse to travel lighter on a daily basis.

I realize not everybody will be able to do this. It took me a long time to build up the gumption, and to arrange my life such that it would be possible. But I'm telling you - even if its just in little ways, you ought to at least try it. The world is a lot more fun on foot.