August
2007
Living in LA: Non-Drivers Wanted
Coming back to Los Angeles from a blessed week of silent retreat has had a wholly unexpected side effect: I’ve stopped driving my car.
Not entirely, mind you, and I’m not quite sure how it happened. It’s as though something picked up my hands and directed them without my own will to the lock on the dusty bike in the garage, which then rode with me on it down to the train station to go to work. (It is probably no surprise to people who know me that I chose the hottest week of the summer so far to start doing this.)
I fought it just one day — Wednesday — and found, much to my
surprise, that driving my car made an extraordinary difference. It made me irritable, grouchy, and hateful towards all the people in the cars around me; I was hot and unhappy in the car, aggressive towards other people in their cars, and it affected my inner experience of the entire day. Instead of a peaceful train ride, where I watched the scenery or read a book, I had to focus on not getting killed by other people who were much, much worse drivers than me. For the record, once I am behind the wheel, nothing is EVER my fault. I am sure that you’re familiar with the experience.
Riding my bike and then taking the train takes longer, it is not as convenient, and I’ve so far not learned how to do it gracefully in a skirt. There are a thousand reasons not to do it, but I’m reminded daily that going fast and efficiently as possible from point to point, pursuing our own busy schedules — or rather tyrannized by them — is not the whole reason we are here. It is something I had forgotten since I learned to drive.
I didn’t learn to drive until I was past 30, and so I spent most of my life without a car. Since getting a license, I’ve been addicted to the convenience and speed of getting anywhere, everywhere, whenever I wanted to. My day has become more and more packed with activities and meetings, because I can get from one place to another so swiftly (theoretically), and the amount of quiet time I have to spend with myself and with God has dropped dramatically. When I used to ride my bike to work regularly, a couple of years ago, I’d often been struck by how unhappy everyone in their cars looked as I rode down the street next to them. I’ve since learned where that unhappiness comes from. Since learning to drive, I’ve lost a lot of the calm and quiet of my day.
We’re a city of drivers, and that has its great points, certainly. We need to be able to drive. But perhaps we’ve taken it too far — and it shows in our inner lives, in our community lives, and in the toll on our environment. Studies show that a city like Los Angeles, with high levels of long commutes, suffers in its sense of community and volunteerism. We pioneered road rage. We drive isolated in our own little castles for much of our lives. We build ever further out, taking desert, mountains, beach, and drive further and further, taking more and more time from what really matters in life, taking more and more resources from the earth, putting more and more pollutants and greenhouse gases into the air. Driving a car is the greatest contribution most of us make to the huge ecological footprint of the average North American.
And we think that we don’t really have any choices.
Our choices, to be sure, are not outstanding. MTA just raised their fares significantly for day, monthly and weekly passes, thus encouraging more people to drive rather than otherwise. Our train and bus systems are inadequate to the needs of working people of all economic classes. And there’s no denying that LA is not a bike- or pedestrian-safe city.
But none of this will change unless we challenge it.
So I’d like to invite you to try going car-less for a day. Just a day — for most people, in most situations, that will be difficult and challenging enough. You’ll have to plan ahead; perhaps ask someone to drive you somewhere; perhaps let your boss know that you might be late for work that day; scout out the bus schedules in your neighborhood; see if you can ride a bike somewhere you’d normally drive, like a grocery store or coffeeshop.
I know that I can’t be fully carless yet, but it’s been a freeing experience for me so far. Living less conveniently, less quickly, and more simply, even for just a day, is its own kind of addictive experience.