In college, I drove a Honda Civic too fast, laughing with joy at the freedom my little Mephistopheles (Phil for short) afforded me.
In Boston, having passed Phil on to another young soul, I walked endless miles, and found constant entertainment on the T. I broke my own rules (never run for public transportation) and learned to plead with my eyes for space in a crowd.
In DC, I learned how miserable and dirty public spaces can be - even if there are bans on food and drink to keep things clean. I bought a new car, Iphegenia (Genie for short), and learned to view her as guaranteed personal space.
In California, with the sun shining and windows open, having learned the route home that involves the least time stopped at lights, and with the satellite radio tuned to baseball games, my car has become a place of calm and recovery. A moving meditation, if you will.
Tomorrow, I'd better remember to buy my meditation space some gas.
Showing posts with label car free. Show all posts
Showing posts with label car free. Show all posts
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
...and when she caves, she caves absolutely.
I'm the kind of girl who hates things absolutely, until I love them unconditionally. Like the color pink, or cell phones, or cars.
The first cave was cell phones. When I went to grad school, moving to the big city, my mom made me get a cell phone. I was pretty sure I would never use it. One year later, I was living without a landline and my thumbs were texting maniacs. Now I've got an iPhone that is almost never more than ten feet from me and bells a whistles tell me about emails, text messages, and Tweets. I go whole days at home without turning on a computer, because I can just check it all on my handy phone.
A couple of years later I fell in love with a pink Puma t-shirt. Suddenly it was a good thing I was a broke grad student, because I would have bought a lot of pink to regret later - I'm no longer anti-pink, but it's not my favorite color.
Nine and a half years, though. Almost a decade I lived without a car, and I loved it. I got to read and people watch on my way to work, pay attention to the scenery, think, and live in a world without car payments, gas stations, or fuel emissions. It was wonderful. I walked to grocery markets, I took buses and taxis - I even ran to catch public transportation. I Facebooked and Tweeted about the things I saw on my daily rides. But then, things began to go wrong - my 45 min commute (each way) began to slow. There was a Metro crash that had people in Boston calling me to ensure my safety, and as a result WMATA slowed down trains, and the wait between trains went from 3 minutes to over ten - during rush hour! After realizing that my commute was consistently an hour and fifteen minutes (again, each way), and sometimes longer, I started thinking. Then WMATA announced a revamp of the monthly benefits system that takes my pre-tax dollars and turns them into Metro fare. Suddenly, instead of monthly rollover, I was going to lose any money left on my card at the end of the month. A daily rider with an unpredictable travel schedule, I stood to lose 30$/week if I had to go out of town for work unexpectedly. My thinking took a more serious turn. And then, I got a ride home from work. Lady and I were going out to dinner in my neighborhood, so she swung me by my place so I could drop some stuff off and change. We pulled away from my office at 5:05pm, and pulled into the drive of my building at 5:25pm - after going around the block and passing a whole bunch of parking spaces.
That was pretty much it, I drafted monthly budgets, researched mileage per gallon and estimated monthly gas costs, looked into parking and started timing my daily public transit time. All this research was for the future, I figured, because I knew the car I was leaning towards, and it wasn't just sitting on the lot waiting for me. The Toyota Prius III, with sunroof package - SOLAR sunroof package - had to be reserved, and waited for, 2-3 months out. But that baby has a sunroof - a SOLAR sunroof, where solar panels power a ventilation system that keeps the car at the same temperature as the outside world. No more coming out to a car interior heated to a sweltering 130 degrees, because a fan that didn't drain battery life would ensure that the car was as only as gross as the outside world.
So thinking 2-3 months in advance, I put out feelers to local dealers, and by most I was laughed at, told that the solar sunroof package came with the Prius IV, and why wouldn't I want leather seats with butt warmers? I stood firm, however, unconcerned about the amount of time it might take - I wasn't in a hurry. Then, however, I got a call from the one dealer who listened to me and said he could make it happen. The model I wanted, complete with solar sun roof package, and the color I wanted, was coming in - how fortuitous. So I caved. Completely. I reserved parking spots at home and at work, and my commute is now twenty minutes. I have time for both coffee and the blow dryer in the morning, and I'm in comfy pants on the couch no later than six, and often by five-thirty. No one gives me dirty looks for touching them on the seat next to me. I've cooked dinner twice in the past work week, and was able to see my parents on the weekend without spending two hours getting there. I cannot tell a lie, I'm in love with a piece of machinery. I could drink coffee with impunity on my morning commute - if my commute weren't short enough that I don't feel the itch for my next caffeine hit. My iPhone loves my car, because the car stereo speakers so gladly sync up with the little gadget, and the bluetooth makes its connection so I can answer a phone call by shifting a finger on the steering wheel. A friendly navigation systems dings when I should make a turn - though she doesn't understand what I'm doing on the Rock Creek Parkway.
I've caved, and all I need now is a name for the new girl. In college my car was named Phil - short for Mephistopheles, because he was devilish, both in fun and ability to fail me unexpectedly. This car, however, is a female, and I've been thinking about names - crossed off Sylvia and Lydia, pondering Andromeda and Iphigenia, I could call her Genie for short - and have had Julia suggested to me. She's sleek and smart, and her 50mpg makes her eco-friendly and frugal, as well. Other suggestions?
PS - there are still things I hate absolutely. I never see myself caving on the issue of hearts. Blech.
The first cave was cell phones. When I went to grad school, moving to the big city, my mom made me get a cell phone. I was pretty sure I would never use it. One year later, I was living without a landline and my thumbs were texting maniacs. Now I've got an iPhone that is almost never more than ten feet from me and bells a whistles tell me about emails, text messages, and Tweets. I go whole days at home without turning on a computer, because I can just check it all on my handy phone.
A couple of years later I fell in love with a pink Puma t-shirt. Suddenly it was a good thing I was a broke grad student, because I would have bought a lot of pink to regret later - I'm no longer anti-pink, but it's not my favorite color.
Nine and a half years, though. Almost a decade I lived without a car, and I loved it. I got to read and people watch on my way to work, pay attention to the scenery, think, and live in a world without car payments, gas stations, or fuel emissions. It was wonderful. I walked to grocery markets, I took buses and taxis - I even ran to catch public transportation. I Facebooked and Tweeted about the things I saw on my daily rides. But then, things began to go wrong - my 45 min commute (each way) began to slow. There was a Metro crash that had people in Boston calling me to ensure my safety, and as a result WMATA slowed down trains, and the wait between trains went from 3 minutes to over ten - during rush hour! After realizing that my commute was consistently an hour and fifteen minutes (again, each way), and sometimes longer, I started thinking. Then WMATA announced a revamp of the monthly benefits system that takes my pre-tax dollars and turns them into Metro fare. Suddenly, instead of monthly rollover, I was going to lose any money left on my card at the end of the month. A daily rider with an unpredictable travel schedule, I stood to lose 30$/week if I had to go out of town for work unexpectedly. My thinking took a more serious turn. And then, I got a ride home from work. Lady and I were going out to dinner in my neighborhood, so she swung me by my place so I could drop some stuff off and change. We pulled away from my office at 5:05pm, and pulled into the drive of my building at 5:25pm - after going around the block and passing a whole bunch of parking spaces.
That was pretty much it, I drafted monthly budgets, researched mileage per gallon and estimated monthly gas costs, looked into parking and started timing my daily public transit time. All this research was for the future, I figured, because I knew the car I was leaning towards, and it wasn't just sitting on the lot waiting for me. The Toyota Prius III, with sunroof package - SOLAR sunroof package - had to be reserved, and waited for, 2-3 months out. But that baby has a sunroof - a SOLAR sunroof, where solar panels power a ventilation system that keeps the car at the same temperature as the outside world. No more coming out to a car interior heated to a sweltering 130 degrees, because a fan that didn't drain battery life would ensure that the car was as only as gross as the outside world.
So thinking 2-3 months in advance, I put out feelers to local dealers, and by most I was laughed at, told that the solar sunroof package came with the Prius IV, and why wouldn't I want leather seats with butt warmers? I stood firm, however, unconcerned about the amount of time it might take - I wasn't in a hurry. Then, however, I got a call from the one dealer who listened to me and said he could make it happen. The model I wanted, complete with solar sun roof package, and the color I wanted, was coming in - how fortuitous. So I caved. Completely. I reserved parking spots at home and at work, and my commute is now twenty minutes. I have time for both coffee and the blow dryer in the morning, and I'm in comfy pants on the couch no later than six, and often by five-thirty. No one gives me dirty looks for touching them on the seat next to me. I've cooked dinner twice in the past work week, and was able to see my parents on the weekend without spending two hours getting there. I cannot tell a lie, I'm in love with a piece of machinery. I could drink coffee with impunity on my morning commute - if my commute weren't short enough that I don't feel the itch for my next caffeine hit. My iPhone loves my car, because the car stereo speakers so gladly sync up with the little gadget, and the bluetooth makes its connection so I can answer a phone call by shifting a finger on the steering wheel. A friendly navigation systems dings when I should make a turn - though she doesn't understand what I'm doing on the Rock Creek Parkway.
I've caved, and all I need now is a name for the new girl. In college my car was named Phil - short for Mephistopheles, because he was devilish, both in fun and ability to fail me unexpectedly. This car, however, is a female, and I've been thinking about names - crossed off Sylvia and Lydia, pondering Andromeda and Iphigenia, I could call her Genie for short - and have had Julia suggested to me. She's sleek and smart, and her 50mpg makes her eco-friendly and frugal, as well. Other suggestions?
PS - there are still things I hate absolutely. I never see myself caving on the issue of hearts. Blech.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Sick girls shouldn't run for the bus.
Well, I wasn't wrong, this is a truly crazy month, and it just occurred to me that it's almost half over - how did that happen? Work has been busy, the weekend was busy - although much fun, as well - and then this week found me germ infested.
First this weekend, because bottomless champagne brunch and flip-flops in February are so much nicer to ponder than coughing fits and runny noses. That's right, in a sudden burst of sunshine, I went to Indian brunch with Bill and Anna, where chicken curry and palak paneer were simmering, the bubbly flowed, and conversation - well, Bill and Anna are never boring! When Anna and I stumbled upon the topic of mani/pedis and decided to treat ourselves, the day became a holiday in my book. We left the salon wearing the world's most uncomfortable flip flops, but our toes looked great, and I peer-pressured her into my favorite weekend activity, wandering through a bookstore. Even a little bit of work I had to do that evening couldn't dull the shine of my Sunday.
Wednesday, however, I could've done without. I felt fine Monday, and stayed far away from the germy-worms at the office, having dinner with Momola and Daddo that night before heading home to a glass of orange juice and an early bedtime - see, I was good! Tuesday morning I started to feel a little stuffy in the nose area, and by the end of the day I was pretty much crawling. So much so that when Momola offered me a ride home (a.k.a., told me she was driving me home) I didn't have the energy to argue. In fact, the thought of getting on the metro that day made me want to cry. The problem? Wednesday was a big day of meetings at the office - important meetings that I'd helped to arrange and wanted to be part of. However, when showering and walking around in a one-bedroom apartment for half an hour makes you out of breath and in need of a nap, you probably aren't going to be much use outside in the big, wide world. So I waved the white flag, sent the requisite emails, and curled up in a miserable ball. That was pretty much my day. I found enough energy to make tea once, and microwave some soup, and drink OJ. And I slept. A lot. I was glad to wake up this morning feeling much better, and nowhere near as exhausted. I even managed to get ready without feeling the need for a nap. I left the house ready for day two of the meetings I'd missed out on yesterday, and as I got to the top of the hill I saw my bus at the stop - a block away. So I hoofed it. And I made it. But as I sat down and suppressed the coughing spell that threatened to scare my fellow bus riders I realized that I could have waited for the next bus.
Although, maybe if I'd coughed all over the crotch of the man standing in front of me he'd have backed the hell up. I'd say that's a disadvantage of the bus, but on the train, where seats are perpendicular to the side of the car, guys lean their hips on the side of the seat, and you end up with crotch contact at your shoulder - contact.
At least on the bus you can hold your book at a poking height.
First this weekend, because bottomless champagne brunch and flip-flops in February are so much nicer to ponder than coughing fits and runny noses. That's right, in a sudden burst of sunshine, I went to Indian brunch with Bill and Anna, where chicken curry and palak paneer were simmering, the bubbly flowed, and conversation - well, Bill and Anna are never boring! When Anna and I stumbled upon the topic of mani/pedis and decided to treat ourselves, the day became a holiday in my book. We left the salon wearing the world's most uncomfortable flip flops, but our toes looked great, and I peer-pressured her into my favorite weekend activity, wandering through a bookstore. Even a little bit of work I had to do that evening couldn't dull the shine of my Sunday.
Wednesday, however, I could've done without. I felt fine Monday, and stayed far away from the germy-worms at the office, having dinner with Momola and Daddo that night before heading home to a glass of orange juice and an early bedtime - see, I was good! Tuesday morning I started to feel a little stuffy in the nose area, and by the end of the day I was pretty much crawling. So much so that when Momola offered me a ride home (a.k.a., told me she was driving me home) I didn't have the energy to argue. In fact, the thought of getting on the metro that day made me want to cry. The problem? Wednesday was a big day of meetings at the office - important meetings that I'd helped to arrange and wanted to be part of. However, when showering and walking around in a one-bedroom apartment for half an hour makes you out of breath and in need of a nap, you probably aren't going to be much use outside in the big, wide world. So I waved the white flag, sent the requisite emails, and curled up in a miserable ball. That was pretty much my day. I found enough energy to make tea once, and microwave some soup, and drink OJ. And I slept. A lot. I was glad to wake up this morning feeling much better, and nowhere near as exhausted. I even managed to get ready without feeling the need for a nap. I left the house ready for day two of the meetings I'd missed out on yesterday, and as I got to the top of the hill I saw my bus at the stop - a block away. So I hoofed it. And I made it. But as I sat down and suppressed the coughing spell that threatened to scare my fellow bus riders I realized that I could have waited for the next bus.
Although, maybe if I'd coughed all over the crotch of the man standing in front of me he'd have backed the hell up. I'd say that's a disadvantage of the bus, but on the train, where seats are perpendicular to the side of the car, guys lean their hips on the side of the seat, and you end up with crotch contact at your shoulder - contact.
At least on the bus you can hold your book at a poking height.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
not in love, in hate.
Dear Metro -
I'm headed out of town next week, and that's probably for the best. I think you and I need to take a break. You just aren't meeting my needs right now, and I need a little time to reassess my feelings about our relationship. You haven't been there for me when I needed you lately, and our fight this week about the SmartTrip card was the final straw.
So good luck next week with the extra millions of passengers, I know it will be stressful for you. I'll be out west, a pedestrian in a land of cars. Hopefully we can both come back at the end of the week recommitted to our relationship.
-Astrowahoo.
I'm headed out of town next week, and that's probably for the best. I think you and I need to take a break. You just aren't meeting my needs right now, and I need a little time to reassess my feelings about our relationship. You haven't been there for me when I needed you lately, and our fight this week about the SmartTrip card was the final straw.
So good luck next week with the extra millions of passengers, I know it will be stressful for you. I'll be out west, a pedestrian in a land of cars. Hopefully we can both come back at the end of the week recommitted to our relationship.
-Astrowahoo.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
being that asshole.
So a combination of thinking about my car free life and spending a couple days in the mid-west with a rental car made me remember something that I truly miss about having a car. I miss being that asshole. When the temperature is not too hot, the weather's not too humid, the windows are down, the sun is out, and that certain song comes on the radio. You crank the volume, and when the light changes, you hit the gas just a little harder than you need to. The car, the song, and the sun all combine in something that makes you smile, with an internal swagger, because you feel a little like Steve McQueen. Other drivers around you, assaulted by your music, frown and shake their heads, thinking to themselves, "that asshole." It doesn't matter, though, because you're cool.
I miss that moment. Sometimes, walking in the city, when I know I look cute, and my iPod is rocking out, I strut with a similar smile. But a strut is different than a swagger, it's more Pretty Woman than Steve McQueen, and there's something about summer driving that make you laugh when there's no joke. Maybe it's that, every once in a while, it's just plain fun to be that asshole.
PS - the great McQueen has been immortalized in song more than once, but my favorite is this one, by Julian Velard. Enjoy.
I miss that moment. Sometimes, walking in the city, when I know I look cute, and my iPod is rocking out, I strut with a similar smile. But a strut is different than a swagger, it's more Pretty Woman than Steve McQueen, and there's something about summer driving that make you laugh when there's no joke. Maybe it's that, every once in a while, it's just plain fun to be that asshole.
PS - the great McQueen has been immortalized in song more than once, but my favorite is this one, by Julian Velard. Enjoy.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Ohio, oh, my, oh.
I spent yesterday traveling - that's right, it took me 7 hours to make a trip that involved a one hour plane ride. Living the car-free live, I'm used to trips taking longer than they would otherwise. The market is only half a mile from my house, but when I'm making the trip with my granny cart we're talking 15 to 30 min, depending on sidewalk construction and how laden down my little cart is. I went to the doctor for a check-up on Friday, that's a solid half-hour walk with traffic lights and such, and that's not a full mile. These are trips on foot, as well. Add in public transportation, and my life just moves slower than people who drive. I don't usually mind this, but when a slow train causes me to miss a bus I should have made, I get a little annoyed. Get to the station, dump the strange people who talk to me despite my attempts to ignore them, and get moving. I wasn't annoyed at missing the bus to BWI at the time, actually, but all of my travel yesterday was delayed. I got on the plane and we pulled away from the gate only to sit on the tarmac for over an hour because thunderstorms to the west made a mess of flight plans. The two old women next to me where chatty, particularly over my head with the flight attendant. I just wanted my headphones and the newspaper. Even the headphones didn't block them out, and by the time the plane landed I'd had enough of backwoods thoughts on international travel. I bolted for the door. I was at the rental car place in record time, but the guy in front of me decided to slow down and flirt with the lady behind the counter (oh, and she was not worth it) and then a "member" of the rental agency popped in asking questions and got dealt with before me. She says she gave me a snazzier car for the inconvenience, but what do I care for a Chrysler Sebring? Sooo, not worth it.
I got to a hotel where I can't close the curtains (!) and all restaurants within a mile are of the Taco Bell, McDonalds, variety. Yucksters! I managed to find a little Mexican place open until 10pm on a Sunday night (whew) so my client and I could grab a quick bite and strategize about the meeting ahead of us. Now I'm headed that way - hope you all had a lovely Sunday...
I got to a hotel where I can't close the curtains (!) and all restaurants within a mile are of the Taco Bell, McDonalds, variety. Yucksters! I managed to find a little Mexican place open until 10pm on a Sunday night (whew) so my client and I could grab a quick bite and strategize about the meeting ahead of us. Now I'm headed that way - hope you all had a lovely Sunday...
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