Category Archives: car culture

The opposite of progress

From Tom Vanderbilt’s recent piece in Slate:

In Greenberg, Ben Stiller plays Greenberg, a drifting musician-turned-carpenter who’s getting over a nervous breakdown. He’s a needy and casually abusive schmuck, a socially awkward and obsessive crank. And if you need any more clues to the extent of his pathological loserdom, here’s one: He doesn’t drive.

[…]

Greenberg is just the most recent film in which a character’s non-automobility–whether for lack of a car or for lack of the ability to drive–is used for comic effect, whether as a metaphor for a deeper personality flaw or as a token of marginality and/or plain creepiness. As the humorist Art Buchwald once observed, “People are broad-minded. They’ll accept the fact that a person can be an alcoholic, a dope fiend, a wife beater and even a newspaperman, but if a man doesn’t drive, there’s something wrong with him.”

We bus, train [ahem], and bike chicks beg to differ.

The bus family takes a drive

Over the long weekend, we bus types did the Zipcar thing and spent Saturday hiking on Mount Rainier. In the old days (back when it was just Bus Nerd and me), our Tahoma adventures included hard hikes (for which we were rewarded with breathtaking views) and overnight camping. These days, we stick to easy day hikes and settle for great views. I miss our grown-up trips, but I do enjoy bringing the little ones. Exposing Chicklet and Busling to the beauty of the natural world is good for them in all kinds of ways. I hope it will also help them understand why it is crucial that we (and by “we,” I mean humanity in general and Americans in particular) change the way we live and get around.

I digress.

It’s no secret that I’ve been struggling a bit since I started busing with two babies. The problem isn’t the actual busing –I worked out those logistical kinks pretty quickly; it’s the timing. I feel like I’m constantly rushing or waiting, and doing either with two small children is a heck of a challenge. But folks, it only took a day of driving with two babies to remind me why I am so grateful for my life on the bus.

It wasn’t all bad. The trip to the mountain was fairly–actually, very–pleasant. We left when we were ready instead of scrambling to get everyone out the door by a specific time. The luxury of cargo space allowed us to be pretty indiscriminate about what we brought with us. (Extra books? Extra snacks? Extra clothes? Why not?) We didn’t even bother to organize most of it. Busling slept for the better part of the ride, and Chicklet entertained herself by requesting songs (as it happens, she’s also a Dwele fan) and playing with her dinosaur sticker book. Nerd and I had some rare time to chat. The whole family arrived at the mountain rested and ready for action.*

Tahoma, here we come!
A phone photo before takeoff

The ride back was pretty darn bad. Busling started screaming about 10 minutes in and, except for a few minutes of sleeping, didn’t let up until we arrived home and were finally(!) able to remove him from his car seat. Chicklet spent most of the ride trying to (and succeeding at) removing her arms from her car seat straps. We pulled over once to recombobulate her (while Busling was screaming his head off, mind), but it didn’t take long for her to start up again. If the straps were loose, she removed her arms because she could. If we tightened them, she struggled to get out because they were “too tight.” When she wasn’t endangering her life, she was whining, begging for snacks, and asking when it was going to be time to get out.

I couldn’t reach either child from my position strapped in the front, though twice I twisted myself onto my knees to re-strap Chicklet. I couldn’t even see Busling (he’s still too small to face forward), which is probably just as well, since I don’t enjoy watching him scream.

I never have those kinds of problems with my kids on the bus, mostly because they have my attention. I can hold them, entertain them, console them, and correct and redirect as needed. Yes, the timing can be a pain for me, and the waits** are sometimes tough for Chicklet, but the actual rides are almost always fun. In two and a half (plus) years, I’ve endured exactly one bus meltdown, and that only lasted for two minutes.

What’s a little rushing (or waiting) compared?

*Unfortunately, we had to delay our action for some time, since all of the parking near the trail head was taken. (That’s the thing about cars: You always have to find someplace to put them.) We drove around for a good while, then gave up and parked a decent walk away at the ranger station.
**Thanks to OneBusAway, a lot of the waiting (at stops, anyway) can be avoided. I don’t always take advantage, though, mostly because I’m too busy keeping up with children to look up the stop on my phone.

Watch this!

On Monday, 2/8, PBS will debut a cool documentary.

Blueprint America: Beyond the Motor City.

[The film] examines how Detroit–battered by the fallout of the automotive industry, and a bleak example of the social/economic failures that occur from having a transportation system that relies so heavily on private automobiles as the primary mode of mobility–may actually lead the way in transforming how the country gets around using public transportation that runs on clean energy.

It airs in Seattle at 10 PM. Check out this clip.

I had the pleasure of watching a preview copy of the film a few weeks ago, and I highly recommend it–both for people who are interested in the future of Detroit and for people who are interested in the future of transportation in this country. I’m interested in both and will definitely be watching (again) on Monday night.

P.S. – Detroit peeps: I heard a rumor that Transportation Riders United is planning to host a Blueprint America viewing party on opening night. Check their website for info.

“Public transportation is paying for my Porsche.”

You don’t have to be a car hater to understand the benefits of transit. From a recent Slate article (via: Streetsblog Network):

In spring 2007, my wife and I sold our Volvo and committed to public transportation. Since then, it’s been no traffic jams, no mechanics, no gasoline, and no insurance bills. With the money we saved, I started a “hot rod” bank account dedicated to making driving fun. Public transportation is paying for my Porsche.

[…]

Like many Americans, I love to get out and drive. But in and around major cities, “driving” usually means idling in traffic while trapped in cars as utilitarian and uninspiring as washing machines. It’s soul-sucking and dirty. It’s also expensive. According to AAA, if I were to commute 20,000 miles in a Toyota Camry, I would burn through $9,100 a year in fuel and ownership costs that include insurance, maintenance, and depreciation. If a dash gauge measured money per mile, the needle would be pegged at 45.5 cents. And, according to Department of Transportation statistics, that much commuting would release more than 15,000 pounds of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. A Prius cuts that almost in half–a green boost for sure, but nothing compared with pairing public transportation with weekend joy rides in a classic car.

And I thought I was the only transit geek with a weakness for old-school, gas guzzling rides.

One way to keep kids safe in traffic

From The New York Times (via: Bus Nerd):

HUANGPING, China — All the students at Luolang Elementary School, a yellow-and-orange concrete structure off a winding mountain road in southern China, know the key rules: Do not run in the halls. Take your seat before the bell rings. Raise your hand to ask a question.

And oh, yes: Salute every passing car on your way to and from school.
Education officials promoted the saluting edict to reduce traffic accidents and teach children courtesy.

Good thing they don’t have that law here. Given the traffic in our neighborhood, poor Chicklet would never make it to school.

Car-free with a kid: the challenges

I’ve spent the past 20 months (well, on and off anyway–I know not everyone’s as interested in hearing about my kid as I am in talking about her) telling you how much I enjoy busing with Chicklet. And I really do. I love spending one-on-one time on our travels. I love having extra time to read and talk to her. I love experiencing the excitement of riding through her eyes. I love that I am teaching her many of my values–conservation, equality, community engagement, thrift, to name a few–without having to say a word.

But, you know all that stuff. You also know that I wouldn’t have started this post reiterating everything I love about my car-free, child-full life, unless I was about to tell you about something I don’t love.

There are, in fact, several things I don’t love about car-free parenting. As improbable is it seems (given that most of my life is spent not driving) the issue that causes me the greatest amount of inconvenience, stress, and anxiety is: car seat drama.

You see, although we don’t own a car, there are occasions (about once a month or every other month) when we need to use one. In the old days, this was a cinch: 1. Reserve car 2. Walk to car 3. Drive car 4. Return car.

These days? Not so much. The new routine: 1) Reserve car* 2. Schlep Chicklet, Chicklet’s car seat, and Chicklet’s stuff to car 3. Install car seat in car while ensuring that Chicklet doesn’t push any of the car’s buttons or make a beeline for the busy parking lot where the car is parked 4. Strap Chicklet into car seat 5. Drive car 6. Return car 7. Remove Chicklet and unstrap seat 8. Schlep Chicklet, seat, and stuff back home.

If Nerd is around for the car trip, the process is somewhat easier, since one of us can go get the car (sans Chicklet) and bring it back to our place to install the seat. Still, it wastes precious time that we’re paying for.

And I’m not finished.

On my father’s 70th birthday, the family met at a restaurant on Alki Beach to celebrate. After dinner, everyone wanted to head to my dad’s place–not far from the restaurant, but too far to walk–for dessert. Because the bus service in that part of town is abysmal, there’s no service from Alki to my dad’s place (at Seacrest) in the evening. Pre-child, this would not have been an issue. Nerd and I would have ridden to my dad’s with some family member or other, and, after dinner, walked up the hill to catch the 55 or hitched a ride downtown with my brother, who would have been heading that way anyway. But, since we had Chicklet with us, and since we didn’t happen to bring her 15-pound car seat along on our outing, we missed the after-party.

The next Saulter family gathering was for Father’s Day bowling at West Seattle Bowl. This time, we anticipated a post-bowling trip to Pegasus and so dragged Chicklet’s enormous seat along with us on the two-bus trip to the bowling alley. With two parents and two fairly empty Sunday-afternoon buses, we managed it. Certainly, though, it’s not a reasonable regular practice.

And then there was the time back in November of 2008, when we attended an election party at our friends’ place in Kirkland. On the way home (per usual, we had to leave earlier than everyone else to catch the last bus), we miscalculated the location of the bus stop and missed the route we were supposed to take back to Seattle. Pre-Chicklet, we would have called a cab. That night, we were forced to take a convoluted series of buses and spend a lot of time waiting outside in the dark. Did I mention that it was cold, and we had a baby with us?

I’ll spare you all of my other examples, since I think you get the picture.

Yes, I do know about the car seat/stroller combo (wish we’d done our homework before we bought the one we have), but that only really solves the Zipcar problem. What I need someone to invent (and pronto!) is a collapsible, portable car seat that a bus parent can carry in her bus chick bag–a sort of “car seat for emergencies.” Who’s got me?

***

* * If the only car within reasonable walking distance of our home is reserved, I skip the trip. Trying to time a rental around a bus schedule and then drag the seat and kid on the bus (and still walk at least a couple of blocks) is just more trouble than it’s worth.

Car talk

There is no better place to hear involved discussions about America’s dominant mode of transportation (other than a NASCAR race or a singles’ bar, that is) than the bus. Bus riders love to talk cars. They talk about car problems: squeaky breaks and worn-out clutches and dragging mufflers; cars previously owned and then lost or sold; cars that will be purchased when there’s enough money; cars that idle next to the bus at lights–especially those that aren’t being properly driven or maintained.

Mostly, though, they talk about cars that are waiting–in parking lots and parents’ garages and mechanics’ shops and impound lots, just until the end of the week, or month, or year–to be driven again. (They would be driven now, except that the paycheck doesn’t come until Friday, or the ex-wife needs it until she starts her vacation, or the license is suspended until January.) These cars have butter seats and whitewall tires, V8 engines and big wheels. They are mint-condition, powder-blue 60-something Impalas (which, by the way, can turn the head of even the most committed bus chick–or at least, this committed bus chick) and black-on-black 500 Benzes. They are Corvettes and Caddies and Beamers and Lincolns.

They are never, ever Toyota Solaras.