Tag Archives: car culture

And speaking of church…

Forgive me Busfather, for I have sinned. Over the long weekend, I coveted two classic cars: a 60s-style Oldsmobile Rocket and 50-something Chevy Bel Air. I didn’t want to ride in them Busfather, but I couldn’t help staring. They looked so beautiful, with their rag tops and candy paint and whitewall tires, the bass from their sick stereos shaking the shelters under which I stood.

OK, maybe I did want to ride, but just a little bit.

And while I’m on the subject, I might as well confess: Over the weekend, I rode in cars to destinations I could have reached on the bus. I’m usually very strong in my refusals, Busfather, but what’s a girl to do when well meaning people all but insist on transporting her? You see, they haven’t yet found the faith and do not know the spiritual benefits a bus-based life can provide.

As penance, for my sins, Busfather, I promise to sit in the back of the every route I ride (subjecting myself to bus luh and extra-loud headphones) for a full week. I can only hope that this will earn your forgiveness.

Another “ism” that plagues our society

This week’s Real Change column is about “carism,” the ways in which the infrastructure and attitudes prevalent in American cities (ours included) force the use of cars as the primary mode of transportation. (A more accurate term would probably be something like “transportation mode-ism,” but it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, and I think mine’s more fun.)

Some examples of carism I mention in my column:
• The lack of sidewalks and bike paths
• The amount of our city’s land that could be used for residences, services, businesses, or even open space that is instead used for parking lots and garages

Do you think that Seattle is “carist”? If so, how does the carism affect you? If not, tell us why not.

Speaking of mommies and sidewalks…

Today Adam and I went to a party (OK, it was a baby shower) on Bainbridge Island. Of course it was a piece of cake (pun intended) getting to Colman Dock (took the 27 to 3rd & Columbia, then walked west on Marion all the way to the passenger terminal), but the rest of the trip was a bit more of a challenge.

The party was held at the home of the mother-to-be’s sister, which was about three miles from the ferry dock. The shower started at 1:00, and the Kitsap Transit route we needed to take didn’t start running until 3:40. (It was one of those commuter routes that runs outbound only in the morning and inbound only in the afternoon.) We could have taken a taxi, but since it was Saturday and we weren’t pressed for time, we decided to walk.

The first mile was lovely. It was a beautiful day, and Winslow’s downtown area has lots of shops, restaurants, and people. We passed an outdoor farmer’s market and several tree-lined neighborhoods. Then, the sidewalks ran out. The roads turned into the curvy, stoplight-free, suburban/country highway variety. We walked another mile on the shoulder of a fairly busy road, alternating between a narrow bike path and the tall grass that was growing alongside the ditch, hoping that everyone who drove past us was both sober and competent. I’m not sure that this was true, but no one hit us (though one car did run into the bike lane and come very close).

Near the end of mile two, the father-to-be passed us and turned around to pick us up–thankfully, right before the bike lane ran out.

The good news: There was red wine at the shower, and I won one of the games. I guess all these years riding buses with pregnant women has made me pretty good at estimating their girth.