Creative Accounting

I started tracking the amount of money I spend on public transportation on the day my car registration expired. I did this on the back of a clothing catalog. It was just handy at the time, and I intended to transfer the data to a spreadsheet. My girlfriend found it after a month and started wondering if I had joined a secret cult or was planning a nefarious deed. The entries look something like this: 09-12 2.50- all in pen, in columns, up and down the back cover. I cannot blame her.

The numbers are scarier than that prospect. I knew that initially, especially during the heat of August(which turned out to be surprisingly cool), I would spend a fair amount. I was used to driving everywhere, and I wanted to give myself a chance to ease into walking. The first month easily slid into another month- still tracking, but not adding. Characteristically, I stopped even tracking half way through October.

So how much did I spend the first and second months? More than $75 each, the cost of a Zone 1 bus pass. And more than- if you can believe it- I spent on my car each month with gas and insurance. I owned the car 10 years, and it was used when I bought it. Long ago paid for, it was old enough that carrying more than the basic insurance made little sense.

So there it is- Kara’s Folly. Now I know. Armed with this information, I have committed to spending about $50 a month on transportation- or about one way on the bus each work day. I plan on doing this for November, then springing for the bus pass in the coldest months of December and January, or January and February.

Slumped over in my bus seat the other day thinking about the money I have been throwing away, I thought about the green bag. The green bag is a shopping bag I used right before my car was towed to collect the odds and ends left in my glove compartment from years past. It contains mostly receipts for oil changes, tire rotations, and a few more serious operations. I always meant to transfer those, too. Factoring in these expenses, plus the yearly registration fees and inspection costs- I know that I am still ahead. So I am going to relax back into my seat, feel the bus heater on my face, and enjoy the ride.

Looking Up

We have been given a reprieve- a weather reprieve. It looked like the Roadrunner of fall had plunged off the Wyle E. Coyote cliff of winter, but it is back! It was literally freezing last week. It was so cold and miserably wet that we broke our house rule of not turning on the heat until November. But the weather in Pittsburgh today is sunny and 70 degrees.

This change has certainly impacted how I feel about walking to work, if not my actual commuting habit. Last week I committed to walking at least one way to work everyday- rain or shine or sleet. I don't actually mind walking in cooler temperatures. A walk in 45 degree air gives me the incentive to walk at a good clip and when I arrive, I am not in need of a shower. But it does very little for my mood while I am walking. It is fair to say that Pittsburgh is grey more days than not, and the route I walk to or from work is the same everyday. The same litter on the sidewalk, the same buildings, the same other people rushing to work. It all feels the same at 45 degrees.

I have been listening to my favorite radio podcasts during my commutes, and, as I am fond of telling almost anyone who is kind enough to listen, they have dramatically improved my life. I am more informed and less bored. I don't always listen on the way to work, because I like to ease into the day and think about what's ahead. But I unwind with them at the end of the day, and find myself most often choosing the way home for my walking portion. You can find me grinning and laughing my way along Penn Avenue during the evening rush.

However, with sunshine and 70 degrees, I have thrown off the headphones. I was inspired by an article in Natural Home magazine called "Change Your Awareness, Change Your Life" by Carol Venolia. She is a sustainable communities teacher at Dominican University of California. In the article, she explains how she challenges her students to reconnect to their senses, many of which, she says, we mute to deal with the stress and strain of modern life. For example, we may not hear birds singing often because we have tuned out the other less pleasant noises in our environment, like car horns blaring.

Venolia says, "At the end of class, I send students home with an expanded assignment: At least once a day, stop and notice how the air feels, where the sun is, the wind's direction, the terrain, vegetation, critters; then write it all down."

She is interested in how this information may change her students' awareness, and impact their lives and their work as planners and designers.

So I have been thinking about how doing this once a day, or even once a week, could change my perception of my walks, my commute, myself. Where am I most comfortable, and why? What about the commute is unpleasant for me, and how can I change that? Do I feel happy, sad, or something else at different points or different times of the day? I have a feeling it will be easier today than next week when the temperature drops again. That may be a clue in itself.

Safety First

A few weeks ago, when I got off the bus at the stop nearest my workplace, a man got off with me. While we waited for the light to turn green, he muttered under his breath, "I hate this." I feel him. It's a dangerous intersection for pedestrians. There is no cross walk for us, and no light that tells us when it is safe to walk. In fact, there is never a safe time to walk. One side of the intersection has a left turn arrow for drivers, and everyone else is left to their own devices, including pedestrians. There is plenty of tension. Pedestrians are always at the mercy of drivers, and sometimes there is not a lot of it to go around.

It is one of a few busy and potentially dangerous intersections on my commute route. Another is further up Penn Avenue, toward downtown, where it intersects Fifth Avenue.

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There is pedestrian crosswalk with a little white pedestrian light here. It isn't much less dangerous. Drivers making the left onto Fifth over the wide intersection rarely stop for pedestrians already making their way across. And they are generally driving fast if they have not been stopped at the red light.

Over the last two weeks, it has been especially treacherous. There is road and sidewalk construction on the Mellon Park side. Rent -A- Fence along the fence protects the trees by order of the City of Pittsburgh. While the work goes on, the sidewalk is closed, and you cannot cross on or to that side. Though you don't know that until you are on the median. You can still cross sidewalk to sidewalk on the other side of the street, but because of the Bakery Square development construction further down, you cannot safely continue down Penn Avenue on the sidewalk. That stretch is effectively closed to pedestrians. But people, including me once, get caught everyday half way.

I am more conscious of bodily safety outside of my car than I was within. Sometimes I worried about crashes, or hurting someone else, especially someone on a bike, but rarely about my own fragile self. A few weeks before I gave up my car, my girlfriend and I were walking through a supermarket parking lot. Someone driving very fast through the lot, who seemed to see us, just barely missed hitting her with their car. It almost seemed as if they were calculating the time it would take for her to get out of their way- and betting on it. It was terrifying. I did something I can't remember doing before. I yelled an obscenity as they drove away. They yelled back at us. My anger shook me and shocked me. It stayed in my body for some time after, and in my mind for longer.

I think about it sometimes as I am walking on Penn Avenue's sidewalks. Penn Avenue, where cars speed by, and the wind from buses sometimes feels like it will blow you clean off the map, even when you are squarely on the sidewalk. The buses I ironically feel so safe riding at other times. Then I am not angry, just a little scared.

Tardiness

Having spent almost an entire lifetime perfecting the art of being on time, I have found it challenging to recalibrate my internal timeliness equipment. I had it down to a science- arriving just a few minutes before my scheduled time at work or a few minutes after the starting time on a party invitation. After ten years of having a car in the same city, beyond acts of God or PennDOT, I was reasonably sure of getting myself almost anywhere at the appropriate time. The appropriate time for me.

Call it conditioning, call it neurosis, or maybe it is just spill over from fear of the late bell at school- I don't like to keep people waiting. And, especially when I am going somewhere new, I like to have a few minutes to spare to orient myself, quelling any social anxiety or getting my footing. I know myself. But, car free, I am a slightly new self.

I was chatting with a friend recently about this phenomenon- traveling by bus or on foot and yielding to another set of assumptions about when and where I will arrive. She commented that there is a certain level of ceding control in the situation. That is true, to an extent- perhaps the first few times. But as it is a losing battle, surrender comes quickly and quietly. In the past, I have felt less in control in my car during traffic jams or trying to stand firm against the tyranny of certain car mechanics.

I accept that sometimes, if I take the bus, I will either be very early, or very late to parties- bus schedules don't necessarily run on my schedule. And I accept all of the consequences of that, including apologies and accepting acceptance from gracious people who love me anyway- even when I don't live up to my previous image of myself. I understand that if I want complete control over when I will reach some destinations, I will need to walk there(or bike- but that's for another post). I understand the consequences of that, too- sometimes arriving less than fresh and not bearing largesse too heavy to carry. But the more I walk the walk- or bus the bus- the more I learn about myself- my new self. She is far more flexible than I imagined.

Bag Lady

I needed dog food. And I needed it yesterday. It had been a busy week and I neglected to notice that the dry dog food bag was down to crumbs. In my former life, with car, I would have run right out to the grocery store the next neighborhood over at 11:15 pm when I discovered the empty bag. But car free, that did not seem like an option. Instead, I cobbled together a breakfast of crumbs, treats and people food for the poor dog, and used this as an opportunity for growth and strength training.

I say growth because I find it very difficult to ask anyone for any help of any kind. My mother has offered to visit more often and take me in her car on errands involving heavy lifting. But this trip was too last minute for that. I saw a little grocery cart in my girlfriend's basement, and asked her if I might use that. She had a better idea. Her waterproof Ortlieb messenger bag sits in the closet unused almost all year. The 15 pound bag of dog food would easily fit inside, and she added, I would get a nod from bikers in-the-know for my savvy choice.

I did look pleasingly Euro- stylish and felt smart and fit, too. Mission accomplished.

When I am not hauling dog food for a mile back from the grocery store, I have a couple of favorite everyday bags for toting my things to and fro. My "purse" is a recycled black rubber bag that I have had for years. All of my personal items like glasses and wallet are found there. The extras that I have started carrying since commuting and walking, I throw into a reusable grocery bag- a Chico Bag. Their colors buoy me without testing my gag reflex for the over-styled, and I like being able to swap out the one I am using, when it becomes dirty, for any of my others. They are flexible and washable, though not waterproof, as is my "purse". When it rains, I keep them close to my body, or switch to a plasticized, striped beach bag-type bag I got at Ikea.

There are lots of bags out there, at the bus stops, grocery stores, and on the sidewalks. Many people are still carrying their lunches, extra shoes, and of course, groceries, in disposable plastic bags from retail stores. My mom always used one of those even though she had a car. They are not classy, but they work, and while not environmentally sound, they are re-used often. And they are cheap, at least on the surface, for the user.

I saw a display for Blue Avocado reusable bags in a natural foods store a few weeks ago. Their take on the "bring your own bags" idea is a cute kit of bags that fold up small, some like little clutch purses- and I love clutch purses. A produce bag and chilled products bag fit inside a larger tote, for example, and all are rolled up neatly together when not in use. I liked the idea, until I saw the diagram on the display. It suggested that one should buy their bags "so you'll never look like a bag lady." What's wrong with looking like a bag lady?

If carrying around your things in the most convenient, weatherproof, and most uniquely "you" way is wrong, I don't want to be right. You know where you can stuff your yuppie bags, and whatever is stuffed in them.