Confessions of a Non-Driver

I don't drive. I know, I'm a bad American, but I just don't. I have a driver's license, I am capable of driving most automatic-transmission vehicles, and Rick's stick-shift-mobile is sitting in the alley behind our apartment right now, just beckoning me to learn to drive it. I refuse.

I'm not the only one. I live in Boston, which has decent public transportation, and I'm sure lots of people here don't drive. But for me it's kind of a...well...phobia. How could this happen to a red-blooded Jersey Girl? Let's find out.

"Everywhere Is Walking Distance If You Have the Time." -- Stephen Wright

It all began with my father. We used to go on long walks when I was a kid. He'd say "Let's walk to Baskin-Robbins and get some ice cream," and I'd get all excited, and we'd walk the half hour or so and get some ice cream. This doesn't seem like a long walk, but trust me, it's the kind of distance that suburban New Jerseyans wouldn't dream of traveling without their cars.

By the time I got my driver's license, my older friends and my parents were used to driving me around, and I'd embraced walking as a means of transportation as well as recreation. As in: left foot, right foot, and eventually you'll get where you need to go.

I walked to friends' houses after school. I walked two towns away because that's where the closest bookstore was. I walked to the library. I walked to the movie theater...once my town got one.

After I went off to college, I spent four years in exurban Connecticut with no car. I walked to the grocery store, to garage sales, to faraway diners. I walked to a nature trail, walked around, and then walked home. Walkathons still seem pretty wussy to me -- six miles? What a joke.

Car Talk with Jen and Tom

There's a story that my friend Tom loves to tell that pretty much sums up my attitude towards driving. We had come from a party where he got drunk and I stayed sober. He really needed a cigarette. He asked me if I'd drive him to Stop & Shop so he could get some. I said, "Sure, why not." I'd driven a few times in college. Okay, twice. But no big deal

So I climbed into Tom's car, a big 1978 olive-green Pontiac Bonneville nicknamed "The Flying Pimento." I fastened my seatbelt. I put my foot on the brake. I put the keys in the ignition. And I sat there, my right hand flailing on the bucket seat beside me. I couldn't figure out how to shift from Park to Drive.

"Where's the shifty-thing?!?"

Tom couldn't believe it. "On the steering wheel," he said, like it was the most logical place on earth for it.

"That's it," I said, taking the key out of the ignition and unbuckling my seat belt, "I'm not driving this thing." He never did get his cigarettes.

Crossing that Bridge When You Come To It (and Paying the Toll)

Boston has one of the worst reverse-commute trends in the world. Unless you're in finance, you probably don't work in Boston proper. This unfortunate fact gave me a heinous 50-minute commute at my first job after college -- it would have been a 20-minute drive. I could have learned to drive Rick's stick-shift-mobile, but I was stubborn. Claiming to be doing it for the environment, I endured this sucky commute for a year.

I worked at home for a while. No driving.

Then I took a freelance job with a group of small newspapers outside of Boston. I took the Commuter Rail to my interview, and when the editor asked, "You do have a car, don't you?" I gulped and said, "My husband does." Which was not a lie. I had figured that if I got the job, I'd learn to drive Rick's car, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

Well, here's the bridge, and I'm walking over it. My one stick-shift driving lesson wasn't the most unpleasant experience I've ever had in a car, but it's up there. I've been able to complete one assignment for this paper. I took the Commuter Rail to it. I've turned down two others, claiming "car trouble." Which isn't exactly a lie, since carphobia can certainly be defined as "trouble."

An editor recently asked me if I had my car back. I said, "No, and I'm thinking that I might not bother fixing it. I mean, I live in Boston -- I don't really need one." Which also isn't exactly a lie. There are subways, buses, and trains to help me get around. When I commute via public transportation, I have more time to read. Hell, I am helping the environment.

What I really need is a job I can walk to.

Update: Whew! I get a lot of email about this one! Anyway, I've been working at home pretty consistently since I wrote this. Occasional on-site meetings, but I can generally take mass transit or score a ride to those. I'm currently living in Public Transit Eden (otherwise known as Europe) and hope to avoid further driving for a long, long time.