Leah

Week One:

Saturday Night on the Town – Sans Car

I've spent quite a while thinking that having a car on a Saturday night in downtown Phily is a status symbol. But, I'm realizing that little beats a bike downtown for cheapness and convenience. Here are some highlights:

When my friends called me on Saturday evening inviting me to come downtown for dinner, I wondered how I would really be able to pull it off without a car. I'm pretty hip with my black and red bicycle helmet and my blinky light, but am I really Saturday night cool?

Sporting helmet and rolling up the cuffs of my jeans to keep them from the drive train of my roade bike, I set off for downtown. It feels awfully satisfying to maneuver through crawling traffic with a vehicle that's merely two feet wide. Once downtown, do you know that it can cost 20 bucks to park a car? Do you know what I paid to double chain my bike to the "two hour parking" sign outside of the Korean barbecue restaurant? Nothing. To my friends' amusement, I did have to excuse myself from the table to wash the bike grease from my fingers.

I would like to give a shout-out to my friend the bouncer at McGlinchy's on 15th St. Not only does he politely check IDs at the door, but he also manages the bike parking outside! "Nope, that meter's all parked up. Try street side on the next lamp post!" He even assured me that he would take down the fool who would try to take my bike while I was inside.

Yeah, I sat in a booth at a bar with my bicycle helmet on the table. Cool. But, I didn't feel so bad. Here's why: After an evening out, I didn't have to walk back to some garage several blocks away, and I didn't have to tip the valet who brought my car back to me. I simply got on my bike and enjoyed the evening air as I rode by the cars on my way home.

Week Two:

I rode my bike this morning through the strongest gusts of rainy wind I have ever felt in Philadelphia.

As I was getting ready for work, from my bedroom window in my West Philadelphia apartment I saw the foot and a half thick branches of hundred year old tree whipping violently in the wind. I decided that this was a day for a scarf and gloves.

Standing on my front porch, I realized immediately that today was not only a day for scarf and gloves, today was a heavy coat day too. I set off on my bike. The water on the street wasn't so bad, and I sliced through some puddles. The spray from the cars was as little worse, but nothing as bad as the driving force of the rain.The fat drops that hit my eyelids stung like small pebbles. I peddled as hard as I could going down the hill from the Chestnut Street bridge over the Schuylkill river. Who has to peddle going down hill?

Only after I got to work did I access the internet to learn that there were 18 mph winds coming from the northeast (precisely the direction in which I was traveling), with 31 mile per hour gusts. So, I peeled off my soaking wet socks, changed into some dry pants and felt proud about braving the elements and getting to work under my own power.

Week Three:

As smoothly as my trips with PhillyCarShare have run during the last few weeks that I've been scooting around the city without my car, riding Septa can be something of an adventure.

The other night, I had met some friends for an evening out in the city. We laughed some laughs, told some stories, and drank some drinks. At the end of the night, I said adieu and parted in the direction of the Market El subway, on which I was counting to get me home in lieu of a car.

First I realized that every last dollar in my wallet had gone to pay the tab and tip the bar tender. Whoops, no problem, I stopped at an ATM in a convenience store run by friendly immigrants and pulled a twenty from my account. Down in the subway station, I fed my crisp bill into the vending machine. But, as anyone who's purchased tokens using Septa's automated system knows, one isn't afforded the luxury of choosing the number of tokens he wishes to purchase. Instead, the machine dispenses the maximum number for the money you feed into the machine. So, armed with 14 tokens and fistfulls of nickels and dimes, my change from a twenty dollar bill, I paid my fair and crossed through the turnstile. Because there were a half dozen other passengers waiting for the El, and because I had just seen the train come through the tunnels from the other direction, I figured I was in good shape to catch the train.

Fifteen minutes later, I heard the El chugging down the tracks, and I stood up to line myself up with the train door. But, this particular train wasn't crammed with passengers, on their way home after an evening out. Instead, the train was filled 4 waist-deep with white plastic bags of trash.

Garbage.

Maybe it was the refuse from every train station between Frankfort and Old City? To my dismay, the Septa men who departed the train weren't the typical conductors, they were trash collecting conductors who firmly suggested that we get out of the subway and look for the night owl. This certainly wasn't what I was expecting when I dropped my fare token into the slot! The trash conductors appeased the disappointed passengers by issuing transfer slips all around, and I alighted from the station back into the night.

After chasing down the first bus I saw, barefoot, high heeled shoes in hand, enjoy suggestive exclamations from well-meaning motorists, I waited a full 30 minutes for the next bus. Finally, I saw the lights of the 21 approaching in the east.

Aboard the bus, I had the pleasure of sitting next to a gentleman dressed to the nines for his night on the town. But, his suit wasn't black with pin stripes, charcoal gray, or even navy blue. This man was wearing a lavender suit, a royal purple dress shirt, and purple shoes to match. Unable to read my book that I had brought as entertainment because of the bouncing of the bus, I fell asleep against the glass window.

I woke up to unfamiliar scenery. Realizing that the reason I didn't recognize the buildings was because they were past my house along the bus route, I dashed off the Septa bus, remembering to thank the driver. I walked the two blocks back to my West Philly apartment, high heels still in hand, pleased to have had a Septa adventure. Public transportation beats the necessary sobriety of driving my car any day.

Week Five:

It's been three days since the Philly Car Share Walk Ride Share Challenge officially ended. After I crossed the finish line, the thought crossed my mind that I could take a victory lap around the neighborhood in my car, since my vow to "put it in park" is no longer in effect. But, then I thought, "Why bother? No need." I haven't driven my car yet since the challenge began. I just haven't needed to. The month I spent with my car in park has sufficiently weaned me of my driving habit. It's not to say that I won't drive again, but with my bike, my new sneakers, and subway tokens, the need has not yet arisen.

I'd also like to point out that Philly Car Share's very generous contribution of $250 to my car share account was plenty to get me through the month. I even came out with $60 extra in my coffer. I didn't budget, I didn't skimp. I simply rode my bike when it was sensible and borrowed cars when I needed to go somewhere far or haul something big. I feel so proud of myself for proving that I could maintain an active, go to work during the day, play out on the town at night kind, do fun projects when the mood struck kind of lifestyle. Thanks to PhillyCarShare, Septa, and my bicycle.