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Why trade the car for a bike?

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  • Carlos F. Pardo SUTP
    Pretty cool story at http://www.progressivewaynecounty.org/blog/mark_stosberg/2006/09/why_i_trade d_in_my_car_for_a_bike Full text below: Why I traded in my
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 3, 2007
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      Pretty cool story at
      http://www.progressivewaynecounty.org/blog/mark_stosberg/2006/09/why_i_trade
      d_in_my_car_for_a_bike



      Full text below:




      Why I traded in my car for a bike


      Submitted by Mark Stosberg on September 26, 2006 - 9:22pm.
      posted under bicycle <http://www.progressivewaynecounty.org/tags/bicycle>

      This is the story of why I traded in my car for a bicycle.

      It's not that many people have asked about this. Rather I have sensed that
      people wonder about this unusual lifestyle choice and do not ask.

      My story isn't going to be about lifestyle comparison or counting karma
      points. I want to convey the emotional parts of this transition.

      I had some selfish reasons for wanting to get rid of my car. I don't
      particularly like driving them or riding in them. I don't know how to fix
      them if they break, and I'm not interested to learn. I didn't like car down
      payments, car insurance payments, car gas payments, car breakdown payments
      and car break-in payments.

      <http://www.flickr.com/photos/highsmileage/117946951/>
      <http://www.flickr.com/photos/highsmileage/117946951/>
      <http://www.flickr.com/photos/highsmileage/117946951/>

      At the time I was considering this, I could also use the saved money. I
      calculated that on average my car was costing me about $300 every month.

      I reached point where I realized I could get rid of my car, and I really
      wanted to. This path was very much in line with my values, and felt right.

      Yet, I held back.

      I was afraid. I was afraid I would lose my freedom. I was afraid I would
      lose my freedom to take a quick weekend trip to Kentucky to see my father. I
      was afraid that I wouldn't be able to cut loose and hit the open road.

      I was afraid that it would interfere with my business life, that I wouldn't
      be able to make it to meetings.

      I was afraid that winter would be too harsh to get around without a car.

      I was afraid I would become a burden on my friends who had cars.

      I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get my own groceries.

      So I put off the decision, despite feeling it was want I wanted to do.

      Soon after, my engine died in the middle of a four line interstate just
      south of Cincinnati, as I drove home for Christmas. I was indignant that the
      mechanic offered me $35 to buy the car. Instead, I paid $1400 to put a new
      something-or-rather in it, which was probably an engine.

      I drove it home and decided to practice. I would leave my car parked in the
      driveway and pretend I didn't own it, unless I had an emergency.

      This helped me overcome some of my fears, but it didn't help my car.
      Eventually, the battery died from sitting there, and the windshield wipers
      need to be replaced. Later, it developed some other reason it wouldn't
      start, and seemed to have a brake problem as well.

      In the meantime, it got broken into twice will sitting there, by thieves too
      incompetent to actually remove the stereo.

      By the time I eventually sold it for it for what it worth then, about $800,
      I would have put several hundred more dollars into beyond the $1400 for the
      new engine.

      While it was nice to conclude this comedy of errors, I had already begun
      receiving much value from the experience.

      September 11th, 2001 was a memorable day. Besides the national crisis that
      erupted in the morning, I had my own crisis in the afternoon. I had a Cope
      Environmental Center board meeting that I needed to get to in a hurry. I
      decided this was the sort of important event worth driving my car to make it
      on time.

      My emergency-use-only car didn't start. It was useless. I grabbed my orange
      1970-something road bike and pedaled towards Centerville. Other people were
      still showing up when I arrived. I'd made it fine without my car.

      I can pinpoint the first time my car failed to start and I got along fine
      without it. I can't recall the moment I knew I was comfortable with my
      decision. It's like trying to recall the moment relaxation begins. Sometimes
      there is an instant release, but more often then is only an awakening, with
      the realization that you've drifted to somewhere pleasant and have been
      there a while. That's what my transition was like.

      When I awoke, a surprising transformation had happened. I found that my
      greatest fear, that of losing my freedom, was unfounded. Not only was it
      unfounded, it was completely wrong.

      Getting around under my own power provided a sense of freedom and control
      far greater than driving my car ever did. I felt alive and connected. When
      the weather changed, I noticed.

      I was- I am- making a difference. Each foot step or pedal stroke is my own
      power transforming time and space.

      More than anything, going car-free has been an opening to understanding that
      this was only the beginning of difficult but worthwhile fears to face, and
      other potential rewards to follow.



      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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