My No Car Experiment

My experiment in living with one car started when we let our college-age daughter take my car for a weeklong trip to New Hampshire. Her itinerary resulted in three weekdays where, with my husband commuting to work at the Philadelphia Zoo, we would only have one car.

My husband offered to ride the train and his bike, but this required biking on traffic-clogged streets during rush hour, an endeavor that makes me nervous. I decided that of the two of us, it would be less emotionally taxing if I went without a car, so I decided to see how I could make do by foot or bike. 

Day one was easy. We had plenty of food in the house and there was a lot of yard work I needed to get done, so not even a bicycle was necessary.

On day two a good friend helped out by picking me (and three of my four dogs) up so we could all walk together at Skunk Hollow near The Willows.

Day three required me to get from our house near Garrett Hill in Rosemont to The Haverford School to watch my godson and his twin brother in the graduation exercises. I debated calling a cab, but I decided to stick to my original plan and ride my bike.

A stop at Garrett Hill Auto Service to fill the bike tires afforded a friendly visit with a young mechanic. As if reading my mind he reached for a long air pressured hose and happily filled up both front and back tires before I could even ask.

I set out on the Conestoga Road sidewalk down the long hill opposite the Rosemont Corporate Center, the whole ride down imagining the daunting return trip up. I climbed off my bike in order to get through the very narrow protected sidewalk under the P& W underpass.  The pass was so skinny it was impossible not to brush up against the cinder block wall and my white pants became streaked with what looked like soot.

I’m with a group at the intersection of Haverford Road and Bryn Mawr Ave. and we all wait for what seems forever for our turn to cross. One woman, dressed in scrubs, laughs and crosses without the light. “It takes too long,” she explains.  A man walking uneasily on a cane recounting a recent doctor’s appointment on his cell phone and several men dressed in WAWA uniforms and I wait until  the light finally turns.

Pedaling along Railroad Avenue was pleasant, despite curbs that don’t slope down to the street. There is no one on the sidewalk so it feels okay to ride along it.  I wonder if this is illegal. I think it is.

Riding past Preston Park I spot Abby, a high school classmate of my daughter’s. She’s reading and I stop to talk.  I hadn’t seen her in a well over a year and she sweetly asks if she can walk with me for the remainder of my trip to The Haverford School. She fills me in on her summer plan to work as a camp counselor and I ask if she’ll go to see Dar Williams the next evening at The Bryn Mawr Concert Series, a performer who Abby introduced to our family via my daughter when they were both little girls.

My trip home is uneventful except for a fall along the steep incline on Conestoga Road.  A car slows down and I hope he doesn’t stop and when he doesn’t I feel relieved and disheartened at the same time.

A stop at Bywood Seafood Market makes for an easy dinner, and while I’m buying fresh cod I see a professional-looking biker pull up.  The rider wore outdoorsy-chic clothing and her bike had the vibe of a hip retro beach cruiser.  She came in holding her helmet and when she ordered thought I heard a French accent. But no, her voice is as American as mine and she too is making her way on two wheels.