​I am a snob. I don’t consider a cramped space surrounded by noxious fumes, rolling along a river of potholes a luxury. I resent parting with my life savings in order to park, license, fuel and insure my transportation. I eschew those folk wrapped in their second skin of glimmering steel. In short, the mere mention of the automobile, whether magnificent Mercedes or second-hand Cessna, is my cue to depart - on foot.  

Being in-car-cerated robs me of the experience of weather, the intimacy of my environment and regular casual encounters with neighbours – two-legged and four-legged. It encourages isolation and a belief that getting there is more important than the journey. When time is a factor, I ride my bicycle, enjoying the breeze and the heady sense of freedom – the closest a mortal comes to flying. If the distance to my destination is great, I take the subway. For grocery shopping, there is the convenience of delivery; just shop and walk away, and when there’s too much snow and ice, I call a taxi. They know me by name.

All in all, I have a chosen, preferred lifestyle that does not include owning an automobile. It began many years ago out of concern for the environment but has become, quite simply, a more pleasant and comfortable way to travel. As side benefits, not owning a car promotes a healthier, active lifestyle and probably saves me thousands of dollars a year.

So, when people offer to pick me up in their car for some social occasion or to give me a lift home after a meeting when they live nowhere near me, I despair. I’ve tried to explain that I have transport of a different kind and have no need of a ride, but it’s,
“No, no, no, we won’t hear of it. In you go, here let me move those papers and things; hope you’re not too cramped with your long legs, don’t mind the pop bottles - Trixie down! Get into the back seat; the nice lady is going to ride with us.”
I am faced with the dilemma of thanking them for including me in their beloved rolling homestead or I can say, “No thank you, I choose to be transported in comfort.” I often do the latter. I have fewer friends than most people.

Don’t get me wrong, if a person is a neighbour or even lives in the same part of town, I’m delighted to ride with that person either in his/her car or my taxi, or we could both cycle. It’s the one-car, one-driver syndrome and the utter dependency on that car that drives me to rant – the assumption that if you are not travelling in a privately owned automobile, you are deprived, extravagant or mad.    

I do realize that some people’s professions require the use of a car, especially when public transit is limited. However, it seems to me that many people just have not considered the classier non-car way.

Picture a city where the sidewalks are well-lit for pedestrians instead of lit by the spill from streetlights designed for cars. Imagine secure bicycle paths on main thoroughfares with well-placed guard blocks that cars and trucks couldn’t cross and envisage four-wheeled traffic in the city core limited to taxis, streetcars, buses, delivery and emergency vehicles. Heaven!

Of course, there are models of improved transport all over the world – carpooling, car-free days, minimum passenger lanes and fuel-cell cars come to mind. Statistics Canada tells us there are more than a billion bicycles in the world, and electric car sales are increasing in Canada. Though these cars will not exercise our bodies or connect us to our neighbours, they will improve the environment, so there’s a glimmer of hope.
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But while we wait in hope for others to fall out of love with the automobile, we snobs will continue to meet each other on the sidewalks, cycle paths and subways.

First, share the hopes, concerns and resources in your community. Invite some neighbours on your block, in your immediate area or your apartment building to a climate change / social gathering. Provide refreshments and a timeline. Think Tupperware party without the plastic! Include a diversity of people but with a preference for those with an interest in the topic. Form a small enough group for easy discussion; 6 to 10 works well. Some topics might be: plant-based eating, pollinator gardens, commuting by foot, cycle and transit, and home-made cleaning solutions and clotheslines. Most important is the kindness factor, recognizing that we all need each other. Who in your neighbourhood would need help in a disaster? The elderly, those with disabilities, people with multiple pets and small children, and those who have no vehicle, etc.

It's useful to have several recent climate change books, available from the library, on hand and a list of reliable website references. Take time for everyone to get to know one another before delving into the topic and the group's particular concerns. The group should be willing to meet regularly (mine meets for two hours every other week) so as not to lose momentum.

Though I advocate a local neighborhood climate change support group, the six of us in mine span across two provinces! So, of course, we meet on Zoom. After a year and a half some of us had never met everyone in the flesh, so to speak, so last June we gathered for the day in my back garden in Toronto. We began with morning coffee moving on to a potluck lunch when partners joined us. Since then, we have created an 8-page tiny zine with a QR code that links to our website. Coming soon to Story Soup Enterprises.ca