Green Means More Than Grasping at Straws

A silly meme on Facebook – a paper straw in a plastic wrapper titled “The Green movement in a nutshell” – got me thinking about my own environmentalist leanings, and my commitment to not owning a car.

Growing up on the Maine Coast gave me an environmental consciousness I never thought of as political. I instinctively pick up trash and recoil at litter, much of which includes non-recyclable plastic. But while a ton of straws can break a camel’s back, we aren’t going to save the planet by focusing on minutiae like straws. 

What do straws have to do with cars? They both kill turtles, for one thing. But cars do a whole lot more damage than that. Aside from the thousands of people killed yearly in crashes, motor vehicles contribute to a long laundry list of insults to the global ecosystem. They burn finite fossil fuels and spew greenhouse gases. They necessitate the construction of acres of parking lots, which radiate heat back into the atmosphere, eliminate wetlands, and pollute reservoirs with run-off. They encourage the development of car-centric suburbs with huge per-capita carbon footprints. They foster graveyards of spent tires and dead vehicles that continue to pollute years after they stop moving.

Although I consider myself an environmentalist, I stopped owning cars for none of those reasons. I stopped owning cars because they cost too much money. I resented the idea that I needed a car at my service 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. There are plenty of cars around. Surely I could find one to use when I needed to, without the economic onus of owning one.

The past 17 years have vindicated this conviction. I now have a savings account instead of a monthly car payment and an ongoing insurance policy. I don’t waste precious minutes of my life sitting in traffic jams. On foot, on a bicycle, or on a bus, I’m healthier and happier than I would be seething and swearing at people from behind a windshield.

It hasn’t come without cost, or without compromises. I have had to adjust my lifestyle and change some habits. I leave ample time to get to the places I need to go, and I sometimes don’t get to other places I want to go. For most of those years, I’ve lived with someone who owned a car. Four months ago, we became a no-car household.

So far, we’ve managed. We did not visit family for Thanksgiving, and we have not yet needed to take the dog to the vet. Have you ever noticed that almost all veterinarians are way out on the edge of town? In October we rented a car and the three of us went to the coast for a weekend, but we can’t jump up and do that on the spur of the moment.

It isn’t only veterinarians. Hardware stores are hard to find anywhere outside of Lowe’s and Home Depot, always built where it’s hard to get to other than by car. The buses stop running before many people get out of work. To live without a car in a small city like Bangor, far from any major metropolitan center, is to endure a multitude of inconveniences.

Are the inconveniences worth the rewards? In my case, the answer was, and is still, “Yes.” But I don’t need a car to get to and from my primary job, and I do much of it on-line. It’s a 15-minute walk to downtown and an even shorter walk to a corner convenience store. Renting a car works out to about a hundred dollars a day, which seems like a lot until you consider that the average annual cost of owning a car is $10,000, equal to 100 car rentals.

I’m lucky, in that I can choose not to own a car. Many don’t have that choice. They either can’t afford one, or can’t drive one, for physical or other reasons. Life is even more inconvenient for them.

Cars are a convenience, and an environmental disaster. Hence the conundrum: how does an environmentally responsible citizen retain the convenience while reducing the harm? Many people are choosing to go electric.

Electric cars are marginally better for the environment, as this article from the New York Times details. But they require lithium and cobalt mining, which aren’t any kinder to the planet than oil rigs and refineries. They will not stop suburban sprawl or the hollowing out of small business districts in favor of outlying big-box stores with massive parking lots.

If we are to be serious about our stewardship of the planet, as I believe we must be, then we can do better than to substitute one environmental disaster for a slightly lesser one. Electric cars won’t do a whole lot of good if we use them the way we use gas-powered cars now.

Instead, we can invest in comprehensive public transportation, promote pedestrian-friendly neighborhoods with a mixture of business and residential use, and incentivize development on a human rather than an automotive scale.

Why do you get a straw when you order a glass of water at a bar, anyway? You can drink it just fine without one. Owning a car should not be a necessity. Entrenched interests make it feel like one. We must work toward a world in which alternative choices are equally appealing.

Recent Adventures in Public Transportation – 1

One of the nice things about a small-city bus service like Bangor’s Community Connector is that you get to know the drivers – if not by name, at least by face and personality. And they get to know you, and where you need to get to, and when.

Thus I found myself on a recent morning waiting for the Old Town bus on Exchange Street to take me to an appointment at the University of Maine. It’s not a regular stop; it’s one of those intersections where you can flag the bus down (a system soon to change). I had a bag of books and didn’t want to walk to the temporary depot by the pocket park near the Sea Dog restaurant. 

The Old Town bus is first to leave. (A detour during the month of August has made this temporarily untrue.) It usually turns onto Exchange Street and then turns right to go up State Street hill. It’s followed closely by the Mount Hope bus, which turns left on Broadway at the top of the hill, while my bus continues up State Street to Orono and Old Town.

On this day, for whatever reason, the first bus didn’t turn at Exchange Street. The Mount Hope bus did, though. I waved and the driver stopped. We recognized each other. “Is the Old Town bus behind you?” I asked him.

“Nope. That was him that just went by the other way.”

“That’s my bus.”

“Get on,” said the driver. “I’ll see if I can catch him.”

I boarded, and he called the Old Town bus. At the top of the hill, both buses waited as I crossed State Street from one bus to the other, and greeted another familiar driver. I don’t know either of their names and I doubt that they know mine, but through a series of light conversations and interactions over a span of time, we’ve come to sort of know one another.

The upshot of this escapade is that I made it to my appointment at the University on time after all, with help from two helpful bus drivers. I suppose designated stops will put an end to this sort of thing. The new system will surely be more efficient and reliable. But there’s something to be said for the neighborliness of our earnest bus system, which may have been what someone was thinking years ago when they changed the name from the BAT to the Community Connector. At first I didn’t like the new name, but I’ve changed my mind. It really does connect the community, in more ways than one.

They’re looking for drivers. Who knows? You could be the anonymous hero of some future blog post.

July 31, 2022

Last day of of a hugely hectic month. I’d rather be writing… or sailing. I’ve had precious little time to do either this summer.

Slower Traffic will be back in August with new content. Stay safe out there, everyone. Slow down, be ever alert for the possibility of a bicyclist around the next curve, get out of the car and walk, use public transportation when you can, and enjoy life.

HG