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Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
I grew up in the 1960s and 70s, when cars were associated with independence, freedom and status. Perhaps most important, guys like me believed a car would make us more attractive and help us score a date (and a place to make out!).
However, in recent years, like so many of us who own a car, I have worried increasingly about the environmental damage my car causes and I have wondered if switching to a hybrid car would make a significant difference. Might it even be possible to live without a car entirely?
I live in downtown Toronto, so most of my everyday needs are within walking distance. There is public transit (when it works) to help me with trips further afield. But I hemmed and hawed for years, oscillating from going online to find the resale value of my car to feeling thankful I had a vehicle when I received an invitation to a friend’s cottage in the summer.
I’d like to tell you that I took decisive action to help save our environment by selling the car and learning to love public transit, but the truth is a bit messier. Last year, I bought a hybrid Toyota SUV for a not insignificant price. But I immediately noticed the difference in my wallet when it came to the pumps; this car went much farther on a tank of gas. Driving around downtown streets, I felt a bit superior to the gas-guzzling drivers around me when I heard the quiet hum of my car’s electric battery (the gas engine kicked in when I drove at higher speeds).
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However, within the first year of ownership, my car had to be boosted three times: It turns out you need to drive hybrid cars more often than gas-powered cars because the hybrid’s regular battery (used to start the car and operate some features such as heating and air conditioning) is smaller than a gas-powered car engine battery (there’s less space due to the hybrid components), and a hybrid car has more computerized parts that continually drain the battery, even when the car is parked. Ironically, by purchasing a hybrid car, I now had to drive more than ever.
After my third battery boost (the roadside assistance guy told me he’d been boosting a lot of hybrid cars recently), I decided the hybrid hassle wasn’t worth it. With very little enthusiasm, I started to search for a gas engine car, but when I complained to a friend how frustrating the whole experience had been, she said why not try to live without a car for a year, and see how it goes? The car dealerships aren’t going away, and they’ll be very welcoming should I ever decide to step through their doors again. She was right. The next day I sold my hybrid to a dealership.
After a few months of car-less life, I’d like to be able to tell you that it has been a breeze and I am feeling like a virtuous eco-warrior, but once again, the truth is messier. While there certainly have been moments of pleasure – I quite enjoyed calling my car insurance company to cancel the insurance – I’ve also had moments of feeling disoriented, a bit lost and even a bit panicked. What if an out-of-town friend or family member has an emergency – how will I reach them? I have owned a car since my early 20s (I’m now in my 60s) and until now, I never thought twice about the privilege and convenience of having an expensive mode of transportation at my disposal.
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Yet, with each passing day, the existential angst and panicky feelings subside. The absence of a car has not created a huge change in my everyday life, so far. I can do most of what needs to be done by walking, cycling, car share or public transit. Over the Christmas holidays, I tried a car-share app and it went relatively smoothly (the only irritation: I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the car radio, which was stuck on a station playing hokey Christmas songs). I realize my opinion may change by the middle of February, when I’m crawling over a massive snow drift to board a bus, or next summer, when I might have to pay for an expensive rental car to visit a friend’s cottage.
However, for now, I am going to try and embrace my car-less identity, viewing it as just another one of life’s many changes and challenges that do not take away from who I am but rather add another layer of experience that I can learn and grow from.
Eco-Warrior? Not exactly. Evolving Human Trying To Navigate Life’s Big Issues? That’s a title I can live with.
David A.B. Murray lives in Toronto.