I Love Transit Week 2010: Briana Tomkinson on resisting the call of the car

The SkyTrain crosses the SkyBridge from New Westminster to Surrey.
It’s I Love Transit Week from July 12-16 — because even though there’s things we don’t like about transit, there’s much we do like! All week I’ll be sharing essays, stories, and more to celebrate transit. Come to I Love Transit Night on Thursday July 15 too – full details here!
In this essay, Briana Tomkinson, co-founder of New Westminster blog Tenth to the Fraser, reflects on how transit has shaped her life so far as she comes to a new milestone: getting a driver’s license for the very first time. (This post is cross-posted over at Tenth to the Fraser — make sure you enter their I Love Transit contest!)
Odysseus stopped up his ears with beeswax because he knew he alone would not have the strength to withstand the lure of the sirens’ call. I did the modern green equivalent.
I never intended not to get my driver’s license. When I was eight years old, my mother bought a new Honda, and I remember asking her to hold on to our old car for me, so that I would have my own car to drive when I turned 16. I remember counting down to the magic day when I’d be allowed to get my driver’s license. But a funny thing happened when I finally did turn 16. Life got busy, and I put off writing my learner’s test. Then, at some point after that, my environmental conscience became activated. Suddenly not driving became a point of pride.
Thirteen years later, as I come up on my 29th birthday, it looks like I will finally submit to the pressures of my husband, mother, friends and countless busybodies who have nagged me over the years to get my license. It has irked me that people count it as a deficiency not to drive. While there are times when it certainly would have been more convenient for me to drive, in my mind the karmic debt of adding to the plague of single occupant vehicles in the Lower Mainland outweighed the occasional frustrations. Now, with two kids and an increasingly complicated schedule of to-ing and fro-ing, I am forced to admit that the convenience of driving is sometimes a necessity, and that it is unfair for my husband to always play chauffeur.
Guiltily, I am looking forward to having the freedom to go alone to places not well served by transit. I imagine gaily whisking my children off at the spur of the moment to do wild and wonderful things, singing happy road songs and stopping at a drive-through for cheeky treats along the way. But at the same time, I am fearful of giving in to this perception of ease, forgetting that there is a cost beyond the total at the pump and taking the car for granted.













