Don't Drive

One early lesson of the car-free life: buying in bulk just got a lot harder. Can you imagine hauling a 24-pack of paper towels home from Costco on your bike? Unless you live next door to Costco, frequent bulk buying is an unattractive proposition. (And really, who’d want a warehouse club for a neighbor? Talk about unattractive.)

Even when I’m shopping at the neighborhood grocery, without a car, I don’t want to buy big items. Forty-pound bags of dog food, for example, are awkward and require walking home with a bag almost as big as my dog slung over my shoulder. Or paying a buck fifty for the bus. And the other day, I bought a 1-gallon glass jug of apple juice, only to fully realize how much lighter plastics are than glass. I swear, the thing weighs ten pounds. Sling one of those monsters from your index finger for half a mile, and you’ll understand why plastics have changed the face of the modern world!

And even if I’m not buying large or heavy items, I still can’t buy a lot. There’s only so much my panniers will hold, or, if I’m walking, I can only carry 5 or 6 bags. This means I can’t buy a week’s worth of food in one grocery trip; in the last week, I’ve made at least four trips to the store—maybe more.

But, as with everything, car-free grocery shopping is easier if I put a little forethought into it. If I’m at the store for one item—say, Benadryl—I’ll still fill my bags to their capacity. Are we almost out of yogurt? I’ll stock up, even if there’s still a few cartons in the fridge. How about dish soap? If I have the room, I fill it. Even if we don’t need anything, I buy one or two cans of tomatoes, or some frozen ravioli, to stock the pantry. Gotta make the most out of every time I saddle up the ol’ bike!

As I’ve piecemeal-stocked the pantry, I’ve also been stocking our freezer with frozen leftovers. Even if it’s just two servings of root vegetable hash, I know it’ll be a lifesaver in those times when we’re too busy or tired to get on our bikes or stroll to a nearby restaurant.

As I write, I realize these strategies sound like the advice of a penny-pinching, coupon-clipping housewife. But it has nothing to do with saving money, my friends—it’s pure laziness. When it’s snowing and the roads are icy, I know I won’t want to leave the house. Stocking the pantry and filling my bags to capacity whenever I go shopping will help me achieve that goal.

And if all else fails, there’s always pizza delivery.

(As for Costco, 24-packs of paper towels, and 40-pound bags of dog food: it’s our plan to borrow a car or share a trip with a car-owning friend when we need to stock up on bulky necessities. And if we’re desperate, well, we’ll just buy in smaller quantities at the grocery store. Because, like I said, this ain’t about saving money, friends. We can splurge on a two-pack of Bounty every now and then.)

Welcome to our car-free blog, where we’ll share with you the joys and frustrations of the pedestrian life. A little background: we’re married, we both work from home, and we live in an apartment near – but not in – downtown Salt Lake City. We have an early-80s Saab named Finn, and we’ve toddled around town with him for years. Finn’s days on the road are, sadly, numbered. We’ve poured a lot of money into his sweet Swedish innards, and the last time we took him to the mechanic, (with a busted slave cylinder in the clutch), we decided that this time, we wouldn’t operate.

Thus begins our life as a car-free family. Finn’s still sitting in the driveway – because he still runs somewhat reliably – but we know the end is near for him. Instead of driving, we’re riding our bikes, walking, and riding public transportation to accomplish all our daily tasks. We’re in the ideal situation to kick the car habit: we live pretty close to all the big necessities (three grocery stores within a mile), neither of us commutes, and we do have a car for those tight situations—although who knows how long he’ll last? Don’t tell Finn: he’s a glorified security blanket these days, mostly for my mother.

We’ve been car-lite for a few months, and already I can predict some of the issues we’ll have. There’s already been one notorious rainstorm and two caught-off-guard cyclists this winter, and I’m sure we’ll have many a good (drenched) laugh for you in the coming months. But as I was fond of repeating while planning our wedding, adversity makes for good memories. And come on: it’s just life without a car, not eking out existence in a drought-ridden dictatorship. This is adversity-lite, man. Come along for the ride.