As a child, I was forced to leave every Braves game in the seventh inning and listen to Chipper Jones’ game-winning heroics on the radio in the car. “We just can’t get stuck in Atlanta traffic,” my mom would explain. No matter if we were playing the Mets and the score was tied. No matter if David Justice was next at bat. We had to go.
These days when I’m at Turner Field, I wouldn’t dream of leaving early, because I wouldn’t dream of driving to see the Braves. I hop on MARTA and take the free shuttle to and from the game. I stay into extra innings.
My suburban-raised generation grew up with the shared vision of cars as the Ultimate Freedom Machines. But it turns out (surprise!) that driving isn’t freeing; it’s expensive, dangerous, stressful and terrible for the environment.
Last month alone, I spent $891.57 on my sedan: an engine leak, a cracked windshield, a screw in my tire, a broken headlight, gas and insurance. This doesn’t include the dent a stranger put in my parked car.
And it doesn’t include the anxiety I feel every time I’m maneuvering a two-ton machine in one of the six lanes on I-85 and a summer storm crashes down so violently that none of us drivers can see the white lines on the highway, much less each other. My fingernails digging into the steering wheel, I wonder, Am I going to join the thousand or so people who die in motor vehicle accidents in Georgia each year? We’ve all seen the flashing traffic-fatality counter on I-85, a sign that ominously reminds us to “Drive Safely.”
But I’d rather not drive at all.
In fact, I’ve delicately formulated a balance of biking, taking MARTA, carpooling and walking to whittle my total drive time down to about 50 miles per week. (Not impressed? My commute to Lawrenceville is 25 miles each way.) I spend any moment I am behind the wheel plotting how to further decrease my driving time. My ultimate fantasy is to get rid of my car altogether, pending increased public transit services in Atlanta. (A pipedream? I hope not.)
Older people and suburbanites look at me funny when I profess my deep love for MARTA — and particularly for my bicycle. They tell me biking is dangerous and inconvenient. But cruising my bike through Piedmont Park to the Beltline is a heck of a lot safer way to get to the Grant Park Farmers Market than merging my car onto two separate 12-lane highways. And I would hardly call my bike’s free, market-front parking spot inconvenient.
Driving is what’s inconvenient. And I’ve purposely reoriented my life to be car-light. I choose to live in Midtown, where my fiancé and I happily split a 700 -square-foot apartment so that we can walk to the grocery store, the bank, a movie theater, a library, two museums and a plethora of restaurants and bars. “And the best part is that we live right across from MARTA!” we tell people excitedly. (He can also walk to work, lucky guy.)
And we’re not anomalous. Plenty of my friends have already trashed their cars or live similarly car-light lifestyles — relying on MARTA, their feet, their bikes and the occasional ZipCar to get around. Mallory takes the Atlantic Station shuttle to Midtown for her job. Jonathan takes MARTA to Lindbergh. Leslie walks. Chris rides his bike to Emory’s campus. Another Chris rides his bike five miles from Kirkwood to Midtown: “It’s such an easy ride down the BeltLine and then through Piedmont Park to 14th (Street).” Ah, yes, I know!
Sure, some drive. Many do, in fact. But for the most part, our generation doesn’t want to join in Atlanta’s congestion hell. We’d rather plan our escape.
And you’d better believe I’ll be jumping on my bicycle when the zombie apocalypse comes. I mean, can you imagine the traffic jam on 400?
Jessica Estep, 26, teaches English as a local college.
