Write your transportation history - Think about the various modes of transportation that you've used in your life at different times and places. How do your experiences with these modes affect your perception of the world, your community, etc.? Have you had pivotal moments on buses, bike rides, car trips, etc. that have changed how you see the world?
One of my earliest memories was the purchase of a white Dodge minivan with a built in roof extension. I was at the dealership with my parents and two sisters, vastly unaware about what was happening at four years old. What I did know was that we drove home in a different car that day - a car that would come to see dozens of family road trips and the birth of my youngest sister. The Egg, as we called it, soon became a symbol of family unity and comfort. Looking back, it is no surprise how I was brought to value the automobile at a young age. Then I entered my teenage years. I began carpooling with the neighbors who traded one Mercedes SUV for another each month. Suddenly, the Egg was not cool. It was the opposite of cool. It was an incredibly lame assault to my desperate pursuit of acceptance from the snobby and self absorbed junior high school kids. I hated the Egg as I was conditioned to perceive cars as a status marker.
Eventually, the Egg broke down. To my wretched fourteen year old delight, we traded it in for a Nissan Armada. It was shiny, new, horribly gas inefficient, and one of the biggest cars on the road. I was driven around by my parents until I got a license. I hated that I had no control over my transportation. The city was hardly walk-able, and bikes were not culturally relevant enough to even consider.
My first car was a 2000 Mazda Millenia. For the first couple weeks, it was freedom on wheels. It was quickly apparent that owning a car came with a lot of responsibility, expense, inactivity, and anxiety. I sold it during the Summer before I moved up to Santa Cruz for college. While I expected to be disappointed, I was relieved. I truly felt as though a burden had been lifted. I bummed rides off my friends for the remainder of the summer, and everything changed afterwards.
In Santa Cruz, I relied on my feet and the bus. I loved it. I was breathing fresh air that smelled like redwoods, exercising, interacting with people and my environment, more aware of ecological impact, and truly happy. By the end of my Freshman year, I was working downtown at the Penny Ice Creamery. Suddenly the buses were not reliable enough (either that, or I wasn't), and I was struggling to get to work on time. So, I invested in a bicycle to get to work on the fly. Within a week, it was stolen. I had hardly gotten to know it, but I felt if someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. It was a stark and eye-opening comparison to the way I felt when parting with my car.
After another month or so, I had saved up just enough to get a fixer-upper. I took the initiative to learn the basics of bicycle mechanics and get it up and running. Soon, I had the most beautiful bicycle that had ever existed in the history of bicycles. It was the love of my life, the apple of my eye. I was commuting to Cabrillo college from the west side four times a week, commuting to work downtown, and going on bike rides up and down the coast on the regular. I was introduced to the simple joy of night riding. I felt free and alive. It was a life-changing experience to travel with conviction. Alternative modes of transportation connected me to my community, the city, my body, and my bicycle.
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