If you've ever traveled on a road, or even so much as seen a road, you must read Tom Vanderbilt's book "Traffic
". It's an informative, easy, and fun read about how we transport ourselves from one place to another. It opened my eyes to many road use dynamics that changed the way I view driving my car, as well as how I drive my bicycle. That's right, drive my bicycle.
Tom Vanderbilt often writes for Slate, and a recent post brought back memories of my commute from our home (at the time) in Rockland County, NY, to Stamford, CT. I'd leave from either end of my commute with plans for what I'd do on my arrival. There'd be productive stuff for the "work" end of my commute, and fun stuff at the "life" end of my commute.
One particular commute home stands out in my mind. It was a gorgeously sunny, blue sky, low humidity day for my Friday drive. I skipped out a little early, filled with visions of a hike with my honey, followed by a relaxed dinner on our deck - heck, I'd even barbecue! I put the car in gear, and made my way to the interstate. I made record time all the way to the outskirts of Tarrytown.
As I approached Tarrytown, the cars slowed... and slowed more. They finally stopped. After about 15 minutes standing still, I shut off my engine and opened the windows. I eventually got out of the car. Occasionally, the other cars would roll forward. I'd just get back in the car, leave the engine off, and roll down the hill to close up the gap. Time passed. My phone rang. "Hi, what time will you be home?" my honey asked innocently. "I don't know", was my definitive estimate. "Where are you?" was her next question. I drew in my breath, and told her my location. She said she'd start dinner. There'd be no walk, and no barbecue on the deck.
A half hour later, I had moved about as far as one could throw the stereo of the musically challenged driver next to me, and my phone rang again. "How much longer will you be?" she asked. "I don't know" was my answer. "Can you make a guess?" I provided a range of 1-3 hours. We talked a while, and realized our plans for the evening no longer mattered. I'd have a late dinner, and maybe we'd share a drink on the deck before bed. We were both disappointed. This wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.
I'd taken the position less than a year before because it was a great career opportunity. It would provide me the opportunity to build experience leading higher level initiatives, and be a logical next step on my career path. It was a great company, with a very flexible atmosphere. As I interviewed for the position, I glossed over the commute. I could hack it. It'd be manageable, I could rationalize that all I was getting from the position would be a fair trade off for the unpredictable commute. All would work out. I'd overcome bigger challenges in my life.
Within a few weeks of starting, I was not liking a long commute while driving a stick shift in stop and go traffic. It wasn't just stop and go, it was a continuous practice of drag racing skills - starting and stopping continuously, trying to protect the space in front of us from the drivers who insisted on changing lanes as often as possible. Almost daily I'd see what happens when someone misses the brake pedal. There's be auto carnage every few miles.
I gained weight, lost patience, and increased stress. This carried through into other areas of my life. It was easier to ignore life, and grab a beer to decompress after a terrible commute. Wouldn't you agree that beer is the best choice after a long drive?
Within a year, I had become so turned off from the long commute, that I found a new position. I now have a 17 mile round trip commute, and am able to commute by bicycle a few days a week. I love the bike commute around Christmas. The cold air invigorates, and the ride home in the dark provides me the opportunity to enjoy the lights people put out to decorate their homes and businesses. There's a Zen-like feel to the ride. I combine something I have to do (commute) with something I love to do (drive my bicycle).
Many days as I pedal my bicycle over the Garden State Parkway, I see the density of car tail lights heading south, and envision the disappointment these lights represent. Many occupants of those cars are just like I used to be. A lonely commuter, with plans and a life. Instead of living the dream, they are sitting in traffic. Life is like that. We make a choice, and sometimes the choice makes sense mathematically, but the real costs can't be calculated in dollars. It can only be measured by the opportunity cost of what we lose in terms of living.
What is the value of having a fulfilling life? What was your worst commute, and how did you make it more bearable?
If you like this post, please share it with your social network using the clever buttons below.
__________________________
". It's an informative, easy, and fun read about how we transport ourselves from one place to another. It opened my eyes to many road use dynamics that changed the way I view driving my car, as well as how I drive my bicycle. That's right, drive my bicycle.Tom Vanderbilt often writes for Slate, and a recent post brought back memories of my commute from our home (at the time) in Rockland County, NY, to Stamford, CT. I'd leave from either end of my commute with plans for what I'd do on my arrival. There'd be productive stuff for the "work" end of my commute, and fun stuff at the "life" end of my commute.
 |
| Some of these people are still trying to get home from work |
As I approached Tarrytown, the cars slowed... and slowed more. They finally stopped. After about 15 minutes standing still, I shut off my engine and opened the windows. I eventually got out of the car. Occasionally, the other cars would roll forward. I'd just get back in the car, leave the engine off, and roll down the hill to close up the gap. Time passed. My phone rang. "Hi, what time will you be home?" my honey asked innocently. "I don't know", was my definitive estimate. "Where are you?" was her next question. I drew in my breath, and told her my location. She said she'd start dinner. There'd be no walk, and no barbecue on the deck.
A half hour later, I had moved about as far as one could throw the stereo of the musically challenged driver next to me, and my phone rang again. "How much longer will you be?" she asked. "I don't know" was my answer. "Can you make a guess?" I provided a range of 1-3 hours. We talked a while, and realized our plans for the evening no longer mattered. I'd have a late dinner, and maybe we'd share a drink on the deck before bed. We were both disappointed. This wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.
I'd taken the position less than a year before because it was a great career opportunity. It would provide me the opportunity to build experience leading higher level initiatives, and be a logical next step on my career path. It was a great company, with a very flexible atmosphere. As I interviewed for the position, I glossed over the commute. I could hack it. It'd be manageable, I could rationalize that all I was getting from the position would be a fair trade off for the unpredictable commute. All would work out. I'd overcome bigger challenges in my life.
Within a few weeks of starting, I was not liking a long commute while driving a stick shift in stop and go traffic. It wasn't just stop and go, it was a continuous practice of drag racing skills - starting and stopping continuously, trying to protect the space in front of us from the drivers who insisted on changing lanes as often as possible. Almost daily I'd see what happens when someone misses the brake pedal. There's be auto carnage every few miles.
I gained weight, lost patience, and increased stress. This carried through into other areas of my life. It was easier to ignore life, and grab a beer to decompress after a terrible commute. Wouldn't you agree that beer is the best choice after a long drive?
Within a year, I had become so turned off from the long commute, that I found a new position. I now have a 17 mile round trip commute, and am able to commute by bicycle a few days a week. I love the bike commute around Christmas. The cold air invigorates, and the ride home in the dark provides me the opportunity to enjoy the lights people put out to decorate their homes and businesses. There's a Zen-like feel to the ride. I combine something I have to do (commute) with something I love to do (drive my bicycle).
Many days as I pedal my bicycle over the Garden State Parkway, I see the density of car tail lights heading south, and envision the disappointment these lights represent. Many occupants of those cars are just like I used to be. A lonely commuter, with plans and a life. Instead of living the dream, they are sitting in traffic. Life is like that. We make a choice, and sometimes the choice makes sense mathematically, but the real costs can't be calculated in dollars. It can only be measured by the opportunity cost of what we lose in terms of living.
What is the value of having a fulfilling life? What was your worst commute, and how did you make it more bearable?
If you like this post, please share it with your social network using the clever buttons below.
__________________________
I have a commute that is a bit too long to do all by bike and I found myself sitting in traffic for the last few miles a lot (coming into the city). I started driving part way and biking the rest to avoid the traffic. Really makes my commute more bearable. In fact I really enjoy the bike part. I use a folding bike so I can keep it in my trunk for whenever I need it.
ReplyDeleteNice! Bi-modal commutes are a great way to deal with a NYC trek. I looked at the Montague folder last year, but couldn't come up with a good excuse to get one.
ReplyDeleteOn my bike commute, I pass Emerson, Westwood, and Hillsdale train stations. I am surprised at the number of bikes at the stations, especially at Westwood. I don't see many other bike commuters on my route, although I see more this year than last year.