A Life Without Car Ownership: The Challenges Are Not What I Thought They’d Be!

This is part two of a three-part series. Check out part one here and part three here.

(Source: Unsplash/Amel Majanovic.)

Despite all the ways that life is better when it doesn’t depend on driving, living life without owning a car isn’t always easy. For all the ways our decision to sell our car changed my family’s life for the better, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t challenges, too. The reality is that when you live in a city that has evolved to be almost completely auto-oriented, the car really is the best option for certain things. 

Some of the cons of not owning a car are purely logistical. Sometimes we plan to bike somewhere, but there’s a storm in the forecast. Sometimes we want to book a co-op car but there aren’t any available. Sometimes I request a cab that inexplicably never comes.

Having kids that require car seats is another challenge. For that factor alone, I wouldn’t  blame anyone who just doesn’t want to deal with car seats that don’t permanently live in one’s own vehicle. In some ways I can’t believe we got rid of our car while we still had two kids in carseats (one in a full-on 5-point harness seat, and the other in a booster), but somehow we made it work, probably because we were driving so infrequently. 

What I didn’t anticipate was how some of the cons are sort of emotional or psychological. 

In the depth of the pandemic, I realized that a car isn’t always just a car, it can be a private refuge. There were days when I ached to just be by myself for an hour, or make a private phone call. I would read stories about how people were making the most of lockdowns by jumping in the car and just going for a drive and it seemed to me completely unjust that this was a thing that could be done, though of course I would have done the very same thing. (And don’t get me started about the drive-thru COVID testing site that was within walking distance of my house but that you couldn’t access unless you were in a vehicle.)

Sometimes it does feel limiting to not be able to just jump in the car and go somewhere on a moment’s notice—or even just go for a drive. Having grown up in a car-oriented place where a driver’s license was a ticket to a teen’s freedom and independence, I have a lot of really fond memories of aimless driving with friends and listening to the perfect mix tape or CD, with the requisite late-night stop at a drive-thru for fries or ice cream. Although I don’t enjoy driving that much anymore and I now cringe at the thought of all that needless fuel use, the nostalgia I feel for those days is powerful.

Then there’s houseguests. When we have people stay with us from out of town, I feel bad that I can’t offer them a car to get out on their own, or even a ride to drop them off somewhere else.  And it doesn’t always work (or feel good) to have them join me in my normal transportation choices. To me, being a good host means making sure the people I care about are comfortable, and oftentimes walking or bussing in my city are the polar opposite of “comfortable.”

Reciprocity is a big one, too. Generally, I can’t spontaneously offer to drive or carpool and I hate the thought that someone might think I’m not pulling my weight or taking a fair turn. I generally feel hyper aware of this, because it is a choice, not a hardship, and I never want to make my choice someone else’s problem. (There’s a great discussion of this in the first episode of Sarah Kopper’s wonderful Family Pedals podcast.)

There are lots of random little situations where having a car for a quick trip would be a real game changer. Like dropping a kid off at a birthday party, or bringing a babysitter home at the end of the night. As the car co-op in my city expands, I think those types of car-use scenarios will become a lot simpler for my family.

Here’s another weird one. Sometimes the best mode really is driving and getting a rental or co-op car would be the simplest and most pleasant option. But because we are so used to considering what the best way to get somewhere is and comparing costs up-front, at times it feels like we get decision paralysis in deciding what to do.

What’s Been Unexpected?

I think the biggest and most unexpected challenge is not even related to getting from Point A to Point B. It’s the fact that among my peers and within the general culture in my city, owning at least one vehicle is the norm and we’re outliers. 

There’s a fundamental mismatch in what our baselines of “normal” are. When going about our daily lives, we manage pretty nicely. But when coordinating with others or doing activities that are not routine, things can get tricky. 

When I was younger, I spent five years living in Vancouver, a true public and active transportation paradise. For most of that time, no one in my circle of friends had a car and we were all working from the same baseline of assumptions about how to get around. We all walked, we all took the bus or the Skytrain, we all cabbed or used a carshare sometimes. 

Here in Winnipeg, in most parts of the city, the default is driving. Other transportation options are often portrayed as abnormal or radical. For instance, there seems to be a really weird aversion to taking cabs. Winnipeggers are notoriously frugal, but I’m not even sure that’s it. I think people forget that it’s even an option!

With ride-hailing services like Uber and Lyft entering new markets all the time, I think that aversion to cab-style rides might be changing. They seem to have a more glamorous image and there’s a real buzz about them in places where they’re still novel. Notwithstanding the very big and very real problems with Uber and Lyft’s business models and practices, I think this is probably a positive. I recently took an Uber for the very first time and grudgingly admit it was a pretty seamless and pleasant transportation experience. If those positive experiences make it easier for people to see the possibility of life without car ownership, then in theory, that’s a step in the right direction.

As I mentioned earlier, I try to never make my own transportation someone else’s problem or worry. But the generous and kind-hearted people in my life often fret or fuss over me taking the bus, particularly alone at night, even though I do it regularly and confidently and I don’t usually see my circumstances as a predicament or problem to solve. I generally won’t make or agree to plans if I don’t think I can get there! And in comparing notes with another family who has recently sold their only vehicle, we found that one thing we’d both experienced was what almost felt like pity. I try to remember that these types of reactions come from a place of love and support, but it’s a reminder of how deeply entrenched auto-orientation is within our culture, and the many small steps that will be necessary to reverse it.

When I really think about it, these big, unexpected challenges aren’t caused by me not having a car at my constant disposal. They’re part and parcel with the built form of the city and how that has shaped our habits, preferences, and standards.

Here’s an example: The places where I like to go to restaurants, shop, and hang out don’t necessarily align with the places that others like, simply because of our transportation choices. I now gravitate to the places it’s easy to get to on foot, bike, or bus, rather than places that have ample, easy parking. I like going downtown because it’s a breeze on the bus: a quick 10-minute ride and then I have access to lots of different, useful, interesting businesses that I really like and feel good about supporting, and don’t have to walk across oceans of parking lots to get to them. However, many locals avoid going downtown simply because they don’t like paying for parking and they perceive that it will be hard to find parking. (That’s a post for another day. I will say that I can relate on some level. Winnipeg’s parking signage leaves much to be desired!)

I’ll talk more about those shifting habits and preferences in the next and final piece of this series.

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