Ever since I graduated from college--and even before--I have had the unique circumstance (at least in America) of no car and places to go. I understand, probably more than anyone else who lives in these places, that American suburbia is not built for pedestrians. Sometimes it gets freaky, especially when I cross highway bridges. Most people don't realize this--because they haven't had to walk across a highway bridge--but the engineers of those bridges were a little bit forward thinking and left just enough room between the rushing cars and the abyss for someone of reasonable width to walk past. Just enough room to make me think: "if I take a step too far to the right, I get run over. If I take a step too far to the left, I fall onto the interstate and also get run over."
See, suburbia and small town America is about ninety-five percent built for vehicles. Four more percent is made for bikes. Very little consideration has been given to people whose only mode of transportation is their feet.
Walking is a part of my life. I happen to do it enough that I enjoy it, if only enough to keep me from losing my mind at the inefficiency of it. It builds character. And it keeps me fit. My shoes are my most valuable asset in this case.
I get to see an aspect of city design that most people only glimpse out the window of a moving vehicle. While walking everywhere, I look at places and know the landscape in a more intimate, close fashion. And, though I would like to eventually speed up my mode of transportation, I do believe that there is an upside to my current situation.
These legs are made for walking, and that's just what I'll do.
You’re fortunate to have the option to walk. When I worked full-time, my job was 18 miles away, so walking wasn’t an option. And since my husband’s job was 15 miles in the opposite direction, I couldn’t exactly make the argument to move. But you’re right, traveling on foot gives you a much clearer view of your setting. Good for you.
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