What would make you give up your car?

Here's an important and fascinating discussion: What would make you give up your car?

I'll admit my perspective has changed a bit since I moved to Texas. But in seeking alternatives, the following things rank high on my list: safety, convenience, and, perhaps most importantly, time. If I could get to work by public transit or bicycle in a reasonable amount of time, I'd do it. But right now it breaks down like this...

Commute distance: 12 miles.
Time it takes to commute one-way...

By car: About 15 minutes in the morning, 35 in the evening.

By bike: About 1 hour (Uphill. And add another two miles to the distance).

By bus: Between 1 hour & 20 minutes and 2 hours (including one to three transfers to different bus lines.)

Keep in mind that my commute is along one of the most popular roads in Austin -- it's a major commuter route for many Austinites and those living in nearby suburbs. Even after a year of living here, I'm still amazed that there aren't any better alternatives.

I didn't own a car before I moved to Texas. BART, buses, Amtrak, ZipCar, and carpooling made getting around fairly quick and cheap. I could commute to work, go shopping, and hang out with friends without worrying about finding and paying for parking, or (after a night on the town) who would be the designated driver. Granted, I grew up a block from a subway station, but despite the downsides to public transit, it has always served me well.

Here, I've used public transit only once. I use my commuter bike on the weeknights and weekends to cruise around town, but never to get to work. It's SO EASY to drive a car here, it's what I generally do.

Click here to read the discussion. I think it's fascinating... and hopeful. I think we can design cities better, make cycling easier and "cooler," provide better access to efficient public transit, eliminate stigma, and ultimately convince folks to get out of their cars.

Motodiva

A little present to myself to celebrate fall. I picked these beauties up at Bicycle Sport Shop's Annual Garage Sale Event (40% off!).

The mountain bike I want is still backordered... but it's going to be a 29er!

Austin City Limits

When I moved to Austin a year ago, I was hardly aware of the excitement (and chaos) of the ACL festival -- but I ended up moving into an apartment just down the street from its epicenter: Zilker Park.

ACL has been running for 9 years, and one memory that stands out from the October 2009 weekend (that I spent apartment hunting) is driving past the park and witnessing the aftermath of Austin's biggest party. In just three days, the lush, green, newly-sodded lawn at Zilker Park was transformed into an enormous mud pit, all thanks to the stomping feet of 70,000 music lovers and several days of rain.

It was a near scandal. News stories ran for days about the poor lawn, Austinites lamented over the state of their beloved park, and everyday on my way to work I would monitor the mud pit's status. Eventually, Zilker dried out and the concert promoters agreed to foot the $2 million cost to re-turf and improve drainage on the 46-acre "great lawn."

This year's festival rolled around and the lawn was in pristine condition. And of course, everyone eagerly awaited the weather forecast: would torrential rains create a muddy disaster like 2009? Would it be scorching hot and tranform the grass into a dust bowl like 2008?

As luck would have it, I was able to attend ACL in a year with weather that organizers called, "the best we've ever had." Concertgoers agreed. Cool evenings, beautiful sunny afternoons... just perfect.

In my opinion, the line-up wasn't as stellar as last year, but I wanted to check out the scene, 1) because my neighborhood was invaded for three straight days by thousands of people and their cars, and 2) it is one of those quintessential Austin experiences that makes you grateful to live in this wonderful Texas town.

My friend, W, used to be active in the music scene and has some nice connections, and she was kind enough to share a VIP wristband with yours truly. This got us backstage access to some (not all) of the stages, which meant getting a seat at Martin Sexton. Here we are, enjoying the music:


A few snapshots of the the scene, including Norah Jones on one of the seven stages set up in the park.


After Martin and Norah, we scrambled over to the Budweiser Stage where The Eagles were scheduled to perform. We were on the fence about staying to watch -- it was 7pm, and their set was supposed to last from 8-10pm. And honestly, we thought, "The Eagles... eh."

We ended up taking the plunge and staying for the evening's headliner, even after getting squeezed into the VIP "bull pen" (next to the soundboard -- good; no seats -- bad) and being told that if we came in, we weren't allowed to leave until the performance was over. We agreed.

Turns out The Eagles were awesome. They sounded AMAZING -- tight harmonies, insane guitar solos, and a bunch of classics that made us say, "oh, that's an Eagles song!" You'd have been hard pressed to find a person in the crowd who didn't enjoy that show.


After The Eagles, we used our wristbands one last time to get access to the Artists' Lounge. Free booze, restrooms with A/C, and places to sit. Not too shabby.



'Til next year...

Picture of the Week

One Year

Looking back at my time in Texas over the last year (plus travels to California, Washington, D.C. and Chicago).

Saturday 50-miler

Austin Cycle Camp had the hook-up this weekend with a great ride out of Blanco.

For a small fee, about 20 of us got shuttled out to the start, treated to solid ride support (SAG, snacks, ice cold water, the works!), lunch at Riley's BBQ, and a swim in the Blanco River afterward.

Heaven on earth.

It's been too long since I went on a long ride -- nice to spend some time in the saddle with friends.

Bonus! It was a delightfully cool 65 degrees when we rolled out this morning. Very unusual for Texas in August, but I'll take it!

Bikes & gear packed -- ready to depart Austin at 7am.

Open road in the beautiful hill country.

BBQ at Riley's. Delish.

Galveston: Rebuilding

The Gulf has not had it easy lately: Hurricanes Katrina, Rita, and Ike wreaked havoc on coastal communities -- and they are still recovering.

UMCOR (the United Methodist Committee on Relief) has been in the Gulf coordinating relief efforts since the storm hit. Driving through town, you might not even realize that two years ago, Hurricane Ike dropped enough rain to flood and destroy countless homes.
It was the third worst storm in U.S. history.

You have to look closely to realize that piles of debris and trash are remnants of the ongoing clean-up efforts. From the outside, houses may appear to be structurally sound, but inside the walls are broken and the floors have rotted. Paint is peeling. Roofs need to be replaced.

I think one of our group leaders mentioned that thirty to forty percent of people displaced by Hurricane Ike have still not returned to Galveston. It's easy to forget that it takes years for an area to recover from a disaster like Ike, long after the media has moved on to other stories.

Enter Sandy Langston, UMCOR, and Crockett Place United Methodist Church in Galveston -- a church that has been transformed into a headquarters for disaster relief. The pews in the sanctuary are stacked with hardhats and water coolers. The yard is strung with clothesline and houses an 8-shower mobile trailer built by volunteer Texas A&M students. The dining room area can seat at least 30; people rest in one of the two bunkrooms or five bedrooms.


Crockett is ready and waiting for volunteer groups, like mine, to arrive for the weekend. So a few weeks ago, 12 volunteers from Austin took on the recovery task for the weekend. We arranged for our own transportation and food, and UMCOR did the rest.

Here are five lessons learned...

1. Prepare to get dirty. And sweaty.
Even though I was a mission trip rookie, I expected to get dirty. Sanding. Mudding. Hauling trash. Painting. I packed shirts I didn't care about, and ended up covered in dust, dirt, grass, mosquito bites, and splattered with paint.

2. Bonding is the easiest part.
And possibly one of the best. After signing up for the trip, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Loading in the van to drive to Galveston, my worries quickly faded. These are "my people" -- friendly, hilarious and goofy, curious, politically savvy... others who are committed to social justice and willing to take time out of their lives to serve others. When you spend three days working, eating, and sharing an experience together, it's easy for strangers to become close friends. The trip was not just a great opportunity to help others, but to build meaningful relationships and a community.

3. Expect anything -- the ordinary and extraordinary.
Flocks of pelicans gliding overhead as we crossed the bridge into Galveston.
Evening laugh sessions over ice cream at Sonic.
Jumping around in the waves of the Gulf Coast. (No tar balls... yet.)
Finding out that our UMCOR relief coordinator, Sandy, used to work in Hollywood -- and designed the giant boulder in Indiana Jones!

4. It's about the work. It's about the people.
It's both. Each house and project we worked on that weekend provided a new experience, a new skill, a new conversation, and a new connection to Galveston.

A few stories...
Pastor Bill shared a story during our evening group devotional. He said that he loves volunteer work, but finds that the rewards are often complex – why do we do it? How do we show God's love and spirit in the work that we do? He recalled a mission team trip to Kentucky with a group of college students from our church. The work was much-needed, but the recipients were not at all what they expected. One was a welfare cheat. The other was a racist. It put a new spin on their work, and yet, they were still able to bring their labor and gifts to that community. Pretty admirable.

Most of the time, a connection to the family benefiting from the repairs is special and gratifying for both sides. This was the case in Galveston.

One house where we worked, mostly hauling debris to be disposed of, was the home of a retired pastor named June, her husband, and her son and daughter-in-law. When Ike struck, the lower floor of their house, including their septic tank, were totally ruined. We asked her how high the water was at her home. June, who is at least my height (5’ 6"), reached her hand above her head and tapped the edge of the door frame. It was amazing to see how far they’d had to come on their path to recovery, and how determined they were to remain in a community they love.

At another house, a multi-generational family made us lunch. While we worked to paint their house and their front porch, they were cooking a feast – BBQ, potato salad, fresh green beans and bacon (said the grandma, “I can’t stand the canned ones”), and white bread. One of the best meals I’ve had all year, and it was served with a lot of love. We got to eat with Miracle, the youngest family member. She gave us a hand painting the porch, rode around on her red tricycle, and then headed in for a nap.

We sure weren’t the most expert painters, but the transformation was dramatic. The owners of the home were delighted and I was happy that our work was worth it.

5. It's addicting.
I want to do more. I'd go back in a heartbeat.

P.S. Borrowed the pictures from Emily. Thanks!