What We Miss When Traveling By Car

Never let the threat of rain stop you from taking a bike ride or a walk. The worst that can happen is you will get a little wet, the best that can happen is you will have one of those experiences that will make you remember how magical life can be.

It might sound like I’m trying to force a metaphor, but I’m just describing my morning. Both the window and the weatherman were giving me warnings, but I opted to go for my blood draw across town by bike rather than by car.

I know what you’re thinking, what magic can one experience while traveling to get your blood drawn? To be sure, there’s no guarantee it will happen, but there’s no guarantee of catching a fish every time you go fishing, either. Traveling under your own power is like going at trolling speed, which allows you to lower your line in the water, whereas driving by car is like zipping across a lake in a speed boat. It’s impossible to say what lurks in the depths, but it’s all about leaving yourself open to possibility.

When I’m driving in my car, the urge to lift my middle finger often stirs within me. There is nobody I feel affinity for, no one who is anything other than in my way or potentially in my way. The people in the cars around me are not fellow travelers engaging in a shared experience but mere irritants. I’m guessing your experiences behind the wheel are not terribly different than mine.

On my bike ride this morning, I was tempted to give a greeting to everyone I passed. I mean, we were all outside appreciating a bright sunny day. Well, maybe not bright and sunny, but for a November in Wisconsin, it was still enjoyable.

Fellow bikers, walkers, the guy in the kayak on the river, people puttering about the yard, we were all doing something more than getting from point A to point B. We were all living. And that may sound like a stupid thing to say but there is a difference between “living” and being conscious and engaged in the experience of existence. That kind of energy does not seem to pass through a windshield.

The stores and restaurants you pass by when on foot or on bike are likely not going to be Walmarts or McDonald’s either. Travel under your own power and you’re not only more likely to come across small businesses, you’re way more likely to notice they exist.

I got back from my bike ride without a drop of rain falling. Pushing my luck, I headed outdoors with my dog, Lola. And while Lola likes a good car ride, she too has more time to look (and smell) around while walking.

That old guy walking slowly in front of us on his way to the bakery? I found him rather charming. I guarantee you I’ve never found an old guy driving slowly in front of me charming. His wife stayed in the car, the radio turned to some station that was playing the same kind of music old people listened to when I was a child. Who knew such stations still existed? And as I slowed my dog up so that she would not sneak up on the old man and boop him in the butt (Lola likes to put her nose where it doesn’t belong), I put myself in his shoes and imagined the simple pleasure of bringing fresh-baked donuts home with him. Way better than eating a box of Little Debbies purchased from Walmart. I don’t like to use the word “magic” too often, but there is some undefinable difference between food bought from a local store and food bought from a corporate entity via a self-serve checkout. And it has been my personal experience that it is far more enjoyable walking home from a bakery than it is driving home from the supermarket.

When you’re traveling under your own power, you have the opportunity to see the myriad ways human beings are engaged in social interaction. I got to witness the young man leaving the bakery patiently hold open the door for the old man. I got to watch another older man raking his yard while puffing contentedly on a pipe. I got a good whiff of the tobacco, as well, smelling almost as homey as the aromas emanating from the bakery.

More than anything, traveling under one’s own power gives one time to contemplate one’s own thoughts. And I have to think the way I am now sharing those thoughts as I write reflect the difference of mood I am currently in. Had I been more cautious, more practical, and taken my car, perhaps I would have still had thoughts that would have inspired me to write, but I am willing to bet they would not be infused with a quiet contentedness such as they are now. You can feel the chill coming through, can’t you?