I Like Walking

This is going to sound like a Healthy Living! sidebar from the AARP magazine, but I honestly feel like we’d be a lot happier as people if we just walked everywhere.

Cars seemed like a good idea, but if you were to ask Karl Benz in 1896 whether he thought eventually killing 1.2 million people around the world every year was an awesome thing, he probably would say “Ja…no, zat is less zan awesome.” Actually, he would have said the rest of it in German and not a German accent. You understand.

I’ve already played the faux-Luddite in other posts. It’s older hat than the phrase “old hat,” so I won’t get into all of it again. But speaking as someone who lives on the left coast, specifically Southern California, there would be way worse things than not having cars.

In the old days, you must have actually had to interact with people on your way to wherever you were going. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to have your own bubble in some ways. Listen to your own music, make your own decisions and not be at the mercy of a stalled train or psychotic bus driver, etc.

But there’s also something to be said for being thrust into other people’s space. It’s not always a bad thing to see how other people are living, for better or worse. A shared smile across the subway car has probably led to just as many marriages as stabbings. I miss getting off the subway in NY and walking to work. There was something a little more human about it.

When we’re stuck in our cars for our commutes, we turn into other people. Those people are never our better selves, they’re always our worst. We turn impatient, bossy, and even violent. We get so comfortable behind the wheel, we eventually think of the car as an extension of our bodies. Many people, including myself, take needlessly rude and even dangerous chances with the shell of this 2-ton vehicle that you should never think of taking with your own body. If we start thinking of the car as an extension of ourselves, then by default, we’re just becoming machines.

If two people were walking toward an escalator, and both got there at exactly the same time, there would often be a few seconds wasted as they requested that the other person advance to the steps first. Now switch the situation to a common highway merge, two lanes of traffic into one, and you have an all-out race to muscle your car into the wedge first, even though this would guarantee you would arrive at your destination about .2 seconds before your “opponent” in the other lane. Yes, there are nice people driving, and this sometimes translates to courteous behavior on the highways. But that’s the exception, not the rule.

Worse than the rude behavior in cars is this strange notion some rude people have after they pull an asshole move in their car that if they don’t look at you, you don’t exist. If you cut someone in line at the store, you would have to weigh the risk of having to face that person down and eventually look them in the eye, potentially enduring them dressing you down for being the rude asshole that you are. In cars, people often behave like a child, “If I don’t look at them, they don’t exist.” Similarly, you would thank that person who insisted you get on the escalator first, but in a car, the very common accepted practice of waving thanks for letting you into a lane is substituted for averting your eyes from that kind-hearted vehicle operator and feigning “keeping your eyes on the road” after you accept their waving you along.

Along the lines of dehumanizing, mankind was definitely supposed to run, walk and swim. I’m not a fitness guru, or practitioner, for that matter, but walking should make everyone feel more human. Maybe it’s how vast LA is, maybe it’s living in NY for so long and having walking be an acquired taste, but everyone should do it. And if you roll your eyes at the idea of “taking a walk,” then you’re not doing it enough.

I used to work for a studio in the valley, and during my lunchbreaks, I would take a walk for 45 minutes, then I’d be hungry for my lunch when I got back. The studio’s campus was nestled in a very residential neighborhood, and it made for a genuinely nice, long walk.

On more than five occasions, my fellow employees who drove by and recognized me walking would pull up beside me, roll down their window and ask me “What’s wrong?” I mean genuine concern. They’d ask me if my car was in the shop. I’d say no. They’d look around and ask me where I was walking. I’d say nowhere. They’d ask again if I was okay. I’d say “yeah, I just like walking.” Most of the people would just shrug and drive away at that point, but one of them actually kicked open their passenger door, chuckling as if I was telling an elaborate joke, and say “Okay. No, seriously, get in. I’ll take you back.”