Last summer, for one week in the middle of August, I was home alone. My parents and sisters were traveling and left my dog and me behind. I was thrilled. For the first time, I was in charge of my own life. I planned elaborate new recipes, only to end up doordashing junk food most of the time, took care of the house, but procrastinated chores until 10pm, and finally tried to sleep with the dog, only for him to take his usual place in my parents’ room.
Nevertheless, I was also excited, as my family’s absence meant I got a full week to hang out with friends. So I stuffed my calendar like a turkey. At this time, I didn’t have my license, and as an Eastsider going to school in Seattle, most of my rendezvous spots were quite far from home. Nevertheless, the power of Route 271 saved me by offering a direct pathway to the heart of the University District, which I gladly took advantage of many times. I also jumped at the chance to ride my bike to the grocery store, cramming my round backpack so full that it became square.
Despite my commutes taking triple the time than if I had illegally driven with my permit, that week was one of my most memorable. I recall cruising down hills on my bike, listening to Maisie Peters and basking in the sunshine. I remember sitting on the bus as I hurtled over the 520 bridge, beaming as I took in every detail of the shimmering Lake Washington.
But this summer was different.
At first, I was ecstatic to have the ability to drive. For an upperclassman, it’s practically a rite of passage. It unlocked coffee shops for studying, flexible hangouts, even hiking routes in the Cascades. Yet in the end, although I was anticipating all these new life changes, none of them happened. Rather, Seattle seemed to lose its shine. Instead of sitting next to other Seattleites on a shaky bus or walking across Portage Bay from crew practice to the U District, I was trapped in an air conditioned metal box blasting bass-boosted Tate McRae.
I’d call myself a public transport fan. I value my fleeting interactions with other Seattlelites, getting to acknowledge our shared humanity as I see them with their headphones and bags. I feel so free strolling the streets and hopping on a bus. But before I could drive, too often I found myself asking my parents for a ride instead of taking the light rail.
I feel that driving costs me happiness in favor of convenience. It’s like a microwaved meal: sure, it saves 15 minutes, but you lose the joy of creation. I don’t have the time to enjoy the world around me, I don’t get to explore, and I don’t get as much fresh air. As a busy Lakesider constantly scraping for minutes here and there, sometimes the ease that driving can bring outweighs my desire to truly live.
My morning routine just a few months ago might’ve been attending practice, walking to a coffee shop, hopping on the light rail to Lakeside, and taking a bus to go sailing with my friend. Whenever I’d be in Seattle, I’d be excited since as someone who hates unnecessary commutes, it meant an excuse to go exploring. Now that I can drive, being in Seattle is no different than being in Bellevue when the commute is simply the decision to get in my car for 20 minutes instead of previously having to ask my parents to spend 40 extra minutes. The feelings of novelty and scarcity that a fresh coffee shop brings me vanish when the barrier to discovery goes down. I don’t go anywhere new now that my old locations are more convenient.
It’s that satisfaction, adventure, and connection that I lost. As such, I reconsider needing to drive everywhere. Maybe I’m just an extroverted Seattlelite proud of his city,, but I want to suggest: instead of getting stuck in rush hour I-5 traffic, consider giving yourself time to relax and travel by taking the light rail or bus. Drop by local establishments that are conveniently within reach. Especially if you’re an underclassman who can’t drive and/or has time to spare, try choosing the fun route over the fast one.
In fact, if you want to have a special Seattle summer, try giving yourself a week without driving. Bike for your groceries or to see friends. Take advantage of Seattle’s spectacular public transit — yes, I can say this as an Eastsider. If you have to, carpool with a friend! In all of this, you’ll be reducing emissions. It’s small, but it counts.
Sometimes, it’s really about the journey instead of the destination. It’s the details in life that lead to happiness. Don’t skip over them.
