In the olden golden days, a man lifted the tent flap, walked downstairs, at most strolled to the barn, and there was his commute. How many BTUs he burnt per mile was irrelevant. Now we spend all day chasing our tails.
Kalifornia is the worst example I have seen. I'm from there. Born in L.A., raised in Berdoo, college in Stockton, built a schooner near San Jose. I've seen it. A million people jump in their cars in San Jose and commute to Sunnyvale; a million in Sunnyvale commute to Palo Alto; a million in Palo Alto commute to Redwood City; a million in Redwood City rush to San Mateo; a million in Burlingame drive to the City. Then come afternoon, all six million hopscotch back. It's nuts. The ticky tack development they live in is identical to the tickytack across the street from their office park, but they would never consider that place. Their closest friends live fifty miles in one direction; the hills where they ride their dirt bikes are fifty miles the other direction; they shop thirty miles that way and eat out twenty miles the other way. Spend their whole day scurrying and scampering like roaches when the lights go on. It's nothing to put 30, 40, even 50 thousand on a car every year. Meanwhile, every single one of them thinks they are as green as grass. Criss-crossing freeways eight lanes a side jam packed with greenies. There's an oxymoron.
And the bulk of energy generated goes to pump water six hundred miles so that some SoCal sprinkler system can water a puny patch of lawn in San Berdoo to delude the homeowner he doesn't live in a sere wasteland. Kalifornication.
Even here, in this little office in Stanton Dull-Aware: we have one principal of the company who lives two and a half hours away in Stroudsburg PA (commutes weekly), another an hour away in Wayne PA, an office manager two hours off in York PA, a data input guy lives 40 minutes up in Media PA, a customer rep lives half an hour down in Middletown DE... closest person is me, in Newark DE, eight miles away. I wanted to buy in a development a right across the street from our office park; but that was inconvenient for the daughter bringing the grandkids to Nana's house, so we bought too far for my taste. Why isn't everyone at least as close as me? And all these colleagues driving cages. Think I'm nuts to ride. I put ten on my commute bike a year; they put thirty five and up on their cages. I have two hours more each day to drink beer than they do. Who's nuts?
You want to save on fuel, it's as simple as this: Stay close. Live over your store. Telecommute. Move near. Walk there. Burning too much fuel? Then stop burning so much fuel. Like the man who told the doctor: "It's hurts when I do this..." Don't do that.
Here's a thought: Pay a man a living wage again, and lots of Moms would stay home with the kids. Saves the commute to school, daycare, etc., saves owning a second car, the whole deal. I personally believe that children have the right to be reared by someone who loves them anyway. A little person cannot imbibe a sense of self worth without someone who dotes on them. When baby gets an ear ache, she cries for her Mommy, not Miss Susie. It ought to be a right. Does Mom have a right to a career? Be honest: Very very few people have a career; the overwhelming most just have jobs. Set your priorities children first. Live close to where you work, make friends with your neighbors, rear your own children, squeak by with just one wide screen, just one gas hog. Your child is worth any number of missed episodes of American Idol in hi-def Tivo'd on the fourth flat screen in the bedroom as you fall asleep exhausted by your hectic pace. Just because you can run the rat race doesn't mean you're going to enjoy it. Stop and think.
Seven billion constantly in motion. That's the prob. Miles per day is more wasteful than miles per gallon. Sit still and quit fidgetting.
