V10 Time Machine
by Jared Nelson
I’m a slow reader. I notice sometimes that if I read a section that really interests me, I will continue reading on while my minds still thinking about the lines before. Then I’ll catch another interesting bit and it will snap me back. Here’s one, from Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire, “How to pry the tourists out of their automobiles, out of their back-breaking upholstered mechanized wheelchairs and onto their feet, onto the strange warmth and solidity of Mother Earth again? This is the problem which the Park Service should confront directly, not evasively, and which it cannot resolve by simply submitting and conforming to the automobile habit. The automobile, which began as a transportation convenience, has become a bloody tyrant (50,000 lives a year), and it is the responsibility of the Park Service, as well as that of everyone else concerned with preserving both wilderness and civilization, to begin a campaign of resistance. The automotive combine has almost succeeded in strangling our cities; we need not let it also destroy our national parks.”
Something similar has been on my mind recently, coincidentally? Riding a bike more often really helps put into perspective the environment and infrastructure that cars create. Wide roads, noise, fumes… U.S. roads cover land equivalent to the size of Wisconsin. And we’ve all heard plenty about the cancerous tributes of the gas and oil industry. Aside from physical impacts, there are also the perceptual ones. The perception of travel from inside the cab of my truck is concealed, temperature controlled, and efficient in getting where I need to go when I need to go. In the modern day grid system of transportation, cars serve us well. The design aims for less distractions, more focus on the road, isolation.
Have you ever been going 75mph on the interstate listening to music or something, cruise control, and at some point forget entirely that you’ve been driving? Scary stuff. It is especially so when traveling in a nice new car with tight window seals and fresh suspension. Floating down the interstate on air filled rubber, there’s no real sense of the outside, even with your head less than a foot from hurricane-grade wind speeds. And if your precious cargo falls asleep in the backseat, you’ve successfully teleported them through space. In my case, a Dodge Ram made in 2001 is a bit of a different experience. More of a constant droning sound with the occasional wind gust and reminders of potholes and patched cracks. Yet it can still feel like a time machine. Once I get used to the noisy room tone, time starts to flow and the mind wanders. Compare this to a subway commute. Unless your ears are plugged with bluetooth transmitters or your neck is craned over for the best view of your cellphone, you are embedded in the scene. Surrounded by others trying to get somewhere, stimulated by sounds and conversations, and hopefully paying attention for the right stop.
Cars are also freedom, and us Americans love freedom. As I’m finishing jotting this down, I’m camped in the bed of my truck just outside of Patagonia, Arizona. Known for beautiful desert ranges and dreamy gravel roads. Making my way south through this country has me reflecting on a book about the Lost Dutchman Gold Mine, which only took me a year to read through. Stories involved navigating the harsh landscape. Traveling in the desert has certainly changed in the last 150 years. It was horseback, the wooden seat of a wagon, or walk. These unpaved Arizona roads can be brutal and slow going. I got here on a near straight shot from Phoenix on miles of uninterrupted concrete. 75mph speed limit, 15 gallons of gasoline, and 2 1/2 hours time. With gas mileage like that, you can’t forget a bicycle to strap on the back, but that’s for the fun too.
Hypocrisy aside, this is where we’re at. For us living in this time, it’s kind of awesome. There’s no going back to the old way of travel. I certainly wouldn’t want to. The question should be, what now and moving forward? More public transport like areas in Europe? I tend to question the actual good in producing more and more things, even if they’re green. Maybe the first step is just being aware of our habits, the environments they create, and how we’re impacting them.
