Having recently given up my car after more
than 10 years of ownership, I've been mulling over why I already feel so
different. Is it because I'm looking forward so spending hundreds of pounds
less on transport than I did last year? Or because my carbon footprint is
suddenly looking so dainty? Or maybe it's the knowledge I'll no longer have to
manoeuvre the vacuum cleaner between the seat and the gear box, in an irritable
effort to reach that last piece of mouldy sandwich.
Actually I think it's more complex than
that – for while the benefits of going without a car are many, so are the
disadvantages. For one thing, I will truly miss the act of driving. Although my
little car would never have caught the notice of Top Gear enthusiasts, I
enjoyed feeling at one with it as I scanned the road ahead of me, keenly
cultivating my animal-like reflexes. My feet hovered over their pedals like
eagles poised to attack, as I practiced making ultra-smooth gear changes for
the comfort of my passengers. Indeed, I relished the ability to offer a lift to
anyone in need, giving something back for all the hitch-hiking I'd done in
younger days.
Aside from the visceral pleasure of speed,
the car also offered a sense of self-sufficiency – a feeling that no matter
what happened, I would be ready. On weekends away, I'd bring running shoes,
hiking boots, wellies, "presentable shoes" – and all their related
items of clothing. The sense of adventure was palpable as we'd set off – who
knew where we'd end up? Swimwear, musical instruments, a bottle of wine, gifts
for hosts, a picnic for the journey . . . there was room for everything.
Market days in the nearby town were a highlight
of the week, when I'd stock up on anything that caught my eye, with no concern
for weight or bulk. Sacks of potatoes, pumpkins, seasonal fruit – and why not
bring home a little apple tree? I was the crafty hunter-gatherer, bringing back
spoils for the tribe. And the road ran both ways: on my way in to town I could
drop off all our empty tins and bottles at the recycling yard, making space for
a fresh hoard.
But things have changed, and I've got to
accept my new status. I'm no longer the carefree creature who "nips"
into town or down to the beach. That bionic woman with an engine and wing
mirrors, fearless rescuer of rain-soaked pedestrians, is no more. Suddenly I'm
just a girl with a bike – and a growing stack of empty cat food tins that will
soon need carrying down to the main road for recycling.
If last year is remembered for its camping
weekends and spontaneous visits to outlying friends, this year may be the year
of increased intimacy with the bus timetable – not to mention the weather. On
dry days it will be pleasant to cycle the three miles to the market, but I'll
have to limit my purchases to whatever fits in the bike bags – and then if I
need to leave the bike while I run other errands, I'll just have to trust that
no one will be tempted to pilfer my unsecured loot.
Yet despite the hassle of having to plan
ahead, the loss of freedom to visit farm-dwelling friends, and all the other
limits suddenly placed on my lifestyle, I feel a surprising sense of
anticipation. Surely it's not just the financial savings, although the money
will be a big help. A leaner body is another good reason, and I'm already
revelling in the challenge of using my own strength and stamina to get where I
need to go.
Yet deeper than this is a growing
conviction that we've got to start living on a smaller scale, start enjoying
the friends and family who live nearby, and start thinking about how we get
around – all of which go hand in hand with decreasing the amount of carbon
dioxide we pump into the atmosphere.
Most people already know that cars pollute.
Many of us have already have made an effort to drive less and to share lifts.
But so far there has been no coordination, no big vision for how we might make
a transition from a culture where 29% of greenhouse gases come from transport,
with 40% of this coming from private cars.
Rolling along in my fossil fuel-guzzler I sometimes
felt like a relic from the past: still here but facing imminent extinction. It
seems so silly, and even sad, to be sucking down the last bit of easily
accessible oil just to fuel shopping trips and Sunday excursions. I can almost
hear the disbelief in the voices of future school kids learning about the
history of energy: "You mean they used up millions of years' worth of oil
in 150 years? Why didn't they save some of it for us?" The epithets passing through their minds
would likely be unprintable when they realised that not only had we used up all
the juice, but by burning it so quickly we'd left a legacy of floods, droughts
and severe storms caused by the instability of a warming planet.
If future generations have good reason to
condemn us, will they also concede that we tried to correct our mistakes? I
think so, at least if they learn out about "Zero Carbon Britain," the
energy scenario developed by one of Europe's
longest-standing environmental centres. Centre for Alternative Technology (CAT) has been looking into the hazards of climate
change and peak oil since the mid-1970's, and have been credited with bringing
renewable energy technology into the mainstream.
These days CAT
maintains a think tank of experts whose sole job is to gather information on
the feasibility of avoiding catastrophic climate change. And the good news is
that they think it is avoidable. With
a programme of "powering down" (reducing demand) combined with
"powering up" (making renewable technologies the norm), CAT says we stand a good chance of avoiding the really dangerous climate change – that
is, if we can act now to prevent the earth's temperature rising by 2˚C or more.
.
Much of their vision relies on convincing
government to make sustainability more of a priority: insulate homes, modernise
land use, harness more of the UK's
vast wind resources. But there's definitely room for us as individuals to help,
too. Home heating is the largest single culprit of emissions, so it's vital
that homes get better insulation and make use of appropriate renewable
energies. But the next biggest emitter is transport – of course it's up to the
government to improve rail infrastructure and town planning, but we have a role
to play too. If we can cut back on air travel and driving, we'll make a big
difference. That's something we can do now, while we look forward to cheaper
and more efficient electric vehicles.
Of course, there are alternatives to having
your own car: car share clubs have become quite common in recent years; members
say it's liberating to have access to a car, yet share responsibility for maintenance,
insurance and parking costs. My nearest car share group is in the town 3 miles
away, so I suppose that system wouldn't be ideal for me. There are, however,
neighbours who might consider sharing their car, if it meant I'd be chipping in
for costs – it's definitely something to consider.
No doubt there will be times when I'll
dream of owning a snazzy electric car (particularly when a downpour finds me on
my bike). I'm certainly not promising never to drive again. But I'm eager to do
my bit to cut carbon emissions now, and for as long as I can, by doing without
a car. Who knows – I might even enjoy it!
