I turned down a ride for the third time that day. I appreciated the offer, I truly did. But having walked five and a half of the six miles that I had planned for that day, I was determined to finish on foot.
For the first time in 20 years, I don’t own a car. I’m in transit between my last house and my next house, and it seemed easier to go without than to deal with shipping the car. All day long, I find myself checking my front pocket and wondering where I left my keys. Their absence sets off an initial panic until I remember the reason for it. It’s like a ghost sensation.
This experience has given me a new appreciation for the ease that my automobile brought to my life. A quick run down to the grocery store is now a 40 minute walk. Both ways. I calculate how much I can purchase not by how much cash I have but on how much weight I can carry. Some roads are less pedestrian friendly than others. Walking on the shoulder of the road when necessary, I’m reminded how small I am and big those semi trucks are.
Still, there are advantages. I am forced to slow down and take in the scenery. I can wander down trails that look interesting to me. I’ve found shortcuts and local parks that I didn’t know existed. Without my car radio blaring, I’m left with my own thoughts and the sounds of the birds around me.
I’m sure that I’ll enjoy the freedom that wheels bring once I get another car. Until then, I’m grateful for my feet and for the trail in front of me.