I didn’t intend to be car-free.
When I was 18, like many Canadians, I studied the learner’s handbook, practiced driving, and got my license. I’m still shocked it’s that easy to let someone barely out of their teens drive a vehicle made of thousands of pounds of metal. My first car was a 1973 Dodge Dart my grandma gave me. I’d jam punk rock mix-tapes in the radio cassette player, rev my engine, and speed around with all the reckless naivety of youth. Continue reading Living carefree and car-free in the city Delighting in alternative forms of transportation in a car-centric land