The Commuting Life –with Cars!!

    I have lived in Toronto almost 12 years now; the actual anniversary would be the end of this month I believe. Living in the spread out quilt of a city requires a commute for both work and pleasure. Even after all these years I find myself entering a fantasy where riding the subway is, somehow, cinematically exotic. My time reading the paper or a book, listening to music, or having a conversation is the material used for segue sequences in the documentary of my life (or rather the imaginary documentary of my life). The more practical element to the TTC is the personal time it gives me to consume books/paper/music etc. and most importantly to think. Also, there are headaches with public transit, but the fact that I don't have to touch any driving controls is a pleasure that never goes away.

    Last year, I won a month of free underground parking at my work. So, this month I have been packing up Z and heading out in the blue Jetta. The result has been the sad realization that when one works in Don Mills and lives Uptown, it is easier to use a car. I have only been late once this month (to Z's daycare and work). I'm generally less exhausted physically as there isn't the mad dash from train to train (which isn't only really a dash due to Z's large amounts of equipment). Once carbon offsets are purchased, my misgivings about the car are wholly selfish. I don't have that personal time from Z's daycare to work and back again. It was only twenty-thirty minutes each way, yet it was my time and I miss the decompression of the limbo only a train can offer. The car has also led to some unfortunate discoveries: That a good radio station is hard to find if it has to have music on it (for Z) as well as regular traffic updates; Many of these stations play the same group of songs and leave one pine for their celestial jukebox (if only an ipod could interject traffic updates); The realization I don't want to be part of an ocean of cars—as I said, completely selfish.

    Someone wise one's said that life is a compromise (or a series of compromises) and no choice is really ever settled, but a series of settling. At the end of the day, or rather each day, I have chosen to drive until the snow is gone (which I have optimistically believe will be the end of March). Then back underground I go. Until then, my quiet moments will have to be found elsewhere.

Sc