Whoof.

I'm definitely getting my workout each day. I walk to the Metro station near my apartment each morning, take the train downtown, transfer trains (and because I'm picking it up downtown, often end up standing for a few stops), ride the new train out to the suburbs, then walk several blocks to my office. In the morning, I'm also carrying my lunch for the day, as well as whatever reading material I have for the day.

Last night, my husband read me an article that someone recently wrote about the difficulties of walking in some of the suburban neighborhoods in Northern Virginia. Luckily, I don't have it that bad. My own neighborhood is urban and walkable, with sidewalks everywhere, including next to the major through-road (which has a pedestrian bridge over it, as well as several marked crosswalks and lights). Unfortunately, the sidewalks deteriorate to dirt tracks on the road edge as you move toward my favorite Indian restaurant (Mmmm. Little dhosa on Sunday morning...), and it's safer to take the bus than to walk.

My office, on the other hand... while people do walk and bike, especially on the side roads, and while there is a tunnel under the worst road, the speeds are higher, and there seems to be less awareness of the needs of non-drivers. Underscoring this, as I climb the hill from my office to the station, I pass at least 3 car dealerships spread along 1 block. Each has a distinctive architecture, from the curved front of the Saab dealership, to the glossy black Jaguar building, to the stately white Cadillac facade. Between the Cadillac and Jaguar buildings, there's a smaller shop devoted to car accessories and a smaller, humbler building marked "Used" which I suspect belongs to the Cadillac dealership, but which might be its own mini-temple.

That's what they put me in mind of: temples. I was inside the Saab dealership last week, dealing with the car rental folks before deciding I'd rather walk than deal with the only cars the rental agency seemed to have. (I know I couldn't expect a hybrid, but was it really too much to expect a well kept up smaller car? I didn't want an SUV or a large car, and the only small car on offer was a total mess.) The cars for sale were displayed in light filled bays, with plaques hung on the walls, detailing the various engineering marvels to be found in each car or showing historic models posed next to jets to remind the viewer of the fighter plane geneology of each model. On a wall near one such bay, there was a case filled with stylized car models, each a different shade of glossy or metallic. The atmosphere was hushed and reverent, with cream stone-look tile for the cars and dark grey carpeting for the people. No muzak, just the quiet whoosh of cars from the road outside.

I found myself wondering what some future archaeologist, coming upon the ruins of such a structure, would make of it. I felt uncomfortable, out of place. I wasn't there to worship or to buy, was, in fact, waiting for a car that would feature none of the engineering marvels promised on the walls. (I was not to know then that it would not even feature some of the engineering marvels of the older sedan I had driven before the hybrid...)

And I find myself thinking about the weight of the automobile in our culture. Part of it is convenience - I normally use the car to go back and forth to work - which takes half the time that public transit does. (Though admittedly, public transit does have benefits: yesterday, while waiting for the afternoon train, I watched a groundhog who had a burrow next to the train tunnel climb out and eat some vegetation, then retreat back before the next train arrived.) But then I look at how our communities are structured and realize that the neighborhood I work in is structured to encourage driving, and also is so expensive as to discourage most workers from living nearby.

I think we need to start thinking about how to leave the temple of the car...