Was the Automotive Era a Terrible Mistake?
I've never really wanted to own a car—it has always seemed to be quite the hassle, whether driving or parking, maintenance and insurance, or being both responsible for and at the whims of those around you. I probably could have saved dozens of hours of my life if I had a car back when I was in California; hopefully I've made up for it by the number of interesting and insightful (and inconsequential to anything save the sating of my curiousity) articles I've read in all those rideshares and Caltrain journeys. There is a freedom, though, in being able to drive. To be able to be somewhere on your own terms, at, more or less, your own time, to be able to go further than you would have on your own legs; to be alone on the road at night, within a kingdom that stretches as far as you can go, and safe from the elements, from the wild and the unknown. That's why biking to me feels like a break from what we are conditioned to desire: personal liberty, efficiency, control. It's even sweeter, of course, when you are faster on two wheels than someone on four.
The question itself is never answered outright, but I suppose solutions are more important than answers.