A Pedestrian Mourns His Stepping Back Onto the Freeway

They say nobody walks in Los Angeles. But I do.

For the past 18 months, I have been one of the 130,000 or so Los Angeles County residents who commute to work on foot every day. My trip is between four and five minutes each way--depending on how well I time the stoplights.

Instead of the nerve-racking, concrete-lined half an hour most spend hassling their way to work, my morning and afternoon trips are pleasant, tree-lined strolls past the bungalows and garden apartments of my Sherman Oaks neighborhood.

I relate this not to brag, but to lament.

Today, it all ends. My luck has run out.

This morning my office is moving and I will climb back into my car to spend 23 minutes tooling my way along the freeways with the other 510,000 Los Angeles County commuters who leave their homes about the same time I do--roughly 7:45 a.m.

For the record, nearly 3 million Los Angeles County residents drove to work alone this morning. Another 700,000 shared the ride with someone. Their mean commute time was about 26 minutes each way. In the city of Los Angeles alone, drivers will put 57 million miles on their cars today.

When I join them, I think a little piece of me will die. There is something ultimately more human about walking, something that enriches a person in a million tiny, unnoticeable ways--and plenty of noticeable ways.

In the same way, there is something ultimately inhuman about driving, something that impoverishes a person in a million tiny, unnoticeable ways. We spend almost nine days a year commuting--about the same time we spend on vacation.

And that 52 minutes a day commuting? Put another way, we only spend an average of 22 minutes a week having sex.

Even so, we stay in our cars. And now I will merge reluctantly with the currents of cars and attitude and let them sweep me to my destination, the winking ribbon of brake lights guiding my way.

I knew this was a temporary assignment going in. A few of us writers were shunted out of The Times’ Valley Edition headquarters in Chatsworth to make room for a little remodeling. And now we are being called back.

My home is close enough to these temporary quarters so that I can leave my car in the garage. If I need to cover a story or attend a meeting, I hustle the few blocks home and grab the car. The rest of the time I walk.

I moved to this neighborhood two years ago precisely because I could walk to the grocery store, to the movies, to restaurants, to the newsstand, to almost everywhere I might need to go.

But it was dumb luck that allowed me to also walk to work. Six months after I moved to the neighborhood, The Times opened a temporary office at Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks.

For weeks I did not start my car.

Transportation planners tell us that we need to move more people closer to their jobs so more can walk. That’s a good start. Peak-hour traffic congestion is perhaps the most visible--and nerve-racking--evidence of our dependence on the car.

But transportation planners concede that it’s difficult, if not impossible, to have people plan to live near their work. What counts as much--or even more--than cutting down commuting traffic is eliminating those countless small trips to pick up the dry cleaning, drop off the kids at soccer practice or catch a movie down at the gigaplex.

Neighborhoods where people can get things done on foot are exciting places--places such as Old Pasadena or downtown Burbank or even my neighborhood.

People like to walk. We crowd the parking structures of Pasadena and Santa Monica every weekend so we can get out of our cars and stroll about in the open air for a few hours.

More places could be like that--with a little effort. Right now, Los Angeles planners are drawing up a new long-term growth plan for the city. Among its most basic components is the creation of pedestrian areas where motorists are second to walkers.

To do it, though, would require a fundamental rethinking of the way we design cities in Southern California. We would have to mingle residences with shops and offices, a major departure from the exclusionary zoning we now practice.

It sounds to some like a scary proposition, but imagine the places we love to visit: Paris, London, Vienna. They were designed with the pedestrian in mind. Could Los Angeles someday embrace the walker too?

Neighborhoods feel, smell and look different on foot. Ask yourself when you last got angry with someone for stepping in front of you while walking. Now ask yourself when you last got angry with someone for pulling in front of you on the highway.

One morning just a few weeks ago, my wife and I walked to the church that serves as our voting precinct. After casting our ballots, we kissed outside the church and said goodby. An elderly woman walking along the sidewalk inquired, “What about me?”

“Well, you’re not my wife,” I responded.

“So what?”

“OK.”

I hugged her.

Try that on the 405.