Every weekend, my dad would take me and my two younger brothers to ride our scooters a few blocks away to the local park in which he’d watch us race in laps against each other. Often, on the way back, we’d stop to get ice cream, run a few errands, and hop into the local dry cleaner to say hi. For me, the city I knew was defined by where I scootered, along narrow corridors of streets I knew well.
Rowhouses from the neighborhood I grew up in
Looking back, those weekend trips taught me so much about what I believe to be good urbanist practices today. Take, for instance, the concept of the fifteen-minute city, or the idea that everything a city’s resident could need should be located less then fifteen minutes’ walking distance from their home. This is a concept which seems revolutionary to many but is one I have taken for granted. Growing up, everything I needed was easily accessible to me: I could walk (or scooter) to school, the park, doctors’ appointments, or to run errands. And, when I did wish to travel further with my family I had easy access to the subway to whisk me to wherever I saw fit. Growing up, we truly did not need a car because of the proximity of so many crucial institutions and because of the pedestrian infrastructure commonplace in my neighborhood of Manhattan.
Today, my family lives outside Bethesda, Maryland, itself a suburb of Washington D.C. What sticks out to me most whenever I visit home during breaks is the feeling of “stuckness” I have. Every time I go to a store, visit a doctor, or see a movie, I have to get into a car and drive ten minutes to the local urban center. I have to get into a car to reach the nearest metro station if I want to visit downtown Washington D.C. And, as someone who does not have a driver’s license, doing any of this lacks the ease of just stepping outside and walking.
Even now, at college, when introducing myself, I still introduce myself as from New York City. This is because, despite it no longer being my home, I feel a far more profound sense of connection to the than to Bethesda. I believe this is because I was able to walk everywhere. So many of the interactions that tie me to the place would not have happened from the backseat of a car. I wouldn’t have been able to high-five local doormen while walking past, or stop into the dry cleaners to briefly chat, or feel the same autonomy to explore. My experience of scootering, and walking, defines how I see New York and the neighborhood I grew up in, and directly influences my visions for the future of poorly-planned cities around the world.
Image Source:
LC Lemle Real Estate Group. (n.d.). 215 East 88th St. Transparent City. Retrieved February 16, 2022, from https://www.transparentcity.co/buildings/3205-215-east-88th-street.
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