You know, I never really thought about my car's exhaust pipe until I was sitting in traffic on Route 128 one Tuesday morning in 2019, watching the haze hanging over the highway like a dirty blanket. My husband had been gone about a year then, and I was still driving his old Buick everywhere out of habit – to the grocery store three blocks away, to the library that's literally a fifteen-minute walk from my house, even to my neighbor Ruth's place when I could've easily walked across two backyards.
That morning, stuck between a pickup truck belching black smoke and an SUV idling for twenty minutes, something clicked. Here I was, one little old lady in a huge car, burning gas to sit still and breathe in everyone else's fumes. Felt pretty stupid, honestly.
I'd never paid much attention to environmental stuff when I was younger. Sure, we recycled because the town made us, and my husband would grumble about gas prices, but we weren't thinking about carbon footprints or climate change back in the eighties and nineties. We just drove everywhere because that's what Americans did, right? Two cars in the driveway, drive to work, drive to shop, drive to visit friends who lived half a mile away.
But after my granddaughter Emma started talking about how her generation is inheriting this mess – and after I spent that morning breathing highway exhaust – I started actually looking at the numbers. Transportation accounts for about a quarter of all carbon emissions globally, and cars are responsible for most of that. Every time I fired up that Buick to go somewhere I could walk, I was contributing to the problem my grandkids will have to solve.
The really annoying thing? Most of my car trips were completely unnecessary. Short drives around town where you're stopping at red lights every few blocks – those are actually the worst for emissions because the engine runs inefficiently when it's constantly starting and stopping. I was doing maximum environmental damage for minimum convenience. Brilliant.
I started experimenting with different ways to get around, and let me tell you, some of it was a disaster at first. The first time I tried to bike to CVS, I hadn't ridden a bicycle in probably twenty years and nearly fell over trying to get my leg over the seat. Made it about two blocks before I had to walk the bike home, legs shaking like jelly. My neighbor probably thought I was having some kind of breakdown.
But I kept trying because, frankly, I was tired of being part of the problem. Started with walking to places that were close enough – the post office, the bank, the little market on Main Street. Amazing how much you notice when you're walking instead of driving. Mrs. Peterson's garden, the way the light hits the old oak trees, kids playing in yards you just zoom past in a car.
The walking thing worked so well that I got serious about the bike situation. Went to the bike shop and explained to this kid who couldn't have been older than my grandson that I needed something for a woman my age who hadn't biked since the Carter administration. He was very patient, bless him, and set me up with this upright bike that didn't require me to bend over like I'm in the Tour de France. Also got me a helmet, which makes me look ridiculous but I'd rather look silly than crack my skull open.
Took me a few weeks to build up the confidence and stamina, but now I bike to most places within about two miles. The grocery store, the library, even to my doctor's office when the weather's decent. It's not always pleasant – biking in New England winters isn't exactly fun, and some drivers around here act like cyclists are personally inconveniencing them by existing – but it's doable most of the time.
What really surprised me was how much I started enjoying public transportation. I'd avoided the T for years because it seemed complicated and unpredictable, but when I needed to go into Boston for a specialist appointment, I decided to try taking the commuter rail instead of driving and dealing with parking.
Sitting on that train, watching the suburbs roll by, reading my book instead of gripping the steering wheel in traffic – it was actually relaxing. Plus, you meet people. Had a lovely conversation with a woman about my age who was going to visit her daughter. Turns out she lives two towns over and we have mutual friends. Never would've met her sitting alone in my car.
The bus system around here isn't great, but I've learned to work with it for longer trips. Takes planning – you can't just hop in and go whenever you feel like it – but that's not necessarily bad. Makes you more intentional about your errands instead of just driving around aimlessly burning gas.
For times when I really do need a car, I've gotten better about combining errands into one trip instead of making three separate drives. And I've started carpooling with friends when we're going to the same places. Ruth and I take turns driving to our book club meetings, which cuts our individual driving in half and gives us time to gossip about the other members on the way there.
I'm seriously considering getting one of those electric cars, though the upfront cost is pretty steep on my pension. But my friend Dorothy got a used Prius last year and loves it. Says her gas bills dropped dramatically, and she feels good about not pumping as much pollution into the air. The technology isn't perfect yet, but it's getting better all the time.
The hardest part about changing my commuting habits wasn't the physical stuff – it was breaking decades of car dependency. When you've driven everywhere for forty years, walking or biking feels inefficient at first. You're used to the convenience of climate control, your own space, being able to carry whatever you want. Taking the bus means dealing with schedules and other people and sometimes waiting in the rain.
But once I adjusted my expectations and learned to plan ahead, it became routine. And honestly? I'm in better shape now than I've been in years. All that walking and biking has strengthened my legs and improved my balance. My doctor says my blood pressure is the best it's been in a decade.
Plus, I'm saving money. Not just on gas, but on car maintenance, insurance, all the costs that add up when you're putting a lot of miles on a vehicle. My car barely gets used now except for longer trips or when the weather's really terrible.
The environmental benefits are what keep me motivated, though. Every mile I walk or bike instead of driving is a tiny bit less carbon in the atmosphere. Every time I take public transportation, I'm sharing the environmental cost with other passengers instead of creating emissions all by myself in a mostly empty car.
I know one person changing their transportation habits isn't going to save the planet. But if more people my age – people who remember when we lived differently, when not every family had two cars and we walked places routinely – started driving less, it would make a real difference. We have the time now that we're retired. We don't have to commute to jobs or shuttle kids around. There's no excuse for driving everywhere out of pure habit.
My grandkids think it's great that Grandma rides a bike and takes the train. Emma says her friends are impressed that someone my age is "climate conscious," which makes me feel both proud and slightly guilty that this is apparently unusual for people my generation. We should all be conscious about our impact at this point.
The infrastructure could be better – more bike lanes, better bus service, safer walking paths. But you work with what you've got and push for improvements where you can. I've started going to town meetings to advocate for better sidewalks and bike paths. Local politics is boring as dirt, but it's where changes actually happen.
Some days I still miss the convenience of just jumping in the car and going wherever I want immediately. But most days, I feel good about getting around in ways that don't contribute as much to climate change. At my age, with limited time left to make better choices, it feels important to do what I can while I can.
If you're thinking about driving less, start small. Walk to one place you usually drive to. Try public transportation for one trip. See how it feels. You might surprise yourself with what you're capable of, and you'll definitely be doing something good for the planet your kids and grandkids are inheriting.
Donna’s retired but not slowing down. She spends her days gardening, reusing, and finding peace in simpler living. Her writing blends reflection with realism—gentle reminders that sustainability starts at home, in daily habits and quiet choices.
