I am sorry I made your dog bark when I walked by your house. It isn’t their fault that nobody walks in the US. I get it, anybody not arriving by wheeled conveyance is suspect.
The sight of an old man, trying to stay healthy, hobbling with a cane, past their yards is bizarre. It’s not their fault, but I am sorry that more old men don’t wander down your street, getting in a morning stroll.
They often strain to get out, fearful of guy with a strange stick. They don’t know how they will be taking their lives into their own hands on the streets of the US. That presents more danger than some little dog yipping behind a chainlink fence.
One of the great scourges where I live is the appearance and disappearance of sidewalks, sometimes on the same block.
So I walk against traffic, so I can see you coming and no one wants to walk looking over their shoulder, because even when I see you coming, I am calculating whether you see me. To your credit, you usually do, though some of you seem annoyed.
If it so bad, so dangerous, why don’t I go to the rec center, or a local track? Honestly, I don’t want to go in circles. I want to visit my neighborhood.
I enjoy the different plants flowering, feel the trees shadow from the sun.
I watch as homes and homeowners change.
I pass the local street taco and savor the hot smell.
I walk past the creepy old Motel 6 and check out the license plates of people passing through my neighborhood.
Sure, I battle the ubiquitous jacked up, never been off-road diesel pickup truck fumes, and the noise pollution of the equally common old fat white dude on a Harley.
Even in places where there are sidewalks it’s not designed for humans. And heaven forbid you should be disabled or with a mobility device. Take the hostility and put it on hard mode.
Out west it is especially acute, this hostility to walking. Whole megalopolises grew along with war footing mass production and cheap gas. Places made more hospitable by burning coal and gas, and readily available electricity.
This suburban development model is very obvious in my small town, population 12,000 or so. Like much of the intermountain area, this corner of southwest Wyoming was a oil and gas boom town. The population grew 78% from 1980-1990. The town grew accordingly.
What was once a fairly compact town, mostly walkable town built neighborhoods where it was if not impossible but extremely impractical to walk to the library or visit old downtown on foot.
Which is too bad, because there is much to see. A world with layers. My house was here in 1890 and I get to see the town that grew up around it.
It is ironic that even our extensive river walk trails that connect to the state park are almost only accessible by driving there. Even for me, and I live less than a mile from the trailhead. I have to cross at least one dangerous street to get there.
I am hyper aware that I am not winning any arguments with tons of rolling plastic and steel. Still those morning walks, even dodging early commuters, and crossing perilous avenues, to places like the state park are totally worth it.
The trip down the hill to the river walk is a trip through histories and futures. You see the things that are in or consequential to your fellow citizens from a street level view.
What is important to save. What needs to be built. What needs to be celebrated. Places that are enjoyed by human and dog alike.
The dogs on the river walk, they don’t bark at me. That’s because they know that people walk on trails next to rivers. They just don’t know that we walk anywhere else.
Remain Lost 