Many of you probably already know this, but for those who do not know, I very much dislike owning my own car and having to rely upon it so much every single day. When I wake up in the morning, I get into my car, a black Ford Focus, and drive about 20 miles to work only to get back into it at 5pm to drive to the gym and then back home at the end of the day. Sometimes I check my trip information on the dashboard and notice that I spend an average of about 8 hours per week in that car. That’s a whole workday spent moving around the city, all by myself in this little car.

When I first bought the car back in September, I felt a sense of pride in being an adult. I make the payments, pay for the gas, and take full responsibility for its maintenance and care. This moment back in September was bittersweet in that way because I had always told myself that I would never buy a car unless it were fully electric and even then only at the last possible moment that I would absolutely need it for commuting and whatnot. That moment came much sooner than anticipated, as I accepted the position to join Challenge Detroit. My host company, PM Environmental is 18 miles from my home, close to Downtown Detroit, so I had no choice but to get a car.

Living in LA, I always carpooled to high school and never really drove the family car. Living in Seattle for the past four years, I walked everywhere, even to school which was one mile away from my Capitol Hill apartment. I valued the time that I walked to and from places because I had the opportunity everyday to experience my neighborhood and its inhabitants. I rarely walked past someone without acknowledging them with a nod or a smile and occasionally bumped into a friend whom I hadn’t seen in over a year. I got to walk by new storefronts and pop inside for a quick glance if something sparked my interest. I bent down to pet dogs and puppies, only after asking for permission, of course. These brief interactions might have been small, but they amounted to such an important part of how I experienced my neighborhood and helped me belong to my city.

This past summer, I even started taking the bus to Downtown Seattle for my internship at EnviroIssues. After the first few days of the commute, I recognized the same bus driver and people sitting on the bus. I frequently wondered about these people’s life stories and backgrounds. We sat on that bus together every day for about ten minutes, yet we knew absolutely nothing about one another. We were very much part of one another’s lives, yet so distant at the same time. Regardless, we were connected and shared this sense of “silent” community, similar to that of my walking commute to and from school.

These interactions and encounters changed drastically when I transitioned into the solo driving commute in Detroit. I quickly became a person moving in a box among other people in boxes navigating from point A to point B. I achieve a slight sense of community when we all sit still together in our boxes during traffic and heavy commuting times.

After living here for about four months, I notice myself slowly developing road rage. When someone cuts me off or tailgates me in the fast lane, I mumble profanities to myself and curse the other people driving in their cars. I came upon the mindset that everyone driving in their car is an a-hole, only concentrating on their own personal mission to get to their next destination. They do not care about me, and I do not care about them…

WRONG!!!

After thinking about this mindset over the past few weeks, I realized that I was falling into a trap. I had quickly dehumanized the people driving behind the wheels of the other cars and acted as if I do not care about their wellbeing. Of course I want them to get to their destination safely. I might curse at the person who just zoomed past me at 90 miles per hour while I am going 70, but I have no clue about that person’s life and background, similar to the people I experienced on the bus in Seattle. They could have just had the worst day ever and could have been fired from their job. Their grandfather could be in the hospital about to take his last breath. This driver could also just choose to go that fast. Regardless, I had to remember (and think we should all remember) that these drivers are first and foremost people. I most certainly would not have gone up to someone on the bus in Seattle and cursed at them in front of everyone, so why would I do this anywhere else, including my car?

As I continue to learn about Detroit’s history, neighborhoods, schools, economy, and people, I realize that the city has too few “connectors” that bring everyone together as a whole community. Cars, unfortunately, play a major role in the divisions we see playing out today. People who have cars go to and from work, interact with their coworkers, but do not interact with anyone in between points A and B. People who do not have cars remain “stuck” in their neighborhoods or must rely on the existing limited public transportation network. These limitations also implicate racial divides and tensions that we often feel when moving about the city because we mainly experience our neighborhood while just passing through the other ones.

Coming upon this realization has been very enlightening for me and inspires me to create change in the Motor City. Over the next few months, I am going to begin exploring current initiatives that aim to bring the city together as a whole. These initiatives might take the form of the expansion of public transportation networks, education opportunities and reform in Detroit Public Schools, and urban gardening programs throughout the city. Connecting people plays an integral role in breaking barriers and assumptions, reminding us all that we belong to one another. In cities across the United States, we must start treating one another with dignity because, after all, we are people. In this way I won’t be flipping you off from my car in the future. I will let you go on your way and will hope that everything is alright. Maybe I will see you again in the future.