On a dark Friday night, October 18, 2024, I struck a deer on I-43 outside New Berlin on the way home from Old World Wisconsin’s annual Halloween Legends and Lore event.
I remember the deep, dull thump. The immediate damage. The confusion and worry. My daughter, a friend and his son were in the car. Thankfully, everyone was okay.
The deer wasn’t.
I remember realizing that I had likely killed a living being with my car. Caused a death so easily, in a multi-ton machine used largely for my own convenience and speed. That feeling has stayed with me.
The car was wrecked. And for the next three weeks and four days, I was car-free.
At the time, I had already been attending monthly Strong Towns South Milwaukee meetings for about a year. I had been thinking a lot about how we design our communities around cars. I had made some great friends, including one who didn’t drive at all. I had started biking more locally and was slowly realizing that many trips I had assumed required a car really didn’t.
Then, suddenly, I had no choice.
Nothing else about my life had changed. I was still a dad to a school-aged kid. Still working in Milwaukee’s Third Ward. Still relatively young, healthy and able-bodied.
But I didn’t have the thing so many of us are told we need to participate in daily life.
And, honestly, I wasn’t sure I needed it.
My insurance didn’t cover a rental, and I didn’t want to pay for one. So, I went without a car.
For three weeks and four days, I planned my trips differently, with more thought. I learned to grocery shop without a trunk. I walked more. I biked. I became a bus commuter. I spent more time in South Milwaukee and more time and money at local businesses.
I asked my neighbors for advice, the occasional ride, and a little help with school pickup.
And something unexpected happened: My community got closer.
I became more conscious of how I moved through the world and what I spent money on. I bought fewer unnecessary things. I took less trips to far away stores just because. I averaged nearly 5,000 more steps a day. I lost eight pounds.
And my daughter and I still lived a full life.
We took our bus to the Milwaukee Public Museum and 3rd Street Market Hall. We walked to the library often. I walked to my polling place on Election Day. We hosted an epic spaghetti dinner for friends and their families. We did our grocery shopping entirely by bike and bus, including a very memorable bike ride home with a jug of Carlo Rossi wine and four tins of Italian tomatoes.
Life didn’t stop because I couldn’t drive. It just changed.
And when I finally got the keys back after three weeks and four days, I was surprised by how little excitement I felt.
I almost felt bad getting back into the car.
Because I had learned something I don’t think I could have learned quite the same way by simply reading about walkability, transit or car dependency:
Cars are incredible tools. But they are tools. They shouldn’t be requirements for participating in everyday life.
And when we design our communities as though everyone has a car, we aren’t just making driving convenient. We are making life harder for everyone who doesn’t have that option, whether by choice, age, disability, income, circumstance or simply because they’d rather spend their time and money differently.
That’s what #WeekWithoutDrivingMKE has reminded me of.
For me, it hasn’t really been about giving up a car for a week. I already know what three weeks and four days feels like.
It has been about remembering what those autumn weeks in 2024 taught me.
Sometimes, taking away the option to drive doesn’t make your world smaller.
It makes you notice how big it already was.
