Melissa Golden for The Wall Street Journal
我
爱车，也爱开车。有人对开车上下班感到很头大。我每日驾车上班的时候却是宝贵的独处时光，我会调大音量听我最喜欢的音乐，或是整理自己的思绪。如今，30年来第一次，我的这一圣堂消失了。我不再有自己的车子，我也不再开车上班。
我现在成了城里人，住在华盛顿特区东南的国会山附近。我坐地铁上班。
像我这样婴儿潮时期出生的职业人士注定会发现自己的人生选择简化到广告营销中的模式。我的新生活显然让我成了一种潮流中的一分子。我是一个新城市主义者，一个生于婴儿潮时期、过着第三种生活方式的婴儿潮人，或者说是绿色运动中新的可持续生活方式的典范。我们这些人少开车，多走路，放弃郊区一座房子和两部SUV车的高能耗生活，在我们的星球上留下更浅、更小的碳足迹。就我来说，我放弃的是底特律郊区一座80年的房子和一部马力强劲、每加仑只能跑20英里的的日本车。
本月早些时候，我卖掉了自己的斯巴鲁(Subaru) WRX，搬到华盛顿特区的一座loft（译者注：工房改造的公寓）。我的生活因此发生了改变，而且仍在变化。
Melissa Golden for The Wall Street Journal
在开了30年车后，曾住在郊区的《华尔街日报》编辑Joseph White试图在城里过上不开车的生活。
有一天，我在办公室收到了一个35磅的包裹。要在以前，我会把包裹放到车的后备箱里，开车回家。现在，我需要把包裹拖到K Street和Connecticut Ave交叉的街角上，打车回家。以后，再也不能有35磅的包裹了。
最大的变化在我早晚上下班上。以前，我会把咖啡倒进一个旅行杯，抓起公文包，跳上我的斯巴鲁，一个人开上25到30分钟的车。
现在，我会走大约四条路去地铁站，拿上一份免费报纸，乘自动扶梯下到站台上，在地铁上费力地抢到一个站脚的地方。地铁上禁止饮食，所以咖啡也没有了。现在上下班成了一种半社交性质的活动，我和那些一起乘地铁上下班的人是一个群体，我们试图忽视彼此的存在，忽视我们彼此距离太近的事实。
好消息是：我新的上下班方式来回只要3.50美元左右，是我每日汽油费的一半或三分之二。我不后悔失去了斯巴鲁高额的车险，我获得了走路上下班的健康机会，还有一双为这里阴雨连绵的天气而准备的时尚防水鞋。坏消息是：我早晨上班的时候什么也做不了，因为我要努力避免踩到别人的脚趾头，无法同时集中注意力想事情。
Joseph White下班回家后步行去超市
美国国家环境保护局(U.S. Environmental Protection Agency)和住房及城市发展部(Department of Housing and Urban Development)最近建立了合作关系，利用政府的权力来控制土地使用和交通运输资金，推广可持续的社区，鼓励高能效住房选择。意思就是：减少在玉米地里建房子，增加沿交通线或在成熟社区的住房。
我没有把车卖掉，因为我想天气不好或是偶尔想拥抱城市生活时可以用一下。我们搬家到华盛顿特区是出于工作原因。现在看来，放弃自己的车在经济上看是个合理的选择，因为国会山的生活远比与华盛顿恐怖的交通作斗争更有意思。
我们这一代中有多少人希望和我一样放弃开车仍是各类团体争论的话题，包括汽车生产商、房屋建筑商、环保主义者和联邦决策人士。
房屋建筑商看到，过去两年来消费者的偏好转向了更小的房子。姑且不说房屋抵押贷款市场的动荡和几十年来最严重的房价暴跌，人口统计学家和经济学家预测，一旦孩子离开了家，很多婴儿潮时期出生、如今迈向老年的人将选择较小、更易管理的居所。这些推测帮助推动了很多美国城市的loft和公寓开发项目的激增，以及开发所谓的"适合步行"的社区。
无论婴儿潮时期出生的人在做什么，人们都想知道为什么。我们这些孩子已经长大离家的人占了婴儿潮人口的一大部分。根据我们在新社区中所看到的人判断，至少有些人正像我一样尝试着更简单的生活方式。
Joseph B. White
I love cars, and I love to drive. Other people dread commuting. My daily drive to work was precious 'me' time, when I cranked up my guilty-pleasure music or collected my wits.
Now, for the first time in 30 years, my sanctuary is gone. I don't have my own car anymore, and I don't drive to work.
I am now a city dweller, a resident of the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Southeast Washington, D.C. I ride to work on the Metro.
Boomer professionals like me are destined to find our life choices reduced to marketing archetypes. My new life evidently makes me part of a trend. I am a New Urbanist, a Third Life Boomer or, to the green movement, an exemplar of the new sustainable lifestyle who leaves a lighter, smaller carbon footprint on our planet by driving less, walking more and forgoing the energy-intensive life that goes with owning an edge-city McMansion and two sport-utility vehicles -- or in my case, an 80-year-old house in suburban Detroit and a turbo-charged Japanese hotrod with a fuel-economy rating of just 20 miles per gallon.
Selling my Subaru WRX earlier this month and moving to a loft in the city has changed my life in ways I am still discovering.
I used to make a big grocery shopping trip just about every Saturday, driving several miles to a store and throwing half a dozen shopping bags into the trunk. Now I can walk to a supermarket three blocks away. But there's only so much I can fit into my foldable, two-wheeled red grocery cart or carry in my two hands. No more big pumpkins for Halloween.
I got a 35-pound package delivered to my office. Old life: Stick the package in the trunk and drive it home. New life: Haul the package to the corner of K Street and Connecticut Ave. and hail a cab. Future life: Live without 35-pound packages.
The biggest change is to my morning and evening commute. Old routine: Pour coffee into a travel mug, grab a briefcase, jump in the Subaru and drive alone for 25 to 30 minutes.
New routine: Walk about four blocks to a Metro station, grab a free newspaper, take the escalator down to the platform, and jockey for standing-room space on a train. The Metro prohibits drinking and eating on board, so no coffee. Commuting is now a pseudo-social event -- my fellow commuters and I are a community of people trying to ignore each other and the fact that we are too close.
The good news: My new daily commute costs me about $3.50 round trip -- half to two-thirds my daily gasoline costs. I don't regret losing my Subaru's expensive insurance bill, and I have gained a healthy walk and a stylish pair of waterproof shoes for Washington's many damp days. The bad news: I still don't get much done during my morning trip because I can't concentrate while trying to avoid stepping on other people's toes.
Encouraging more people to live in neighborhoods close to their workplaces is an element of President Barack Obama's broader effort to cut U.S. consumption of fossil fuels. The average American emits 19.8 tons of carbon dioxide per year -- the most ubiquitous of several gases linked to climate change. The average German, by contrast, is responsible for 10.4 tons of CO2 emissions per year. There are lots of reasons for this disparity, but the tendency of Americans to live miles from their workplaces is a big one.
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and the Department of Housing and Urban Development recently formed a partnership to promote sustainable communities by using the government's powers to control land-use and transportation funding to promote 'energy efficient housing choices.' Translated: fewer subdivisions sprawled out in cornfields, and more housing along transit lines or in settled neighborhoods.
I didn't dump my car because of a concern about the climate or a desire to embrace urban life. We moved to Washington for career reasons. Letting go of my car seemed to be an economically sensible choice once we decided that life in Capitol Hill would be more fun than fighting the Washington Beltway's horrendous traffic.
Just how many of my generation want to do what I'm doing is the subject of debate among an array of groups, including auto makers, home builders, environmentalists and federal policy makers.
Home builders have been watching consumer preferences shift toward smaller houses the past two years. Put the turmoil in the home-mortgage market and the worst housing price collapse in decades aside -- demographers and economists have predicted that many aging baby boomers would opt for smaller, easier-to-manage dwellings once their children left home. Those predictions helped spur a surge in loft and condominium developments in many U.S. cities, as well as efforts to develop so-called walkable communities.
Whatever baby boomers are doing, people want to figure it out. Those of us who have sent our kids out into the world represent a big chunk of the population. At least some of us, judging by the people we see in our new neighborhood, are joining me in trying out a downsized lifestyle.
Joseph B. White
Now, for the first time in 30 years, my sanctuary is gone. I don't have my own car anymore, and I don't drive to work.
I am now a city dweller, a resident of the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Southeast Washington, D.C. I ride to work on the Metro.
Boomer professionals like me are destined to find our life choices reduced to marketing archetypes. My new life evidently makes me part of a trend. I am a New Urbanist, a Third Life Boomer or, to the green movement, an exemplar of the new sustainable lifestyle who leaves a lighter, smaller carbon footprint on our planet by driving less, walking more and forgoing the energy-intensive life that goes with owning an edge-city McMansion and two sport-utility vehicles -- or in my case, an 80-year-old house in suburban Detroit and a turbo-charged Japanese hotrod with a fuel-economy rating of just 20 miles per gallon.
Selling my Subaru WRX earlier this month and moving to a loft in the city has changed my life in ways I am still discovering.
I used to make a big grocery shopping trip just about every Saturday, driving several miles to a store and throwing half a dozen shopping bags into the trunk. Now I can walk to a supermarket three blocks away. But there's only so much I can fit into my foldable, two-wheeled red grocery cart or carry in my two hands. No more big pumpkins for Halloween.
I got a 35-pound package delivered to my office. Old life: Stick the package in the trunk and drive it home. New life: Haul the package to the corner of K Street and Connecticut Ave. and hail a cab. Future life: Live without 35-pound packages.
The biggest change is to my morning and evening commute. Old routine: Pour coffee into a travel mug, grab a briefcase, jump in the Subaru and drive alone for 25 to 30 minutes.
New routine: Walk about four blocks to a Metro station, grab a free newspaper, take the escalator down to the platform, and jockey for standing-room space on a train. The Metro prohibits drinking and eating on board, so no coffee. Commuting is now a pseudo-social event -- my fellow commuters and I are a community of people trying to ignore each other and the fact that we are too close.
The good news: My new daily commute costs me about $3.50 round trip -- half to two-thirds my daily gasoline costs. I don't regret losing my Subaru's expensive insurance bill, and I have gained a healthy walk and a stylish pair of waterproof shoes for Washington's many damp days. The bad news: I still don't get much done during my morning trip because I can't concentrate while trying to avoid stepping on other people's toes.
Encouraging more people to live in neighborhoods close to their workplaces is an element of President Barack Obama's broader effort to cut U.S. consumption of fossil fuels. The average American emits 19.8 tons of carbon dioxide per year -- the most ubiquitous of several gases linked to climate change. The average German, by contrast, is responsible for 10.4 tons of CO2 emissions per year. There are lots of reasons for this disparity, but the tendency of Americans to live miles from their workplaces is a big one.
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and the Department of Housing and Urban Development recently formed a partnership to promote sustainable communities by using the government's powers to control land-use and transportation funding to promote 'energy efficient housing choices.' Translated: fewer subdivisions sprawled out in cornfields, and more housing along transit lines or in settled neighborhoods.
I didn't dump my car because of a concern about the climate or a desire to embrace urban life. We moved to Washington for career reasons. Letting go of my car seemed to be an economically sensible choice once we decided that life in Capitol Hill would be more fun than fighting the Washington Beltway's horrendous traffic.
Just how many of my generation want to do what I'm doing is the subject of debate among an array of groups, including auto makers, home builders, environmentalists and federal policy makers.
Home builders have been watching consumer preferences shift toward smaller houses the past two years. Put the turmoil in the home-mortgage market and the worst housing price collapse in decades aside -- demographers and economists have predicted that many aging baby boomers would opt for smaller, easier-to-manage dwellings once their children left home. Those predictions helped spur a surge in loft and condominium developments in many U.S. cities, as well as efforts to develop so-called walkable communities.
Whatever baby boomers are doing, people want to figure it out. Those of us who have sent our kids out into the world represent a big chunk of the population. At least some of us, judging by the people we see in our new neighborhood, are joining me in trying out a downsized lifestyle.
Joseph B. White
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