This online
search was prompted by the absence of my own Honda Fit, which I had returned to
the leaseholder prior to moving downtown.
"Don't
worry," I had told friends who worried the absence of a vehicle would curb
my weekly visits. "I'll join a car-sharing service -- they're parked in my
high-rise's garage -- so there won't be any interruption."
Immediately
after unpacking, I signed up with Zipcar, paid a $60 annual membership fee,
plus $9 per month for a complete damage waiver. But, in the 365 days I've had
the plastic card in my wallet, I've never used it.
At first, I
blamed my reluctance to the lack of available vehicles in my garage. Oh, there
was a sampling several blocks away, but the trek eroded some of the ease I had envisioned.
Part of the
problem is my four-feet-nine-inches and need for visibility. In order to lift
me above the steering wheel, I must use two pillows. The thought of schlepping
those booster seats to a far away car lot is unappealing.
My hesitation
with Zipcar hasn't interrupted my promise to friends. Instead, I opt for the
CTA, or Uber and Lyft ride-sharing apps with their private drivers.
But, with a
one-and-a-half hour Purple Line Linden train to Central St. in Evanston, then a
#201 bus to the shopping center on my calendar, I decided to finally reserve a car
for the 16-mile trip. I'd still have to walk elsewhere to get a car, but I was
willing.
As I
perused my vehicle options, a trio of voices barged into my brain. First was
the stingy sidekick. "If you take the train and bus, it'll only cost $2.50
roundtrip," she said, her demeanor mirroring a sensible accountant's. "Compare
that to the $47.04 rental."
Then,
another voice interrupted; this one with a righteous tone, "Well, I agree
that ditching a car is smart, but more important than cost is the effect on the
environment." She was the same noodge who berated me for leaving at home canvas
bags when I shop at Whole Foods. "Air pollution, global warming," she
droned.
The third voice
chimed in -- timid, shaky. "Please don't drive," she said. "I'm
scared. Remember what happened the last time, with the Prius and iGo?"
How could I
forget? At the time, I was still living on the northwest side, and wanted to try
car sharing before my move. With vehicles across the street in Independence Park;
I thought it'd be a breeze.
But on the
day of my experiment, no cars were available, so I walked nearly a mile to the nearest
location. I followed instructions to unlock the door and start the ignition. I
placed my two cushions on the driver's seat. Then, after lifting, stretching,
and twisting to view the rear window, I slowly backed out.
I braked as
I spotted a four-door parked at an angle just behind me. Was that a dent in its
rear fender? My heart hammered; I started perspiring, I felt weak, faint. Had I
already maimed a vehicle? Instead of exiting to find out, I continued on, still
shaking but believing that if I interrupted my trial, I'd never gain the
shared-ride experience. As soon as I arrived at my destination, I checked for
damage on the Prius -- none. Then, I called iGo.
"I
think I hit a parked car," I said, trembling as if I were confessing a
murder. I provided all required information, then returned to the original lot.
I took out my iPhone to capture the damage on the still-parked vehicle. But, I
couldn't find any. The dent I had imagined was instead the fender's sloping
design. I circled the car several times to make sure the two fenders matched. They
did!
I called
iGo again and reported my happy findings. "Great," the staffer said,
"but we'll send you an accident report just in case." I filled it out
and waited days, weeks, months, a year, but nothing more came of the incident. Still,
it traumatized me. Ever since, I've been reluctant to drive an unfamiliar car.
So, I'll travel
to Old Orchard via CTA. When Ruth praises my pluck, I'll tell her "saving
money and the environment." But I'll confess to you: I'm a chicken -- a pint-sized
hen that needs two booster seats to see over a steering wheel. Cluck. Cluck.