So when my grandfather passed away and I found myself with a small sum to spend on whatever I wanted, I set out to find a good, small, reliable, used car.

I settled on a light blue 1985 Toyota Tercel hatchback.  It cost me $1350.  At the time the price of gas was $0.44/L and I could fill it up for $17.00.  The tank would last me a month.  Grocery shopping was a dream; I could go hiking in the mountains or toss my bike on the roof and ride wherever I wanted.  I still rode my bike a lot and didn’t rely on my car too much but just having it was akin to freedom.

I became rather attached to that little car – Herman – as my friend Dave named him. We took to calling him ‘The Herm’ for short.  He was cute, practical and would dutifully start, unplugged, with just one turn of the key on frigid winter mornings in Calgary.  He seemed to have some personality and in some odd way I felt like he reflected mine – practical, efficient, understated, humble, and at the time, frugal.  He also represented my becoming an adult and reaching the threshold of making my own responsible decisions about what I wanted in my life.

I kept the car in good shape, although it rarely needed work.  When it did I would take it to a local high school where I knew the automotive teacher and they would fix it up for a dime.  I ran out of gas a couple of times, got a couple of flat tires and once broke the windshield wipers after a heavy snowfall, but year after year he just kept on going, doing his job of keeping me mobile.

I drove that car for almost nine years.  Near the end there were a few issues that made it somewhat unsafe, like the driver’s side door no longer worked and I had to get in and out of the car on the passenger side (I did this for nearly a year), and it got to the point where a) my Dad didn’t want me driving it anymore and b) I’d saved up enough money to replace it with something better.

There was a tinge of sadness in my heart as I said goodbye to The Herm.  I dropped him off at the junkyard for scraps and in return received a voucher for $300 towards a new bike.  This eventually became my touring bike, which I christened The Herm Reincarnate.

That spring of 2006 I went to a car dealership and bought a brand new Honda Fit.  I once swore I would never buy a new car, but I easily broke that rule by justifying to myself that I would do it once and drive the car until the end of time.

I tried to think of a name for it but nothing ever came to me.  This car had zero personality.  And while it had a nice stereo, with FM radio no less, air conditioning and power steering, it felt boring and utilitarian.  Meanwhile, Calgary continued to expand at a blistering pace and sitting in traffic was increasingly common.

Six years went by before I topped the 35,000km mark on the odometer.  My boyfriend and I had moved in together and both of our cars were sitting in the parking lot 95% of the time.  We started biking more and discovered the benefits of public transit.  Increasingly, the justification for keeping my car weakened.

I no longer felt that this car reflected who I was, that instead it represented all of the things I didn’t want in my life.  It drained my hard earned dollars and left me feeling like a caged animal stuck in the now routine Calgary traffic jams.   It was the opposite of what I wanted – it was stifling, expensive, inefficient, and unnecessary.

After some contemplation, like nearly a year’s worth, I finally made the decision to sell the car that had no name.  I got about half of what I paid for it six years ago and I put every penny into a huge lump sum mortgage payment.  I will save $90 a month in insurance and $45 in gas.  That adds up to saving $1620 a year.

This time there was no tinge of sadness as I watched the new owner drive away with my car.  I will admit to a few moments of panic when I irrationally suspected that the bank draft he gave me was forged (it wasn’t) — but no sadness.  It was more a feeling of relief, like my life had just become simpler.

The best part about having one car less is that in many instances it eliminates choice.  I can no longer choose between bike and car, my only option is bike.  It’s no longer possible to cop out and resort to the ‘easier, faster’ option (although that is mostly a fallacy) of driving.  It’s odd how I feel the same sense of freedom now that I did 15 years ago when I bought that first car.

While we are not car-free we are one car less.  It will require some creative planning from time to time but for the most part I don’t think we’ll notice the difference.  Unless you count less time sitting in traffic, more time outside on our bikes and more money in the bank.  We might notice that.

Randy had an enormous heart filled with such passion and care for Canadian athletes that he proved by tirelessly carving out a niche for all of us in the giant media landscape so dominated by professional sport.  That we are indebted to him for the impact he has had on Canadian sport is an overwhelming understatement.

The shocking news of his death yesterday was so devastatingly tragic.  But I just spoke to him three weeks ago. This can’t be true.  I just spoke to him.

I’d turned the tables on him and called to see if he would cover a story about a trip I was doing with Right To Play.  “Grover!” he said. “It’s so great to hear from you!” That I am comfortable calling him for a story (he’s the only reporter who has my personal cell number) and calls me by nickname is a testament to the trust and respect I have for him, his work, his integrity and his commitment to not only covering sport, but also celebrating it. His enthusiasm and support for my trip was a given, that’s why I’d called him.  I knew he would care.

His Olympics blog is the first bookmark in my browser.  His blog is my daily go-to for all things Canadian sport and I check it religiously.  I’d get impatient with him if he didn’t post often enough. I wanted to know what was going on and I knew he would deliver the goods.  I thought it was strange that he’d been so silent over the last couple of weeks but chalked it up to him saying he was already crushed with his work preparing for London.  After our chat a few weeks ago I remember thinking to myself, “he sounds tired.”

The thing about Randy is that he didn’t just file the facts. He didn’t rely on web searches for information and he never asked basic, superficial questions.  He took the time to get to know every single athlete and developed a relationship with them far beyond the call of duty.  What made him tick was finding out what made us tick. He told my story and the story of so many athletes in Canada.  He wasn’t just there to get a one-line quote and meet a deadline.  He was there to give us a voice and highlight the real and human story behind the faces and the names.  I’ve never met another journalist who cared like he did.

The last interview I did with Randy was the day I retired from speed skating.  Doing an interview with Randy was always fun and interesting and he never failed to ask me intelligent questions that really made me think.  That day he used the words “the little speed skating engine that could” to sum up my career and me.  When he told me this I laughed and marveled at how perfectly he could capture my life in seven words. He seemed pleased that he’d hit the nail on the head so squarely.  He did because he knew me and cared about what I’d done.

Whenever I did a post-race scrum and I saw Randy in the crowd I felt at ease.  He’s the only one I would recognize because he was always there. I naturally gave him a big hello and would stay on longer than I wanted to just to talk to him.  He transcended the world of media to become friends with those he cared about most.

He happily encouraged me with my own writing and I’m proud to say he holds the naming rights of my little blog, The GrovesLine.  He was jokingly annoyed with me for starting my blog as he had been using me as a guest writer on his own site and figured he’d have more work to do without my periodic contributions. When I asked him for advice about publishing he was so supportive and offered any help he could give.  He was one of the very best and I’m so thankful I had the chance to know him and to be his friend.

The world has lost a gem in Randy Starkman.  Canadian athletes have lost their voice.

It is incomprehensible to me that he is gone from this world.

This really sucks.

Whenever I’m in my car, stuck in traffic or not, I wish with all my might that I was on my bike instead. No matter how windy, rainy or snowy it might be and especially if it’s sunny and warm, I’m instantly jealous of anyone I see riding their bike with vigor and a broad smile stretched across their rosy-cheeked face. If biking is truly not an option I’d settle for the C-Train, so that I could at least let my mind wander or read a book while someone else takes me home.

Other times, when I am commuting on my bike, I secretly laugh at all the poor souls stuck in their cars and wonder why they don’t know just how liberating and wonderful it is to commute by bike.  I relish the wind in my face, the efficiency of my bicycle and the dollars that remain in my pocket as a result.  And I particularly enjoy realizing that for many destinations in the city, door-to-door commuting times by bike are often on par with those achieved by car, especially once you consider finding and paying for parking, then walking from your car to the door.  I always feel glad when I take my bike instead.

But this is really awesome! I love my bike!

But alas, I’ve lived in Calgary for fifteen years and sadly fallen prey to the myth that cars provide freedom and that one needs a car to survive in this city.  I’m not the only one – this is a city driven by cars and by the attitude that a car is the only option available to transport oneself.  And yet I don’t know a single person who loves, or even likes, driving around the city, but we all seem to do it without question.

Why do we mindlessly accept what is deemed a necessary evil when so many have discovered otherwise? Sure there are status, social norms, personal choice and comfort to consider but the notion that cars equal freedom is a grand illusion.

I will admit, that in a land as vast and ambitious as Calgary, in fact its land mass covers over 5,000 square kilometers making it the single largest metropolitan city in North America, it is necessary to have a car in many circumstances.  Getting to the airport, for example, or to the mountains, or to some obscure specialty shop tucked away where no train or bike path goes.  But if you simply change the way you think, you will realize that in the grand scheme of your busy day there is more than one way to get from your usual A to B.

This is better than you think...

A couple of months ago I took the train to an elementary school for a presentation that was ‘way’ down south.  It took almost one hour to get there.  During that hour I read the news on my phone and read a chapter of my book.  At that time of day, in traffic, it would have taken me at least 45 minutes to drive.  But I also would have spent at least 15 minutes in the morning reading the news online at the kitchen table.  The end result was the same – I reached my destination and read the paper in a total of one hour, only how I got there had changed – no stress, no traffic jams, no parking to find or pay for.

In fact I’ve often driven somewhere in this city only to realize when I get there that I could easily have taken my bike or the train instead.  Too often I’ve let myself slip into the city-made trap of believing that taking my car is faster or better.

Even though I happen to be fairly environmentally conscious, what I’m advocating for here isn’t radical environmentalism or activism or trying to save the planet – although those are all noble pursuits – but rather a mind shift in how we live our lives and that an alarmingly simple change in the way we structure our time can drastically improve our quality of life.  Save money, get exercise, reduce stress, have fun, be outside, simultaneously! How can anyone convincingly argue against that?

Of course there are so many reasons not to do it… kids, distance, weather, lack of bike skills, too hard, not enough time, getting sweaty, looking like a geek… There will always be reasons not to do something, even something as simple and efficient as riding your bike to work.  It’s a shame that we get so sucked in by convention as opposed to common sense.

A few months ago I met an optometrist who lived less than a ten-minute walk from his office.  He chose to drive to work every day – on purpose – even though it took him longer than walking, for the sole reason of not wanting to leave his expensive car sit unused in the garage all day.  I cannot think of anything more ridiculous than that, including me showing up to an appointment in spandex shorts and cycling shoes.

Geek, yes, but look at the smile on my face!

It’s true that I look like a geek in my cycling gear, even more so when I stop at the grocery store on the way home and walk around with my helmet on. But you see I spent twenty-three years racing on long blades in a full spandex suit with a hood, so obviously I don’t have a problem with looking like a geek. Somehow I’d rather look like a geek than waste an hour of my day sitting behind the wheel of a fabricated illusion of freedom, only to go park it at the gym and sit on an indoor stationary bike under the pretense of time well spent.

Of course I still drive places, but a lot less often than I used to.  It’s not always easier or faster to take my bike and it does require a little bit of extra preparation.  Riding up the steep hill on Home Road into a headwind is tough and sometimes I grit my teeth to make it to the top.  But life wasn’t meant to be easy, it was meant to be good. And good is about shifting the way you see things to discover that getting from A to B on two wheels can mean gritting your teeth and smiling at the same time.

Click here: The Magic of Play on CBC Sports Weekend

Fun eating watermelon for the first time!

Play is...

This might not look that hard but I challenge you to stack five apples!! This little guy was just awesome