Car-free in Vancouver: How losing my car helped me find a richer, slower life.

On February 13th, 2025, I found myself tipped over in my car, surrounded by all the bits and bobs one leaves lying around—never expecting to face oncoming traffic from a ditch on Highway 14. I’d lost control, spun 180 degrees, and said goodbye to my Scion for good.

In the fog of a minor concussion, instead of shopping for a new car, I asked myself: What if I didn’t get one at all? Could I share a car with my partner and make my bike my primary mode of transportation? A snowstorm had shut down the city (and my shop) for a few days, giving me time to think. My daughter and I decided to take the bus to the shop—a short trip, but enough to convince me this could work. More than that, it could change how I moved through the world, both literally and emotionally.

On that first bus ride, I noticed how differently my daughter and I interacted. We talked, sang songs, and ran to the stop—missing the first bus but having time to build tiny snowmen while we waited for the next. It didn’t feel like I was dragging her along on errands; we were in it together. She was my true co-pilot.

But I needed to figure out the bike logistics. How would I handle tight timelines, like getting her to gymnastics after closing the shop? A 45-minute bus ride wasn’t feasible, so I needed a bike that could carry her. I already had an e-bike, but it wasn’t passenger-friendly. My old cargo bike (a RadWagon) was too bulky for our small garage. After some research—and a friend’s recommendation for Upway—I landed on a RadRunner Plus: compact, capable of carrying my kiddo and cargo, and as manageable as my current RadCity.

I also learned what an incredible public transit system we have here in Vancouver. The Transit app makes it effortless to navigate bus routes, plan trips, and even sends reminders for when to leave. There’s even a monthly lottery where you can log car-free trips for a chance to win gift cards—bonus motivation! And in the few miles I travel regularly, I have three different bus routes to choose from. I had no idea how many easy, affordable, car-free options were right at my doorstep.

Now, three months (mostly) car-free, here’s what’s changed:

1. My relationship to consumerism has shifted completely.

I think harder about how to get places, how long it’ll take, and what I can carry. No, I’m not buying more online (I’m boycotting most retailers anyway). Instead, I’ve hauled everything from plants to compost to small furniture on my bike.

2. I carry—and own—way less stuff.

We’re like goldfish: we expand to fill our space. Emptying my car for the tow truck was a wake-up call. How much junk had I been hauling around just in case? Without a car, there’s no place to lose reusable cup lids, stash an extra sweater, or hoard tissues I’ll never use.

I still have access to a truck, but with only two days off a week, I refuse to spend them moving stuff. That limitation has shown me how much of what I bought—or would’ve bought—was unnecessary. Alongside boycotting corporations, I’ve vowed to avoid new things unless they’re essentials (like dish brushes). Instead, I use what I have, rely on my Buy Nothing group, and shop secondhand via Poshmark, OfferUp, and Facebook Marketplace. Turns out, I don’t need much.

3. I’m more present.

The best cycling advice I’ve gotten? Ride like you’re invisible—because to drivers, you often are. To stay hyper-aware, I skip headphones. Instead of zoning out, I hear birds, traffic, and the gradual changes in blooms. I discovered a tiny park with a water feature near my shop—a hidden gem I’d never noticed before. It might sound small, but it feels like a balm for my nervous system compared to the stress of driving.

It’s not all easy, though.

Cold, dark, rainy days are tough. Thankfully, most of my trips are under five miles, so if the weather sucks, I’m not in it for long. That’s why we swapped our homestead for an inner-city home—to be closer to everything. But the temptation is real. When a car sits in your driveway, it’s easy to think, What if I need something from it today? (Spoiler: You probably don’t.) Crashing my car forced the choice on me, even if temporarily.
Hard choices change lives.

The internet isn’t going back in Pandora’s box. We won’t return to a time of limited access, so the willpower to change must come from us. I’ve seen people reclaim their lives in so many ways—deleting social media, switching to dumb phones, going car-free. We are the authors of our stories. We set the tone, the pace, and decide what’s enough.

One thing made this choice easier: nothing is forever. I can change my mind anytime. As someone smart once said, “Whether you think you can or think you can’t, you’re right.” So far, living car-free isn’t just not bad—it’s wonderful.