How transit-friendly is Charlotte? I (mostly) left my car parked for a week to find out
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How transit-friendly is Charlotte? I (mostly) left my car parked for a week to find out
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It wasn’t fancy, but it did the job.
My first car when I turned 16 was a 2005 Honda Accord with 200,000 miles on it that my parents paid cash for from a family friend. I drove it to and from school and to ballet practice in the afternoons.
It also broke down on me in a six-lane highway and honked uncontrollably every time I unlocked the door until I cranked it up.
But it was still a car. And for any complaints I had, it got me from point A to point B.
As part of my reporting for stories on solutions to problems with Charlotte Area Transit System, I committed to go without my car for a week. It revealed to me something more fundamental about a car than just a person’s ability to get somewhere. In a city with connectivity holes in its public transit, a car is often necessary for success.
When I moved near Optimist Park in Charlotte in July, I was excited to take the light rail and walk whenever I could. That proved to be difficult because the area between Uptown and NoDa isn’t as walkable as I assumed it would be. So I take my car to the grocery store, to work and to see friends — some of these trips taking 5 minutes to drive less than a mile .
My main takeaway from my week without a car? I need to save up for an electric bike for times when the transit system will inevitably fail me. Until then, I’ll still be using my car for most trips, except when I’m headed uptown or somewhere in my neighborhood.
Monday, Oct. 10
3 p.m.: I almost made it through my first car-free day without going anywhere. I admittedly didn’t go to the office and mostly worked from home because I was unsure how the bus system worked on Wilkinson Boulevard and didn’t want to have to cross multiple lanes on foot. But I have to cover a Charlotte City Council meeting tonight.
4:10 p.m.: I walk to the bus stop that’s right outside of my apartment building. The bus stop doesn’t have any shade, cover or seat. I set my purse on the ground, lean against the metal pole holding up a sign that says “Route 23” and wait 10 minutes for the bus to arrive.
4:20 p.m.: It’s right on time! I show the driver my $2.20 ticket I bought on the CATS app and take a seat in the middle of the bus. On the journey, we pass right by the stop I need near the government building and go straight to the Charlotte Transportation Center. I asked the bus driver why he went past my stop. He asks why I didn’t pull the string to let him know when to stop. I swallow my pride and walk the couple blocks to the government center.
9 p.m.: After a four-hour council meeting, it’s dark outside and time to wait 20 minutes for the bus home. I check how long the walk home is. Google Maps says 24 minutes, which is fine, but it’s dark. Let me see what these green scooters are all about…
9:10 p.m.: I downloaded the scooter app, figured out how to push the kickstand down and paid $6.97 for the ride home. I hit bumps in the sidewalk and changed my mind about riding on the sidewalk or road several times — wherever I feel safest from cars that don’t seem to notice my existence, even with the bright headlight on the scooter.
Tuesday, Oct. 11
8 a.m.: Today, I cheated. My permanent retainer fell off the back of my teeth and my orthodontist is in Rock Hill where I grew up. I can’t get there with public transit alone. So I took my car.
Again, I have to recognize that this is an extreme privilege. I had the backup option to use my car, but if I didn’t? My options would be to not get my teeth fixed and suffer long-term, more expensive orthodontic pain or spend $32 on a ride-share to take me there (if a driver was willing to make the trek to South Carolina).
I regret to say I took my car. Forgive me?
Wednesday, Oct. 12
11 a.m.: Today is my birthday, so I had the day off work and slept in! I left my car in my apartment’s parking garage the entire day.
3:30 p.m.: After a lazy day, I went to have a drink at Artisan’s Palate and get my nails done in NoDa. I walked to the bus stop outside of my apartment and waited about 15 minutes — the bus was late. A car honks at me while I’m waiting at the bus stop. Did I know that person? Did I just get catcalled? Were they worried they were going to hit me? I feel a weird sense of shame and awareness that I’m a woman standing alone.
3:45 p.m.: The bus picks me up, and it’s full of children with backpacks. As we approach my stop, I get nervous. I know I have to pull the string to let the driver know to let me off. No one has gotten off since I got on. Will everyone think I’m stupid for riding the bus just a mile and a half? Luckily, another woman is getting off, too.
6 p.m.: After getting my nails done, I enjoy a beer next door at Artisan’s Palate with the comfort of knowing I’m not getting behind a wheel to get home.
Thursday, Oct. 13
11 a.m.: I’m finishing up reporting this morning at the Southern Comfort Inn, a hotel shut down earlier this year, displacing dozens living there. When I part ways with the owner of the nonprofit who wants to turn the inn into transitional housing, she asks where I parked.
I’m taking the bus, I tell her, and make my way to the bus stop that’s conveniently placed in front of the hotel along Tuckaseegee Road.
The stop is frequented by people who live in cars near the hotel or in the dilapidated rooms. There’s a few men standing at the stop under a shelter with no seats. I talk with a few folks I never would’ve met if I drove home. I help a woman confused by the routes and make sure she’s getting on the right bus. It’s nice to feel a sense of community that I wouldn’t if I was alone in my car.
11:45 a.m.: I get off at the Charlotte Transportation Center where I could make a transfer to get home. The bay system of the CTC confuses me. So, I make a game time decision to walk 30 minutes home.
I feel like a character in a romantic comedy movie, crunching on fallen leaves while music blasts in my ears. But in the area where the tree canopy ends near Interstate 277, I take my headphones off. I have to concentrate so I don’t get run over by cars trying to get on the freeway. I’m suddenly aware of how heavy my laptop is in my bag and switch shoulders as sweat trickles down my back.
Friday, Oct. 14
10:23 a.m.: I am sprinting to the Parkwood light rail station to make it before the train comes at 10:36 a.m., carefully keeping to the sidewalk along 12th Street where cars are accelerating onto I-277. I need to make it to the transit center by 11 a.m. to meet a source and I’m blissfully unaware how chaotic my day would get.
10:36 a.m.: I made it on the train. On the light rail, Charlotte feels like a big city. I watch out the window as the skyline moves closer on the horizon and uptown surrounds the train. There are people with bikes, in suits and others taking a joy ride.
10:43 a.m.: I walk to Red Eye Diner in the EpiCentre to meet Chris Wallace, who I’ve talked to while reporting on this series of transit stories. He doesn’t own a car and takes transit often. Wallace takes me along his north Mecklenburg bus routes today to talk to business owners in Huntersville and Cornelius about the transit troubles he suffers from and how businesses could benefit from an improved system.
11:45 a.m.: I feel more relaxed than when I’m using transit on my own because I have an expert here who takes these routes every week. I conduct some phone interviews on the bus, struggling to hold my phone against my ear with my shoulder while I scribble down quotes. Wallace pulls the string to let the driver know when to stop with no fear at all! Inspiring.
1:30 p.m.: After wandering around Huntersville, we need to take the bus to Cornelius. The bus stop we’re sitting at has a bench (a luxury), but no cover The warmth makes me regret the long sleeve shirt I chose that morning.
1:50 p.m.: Still no bus. CATS customer service says there’s been an accident on the interstate and the bus won’t come. Wallace lets out an annoyed sigh, but it’s not the first time a bus hasn’t showed up — and Wallace suspects it won’t be the last. We grab a slice of pizza at a nearby shop while we wait for the next bus.
2:15 p.m.: We leave the pizza place earlier than we need to, but see the bus already leaving our stop! It felt like the SpongeBob episode where he’s repeatedly left by a bus every time he turns to get a snack. Wallace and I decide the best way to get to Cornelius is for him to take his electric bike and for me to take a Lyft. I cough up $17.68 to get to the comic book store Wallace and I were supposed to take the bus together to — $15 more than the bus.
5 p.m.: After finishing up the day with Wallace, he directs me to the bus stop to get home. I wait about 20 minutes. The bus takes me through Davidson College. It was nice to see the campus, but that’s when I realize I’m not on the right bus.
5:30 p.m.: We get to the Huntersville park and ride, and the driver gets off. I am so confused and ask the driver what happened. She tells me the bus changes routes after a certain time, and she was finishing up her shift. She asked where I was trying to go — gratefully offering to drop me off. I text Wallace, who has taken the route countless times, but this has never happened to him. Either way, the driver was headed back to the bus garage that happens to be close to my apartment. All is well.
And so my week without a car comes to an end. I definitely had some hiccups, but will remain a CATS customer — parking uptown is just too expensive not to be.
This story was originally published November 17, 2022 at 6:00 AM with the headline "How transit-friendly is Charlotte? I (mostly) left my car parked for a week to find out."
