Collegiate Times

JAMIE MARTYN/COLLEGIATE TIMES

HE SAID:

I've only been pulled over once. To recap: A cop chased me down - not for speeding - but for having expired license plate stickers. Absurd. Did he have a telescope for an eye?

Conversely, I've only pulled over one person.

No, I didn't steal a squad car and deceive soccer moms.

Was it "Take Your Son to Work Day?"

My parents are in the education field. In fact, I wasn't even behind the wheel; I was atop it - well, them.

I convinced a sedan that I was the "5-0" while bicycling home one November evening last semester.

Strapped to my handlebars was a flashing LED headlight, and after several identical turns behind the vehicle, it veered over to the curb. Confused, I slowly passed the driver.

From an open window, he asked, "Officer, what did I do wro - Oh!"

Naturally I laughed, and he delayed hitting the gas for what I suspect was embarrassment.

It was one more reason to cherish my Schwinn, which has afforded me such efficiency and some health. For example, the Kent Street hill lights legs on fire. And the puzzle-piece parking garage rising in the Prices Fork Lot has only further galvanized my support for alternative transportation in Blacksburg. After all, it is a shame that one of the top design schools in the nation has to stare at it from its rear windows.

The 2008 Virginia Tech Office of Transportation Survey gauged the traveling experiences of 1,713 students, faculty and staff. Asked if there was too much car traffic on campus, "somewhat agree" and "strongly agree" formed nearly 75 percent of the responses. Yet, 77 percent said a personal vehicle is their main means of getting to and from campus. That's a bit of a conundrum.

I'm not entirely discounting the necessity of the car, however. Two axles make sense for the fraction that lives outside town. Even within Blacksburg certain tasks call for a whip, such as intense grocery shopping or packing weekend drunkards like sardines to prevent their use of sidewalks as mattresses.

But for the simple daily treks, many people could afford to keep their keys on the hook. Using the Web site called "Map My Ride," I checked the travel distances to campus from three well-populated living complexes: The Village, Terrace View and Roanoke Street Apartments.

Only Terrace View crested one mile and by the thinnest hair.

Think back to the mile "run" in high school. People, you and I, could keep a sloth's pace yet still clock in less than 20 minutes. Driving to campus, wandering the crowded lanes like a taunted lab rat, parking crookedly and walking to "X" building takes arguably the same amount of time. And leaving usually isn't a breeze.

The Bike, Bus, & Walk program through Parking Services gets you 15 free daily permits. So whether it's a twisted ankle or rain, you still have that backup. Maybe most importantly, you save $136, which could go toward 10 cases of Natty or more responsibly, a bicycle.

And there are definitely bicyclists who appear to have taken their training wheels off the previous day. We've all witnessed countless near misses and several embarrassing collisions because riders assume they're magically as skinny as the frame on which they sit. Maybe those folks should give up and strap their pedals to the bus rack.

The BT crowds can be overwhelming, yes, but sacrifice a couple minutes buried in someone's noxious armpit to curb the truly harmful exhaust fumes. You drop $50 for it in your tuition, and they don't do non-user refunds.

The surge of terrible weather this past month has made really any commute unbearable. When walking, I silently honor ancient Neanderthals who donned only togas of animal skins and didn't have SmartWool socks or, you know, houses. Similar conditions are throughout much the world today, and that perspective makes the supposed inconveniences of alternative transportation quite tolerable.

Imagine if we strolled to campus with the same enthusiasm as is displayed by thirsty streetwalkers who appear on Friday nights. The air would be cleaner and the architecture students might have one fewer Tech building to scoff at. You wouldn't mistake me for the police, either.

SHE SAID:

Once while purchasing a textbook, I showed my ID through the plastic cover in my wallet to the cashier.

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A version of this article appeared in the Feb 5 issue of the Collegiate Times.