By Doyle Srader
So I’ve lived in Eugene for 17 years. The entire time, I’ve commuted to work on foot, two miles in the morning and two miles home in the evening. In my seventh year here, I chose to get rid of my car, so now I walk nearly everywhere. I still use Zipcar for monthly grocery shopping, and LTD about once a week for cross-town trips, but as a public service I have five tips for being a power user of Eugene’s sidewalks and shared bike paths.
1. Practice good manners.
Eugene does not have a jaywalking crime on its books. You can cross the street almost anywhere you like, so long as you respect three limits. First, you are expected to make a right angle, which means you cross to the closest spot on the opposite side; you don’t wander around in the street. Second, you are expected not to disrupt traffic when you cross. Third, there is a crime on the books for disobeying a signal, so you actually can get cited if you cross in the crosswalk when it says don’t.
But that second expectation is really what it’s all about. When you cross a street, check very carefully in all possible directions for oncoming traffic. If there is not a blasted thing headed your way, then walk. Do it if you’re mid-block, do it if you’re in the crosswalk. If you see cars coming, make a reasoned decision whether stepping into the street will force them to slow down. If they just have to get off the gas and coast for a second, then maybe, but if you make them stomp on the brakes, you’re an idiot and need a pipe wrench upside your head.
Assuming you’re considerate of what your choices might make drivers do, you can cross when you like. I disobey crosswalks all the time if nothing’s coming, because I do not let motionless inanimate objects tell me my business. In 17 years, only once have I had one of Eugene’s finest read me the riot act, and she was clearly having a bad day.
2. You have eye beams.
When you cross parking lot exits, driveways, spots where your path goes through someone’s right turn, do one simple thing: look directly into the driver’s eyes. You don’t even have to be able to see them clearly; just stare at the spot on the windshield behind which you know the driver is sitting. It turns you into Cyclops from the X-Men.
I teach nonverbal communication, among other things, and we talk quite a bit about eye contact. Ever been in public and noticed someone looking at you? We are hardwired to lock on to direct eye contact from other people, so it’s a very effective way to get a driver to notice you. From time to time I walk someplace with a student, and I get a chance to demonstrate the superpower to them: a car comes barreling up to the intersection, and I look directly at the driver, and my student sees the car slow down. Boom, my eye beams stopped a car. The raw, cosmic power is intoxicating.
3. Walk behind them.
If your path goes directly in front of an idling car, and you’re not sure if the driver sees you, swerve a little and walk behind them. This can be a pretty cool town for bumper sticker-reading, so stop and smell the slogans. And if it’s a Trump-Vance sticker, whisper to yourself that they’re driving away from you and out of your life forever.
4. Bike paths are freeways.
You are the slow traffic, so stay in the right lane. Back when Barack Obama was still a senator, I trained myself to walk very close to the edge of the Ruth Bascom bike path; since then, tens of thousands of bikes have gone whizzing past me with room to spare.That choice is now etched into muscle memory, and in 17 years of twice-daily walks through Alton Baker Park, I have been in zero collisions and not more than a handful of near misses.
If you do need to move in from the edge of the bike path, make like you’re changing lanes and look over your shoulder. If nothing’s coming, you’re good. If someone is living out a Tour de France fantasy, give them a second to win the yellow jersey before you make your move.
5. Stand up to the rain like you would any other bully.
Every time I tell someone I walk nearly everywhere, they ask, “Even in the rain?” I am dumbfounded at that kind of pusillanimity. It’s Oregon. If you let rain confine you to a building or a car, you’re just paying attention to its tantrum. This town taught me that if it’s just drizzling, go get a little damp. You could probably use some rinsing anyway. For times when it’s more like a Bambi Bucket, I own a good raincoat and pair of rain pants. In fact, I am now on my third raincoat. Back in my home state of Texas, we didn’t know raincoats could wear out. As for hair, I shave my head, so raindrops feel really good on it.
Carless by choice is the way to go. I have the advantage of also being spouseless and childless by choice, and I live in a helpful neighborhood, but it really seems like too many people are missing out on the possibilities: I ignore gas prices, never hunt for a parking space, and enjoy droll conversations with people concerned about my car’s extended warranty. Walking is great for physical and mental health, and Eugene is a great town for it.