Getting to Campus in the Big City and Other Misfortunes
Written by Euan MacDonald
Rüdiger Vogler in Wrong Move (1975)
“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” A quote often attributed to the great American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson, one wonders what his commute may have looked like.
Even the more metaphysically-minded professors at Saint Mary’s have strict policies for attendance, and every time you come in late, they make a mental stack in their head, saved for the next time you ask for an extension. So, being punctual doesn’t merge well with the romantic in us. Unfortunately, Emerson still had a point: The journey to campus at 6:30 am can irrevocably change you in a number of unpredictable ways that your chemistry lab cannot. For this fair point and more, it may be best to shorten such a pilgrimage to make it as unsurprising as possible: A quiet morning drains the least energy from us. Herein is the question: Bus, bike, automobile, hike? Which holds the least dramatic notions?
Crazy train
The bus is the ultimate friend of luck. A peer of mine once told me that while the race for the luckiest animal in the Chinese Zodiac was happening, the number four bus to Guangzhou blew past the wily rat to take an unofficial victory. Unfortunately for commuters, luck is the mortal enemy of planning. While when it strikes it grants felicity, it can never be prepared for. Enter Halifax Transit: Our local public metro system that operates with an independence so fiercely opposed to the working man’s timetable that it appears to hold a collective dark-cloud-inspired mood towards it that borders on something like insipid contempt. This, to many, will seem impossible. Bad drivers can exist. Bad management is a reality. But the buses themselves are inanimate objects, and cannot have moods. Right? Consider this a didactic moment: These vehicles, almost living beings, move like they know the city better than we do. It’s most easily noticeable with their aggressive dexterity: They fly around corners, make 90° turns, arch and flex in unnatural angles against the logic of their metals. A fair comparison might be the grace a deer has in forests that humans find themselves continuously lost in. Hairpin turns and roundabouts appear to be a natural habitat for them. This feeling - of being an unwelcome visitor in a foreign land - will become familiar quickly to attempted passengers as all manner of ill moments befall them. A quickly learned aspect is that the locations titled “bus stops”, while required locations for those wanting to ride, are merely suggestions for the buses themselves. Late at night? The only person on the bench? Looking at your phone? Not stepping into the middle of the road? Wrong time of the year? Maybe next time, you’ll have to say, as your route blows by every stop on the street. However, returning to the deer allegory, even seeing such an elusive animal is rare: Part of the experience is the absence of anything - to say, while you may be “on time” or “early”, such words are meaningless to the bus. Better to think of it as “here” or “not here”. The concept of something like “wiggle room”, while you bus, is better off being eradicated from your mind. Although no predictor is concrete, just as the Zodiac changes on a twelve-year cycle, Moovit was a rock in my life until I changed methods. The ads, although unsightly and unavoidable, were a worthwhile and lesser evil for mostly consistent real-time movements of my line. Back to the transit system itself, the benefits - which aren’t exactly sparse nor plentiful - are less dramatic. The price, first, is directly from Halifax Transit, and an adult monthly pass is $90. For me, exactly 1 (one) tank of gas. From Saint Mary’s (where a bus permit has been designated a UPass), It’s $89 for the term and $178 if you’re full-time for the long haul. Converting that to Chevy gas, we find four months of transit equates to four-fifths of a tank and eight months gives us one-and-three-quarters. Conclusions should be self-evident: The bus is the economic choice, by no small margin. Another plus is relevant to the other, less ghastly cousin of Transit: Coupling the number one and number ten busses with the ferry (a beautiful angel of transport when leaned adjacent), movement to and from the big city back to the quiet side (Dartmouth) is made easy, and even beautiful with bridge harbour views; if you’re within reasonable distance of the Bridge Terminal. My recommendation is the investment in a UPass (which is mandatory if you take more than three classes per semester at SMU, see link above) is always worth it, if simply for late nights and bad decisions that make this the safest, cheapest option.
Money turns wheels, not gas
No city will ever tell you it has good drivers. New York. Boston. Toronto. Paris. Worst of the culprits, Quebec in its entirety. It is a global phenomenon that even in the least infamous places, residents will notify you (or the drivers will take the responsibility upon themselves) that, suburb or downtown, a constant terror looms between the sidewalks. I am here to notify those that this urban myth - from Halifax to Perth - is undeniably true. I’m sorry. Pedestrians will live in fear until the sun collides with the globe. But, the newly licensed (class 5N) teenager whose DMV test did not involve a single roundabout asks, what about the good drivers? I’m sad to say this myth is more akin to bigfoot. A single grainy photo will not absolve you. No, step one to defensive driving is the assumption that everyone on the road did their test in Baddeck or Lunenburg or Cape Breton Island, where peaceful roads sharply contrast from the hustle and bustle of the city. And the city-taught do not fair much better. When considering transportation options, the most alluring aspect of the car is the freedom. Finally, you think. I’m on my time. When I leave is up to me. This is true, but when you get there, it is actually up the Corolla rolling down Agricola at a slim 30 km/h. Or a diabolical never-ending demolition on Upper Water Street. Or construction on Robie during move-in week. Thankfully, these are examples of hyperbolic writers who are stranger than fiction. Right? Right? However, these are issues that also affect buses. So to drop the stranglehold of traffic all in this section is unfair. But when said busy streets are interrupted by an overeager merging SUV, the loudest voice in the room becomes clear: Always the bills. The bus and bus passengers do not have to calculate the cost of replacing the entire left side of a Hyundai Tucson. But when it's your bumper making contact, it’s time to start thinking about how much insurance is gonna raise your premiums when they see that disintegrated bumper. Your parents were not exaggerating when they called cars the ultimate money pit. Let’s assume you’ve already purchased your first vehicle. Used and weary, but - functional. Contrary to my belief pre-car, you then have to pay taxes on used cars (15%), not just new ones. The hard parts with no workarounds are gas and insurance. Insurance is complex, and how much you pay is based on a formula that you can only work out with your bank. However, the low end for a new driver would be in the $300-a-month ($3600-a-year) range. Gas is more clear-cut: With current prices, a full tank of average size (12-16 gallons) is about $100. Sitting at a mean $400 per month - if you’re economical with the driving - is no small dollar for a student. Now, what if something breaks? This is where things begin to spiral. Any damage sustained that you want to get fixed under insurance means a rise in your monthly payment. The mechanic work itself, by no fault of the people fixing your vehicle (although I do recommend local and not chain for price alone), is a wild pendulum of remittance, with no clear scale set. It could (and often does) cost more than the original used vehicle after the first couple years as the issues pile up. That’s when you consider the UPass and scrapyard combo. And parking. Another small fortune. Now, there are alternatives to what our institutions charge you; learning the city reveals any number of residential sidestreets, as long as you obey the limits. The positive aspects are dangled in front of your face from your time as an infant until you’re sixteen: Anytime, anywhere, Whatever, whenever, it’s a nice day with a car. Until your friends find out. To those of us who are not bold or brazen socialites, a person new to having keys should make no mistake: Charge these people for your time. Write up a contract if need be. Join Lyft. No free rides!
Eccentricity and frugality: Brothers in arms
Now, these are not the only options. There is a large piece of time between the invention of the wheel and the first used-car dealership, and in that slot (including the renaissance and other unimportant movements that predate diesel) mankind got creative. But be warned: We live in the industrial era. For this unfair reason alone, all further suggestions could be considered eccentric to your average commuter, who may be used to the more car-focused nature of a dense area like downtown Halifax. Plus, choosing the path less travelled means judgement at the hands of those safe inside their automobiles. The bicycle is the most popular and most divisive: Slightly athletic? Can you locate a chain-link fence or thin metal pole? Does your unassuming neighbour leave theirs untethered? It may be for you. It’s an exercise of simple pleasures, being faster than the quick walking stride and slower than the modern motor. Two problems beyond this. One: The bridge may be the first and last dedicated bike lane you see. They exist, but appear compacted in the university area and on only the busiest and widest streets. The conclusion - you will have to bike either on the sidewalk (no room) or in the actual street. This is problem two: Cars are the natural opposition of bicycles. When the world was ruled by dense jungles and woodland, the Mesozoic-era Ford F-150 would hunt bicycles in the bush. It is a primal instinct, and cyclists will never be going fast enough, or signalling clear enough, or keeping space enough. You will be regarded as an invader. However, trucks and their drivers - infamously the most aggressive vehicle on a road at any time, and the most dangerous - see all other cars like this. It’s nothing new. The difference between you and a Prius, though, is 3,000 pounds of alloy protection. The cyclist is a vulnerable creature. A lifestyle recommended for the brave. A similar sentiment can be deployed for other means: The scooters that have appeared en masse around the city seem to lack proper placement. They don’t go fast enough for slim city roads (those linked above can go a max of 25), and they’re huge obstacles on crowded sidewalks. Share the bike lanes or be ambushed by pedestrians is the philosophy, in theory. But I haven’t seen any assaults yet? Just self-injury. So maybe they’re a good band-aid solution. The board - Skate, Long, Cruisers or otherwise - has only one natural predator in gravity. Halifax is a hilly place. But I understand that it’s an exercise of passion. For those experienced in such an art, I have only respect.
To conclude, there is no right answer to the campus commute. All methods have their drawbacks, and even the simplest choices of movement can be hounded by the ever-present construction that haunts Halifax campuses. Walking - our oldest mode by which we can journey - appears to be the least troublesome. A Tortoise and the Hare lesson is present here, but the Tortoise never had 8:30 am lectures or 6:30 pm labs. He can’t judge our sorrows. For many, burdens like parking tickets can be shouldered willingly if it means the whole heart of the city is within proximity at all times from campus. But as my happiness grows my wallet shrinks: So - in its most honest form - it’s a question of what you’ll sacrifice for convenience and comfort. But when possible, keep it simple. As Peter Drucker once postulated immortally: “There is nothing quite so useless, as doing with great efficiency, something that should not be done at all.”