This past two weeks, I’ve used:

• a Prius to get groceries and dinner
• a Civic to check out an apartment in SF
• a 328i to check out an apartment in SF and visit Golden Gate Park
• a Nissan Versa to get groceries and go up to Mount Diablo to check for some of this week’s meteor shower action
• a Honda Odyssey to move from Berkeley to a new apartment in SF
• a Mini to get back over to Oakland for a Saturday homebrew BBQ

There are two ZipCar lots within two blocks from my new location in the city. The credit card style swipe is ingenious. I’ve called customer service twice and was able to talk to real human beings right away.

I can roughly quantify the opportunity to save money that I’ve created by switching from my car to ZipCar.

Assuming an average hourly cost of $10 (including SF 9.5% tax and the 10% EVP discount), I’ll save money in any month that I use ZipCar fewer than 50 hours. That seems like more than enough driving for me. The potential savings could be much higher with other people. I had access to cheap loans and cheap insurance, and I did repair work myself, so car ownership was relatively affordable for me. ZipCar is better though, because of the flexibility and simplicity I now enjoy.

A New Kind of Freedom..
For my first ZipCar experience, I made a last-minute reservation for a 2008 BMW 328i named Bui, which was parked at a gas station about a mile away from my house. I was hoping to get a Volvo S40, but someone else snatched the one that was near me before I could reserve it. I was fully prepared to pay the hourly rates for these premium cars, but the Low-Car Diet is covering that cost for now. The nice thing about this BMW was the absence of any exterior markings identifying it as a ZipCar, unlike the cheaper cars, so you can car-share inconspicously if you wish.

I unlocked the car with my credit-card style pass, and hopped in to find that the fuel tank was 100% full. The tire pressure warning light was on, but I ignored it after visually inspecting all the tires. False tire pressure warnings are common in BMW’s, even the brand new cars. So, I took off from Berkeley to San Francisco, where I picked up some friends and then went over the Golden Gate Bridge to Muir Beach. I’ve always thought the 3 Series was overpriced. I still do. Granted, the steering and suspension offer very good road feel. As with most autostick-fake-manuals, the transmission’s response was too slow and ended up hurting my brain. A good bit of power comes in around 4,000 RPM, but the exhaust note is rather light and raspy–kind of like a wimpy Formula One?

We made it comfortably through downtown SF, over the bridge, up into the hills of Marin, and across Hwy 1 to Muir beach. The GG and the shoreline were cloaked in fog, though sunny blue skies were clearly visible to the east. I stayed at the beach for a few hours, hoping to even out my Midwestern-style farmer’s tan by only sunblocking my face, neck, and forearms.

So, my experience was pleasant and painless, although there was one catch. After I dropped Bui off at his parking lot of origin, I returned about 10 minutes later to check if someone had left their sunglasses in the car. No sunglasses, but later in the day I was hit with a $50 late fee. According to the website, I had the car for an additional 10 minutes beyond when I know that it stopped moving. Apparently the cars are equipped with fairly sophisticated brains that log data and allow them to be tracked from headquarters, but I’m not sure where this 10-minute discrepancy came from.

Example—You head underground to take a Manhattan subway from midtown to the lower west side. Upon exiting the train at the desired stop, assuming you’ve made it that far, you now have the task of spatially re-orientating yourself and choosing the proper course to your destination, all while minimizing time spent deliberating and avoiding damaging blows to the illusion that you know where you are and what you’re doing.

Figure 01 – Overview (notice cracked-out follow-walker)

Figure 02 – Come to grips with the massive problem you are about to face (avoid conspicuous expression if possible)

Figure 03 – Real-time awkwardness avoidance

There are a variety of variables that need to be optimized

• Maintain posture, expression, direction, and pace such that it appears that you know exactly where you are going
• Mentally create and navigate spatial models and estimate probabilities that you should be heading in a direction other than the current heading
• Minimize time and distance lost if you determine that a course change is necessary

If deciding to change course—bailing on your current direction—it must be inconspicuous. Abruptly doing a 180 degree turn could create substantial awkwardness for you and those around you—that would be downright reckless. The awkwardness factor increases with the amount of time spent in close proximity of other walkers, and especially if you have exchanged casual remarks with anyone around you. 

Here are some strategies:

1. Wait until you come to an intersection or crosswalk, and then cross the street to head the other direction.  If the next opportunity to cross is too far away, you may try to cross right where you are
2. Walk around the block
3. Find a lamp post, doorway, other object to lean against until those who were walking in your proximity are out of range, and then you can resume walking (in the opposite direction) without anyone noticing your change of direction
4. Pull out your phone and make it seem like the person giving you directions is a total idiot. Broadcast the idiocy by shaking your head, rolling your eyes, and throwing your hands up in disbelief
5. Use a newfangled 3D pedestrian navigation app for your smartphone, but be careful to frequently check for obstacles lest you smack into a lamppost, turning vehicle, newspaper box, or other walker while staring dumbly at your phone