If we are what we eat, do we also design what we experience? / Photo: Mr. T in DC via Flickr

A few years back, I paid a visit to the headquarters of a state DOT, for the purpose of helping to plan its Safe Routes to School program. As DOTs went, this one had a reputation for being fairly amenable toward pedestrians, by which I mean that the department in question considered walking to be a legitimate form of transportation, which was eligible for spending federal transportation dollars. That, of course, doesn’t always seem to be the case.

Returning from lunch (in a car, because we certainly weren’t in a mixed use neighborhood) we encountered a pedestrian about to cross the DOT’s driveway apron. The driver, being both a human being and a law-abiding citizen, yielded to the pedestrian. But the ped stopped and waived us through. We insisted, and after a confused shrug, he proceeded along his right-of-way. Some might read this merely as a courteous interaction between two users of the transportation system. I saw something more sinister: a microcosmic reminder of the hierarchy at play on our nation’s roads, in which the convenience of the driver subordinates all other forms of transportation. I immediately cracked a joke that the yielding pedestrian was probably a traffic engineer. (As it turned out, he was.)

Entering the building I noticed, next to the front door (kudos!), what is to date the saddest, loneliest, and  rustiest specimen of a wheel-bender bike rack that I have ever seen. I was begged not to take a picture of it. (I did anyway, and framed it nicely with the DOT’s name placard above the front door. Sadly, I’ve lost track of the photo…it’s gone to the great digital beyond.) My final reward came at the end of the day when, upon exiting the building into the parking lot, I stepped out onto a raised, textured crosswalk. I joked: this is the only raised crosswalk in the state, and it’s in the DOT’s parking lot! My smirk turned into a grimace when I was informed there was a not-so-funny reason for that particular traffic calming feature being exactly where it was.

I had largely forgotten about this experience until I received a call recently from a reporter who was doing a story on a spate of pedestrian deaths where he lived. As one who aced the state capitals quiz in 7th grade Geography, I immediately recognized the city in question was also that state’s seat of government. After examining the corridor where the deaths occurred—a multi-lane, high-speed, no-median, state road lined with strip retail development—I located the state DOT’s headquarters, which happened to be a 10-second drive from the road in question, at the confluence of an expressway and a sea of parking.

I had to wonder: if we are what we eat, do we also design what we experience? It isn’t hard to imagine that, deep within the bowels of the state DOT, there are people who’ve never ridden transit, who’ve never walked to lunch, who live a suburban lifestyle, who cannot imagine their children walking to school, and who haven’t ridden a bike since they passed their driving test? Should it be a surprise to us that driving is the first thing the engineer or planner thinks about when he or she sits down to review a plan for a bridge, an intersection, a corridor, or a roadway “improvement”?

We decided to have some fun with Walkscore and state DOT headquarters. We found the address for each state headquarters office and found that the average walkability rating for state DOT headquarters offices is a paltry 67.4. As any high school student can tell you, that’s a barely-passing “D” grade. Below is a slideshow of the eight state DOT offices with Walkscores below 50, which the site categorizes as “Car-Dependent.” We’ve ranked them from best (or: least horrible of the worst) to worst. Take a look, and then let us know how well the built environment around a your state’s DOT correlates to its consideration for walking, bicycling, and transit.

UPDATE: You can also click here to download the list of all 50 DOT offices, ranked by Walkscore.

“Ready, set, go!” / Photo: Dan Burden

In mid-December I was invited to participate in a listening session convened by the AARP and GOVERNING to consider the question of how local government can prepare for the so-called “Silver Tsunami” of Baby Boomers entering retirement. It was an impressive group that convened: leaders from Federal agencies; leaders from the many national non-profit organizations and associations that populate DC; even a few private sector individuals sprinkled in.

For us to have a common departure point for the morning’s discussion, we had to first define the Baby Boomers in broad strokes, a task that fell to Neil Howe. Howe may be the most widely read and influential generational theorist of our time. He delivered to us some stark statistics and observations: 25% of Boomers have no retirement savings; 26% have no personal savings (beyond a 401k); and the recession couldn’t have  hit at a worse time for the Boomers, who saw a 33% drop in median household net worth just as retirement looked to be approaching. The bottom line of those numbers is that the typical Boomer will work well past retirement age, and remain in his community, in his home. This conclusion is backed up by numerous surveys of Boomers who (overwhelmingly) indicate they’re staying put.

If you are wondering where the Harley Davidson-riding, little-blue-pill-popping “greedy geezers” went, you need to look to the “Silent Generation” (born 1925-1945) who cashed out near the peak of the housing market with generous defined benefit packages. (FYI: the highest median-net-worth cohort is households headed by someone 75 years and older.)

Howe’s words were a reality check for my fellow attendees, many of whom had reached the pinnacles of their careers, and as such were members of the Boomer cohort. I noticed many of them nodding in silent agreement as Howe detailed how the fates of the Boomers and their Millennial children were intertwined. As the Boomers approach retirement age, their children are emerging from college and graduate school saddled with oppressive debt and grim employment prospects. It is no wonder that the percentage of young adults (24-34 years old) living with their parents as doubled since 1980, from 11% to 22%.

The Baby Boomers were our first suburban generation, and it is in the suburban environ that many are likely to remain in retirement. By 2029, when the last Boomers reach retirement age, 1-in-5 Americans will be over 65. Before listening to Howe, I considered the notion of retrofitting suburbia to a more multimodal, mixed-use form to be a quaint, romantic, or even hubristic idea. Now such transformation appears to be a necessity.

Walkable neighborhoods are critical in creating livable, accessible places for senior citizens to live / Photo: Mark Plotz

Despite the tall task before us, I departed the discussion full of optimism because I heard from many people in the room about the importance of place, and the necessity for communities, neighborhoods, and developments that are supportive of walking, bicycling, and transit. These people weren’t ringers; they were drawn from all sectors including housing, finance, commercial development, health care, and governing.

Crisis can precipitate change, which can lead to better outcomes. The Silver Tsunami can be considered such an opportunity for those of us who desire a stronger sense of place, and a more sustainable transportation system to support it. Here are a few ideas that the AARP/GOVERNING discussion inspired for me:

• A deep distrust of institutions. According to Howe, Boomers have a deep distrust of institutions, and in the past have united to oppose war, racism, and environmental destruction. State DOTs remain some of our most opaque and entrenched institutions. Perhaps Boomers will start asking why, when we have passed peak driving, DOTs continue to follow the prime directive of increasing capacity.
• Mixed use in the rough. A major challenge to reducing vehicle miles traveled (VMT) in suburbia is the segregation of land uses and the distance between residential and retail. One way to solve this may be to start converting some of this country’s 16,000 golf courses, only one-third of which break even or actually turn a profit, into mixed use developments. Think about it: they’re often at the center of a neighborhood or community, they contain miles of cart paths that could become multiuse trails, and they’re not even in use for part of the year. (Of course, I don’t play the game, and if you suggest turning my pool or velodrome into a lifestyle center, then we’re going to have a problem!)
• We’re spending the money anyway. We spend billions annually to build un-walkable and un-bikeable junk; that money could just as easily be used to build something that supports sane transportation and land use. Yes, MAP-21 is problematic, but your state DOT has a tremendous amount of flexibility with what they can build using Surface Transportation funds. At the local level, The Man is constantly replacing out worn out roads, bridges, and water/sewer infrastructure, so go stick it to him when he shows up with the orange cones and bulldozers and tell him to complete your street. Groovy!