The Montreal Vacation When I Began My Car-Free-Full-Life
Fears made me hesitant, and travel experiences set me free, as I wrestled with the decision to start a car-free lifestyle.
“Ten years from now, we would like to search Google for a definition of constraint and see it include this: a limitation or defining parameter, often the stimulus to find a better way of doing something.”
—Adam Morgan and Mark Barden, A Beautiful Constraint: How to Transform Your Limitations Into Advantages, and Why It’s Everyone’s Business (p. 10).
Our only car died the day before we left for a vacation to Montreal in May 2017. As my partner Ed and I sat in a Montreal restaurant, having just ordered vegetarian poutine, my phone rang. I stepped outside to escape the noise of other diners and huddled under an overhang out of the rain. The mechanic's news was as grim as the weather: our six-year-old Volkswagen GTI needed a new engine to the tune of thousands of dollars.
I returned to the table without my appetite. The options, as I saw them, were to spend a lot of money fixing the car or spend a lot of money buying a new car. While we had saved for a rainy day, this was not the rainy day I had in mind. I did not want to invest in our Volkswagen, which was more of a money pit than an asset after replacing the transmission the year before.
I had almost resigned myself to the expense when Ed suggested a third budget-friendly approach: "What if we try living without a car?"
The Challenge
In Decatur, GA, where we lived at the time and still live today, car-free households are not typical, and I struggled to see how it could work. From our residential neighborhood, how would we get groceries, go to the doctor, make it to work on time, and visit family and friends?
Decatur is a city of 25,000 people that is part of metropolitan Atlanta’s rapidly growing population of over 6 million, which is known for being a car-dependent region. Atlanta has a high rate of vehicle ownership (about 94%, based on a 2020 US Census Bureau survey), limited public transportation for a city of its size, and suburban sprawl. Most people who have lived in, traveled through, or visited Atlanta are all too familiar with the city's congested roadways.
While living car-free in our community is not common, Decatur is the most walkable city in Georgia and more walkable than many other cities nationwide, according to WalkScore.com, which identifies Decatur as a “Walker’s Paradise.” Decatur also received the designation “GOLD Level Walk Friendly Community” by the Pedestrian and Bicycle Information Center and “Silver Level Bicycle Friendly Community” by the League of American Bicycles. All are relevant accolades to consider when contemplating a car-free lifestyle.
As we tried to imagine life without the car, Ed pointed out that Decatur is only 4.7 square miles, and we can both get to work on public transportation after a 15-minute walk to a MARTA station. We also shared one car for many years successfully. “Just for the summer,” he proposed, easing me into the idea.
I love living in Decatur, where small-town charm meets big-city amenities. Some residents say Decatur is “where Mayberry meets Berkeley.” However, I did not know if the size of my local community and proximity to stores and restaurants would be enough to sustain a car-free life. Even Andy Griffith’s Aunt Bee eventually bought a convertible and learned to drive.
The Fear
Logically, the decision to live car free made sense. We could save money instead of spending it, and living without a car for a few months would provide time to find a replacement vehicle. We could research our options as opposed to rushing into a decision.
Still, my heart raced, making laps around my mind, as I thought of living without a car in the driveway. I was scared and anxious. I worried about being stuck and lacking transportation, unable to get where I needed to go, especially in emergencies.
My daily routine had long involved sitting behind the wheel of a car. I learned to drive as soon as possible at age 15 and in the process only made my seven-year-old sister cry in fear once, that I can remember. By age 16, I piloted my family’s Astro minivan in all types of weather while balancing school, theater rehearsals, a part-time job, and helping my mom shuttle my brother and sister to activities.
As I struggled to unpack my trepidation about daily life without a car, I realized that having a vehicle had helped me in my most vulnerable moments. I'm a planner — a former Girl Scout who adopted the organization’s "be prepared" motto as her own — and a car had too often been my safety net.
I was 16 when a date ignored me after I said no. Because we were in my family’s minivan at the time, I escaped to the driver's seat, but the emotional scars lingered. When I asked him out, I thought he was dreamy, but for weeks to follow, dreams of the evening woke me in a panic.
A few years later, I again used my car to abruptly end a date after a man insisted on making me more than dinner at his apartment. I did not have to wait on him to take me home or for someone to pick me up, and I did not have to walk in the cold and the dark along an unfamiliar road to escape. I drove away.
My car symbolized freedom and independence, but not in a romantic, rose-colored glasses way of adventuring out to explore and chart my own identity. My car was a form of armor for me, as a woman in what felt like a man's world.
The Opportunity
While sitting in a hot tub on a ferry boat turned floating spa in the St. Lawrence River, celebrating my 41st birthday, I knew I no longer needed a car like I did twenty years ago. With only my head exposed to the cold night air, my thoughts cleared. I named my emotions and weighed the options. Then, as I calmly looked out at the lights of the Old Montreal skyline, snow began to fall. It was snowing in May!
The sight reminded me that joy can come from the unexpected, and slowing down enables us to notice beauty in our surroundings. Even moments when our best-laid plans fail or we push ourselves to do something outside our comfort zone can be opportunities to experience the world in a new and better way.
One cold afternoon during our visit to Montreal, Ed and I walked along Saint Laurent Boulevard from the Mile End neighborhood towards downtown. I had read about the city's street art scene and was curious to check it out. I expected to detour towards public transit quickly due to the unseasonably cold temperature, but we slowly walked the whole four miles back. The street art beckoned us forward. Giant paintings covered the exterior walls of buildings, beautiful works that captured our imagination and deserved our focus. We paused, admired, and took photos. Part of the fun was not knowing what lay ahead, crossing a street to discover another unique piece with its own story, often larger than life.
During our travels, street art has become something we seek out and document, and Montreal still has one of the most extensive collections we have seen so far — thousands of works of art line the city's long streets, as described in StreetArtBio’s helpful guide to Street Art City Walks: Montreal. We hope to return in June one day to experience MURAL Festival and watch talented artists create new murals in real-time.
I would also love to return to Restaurant Jérôme Ferrer Europa. During our 2017 visit, we savored a delicious and playful vegetarian tasting menu at Europa's original location on de la Montagne Street. The restaurant (now in a new location and rebranded as Restaurant Jérôme Ferrer: Europea) has earned many awards since it opened in 2002. Recently, on May 15, 2025, the restaurant added a Michelin star to its resume as part of the inaugural Michelin Guide Quebec, and the chef’s emotional reaction in this article made me tear up.
The trip to Montreal included another vivid travel memory I would like to repeat. We spent one evening at the Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal immersed in the AURA Experience, which had recently opened. The music and light show began in 2017 as part of the city's 375th anniversary celebration. The lights, sounds, and other multimedia effects highlighted the architecture, making me appreciate nuances I would have missed. Because of that show, I seek out evening performing arts events in historic landmarks when I visit new cities.
Travel for me is a time to learn about a city’s art, food, and history, but it is also a time to push myself physically and mentally. Travel inspires me to take measured risks and imagine new possibilities for my life, making Montreal a fitting setting to debate the value of car ownership with Ed. As we walked and talked about the drawbacks and benefits of a car-free life, it helped that none of these memorable Montreal experiences required me to own a vehicle.
The Decision
When we returned from vacation, we agreed to sell our horseless carriage (which would have been more useful at that point if it still had horsepower) and committed to the car-free experiment for the summer. A few car-free months have turned into eight car-free years — and counting.
We've saved money, which has helped fund our travels, but that's not why I've remained car-free. I've remained car-free because of benefits like built-in exercise and less stress. Walking outside and looking up at the sky brings me peace.
Sometimes we gain more by letting go than by holding on. I let go of the car, my armor, to live a meaningful, healthy, and happy life.
My purpose in writing on Car-Free-Full-Life is to create a record, a map, of why I continue to choose car-free living in the hopes that it may help someone else embrace "a limitation or defining parameter" and view it as "the stimulus to find a better way of doing something," as Morgan and Barden wish in A Beautiful Constraint (pg. 10). The decision to live car free can be a beautiful constraint that results in a life full of art, nature, community, and travel.
More than a lifestyle, Car-Free-Full-Life is a mantra, a guidepost to help me face challenges, overcome fears, and embrace adventure. I will write about making my way without a car and the joy I find on the journey. I will also talk about how I apply the lesson of letting go in other areas of my life so I can live to the fullest.
I am on a year-long quest to share several stories each month from the sidewalks and to amplify the stories of others that move me in between. Stories help us understand ourselves and the world around us, and sharing stories can help bridge our differences and build connections.
I hope you will join me on this journey — subscribe or follow — it’s free.
I would also love to get to know you and what prompted you to pause as our paths crossed. Are you curious about or already living a car-free life? Are you interested in reading stories focused on pursuing a full life? Do you love art and travel? Do you see storytelling as a method for creating community?
Ed and I enjoy meeting people while exploring Decatur and the wider world. Consider this my hello as we pass each other along these virtual streets. I look forward to your reply.
Until next time, without my armor,
Karyl