In the United States, we commonly associate road trips with freedom for good reasons: on the road, your choice of route is yours alone, and every stop sign and off-ramp holds possibility. On the road, your daily web of everyday responsibilities dissolves into a simple goal: get from here to there.

Of course, there has never been a worse time for the great American road trip than now. Gas prices are forcing many citizens to cut back on summer travel, and the specter of global warming makes our fossil-powered joyrides look just plain irresponsible.  With these things in mind, I recently set off on a bike tour of Vermont. Over 9 days, my friend Spencer and I did a 460-mile loop through the state, carrying a tent and the rest of our gear on our bikes, propelled by nothing but leg and lung power.  The goal, for me, was a road trip in tune with the times.

The most difficult part of our journey, it turned out, was not the riding itself, but the preparation. In rural Vermont, the distance between bike shops means you need to know basic repairs; how to fix a flat tire, a broken chain, or a wobbly wheel. I filled in some of the gaps in my knowledge with a visit to Times Up, a non-profit environmental organization in NYC with a bike co-op where volunteer mechanics will teach you to fix your own bike.

I spent about $220 gathering the necessary gear, from a chain tool and spoke wrench to bungee cords and energy bars. Of course, the cost of preparation was insignificant compared to the hundreds of dollars we would have spent on gas over 9 days of driving, to say nothing of the greenhouse gas emissions we avoided by biking. Even if you factor in the energy required to make your bike, and the elevated number of calories that you consume while riding, bicycles get thousands of miles to the gallon.

Our trip intersected with Memorial Day weekend, and with the Harley Davidson riders out in force, I couldn’t help but reflect smugly on what it must have cost to fill their hogs.

To map our route, we pulled out the atlas to find the quietest roads and calculate mileage. This was particularly important since our movement depended on your our own (limited) strength, rather than an internal combustion engine. Of course, accurately planning a route has never been easier, since you can verify everything with Google Maps, then refine it once you hit the road.

Before we knew it, we were standing on a street corner in Chinatown in New York City on an early Tuesday morning, waiting for the bus that would take us to our starting point in Albany. (We wanted the cheapest, if not necessarily the safest, route, and Chinatown buses are a steal, at $25 one way. They also let you carry bikes on the bus without boxing them, while Greyhound does not.

As we hit the road and began winding through Vermont, I reflected on the road trips of my youth, spent cozied up in the back of the family suburban. The difference with biking was immediately apparent: on a bike, you notice more.

Geography takes on heightened meaning, as mountain passes that are little more than large hills in an automobile begin to teach you life lessons about hard work. You note changing smells, like manure and soil as you enter farm country.

By the trips end, I was sunburned and bug bitten, and much stiffer than when I began. But the bike trip also reminded me of something that is easy to forget in an age when most of our needs can be met by flipping a switch or stepping on the gas: If I really need to get somewhere, I can do it myself.
 

Way before I knew anything about the coming solar and wind energy revolution, I was using the sun that comes through our kitchen window to defrost frozen fish, heat up burritos and plump up bread dough. I'd dry my hair by riding my bike downhill. On hiking trips, I "cooked" our food in the perfect solar cooker-my car dashboard on a summer day. I also used to set my ceramic artwork out in the sun to harden and dry-instant kiln! Sure, these techniques took more time than zapping something in the microwave, plugging in the hairdryer or heating up our gas oven, but it's fun and free to work with nature.

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I've avoided it for 24 years, thanks to living in big cities, but now that I'm moving back to Connecticut, I can no longer deny it - I need to buy a car. Unfortunately, cars are not like houses, which you earn equity on. The moment you drive a brand new car off the lot, it starts to depreciate in value drastically. Of course, we can't forget the eco-implications of having a car: oil changes, burning fossil fuels, buying something that is mass produced … etc. Thanks to my car-need realization, I began delving into the world of green automobiles last month. You know what I found? Numerous choices, most of them out of my price range. Add on the choice of what type of eco-car to buy (gas hybrid, electric hybrid, ethanol-ready, biodiesel-ready … etc) and you've got one frustrated consumer. If I had the opportunity, I'd save for the new Chevrolet Volt, which is scheduled to be released in 2 years. Reality check: That is 2 years from now. I need a car in 3 months. So, back to the drawing board - and to the Yahoo! Autos Green Center. Those little Smart cars are adorable - I could pick one of those up in NYC after I get back to the East Coast. Reality check: Those suckers are small! For just a bit more, I could get a brand new Prius. I doubt a Smart car would handle the Connecticut winters very well either. Having a Toyota Prius Hybrid or a Honda Civic Hybrid would be a joy! Reality check: they both start around $23,000 for a 2008 model. Then it hit me … used cars. Duh! While buying a used car can be a stressful process (if you work with an obnoxious used car dealer), it will cost you much less and save from having to use fresh resources to build a new car. Yes, there is the undeniable issue of fuel efficiency, but there are a number of ways to improve that. If you are willing to make an investment, you can buy a kit to turn you current vehicle into a hybrid (or pay someone to do it for you). You can also shop around, and compare MPG's of used cars- be sure to check the engine type and any options packages (sports options can make a fuel-efficient car into a bit of a guzzler) against published reports. Some smaller cars can have very good fuel economy, even it they aren't hybrids (the Honda Fit is an example).

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