I went car-free in the suburbs when my vehicle needed repairs. I'm happier and healthier, and wish I did it sooner.

• I chose to live car-free in suburban America after my car required expensive repairs.
• I learned that I really enjoyed walking to work, and soon, I tried biking.

In early 2014, the clutch of my once-reliable Volkswagen started to stick. My hatchback had helped me survive a Los Angeles commute and a reporting job in the Gold Country foothills. But a decade of service had worn it down. Now it was struggling to change gears and screeched every time I put my foot on the brake.

Facing thousands of dollars in repairs, I decided to take a leap into a different kind of existence: life without a vehicle in suburban America.

Commuting suddenly became a joy

That leap turned out to be more of a short walk. At the time, my wife and I were renting a three-bedroom with two housemates in the South Berkeley flats. It was run-down, with a hole in the bathroom wall covered by a tarp. But it was only a few blocks from the nearest BART station, and now I had to take the train to work.

The 10-minute walk took me past a row of colorful houses and apartments, red-and-yellow nasturtiums poking from their yards. The crisp morning air hit my lungs like freshly brewed coffee. The train ride, too, gave me precious time to read. Before selling my car, I had never considered myself a morning person; a week or so after starting my new routine, I was often downright perky. The stroll became a highlight of my days. It bookended hectic workdays, a walking meditation that prepared me for the meetings and emails ahead and calmed me after a day of go, go, go.

After a few months of this, I wanted to try biking to my office in downtown Oakland. I had assumed the ride would take me twice as long as my current journey. It turned out swapping the train for two wheels took a bit more sweat, but no more time at all. I could scarcely believe it.

If walking was a shot of caffeine, biking felt like playtime. The cool breeze in my face, the soft morning light, the blood pumping through my veins — it was invigorating. Getting on the saddle was my choice, but what kept me there was good policy. Berkeley and Oakland had invested in the bike boulevards and painted lanes that made my ride safe and pleasant. My route took me under freeways, but most of the streets I took were so quiet that I could hear birds singing. Some days I wanted to join them.

I'd gained 10 or so pounds over a decade of sedentary office life, but these rides started to melt them off and add new muscle. More importantly, I felt more energetic than I had in years. When I did take the train, I bounded up the station steps without losing my breath.

Those rides also introduced me to communities I had not previously known. Berkeley and the Bay Area's history of redlining, and other government-backed policies had left a region still so segregated that in my years living there, I had never visited many of the neighborhoods along my new route. Chance and geography played a part, as well as the fact that I'm white, those areas are majority Black and Latine, and those policy-driven divides persist. Now I had a reason not just to pass through, but to come back. I became a customer of a bike shop along my route, and I passed restaurants I flagged for later visits. (Saving on gas and train fare left me money to spend, after all.)

I may have been forced by an enormous repair bill, but I also gave up my car to take a personal stand against climate change — and the anxiety it inspires. For years I had wanted to try living without a car, and California's then-disastrous drought was a reminder of the stakes. I know for many it is hard, due to children, physical limitations, or where one can afford to live. But for me, it turned out to be a blessing, not a burden; I found it was simply a better way to live. I now work from home, and have left the suburbs, but I still live car-free.

There were also some downsides, but I found workarounds

There were challenges too, of course. On the summer days that I biked, I had to take it slow to avoid arriving at the office in a sweaty mess. Rain meant I got soaked or switched back to the train, as I did after occasional sports injuries. Visiting the doctor or friends now often took longer than before. Weekend trips would have been especially tough, but my wife kept her car.

I know living without a vehicle is not as easy everywhere or for everyone. Since selling my car, I've lived and stayed in many places that were far from public transit, let alone within a reasonable biking distance from my job or friends. Sometimes electric bikes and scooters have made those longer trips possible, and when necessary I have turned to taxis or rideshares.

I also know that my income, lack of kids, and remote job has made it easier to live where it's more feasible to get around without a car, while those without such luxuries are often stuck behind the wheel for hours-long commutes. I wish more Americans had the freedom to choose a different life.

Giving up my car has made me healthier, happier, and more connected to my neighbors than before. I had to take the first step, but it was policy and public investments (like those currently underway) that made my new car-free life not just possible, but pleasant.

What I regret is waiting so long to take that first step, and I do wish I had tried earlier to bike, or at least looked up how long it would take. Even a half-step might have convinced me: my brother-in-law, for example, drives part of his commute, then bikes the rest. I had been conditioned to think quitting driving was impossible. Instead, it was one of the best decisions I've ever made.