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MARTA NPR
Mar. 20th, 2007 | 10:39 am
Did anyone hear about MARTA on NPR yesterday? They were talking about the new technology they are using for the advertisements on the sides of the buses.
here's the story
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/stor
Ive only seen the ReMax ad.
.v.
here's the story
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/stor
Ive only seen the ReMax ad.
.v.
Link | Leave a comment {1} | Add to Memories | Share
John Francis
Jan. 23rd, 2007 | 11:13 am
From the L.A. Times care of Ben.
His own silent spring
By John M. Glionna, Times Staff Writer
January 23, 2007
Point Reyes Station, Calif. — IN his determined style, environmentalist John Francis juggles a busy speaking schedule at schools, colleges and Earth-friendly conferences nationwide.
He's in such demand in large part because from 1973 to 1990, Francis refused to utter a single word, stubbornly keeping a vow of silence as a protest against pollution. He also swore off motor vehicles and walked wherever he went.
Francis engaged the modern culture he sought to change. A five-string banjo strung across his back, looking like a bearded roustabout from a Woody Guthrie anthem, he hiked across the country. He worked odd jobs to pay his bills and even taught classes without talking.
He stopped along the way to get bachelor's, master's and doctoral degrees, all in science and related environmental studies. He wore out 100 pairs of shoes.
Some people, including his own family, questioned his sanity. Still, Francis slowly gained national notoriety. He became the subject of hundreds of newspaper and TV stories in the communities he passed through. He was asked to give silent speeches in many towns.
Never compromising, he communicated in a colorful flurry of pantomime, eye contact, scrawled notes, poems, watercolors and banjo tunes.
For years, he didn't laugh. Instead, when the urge struck him, he slapped his knee in a gesture of mirth that unsettled many friends. When a college music composition instructor insisted he sing scales, Francis found a middle ground: He hummed.
Now he is 60, and wherever he goes, people ask about The Journey. Was he haunted by his own thoughts? How hard was it to begin speaking again after all those years?
"The first thing people want to know is, 'How did you make a living?' " he said. "They'll say, 'You talked out loud to yourself, right?' But I never did that."
People often ask if he went mute to shut the world out. But that wasn't the goal at all.
*
IN 1972, Francis drew the line on so-called modern progress.
Incensed by the havoc caused by an oil spill in San Francisco Bay, he decided to give up his "60-mile-an-hour habit." He lived in Marin County and began walking everywhere. At the start of his vow, Francis wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish. He hoped people would follow his lead in forgoing motor vehicles, but no one did.
Then one day he stopped talking.
"The silence was really meant to be for one day — as well as a gift to my community because I felt I talked too much — not to prove anything," he said. "As it went on, I realized that the vow of silence was really a gift to myself."
As Francis notes in a self-published book he wrote about his travels, even his own father questioned his so-called word fast.
"Things are difficult enough for black folks without you tying a stone around your neck," Francis' book relates his father, John, saying. "What do you think you're doing? Man, just stop this foolishness and start driving and saying something, because right now you ain't saying anything."
Still, his choice launched Francis on an odyssey.
In 1983, he began what he envisioned would be a silent one-man walk around the world. Along the way, he communicated with a mix of fluttering hands, bobbing, nodding and facial expressions.
Other times, he showed a piece of paper explaining his quest.
"This is to introduce John Francis, who gave up the use of motor vehicles not long after an oil spill in San Francisco Bay in 1972…. Since 1973, John has maintained a vow of silence."
His slip-ups were rare. Once he excused himself after accidentally burping in front of a fellow shopper in a grocery store. Alone in some motel, watching Charlton Heston as Moses raising his hands to part the Red Sea, he involuntarily gasped, "Oh, my God!"
Some people he met disdained him as another misguided wanderer looking for attention. Others offered him food and shelter. When money ran low, he worked odd jobs such as boat builder and printer. He sold paintings and watercolors he'd drawn on his travels. He played his banjo for handouts.
Along the way, he educated himself. He applied for scholarships and other funding. While he studied for his bachelor's degree in general studies at Southern Oregon State College in Ashland, locals impressed by his silence urged him to run for City Council. He declined.
Later, while earning his master's degree in environmental studies at the University of Montana, Francis taught classes without talking. He earned a PhD at the University of Wisconsin studying the societal costs of oil spills and their cleanup.
His classes were often a frustrating exercise in charades. "Sometimes, what the class thought I was saying wasn't what I meant," he said. "But what we finally agreed upon was better than what I meant."
Some professors wondered if Francis' antics were a way to dodge coursework. Others challenged him to his face.
"People came up and said they knew somebody, a grandfather or daughter, who was deaf and couldn't speak. They said, 'You can talk and you won't. You're a phony,' " Francis recalled. "I never argued with them. I tried to listen."
Still, the silence spoke to many.
"The power of John's statement is its intimacy," said Roger Dunsmore, a former University of Montana professor. "His choice of silence was deeply personal. He managed to teach something to just about everyone he came in contact with. About the environment and all the jabber of modern society."
Most students took Francis' odd teaching methods in stride.
"At first I didn't think it was fair our leader didn't talk, and that the other groups had ones that did," one student wrote in a teacher evaluation. "But all of that has changed and I feel that I have learned a lot more than I would have otherwise."
Meanwhile, Francis' idea of "the environment" changed. "At first it was all about oil pollution, loss of habitat, cutting down trees," he said. "It evolved into a deeper meaning: how humans treat each other when they meet, opening dialogues so we can talk about things like saving the Earth."
On each birthday, Francis asked himself a difficult question: Did his vow still feel right? Should he start talking again?
He chose Earth Day 1990 to break his long silence. The night before, he did his last silent interview, appearing on "The Charlie Rose Show" on PBS.
Then came the news conference in a Washington, D.C., hotel room, where Francis uttered his first purposeful sentence in 17 years: "Thank you for being here."
As his book, "Planetwalker: How to Change Your World One Step at a Time," describes: "The words are almost inaudible, the voice unrecognizable. I turn to see where the words have come from. There is no one standing behind me. I have spoken them. I wait for the lightning to strike, but it does not."
The day after the news conference, Francis was hit by a car in Washington, D.C., suffering a shoulder injury. But he stuck to his no-vehicle vow and talked an ambulance crew into letting him walk to the hospital.
Still, his life changed in unexpected ways when he reentered the speaking realm.
He was named a goodwill ambassador for the United Nations Environment Program. The U.S. Coast Guard hired him to help write oil spill regulations after the Exxon Valdez disaster in Alaska. He was in New Jersey when a Coast Guard official called to offer the job, asking him to report to Washington, D.C., immediately. Francis offered to ride his bike.
"OK," the exasperated official answered. "But hurry."
After that job, Francis kept walking. He crossed parts of Cuba and South America, reaching his starting point by sailboat.
One day in Venezuela, he had an epiphany that prompted him to ride in motor vehicles again after 22 years. It came while passing a barbed-wired penitentiary.
"I realized I had put myself in this box, this prison," he said, "and that I had to let myself out."
In the end, Francis' critics came around — even his father.
One day the elder Francis, an electrical lineman and foreman, turned to his son and suddenly said: "You know, I don't think you're crazy anymore."
*
ROBERT Holt was driving to meet the mime-like character he hadn't seen in nearly two decades. In 1989, as a reporter for the Gettysburg Times, he profiled John Francis as he passed through the historic Pennsylvania town.
Last year, en route to the reunion, Holt realized that he had never heard Francis speak.
"I stopped and bought him a tape recorder," said Holt, now a freelance writer. Francis accepted the gift, but Holt immediately saw his error.
"How could I give this man a machine?" he said. "His whole message is, 'Let's see how much we can do in life without all the machines harmful to our world.' "
Over the last two years, Francis has begun retracing the steps of his epic cross-country trip — walking sections bit by bit, time permitting. This time, though, he invites others, like Holt, to walk with him. And he's using Holt's tape recorder — as well as a digital recorder for podcasts from the road.
On this latest walk, he's coordinating with groups such as Rotary and the Lions Club to arrange speaking gigs on issues such as climate change and the environment, trying to do what he calls "creating a community."
Through his nonprofit group Planetwalk — http://www.planetwalk.org— ; he advocates Earth stewardship through human interaction. Francis may write another book on his second national walk. A feature-length film about his life is also in the works.
Meanwhile, he flies 100,000 miles a year for speaking engagements and works as an environmental consultant.
"In the end, John was honest with himself," said Dunsmore, the former University of Montana professor. "Can one man change the world by not talking? Maybe not. But John's little statement has snowballed. He's reaching people."
Today, Francis' dreadlocks are gone, and he drives a hybrid car around Point Reyes Station, where he lives and keeps an office. And The Journey continues.
His parents are both dead. Now he's the father of two young sons. This summer, he'll join Native American activists on a 2,000-mile canoe trip on the Yukon River to highlight Alaska's environmental causes.
At home, Francis starts each day with a four-mile walk, a solitary figure who still prefers navigating life at the contemplative speed of 3 miles an hour.
When he stopped talking all those years ago, the aim wasn't to "shut out people, but to experience my own silence."
And silence taught Francis something profound: the art of listening. He no longer tunes out speakers while mentally preparing his next remark. He won't stop listening altogether when he hears something that doesn't jibe with his own beliefs.
"I am still learning to listen," he said, "learning not to be afraid of hearing different voices, learning because I don't believe you ever really get there."
His own silent spring
By John M. Glionna, Times Staff Writer
January 23, 2007
Point Reyes Station, Calif. — IN his determined style, environmentalist John Francis juggles a busy speaking schedule at schools, colleges and Earth-friendly conferences nationwide.
He's in such demand in large part because from 1973 to 1990, Francis refused to utter a single word, stubbornly keeping a vow of silence as a protest against pollution. He also swore off motor vehicles and walked wherever he went.
Francis engaged the modern culture he sought to change. A five-string banjo strung across his back, looking like a bearded roustabout from a Woody Guthrie anthem, he hiked across the country. He worked odd jobs to pay his bills and even taught classes without talking.
He stopped along the way to get bachelor's, master's and doctoral degrees, all in science and related environmental studies. He wore out 100 pairs of shoes.
Some people, including his own family, questioned his sanity. Still, Francis slowly gained national notoriety. He became the subject of hundreds of newspaper and TV stories in the communities he passed through. He was asked to give silent speeches in many towns.
Never compromising, he communicated in a colorful flurry of pantomime, eye contact, scrawled notes, poems, watercolors and banjo tunes.
For years, he didn't laugh. Instead, when the urge struck him, he slapped his knee in a gesture of mirth that unsettled many friends. When a college music composition instructor insisted he sing scales, Francis found a middle ground: He hummed.
Now he is 60, and wherever he goes, people ask about The Journey. Was he haunted by his own thoughts? How hard was it to begin speaking again after all those years?
"The first thing people want to know is, 'How did you make a living?' " he said. "They'll say, 'You talked out loud to yourself, right?' But I never did that."
People often ask if he went mute to shut the world out. But that wasn't the goal at all.
*
IN 1972, Francis drew the line on so-called modern progress.
Incensed by the havoc caused by an oil spill in San Francisco Bay, he decided to give up his "60-mile-an-hour habit." He lived in Marin County and began walking everywhere. At the start of his vow, Francis wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish. He hoped people would follow his lead in forgoing motor vehicles, but no one did.
Then one day he stopped talking.
"The silence was really meant to be for one day — as well as a gift to my community because I felt I talked too much — not to prove anything," he said. "As it went on, I realized that the vow of silence was really a gift to myself."
As Francis notes in a self-published book he wrote about his travels, even his own father questioned his so-called word fast.
"Things are difficult enough for black folks without you tying a stone around your neck," Francis' book relates his father, John, saying. "What do you think you're doing? Man, just stop this foolishness and start driving and saying something, because right now you ain't saying anything."
Still, his choice launched Francis on an odyssey.
In 1983, he began what he envisioned would be a silent one-man walk around the world. Along the way, he communicated with a mix of fluttering hands, bobbing, nodding and facial expressions.
Other times, he showed a piece of paper explaining his quest.
"This is to introduce John Francis, who gave up the use of motor vehicles not long after an oil spill in San Francisco Bay in 1972…. Since 1973, John has maintained a vow of silence."
His slip-ups were rare. Once he excused himself after accidentally burping in front of a fellow shopper in a grocery store. Alone in some motel, watching Charlton Heston as Moses raising his hands to part the Red Sea, he involuntarily gasped, "Oh, my God!"
Some people he met disdained him as another misguided wanderer looking for attention. Others offered him food and shelter. When money ran low, he worked odd jobs such as boat builder and printer. He sold paintings and watercolors he'd drawn on his travels. He played his banjo for handouts.
Along the way, he educated himself. He applied for scholarships and other funding. While he studied for his bachelor's degree in general studies at Southern Oregon State College in Ashland, locals impressed by his silence urged him to run for City Council. He declined.
Later, while earning his master's degree in environmental studies at the University of Montana, Francis taught classes without talking. He earned a PhD at the University of Wisconsin studying the societal costs of oil spills and their cleanup.
His classes were often a frustrating exercise in charades. "Sometimes, what the class thought I was saying wasn't what I meant," he said. "But what we finally agreed upon was better than what I meant."
Some professors wondered if Francis' antics were a way to dodge coursework. Others challenged him to his face.
"People came up and said they knew somebody, a grandfather or daughter, who was deaf and couldn't speak. They said, 'You can talk and you won't. You're a phony,' " Francis recalled. "I never argued with them. I tried to listen."
Still, the silence spoke to many.
"The power of John's statement is its intimacy," said Roger Dunsmore, a former University of Montana professor. "His choice of silence was deeply personal. He managed to teach something to just about everyone he came in contact with. About the environment and all the jabber of modern society."
Most students took Francis' odd teaching methods in stride.
"At first I didn't think it was fair our leader didn't talk, and that the other groups had ones that did," one student wrote in a teacher evaluation. "But all of that has changed and I feel that I have learned a lot more than I would have otherwise."
Meanwhile, Francis' idea of "the environment" changed. "At first it was all about oil pollution, loss of habitat, cutting down trees," he said. "It evolved into a deeper meaning: how humans treat each other when they meet, opening dialogues so we can talk about things like saving the Earth."
On each birthday, Francis asked himself a difficult question: Did his vow still feel right? Should he start talking again?
He chose Earth Day 1990 to break his long silence. The night before, he did his last silent interview, appearing on "The Charlie Rose Show" on PBS.
Then came the news conference in a Washington, D.C., hotel room, where Francis uttered his first purposeful sentence in 17 years: "Thank you for being here."
As his book, "Planetwalker: How to Change Your World One Step at a Time," describes: "The words are almost inaudible, the voice unrecognizable. I turn to see where the words have come from. There is no one standing behind me. I have spoken them. I wait for the lightning to strike, but it does not."
The day after the news conference, Francis was hit by a car in Washington, D.C., suffering a shoulder injury. But he stuck to his no-vehicle vow and talked an ambulance crew into letting him walk to the hospital.
Still, his life changed in unexpected ways when he reentered the speaking realm.
He was named a goodwill ambassador for the United Nations Environment Program. The U.S. Coast Guard hired him to help write oil spill regulations after the Exxon Valdez disaster in Alaska. He was in New Jersey when a Coast Guard official called to offer the job, asking him to report to Washington, D.C., immediately. Francis offered to ride his bike.
"OK," the exasperated official answered. "But hurry."
After that job, Francis kept walking. He crossed parts of Cuba and South America, reaching his starting point by sailboat.
One day in Venezuela, he had an epiphany that prompted him to ride in motor vehicles again after 22 years. It came while passing a barbed-wired penitentiary.
"I realized I had put myself in this box, this prison," he said, "and that I had to let myself out."
In the end, Francis' critics came around — even his father.
One day the elder Francis, an electrical lineman and foreman, turned to his son and suddenly said: "You know, I don't think you're crazy anymore."
*
ROBERT Holt was driving to meet the mime-like character he hadn't seen in nearly two decades. In 1989, as a reporter for the Gettysburg Times, he profiled John Francis as he passed through the historic Pennsylvania town.
Last year, en route to the reunion, Holt realized that he had never heard Francis speak.
"I stopped and bought him a tape recorder," said Holt, now a freelance writer. Francis accepted the gift, but Holt immediately saw his error.
"How could I give this man a machine?" he said. "His whole message is, 'Let's see how much we can do in life without all the machines harmful to our world.' "
Over the last two years, Francis has begun retracing the steps of his epic cross-country trip — walking sections bit by bit, time permitting. This time, though, he invites others, like Holt, to walk with him. And he's using Holt's tape recorder — as well as a digital recorder for podcasts from the road.
On this latest walk, he's coordinating with groups such as Rotary and the Lions Club to arrange speaking gigs on issues such as climate change and the environment, trying to do what he calls "creating a community."
Through his nonprofit group Planetwalk — http://www.planetwalk.org— ; he advocates Earth stewardship through human interaction. Francis may write another book on his second national walk. A feature-length film about his life is also in the works.
Meanwhile, he flies 100,000 miles a year for speaking engagements and works as an environmental consultant.
"In the end, John was honest with himself," said Dunsmore, the former University of Montana professor. "Can one man change the world by not talking? Maybe not. But John's little statement has snowballed. He's reaching people."
Today, Francis' dreadlocks are gone, and he drives a hybrid car around Point Reyes Station, where he lives and keeps an office. And The Journey continues.
His parents are both dead. Now he's the father of two young sons. This summer, he'll join Native American activists on a 2,000-mile canoe trip on the Yukon River to highlight Alaska's environmental causes.
At home, Francis starts each day with a four-mile walk, a solitary figure who still prefers navigating life at the contemplative speed of 3 miles an hour.
When he stopped talking all those years ago, the aim wasn't to "shut out people, but to experience my own silence."
And silence taught Francis something profound: the art of listening. He no longer tunes out speakers while mentally preparing his next remark. He won't stop listening altogether when he hears something that doesn't jibe with his own beliefs.
"I am still learning to listen," he said, "learning not to be afraid of hearing different voices, learning because I don't believe you ever really get there."
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Warning Your Bike will be Towed
Jan. 23rd, 2007 | 10:16 am
Apparently you can't ride up to the Georgia State Government building, the one on MLK where the Veterans Memorial is (the one with the porch swings).
Or your bike will be towed! I wonder if they have a tow-bicycle.
Or your bike will be towed! I wonder if they have a tow-bicycle.
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Drive-Throughs
Jan. 2nd, 2007 | 08:20 pm
I have this idea for a funny short film on the US obsession with the automobile that documents someone's day and all the things they do using the drive-through.
For example: The people get up in the morning get some coffee at the drive-through chain coffeeshop, hits the bank drive-through for some cash, gets their prescription filled at the drive-through pharmacy, picks up their dry cleaning at the dry cleaner drive-through (I have seen these), but now they are hungry from all the driving around. So they head to the drive-through of their favorite fast food restaurant. Next they drop off their books at the drive-through book return at the library (Decatur has one), drop off their mail at a drive up post office mailbox, pull through a car wash, and swing by the package store drive-through. Finally, they end their day at the drive-in movie theater.
I ran across an article dated July 7, 2006 saying that KFC plans to open 100 drive-throughs in China in the next three years (they already have four operating). Not progress in my mind.
lrps
For example: The people get up in the morning get some coffee at the drive-through chain coffeeshop, hits the bank drive-through for some cash, gets their prescription filled at the drive-through pharmacy, picks up their dry cleaning at the dry cleaner drive-through (I have seen these), but now they are hungry from all the driving around. So they head to the drive-through of their favorite fast food restaurant. Next they drop off their books at the drive-through book return at the library (Decatur has one), drop off their mail at a drive up post office mailbox, pull through a car wash, and swing by the package store drive-through. Finally, they end their day at the drive-in movie theater.
I ran across an article dated July 7, 2006 saying that KFC plans to open 100 drive-throughs in China in the next three years (they already have four operating). Not progress in my mind.
lrps
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Federal Appeals Court rules EPA has to enforce CAA
Dec. 29th, 2006 | 07:03 pm
If you ever wondered how Atlanta can get by promising to get back in compliance with the Clean Air Act and seemingly not ever making much progress on actually improving air quality, this all might have to change. However, a court ruling is far from the actual enforcement necessary so we will have to wait and see how the EPA actually implements it. How heavy a hand are the feds willing to take?
lrps
More breathing room
Ruling would lead to cleaner air in metro Atlanta, with added bonus of higher profile for mass transit
AJC editorial, Published on: 12/29/06
In a victory for everyone who breathes, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia has ruled that the federal Environmental Protection Agency is too lax at enforcing air quality standards. If it stands, the decision could bring cleaner air, faster, to cities like Atlanta.
A welcome side effect is the likelihood that greater reliance on mass transit would have to be part of Atlanta's response to requirements of the federal Clean Air Act.
For years, metro Atlanta has received extensions after failing to meet deadlines for clean air standards. The court decision last week should force the state of Georgia to address the issue more aggressively, according to David Farren, an attorney with the Southern Environmental Law Center.
"It makes more sense to deal with the problem than get an extension," said Farren. The state would have to produce a plan to improve air quality by a mandated level each year, he said. A strategy for dealing with transportation, which produces much of the emissions that contribute to smog, also would have to be addressed. No longer could Atlanta simply hope that the weather cooperates in the summer, when smog normally reaches unhealthy levels.
Both requirements are welcome. While metro Atlanta air quality has improved, it's not good. In fact, the American Lung Association ranks the city as the ninth most-polluted; there are days when Atlanta's air has been unhealthy even for individuals who do not suffer from asthma or other lung ailments.
In its ruling, a three-member panel of the appeals court held that under the Bush administration the EPA improperly relaxed air quality rules when it changed regulations in 2004. That left "too much wiggle room," according to Farren. The effect was to potentially delay improvements in air quality, he said.
If the EPA has the public's interest at heart, the agency will not appeal the decision, but accept the ruling and carry out its job of protecting citizens.
Lawmakers in Georgia can do their part by realizing that building more roads is not going to resolve metro Atlanta's air quality crisis. That leaves mass transit as the logical option to help clean up the air while easing traffic congestion.
There be will room for individuals to contribute to cleaner air, too. Car-pooling, using mass transit and walking or bicycling when possible instead of driving will help.
Everyone who breathes needs to take part.
David McNaughton, for the editorial board
lrps
More breathing room
Ruling would lead to cleaner air in metro Atlanta, with added bonus of higher profile for mass transit
AJC editorial, Published on: 12/29/06
In a victory for everyone who breathes, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia has ruled that the federal Environmental Protection Agency is too lax at enforcing air quality standards. If it stands, the decision could bring cleaner air, faster, to cities like Atlanta.
A welcome side effect is the likelihood that greater reliance on mass transit would have to be part of Atlanta's response to requirements of the federal Clean Air Act.
For years, metro Atlanta has received extensions after failing to meet deadlines for clean air standards. The court decision last week should force the state of Georgia to address the issue more aggressively, according to David Farren, an attorney with the Southern Environmental Law Center.
"It makes more sense to deal with the problem than get an extension," said Farren. The state would have to produce a plan to improve air quality by a mandated level each year, he said. A strategy for dealing with transportation, which produces much of the emissions that contribute to smog, also would have to be addressed. No longer could Atlanta simply hope that the weather cooperates in the summer, when smog normally reaches unhealthy levels.
Both requirements are welcome. While metro Atlanta air quality has improved, it's not good. In fact, the American Lung Association ranks the city as the ninth most-polluted; there are days when Atlanta's air has been unhealthy even for individuals who do not suffer from asthma or other lung ailments.
In its ruling, a three-member panel of the appeals court held that under the Bush administration the EPA improperly relaxed air quality rules when it changed regulations in 2004. That left "too much wiggle room," according to Farren. The effect was to potentially delay improvements in air quality, he said.
If the EPA has the public's interest at heart, the agency will not appeal the decision, but accept the ruling and carry out its job of protecting citizens.
Lawmakers in Georgia can do their part by realizing that building more roads is not going to resolve metro Atlanta's air quality crisis. That leaves mass transit as the logical option to help clean up the air while easing traffic congestion.
There be will room for individuals to contribute to cleaner air, too. Car-pooling, using mass transit and walking or bicycling when possible instead of driving will help.
Everyone who breathes needs to take part.
David McNaughton, for the editorial board
Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Share
NEPH Conf
Dec. 7th, 2006 | 12:27 am
Yesterday I had the chance to go to the National Environmental Public Health Conference in Atlanta. I went to the early plenary sessions to hear this guy speak. His panel was really encouraging to me as I try to navigate my way through the overlap of public health and urban planning.
Please check out his link and listen to some of the things he has to say from this radio interview (link above).
.v.
Please check out his link and listen to some of the things he has to say from this radio interview (link above).
.v.
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interactive bike map
Dec. 4th, 2006 | 03:09 pm
I found this site today through the SOPO site. It is an interactive google map interface that allows you to enter your own bike routes. pretty sweet.
Let's grow this.
http://www.wayfaring.com/maps/show/1049
.v.
Let's grow this.
http://www.wayfaring.com/maps/show/1049
.v.
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New MARTA Maps
Nov. 29th, 2006 | 10:06 am
Has anybody seen the new MARTA maps on the trains? I have seen two new ones recently on my way to and from the airport for Thanksgiving break. One was the standard blue (E-W) and orange (N-S) but with a couple added lines. A few were bus lines, maybe attempting to identify new BRT routes. I think they also had proposed NEW rail lines on the map. The second map I saw had several new colors. One was green (I think) for the Procter Creek line between Candler Park and Bankhead. The other difference was using separate colors for the Doarville and North Springs lines. This is sort of misleading since half the time you half to take all north trains to Lindburgh in order to catch the North Springs.
Even though this change didn't reflect any radically new service options for users I was more impressed than I had ever been by the maps. I think it explains a lot that was previously left to the user to figure out. It made our transit system look more substantial. I couldn't find any images on the website but I will try to take a picture next time I'm on the train.
this is a cool site that has nothing to do with these new maps
.v.
Even though this change didn't reflect any radically new service options for users I was more impressed than I had ever been by the maps. I think it explains a lot that was previously left to the user to figure out. It made our transit system look more substantial. I couldn't find any images on the website but I will try to take a picture next time I'm on the train.
this is a cool site that has nothing to do with these new maps
.v.
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people vs. planners
Nov. 28th, 2006 | 09:45 am
Here is a recent article out of Seattle about new ideas to locate residences and jobs in the same place. The article reports that people just aren't doing what the planners had intended for them to do. Nothing new there. It seems that people would rather spend less money on their homes and more money on cars and fuel. They must also prefer stress and lost time spent commuting to a bigger mortgage (and possibly more equity).
How can this change?
Should it change?
Let me hear it.
.v.
How can this change?
Should it change?
Let me hear it.
.v.
