I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this Slate article, in which writer Tom Vanderbilt argues that in the movies not owning a car is shorthand for being a loser, a criminal, or a freak.

Growing up in L.A., public transportation was a major part of my life.   My mother did not have a driver’s license and I didn’t acquire one until I was 24.   (My mother later got her license at age 50 in the Bay Area.)   My father did the family’s driving, but there were times when our car was in the shop and then the whole family took mass transit.   I took the bus with my mother to kindergarten, walked with friends to elementary school, and later in high school got back on the bus to visit friends in places as distant as Pasadena and Santa Monica.

As an adult, I now have a car that I drive every day (though rarely more than five miles from home) and so I feel somewhat hypocritical extolling the virtues of not driving to other L.A. residents.   But as I prepare to move to a new neighborhood, I’ve been looking for those that are close to buses or the subway and walking distance from shops and restaurants.

The Slate article reminds us that in addition to addressing the major issues of public transportation, accessibility, and infrastructure that plague Los Angeles, there needs to be a cultural shift.   Not driving needs to start seeming normal, not a condition of last resort.   As long as we as a city consider public transportation as something fit only for the elderly, destitute, disabled, or others who have no other choice, anyone who simply chooses to take a bus or a train seems eccentric at best.

And yet, I know several perfectly “normal” people who do not drive, just as my mother did not.   So I thought it might be worthwhile to interview a few of them to see how they do it, and why, and to show others that living in L.A. without a car is not only possible, it can be preferable.

To start, I sent my friend Diane Meyer, a photographer, Assistant Professor at Loyola Marymount University, and normal car-less L.A. resident, a series of questions.

Q: How long have you lived in L.A. without a car?

A: I have been without a car in Los Angeles since January 2008. I came to L.A. in July of 2005 for a new job. I am originally from New Jersey, but had been living in Brooklyn for several years beforehand where I did not need a car.

Q: Where in L.A. do you live?   Did being car-free affect your choice of neighborhood?

A: I lived in the same apartment from July 2005 to February 2010 and so I chose my apartment when I did have a car and accessibility to mass transit was completely off my radar. I lived on Wilshire/Euclid in Santa Monica which (I think) is one of the most ideal places in the city to live without a car, but this was only by luck and coincidence. Even when I did drive, I preferred to walk whenever possible, and intentionally chose a very pedestrian-friendly neighborhood where I could walk to most errands. But, I didn’t realize until years later that I lived right on the Wilshire Rapid line—probably the best bus line in the city and within walking distance to every Santa Monica Big Blue Bus line and many city lines which either originate or terminate in the Promenade.

I recently moved to another apartment. I definitely wanted to stay in Santa Monica specifically because it is one of the most accessible places in L.A .to live without a car. I felt the only other neighborhoods that would be easy to live without a car were Downtown L.A., Koreatown, or Hollywood ,and all of those places were too far from my job. I also intentionally chose an apartment that was within walking distance to the bus line that goes to my job.

Q: Would you consider your non-ownership of a car “by choice”?

A: When I first got rid of my car it was a financial decision. I really felt like I was living paycheck to paycheck and I started cutting things from my budget, selling stuff on eBay, etc., and then I realized that between car insurance, lease payment, gas, maintenance, parking, etc., I was spending about $950 a month for a car—which is actually average for Angelenos.

I could have made other sacrifices instead of getting rid of my car—I could have moved to Westchester or Palms or cut other things out of my life, but I really didn’t like driving—I found traffic stressful, it felt alienating, I would drive around looking for street parking for what felt like eternity after getting home from work. But at that point, it felt more like something I was doing out of necessity.

Now I would say that it is by choice and if I really wanted to get another car I could. When I first got rid of my car, I thought it would be temporary—maybe four months or so to save money, but it was so much easier than I expected and had so many really clear benefits that I have no desire to get a car again any time soon. I have been car-less for 31 months now. If I had kept my car, I would have spent $29,500 on car expenses during those 31 months alone—which seems absolutely crazy to me. While not having a car can be inconvenient, I would rather have an extra $950 a month.

I also lost a lot of weight (almost 50 pounds) without making any other adjustments in my life or changing my diet. Not just from biking, but walking more, walking to and from the bus stop, etc.

It also wasn’t until I got rid of my car that I really started to love Los Angeles. Being on my bike or on the bus made me realize subtle transitions between neighborhoods, made me notice things I never noticed when driving past at higher speeds, I took more surface streets and understood how the city fit together, I interacted with people when taking the bus and it made me feel like I lived in a diverse and vibrant city. In NYC, I felt more like I was part of the city because I was surrounded by other people and even if I didn’t know them, we had this shared experience of being part of the city. I feel like it’s hard to get that sense in Los Angeles but even harder in a car.

I recently interviewed and photographed 100 car-less Angelenos and a graphic novelist named Joshua Dysart said something in the interview which I really agree with:

My whole foundational understanding of Los Angeles and how complex it is and even the degree to which we have to battle certain urban and social issues, is all because I take public transportation or ride my bicycle. I just don’t think it’s possible to feel empathy much less understand what the real plight of Los Angeles is when you are in your car. And it’s so much more complex and beautiful and doomed than the world could ever give us credit for. It’s funny, but almost one of the most empowering acts of activism you can do for Los Angeles and its future- if you love the city- is engage in public transportation.

In addition to the personal benefits, there is of course the environmental aspect. While I do occasionally ride as a passenger in cars, I’m glad that my environmental impact is drastically reduced by not having a car.

Q: How has not having a car affected your social life? What about your professional life?

A: The biggest impact on my social life is that if there are two different parties or events that I want to do on the same night, I usually have to choose one or the other whereas when I drove, I would have probably gone to both. This has changed recently as I usually go out socially with Jonas [her fiance] and he does drive. But, before when I lived alone, I would just choose one thing to do. During the week, I realized that I did more things actually because I could read or do stuff on the bus and therefore didn’t mind traffic as much. But I can pretty much get everywhere pretty easily—especially since I can put my bike on the bus and combine bus and biking to fill in the gaps. I’ve also rented cars to go to weddings or see friends in San Diego or Ventura.

When I first got rid of my car, I was worried about how it might impact my professional life. I was worried that my students and colleagues would think it was weird or incorrectly assume that I lost my license or something. However, I found everyone to be very supportive. People are often surprised, but very respectful of the decision. I think everyone recognizes the negative personal, social, environmental impacts of driving and can understand why someone wouldn’t want to have a car. Being car-less also gave me the idea to start photographing/interviewing other car-less people and creating that exhibition was a really positive experience. I also helped form a committee to try to bring a commuter incentive program to campus.

I was driving alone up Western Avenue in Los Angeles late at night.   I had been back from China for only a few weeks.   I was zoning out, letting my eyes slip into and out of focus across the befogged street lights, when I saw what I took at first to be a mirage: a Xinjiang barbecued meat stick vendor on the corner of Western and Melrose.   The vendor looked much as his compatriots had when I’d seen them last on the streets of Shanghai:   a wiry man with a soot-blackened face bent over a barbecue bolted to the frame of a wheeled cart, alternately fanning a row of lamb kebabs with a bamboo fan and seasoning them with a mixture of cumin, chile, and Sichuan pepper shaken out of what appeared to be a repurposed Kraft parmesan cheese canister.

My first thought was, someone should tell Jonathan Gold.

But then, I was pretty sure Jonathan Gold already knew.   In fact, Jonathan Gold—LA Weekly columnist, Los Angeles native, and the only food critic to have won a Pulitzer Prize—did know. Within a month of my sighting of the street vendor, Gold wrote a column in praise of Xinjiang barbecue, which he described as “one of the most compelling snacks in the world.”

Jonathan Gold is something of a local treasure.   In addition to his much-discussed LA Weekly column, Gold pops up regularly on KCRW, one of Los Angeles’ public radio stations.   His 2000 book, Counter Intelligence: Where to Eat in the Real Los Angeles, has replaced the Thomas Guide as the city’s most indispensable backseat guidebook.

Gold’s columns set L.A. food enthusiasts off on a sort of scavenger hunt, racing out on a Friday night for far-flung places like Tarzana and Norwalk.   Gold introduced me to some of my favorite local restaurants, including Renu Nakorn, Yai, Csardas, Guelaguetza, China Islamic, and Mama’s Hot Tamales; and introduced the rest of the world to others I had already cherished, like Zankou Chicken, Chabelita’s, and Senor Fish, making them all a little more crowded (thanks a lot, Mr. Gold).

He’s a first-class storyteller, a passionate advocate for no-holds-barred eating, and a thoughtful writer, even if his occasional forays into adventurous eating (live octopus, bull’s penis) toe the line between broad-minded fearlessness and macho showmanship.   But the real reason Jonathan Gold is so popular may be that he tells us something we want to hear: we can enjoy the best of what L.A. has to offer for only the price of a pupusa.

Like all Los Angeles true believers, Gold delights in the unexpected find; in his case, in the extravagantly wonderful meals to be found in strip malls and on push carts.   He uncovers an L.A. that’s been busily existing all along, alongside the celebrity chefs and $200 tasting menus, a city of self-sufficient ethnic enclaves whose culinary successes are not trumpeted in any Michelin guides.

Gold was the subject of a recent New Yorker magazine profile by Dana Goodyear (subscription required).   In the profile, Gold expounds on his theory about what makes L.A.’s traditional foods (he eschews the word “ethnic”) so great.   He calls our city — “the anti-melting pot” — the home of true, undiluted regional cookery.”

“Unlike in New York,” Goodyear states, “where immigrants quickly broaden and assimilate their cooking styles to reflect the city’s collective idea of “Chinese food,” the insular nature of Los Angeles allows imported regional cuisines to remain intact, traceable almost to the restaurant owners’ villages of origin.”

(In the same article Goodyear also mentions what Gold dubs the “triple carom”: the Cajun seafood restaurant that caters to Chinese customers and is run by Vietnamese from Texas.”)

Having lived in China for more than two years, I can say with some authority that a trip to the San Gabriel Valley is the next best thing to a ticket on Air China.   Every detail of the hundreds of Cantonese, Shanghainese, Sichuan, and Hunan restaurants clustered along Valley Boulevard feels like the real thing: the tablecloths, the menus, the shrines, and most importantly, the food.   We make frequent trips to the “other” Valley for Vietnamese broken rice, dim sum, and Hong Kong-style seafood, and many of our destinations were first introduced to the wider world by Gold himself.   (Including the restaurant 818 recommended in Gold’s article on Xinjiang barbecue, where our limited Chinese proved handy indeed.)

This is real, good, cheap food.   And what is being done for Chinese and Vietnamese food in the San Gabriel Valley is being done elsewhere in the city for the best of Iran, El Salvador, Georgia, Ethiopia, Armenia, Korea, and Nicaragua.

What Gold is offering is a way to participate in the real life of the city, in parts of town that never make it onto “Entourage.”   Most people in Los Angeles will never dine at Spago or Melisse, just as most of us will never stumble out of Chateau Marmont and into a sea of flashbulbs.   Most of us wouldn’t want to.   But for the price of an entree at CUT, you and your friends can eat all the Xinjiang barbecue sticks you can handle, with beers besides.   Have an adventure, bring the kids, make some friends, order the penis.