Sweden, Subobia, Kuwait: Civic Lessons

Treehugger: Biogas-Powered Train in Sweden

I worked in Linköping in the early 1990s. This small city in southeastern Sweden was remarkably different from my home of the time, Huber Heights, Ohio.


Miljö Vänlighet

Many of my coworkers in Linköping rode bicycles to work, even in the wintertime. They'd emerge from their offices in the afternoon darkness to stretch dry, warm cloth covers over the frozen bicycle seats. Then they'd strap their briefcases onto the cargo racks and disappear into the streets of hard-packed snow, trench coats tucked tight around them.

Those who didn't ride bicycles complained about their government's inconsistent social engineering efforts. "They have raised the price of bensin to encourage the use of public transportation. And now they have raised the price of public transportation."

We consultants, of course, had a rental Saab 900. In the summertime we might walk to work along the local canal, but in the winter we'd hustle a block to the parking lot, pile into the Saab, and enjoy the electrically heated seats during our ten-minute commute.


Outer Subobia

Back in the States my neighborhood was designed for cars, clotted with automobiles. It could take 20 minutes to get to the supermarket 2 miles away. Walking or bicycling anywhere seemed foolishly dangerous. Biking to work was out of the question. Far better to join the rush of semis and GM boatmobiles on the local highways.


Warped

Popular Science and the 1973 energy crisis had made a strong impression on me. So I had been delighted when my parents bought a 1976 Honda Civic, touted for its efficient CVCC engine (two combustion chambers per cylinder!) and top-notch engineering.

A few months later, after several blown head gaskets, a heat-warped aluminum head and a complete engine overhaul, my parents sensibly traded the Honda for a 1978 Ford Granada.

Unlike my parents I hadn't much regard for reality. And I had only contempt for the Granada, its hideous 3-box design and its crappy fuel economy. The car was disgusting then, and for the nearly fifteen years afterwards in which it ran without failure.

The CRX

Our family's experience with Honda automobiles had been bad. But I continued to admire Honda's efforts to produce fuel-efficient designs.

In 1983 rumors started circulating about a two-seat Honda design which would deliver 50 mpg on the highway and reach speeds of over 90 mph. The rumors proved true when the CRX HF appeared on the market. If I ever managed to buy a brand-new car, this would be the model.

In 1990 I got my chance. Lots of overtime and per diem from the Swedish contract had filled the bank account. In July I pulled out the yellow pages and called the local Honda dealerships.

It didn't take long to find a dealer with a CRX HF in stock. Within a few days the deal was done, and I started getting to know my new car.

Unlike the first Honda our family had owned this one lived up to its promise -- and then some: The EPA said the HF would get 52 mpg on the highway. It sometimes topped 60 mpg. It accelerated as well as my previous car, and had much better handling.

The CRX was all I'd hoped for. It fed my appreciation for design optimization. And, against the backdrop of continued visits to Sweden, it amplified my growing environmentalist-consumer smugness.

Kuwait

About a week after I bought the CRX, Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. Driving to work, I saw no signs of awareness. Hadn't anyone heard President Bush's warnings about the implications of the invasion for the U.S. oil supply? Vans and trucks and semis rammed the air aside, 10-15 mph above the speed limit, carrying only their drivers, blithely ignoring the cubic increase in power required to reach higher speeds.

You can imagine how smug I felt as they barreled past me :)