Concrete and Commutes

Oh how good design becomes overtly apparent when you’re faced with challenged design. This is a GPT excerpt in the style of one my favourite storytellers, Terry O’Reilly. The ending is so cheesy, but that’s kinda the schtick.

"Concrete and Commutes: Toronto's Tale of Urban Planning and the Road Less Travelled"

Toronto. A city known for its shimmering skyline, cultural mosaic, and a pulsating beat that keeps time with the pace of urban life. But if you've ever driven into the city during rush hour, or tried to traverse the labyrinth of its highways, you know that there's another story that Toronto tells. A story of traffic jams, long commutes, and a highway system that sometimes feels like a maze without an exit. Let's buckle up and take a ride into the world of urban planning in the Toronto Metro area, where the roads are wide but the solutions often feel narrow.

Think back to the 1950s when Toronto's suburbs were beginning to sprawl. Cars were no longer a luxury; they were a necessity. The Garden City movement was blooming, and the allure of the suburbs was enchanting. The answer? Highways. They became the veins and arteries of the growing city. A concrete solution to a growing problem.

But here's the rub: Designing a city around highways is like building a house around a garage. It seems convenient at first but leads to architectural myopia where form no longer follows function but instead, follows the car.

Let's examine the Gardiner Expressway, a road as famous as it is infamous. It was designed to move people quickly in and out of downtown. But over time, it's become a wall between the city and its beautiful waterfront. A dividing line that has more to do with separating than connecting.

Then there's the notorious Highway 401, one of the world's busiest roads. It's not just a highway; it's a symbol. A symbol of a city that has grown too fast, without taking the time to think about the human experience. Commuting on the 401 is often a slow, frustrating experience, and it's not uncommon for drivers to spend hours a day trapped in their cars.

But here's where design comes in. It's not about pointing fingers; it's about pointing the way forward. And some cities have shown us that there's a way to move beyond the tyranny of the car.

Consider Copenhagen, where bicycles rule the roads, or Melbourne, with its integrated public transport system. These cities have taught us that the key to urban mobility isn't building more roads but building better alternatives.

Toronto has begun to embrace this philosophy too. The growth of bike lanes, the expansion of the TTC, and the exploration of pedestrian-friendly spaces are signs that the city is starting to think beyond the car.

It's time to rethink how we move within our cities. Time to design roads not just for cars but for people. Because a city should be more than just a network of highways; it should be a network of communities, interconnected and interdependent.

This is Terry O'Reilly, asking you to take the road less travelled, and to see your city not as a series of destinations but as a journey. Because when it comes to urban planning, the right path isn't always the fastest one. It's the one that brings us closer together, not further apart.