Petrol crisis? Some days I forget where I parked my car

A few months ago I wrote about the mental health impact of good town planning. That is, how our streets, parks and neighbourhoods can be better designed to essentially make us happier. A reader responded that they were sick of hearing about how good the inner west is. If that reader is you, you might want to look away now.

When I told friends we were moving to a new house in the inner west some years ago, some expressed their concern. Surprise that we were swapping our recently renovated home in Leichhardt for a “renovator’s delight”, for instance, while others focused on the location.

“You want to live there?”

“There” was a few doors in from that major Sydney artery known as Parramatta Road. We were seeking space for our growing family – a larger block, with a generous garden. Among our near neighbours was a tyre service centre and a car-assessment depot for a major insurer. Tow trucks were regular features on our street.

But aside from the lawn and large frangipani tree in the yard, what really caught my eye was the connectivity that the location provided. It’s been thrown into sharp focus in the past couple of weeks as commuters, businesses and frankly anyone involved in logistics has watched the petrol gauge with increasing alarm.

I drive my car so infrequently that I sometimes forget where I have parked it. We’re not blessed with useable off-street parking (it’s on the list), but we are rich in the sorts of amenities that planners dream about.

When we moved about a kilometre from our old home (and further from the city), we swapped a single bus headed to the city for three buses within metres of our front door and a train service a short walk up the hill. It doesn’t stop there.

When, during the five-kilometre COVID shutdowns, a northern beaches-based friend inquired after my welfare because I couldn’t, as he did, get to the beach, I reassured him that I was within easy walking distance of some of the best specialty food shops, cafes and restaurants in Sydney. While also making use of the recently upgraded park that leads to the Bay Run, I told him I was detouring to the local formaggeria in an attempt to eat my own weight in cheese, social distancing notwithstanding.

Over the 20 or so years that we have lived here now, our situation has only improved. The house has been through a number of upgrades and the kids have reaped the benefits of access to public transport, mostly getting themselves around independently, including travelling to and from school. While they are not all living at home now, they continue to use the services available – when they’re running, at least – in addition to getting their driver’s licences.

About 10 years into our tenure, the light rail opened, further connecting us to parts of the city that we might have used the car to reach.

Then, the icing on the cake – the opening of the GreenWay. Genuinely, the greatest challenge of the six-kilometre trail running from Iron Cove to Cooks River is finding a time when it is not inundated with cyclists, joggers, dogs, prams and everyone in between. It’s a testament to the “build it and they will come” approach, and incredible to think there is so much bushland and wildlife in such a densely inhabited part of the city. Instead of navigating main roads, I now keep my eyes and ears open for birdsong.

We don’t even go far for a night out, with several bars and restaurants within walking distance or a quick tram or train ride away.

There is a school of thought that 15-minute cities are part of a conspiracy by governments to lock down the population, but I don’t see much evidence of that notion where I live. If the fuel crisis has any lessons, it shows a greater need for more investment in infrastructure, green corridors and support for small businesses to thrive in their neighbourhoods. Yes, some areas are better set up than others, but the inner west is not an isolated case. In fact, it’s an area once best associated with light industry, from the factories that dotted almost every street in Leichhardt, to the former Flour Mill at Summer Hill and the myriad warehouses through Marrickville.

What it does require, though, is creative thinking, both at a macro and micro level, which focuses on community outcomes first and profits second. It also involves recognising that neighbourhoods are not perfect – there will always be trade-offs – but with a little thought, we can play to their idiosyncrasies.

And cars don’t need to be at the centre of that. Even on Parramatta Road.

Robyn Willis is a property reporter and former lifestyle editor of The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.