Walking in America: Vol. 1

It's called freedom

A recent Saturday work event, as well as San Diego’s beautiful weather, gave me an excuse to walk from downtown to Dennis V. Allen Park in the Mt. Hope neighborhood. That’s roughly the same distance from New York’s Penn Station to the reservoir in Central Park, a jaunt through the heart of Manhattan. My trip in San Diego was so amazing I felt compelled to show off my fine city.

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As soon as I leave my building I find a closed sidewalk. I’m not frustrated, though. If my having to cross a wide, unmarked intersection in the wrong direction means motorists can keep driving 20 miles-per-hour over the speed limit down Broadway, then I’m happy to do that.

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That’s not an el in the distance, thank God. What a nuisance that would be. It’s an on-ramp to the 5 freeway.

The great thing about America is the louder you yell “freedom” the more of it you get. Just make sure you yell loud enough so you can hear yourself. It’s a bit noisy on the overpass.

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In Golden Hill I make a right on 19th Street to connect with E Street. There being no usable sidewalks allows me to survey the road conditions. They need to fill those potholes!

These beautiful trees were probably planted when renown architect Irving Gill was plying his trade in the neighborhood. I’m just glad that, in the intervening years, sunblock and 7-Eleven were invented. At the 25th and Broadway location I buy a Gatorade Zero and chug half of it waiting in line.

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Many people view America in decline, that competition from China and Russia will doom our hegemony. I offer this photo as a rebuttal. Americans are resourceful, inventive, and resilient. We can figure out where to park our trucks anywhere.

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Across four slip lanes, past a makeshift roadside memorial, and on the other side of the freeway is the Grant Hill neighborhood. The freshly painted crosswalks are a nice touch.

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Six lanes wide and not a car in sight—we should close Market Street! Haha just kidding. Get rid of that bike lane instead.

Continuing up Market Street I come across a fine example of how the industrial and brutalist architectures can seamlessly interact. The chainlink fence and the overturned cart create a visual guide for our eye, which invites the pedestrian into the darkness. Under the overpass (not pictured) we get a good view of the concrete columns. Stark and utile, they mean business. Developers of modern luxury apartments kill for this aesthetic.

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A sight for sore eyes: American commerce.

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I make a left on Gateway Center Way, which forms the western boundary of Dennis V. Allen Park. But first, I must pass the industrial center that fronts it. Who woulda thought that illegally parked semi-trailers would provide more shade than San Diego’s tree canopy?

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I make it. The only people I pass on the hour-and-a-half journey are an entrepreneurial couple pushing a cooler selling drinks and treats. It’s a shame—San Diegans don’t know what they’re missing.