Random facts about cars often rattle around in my brain, mixed up with all the other junk (such as, did I remember to turn off the stove this morning? Will I ever get that thank-you note written?). I remember my former brother-in-law, a scientist, telling me upon his return from Bhutan a couple of decades ago that there were almost no cars in the entire country; it sounded like paradise to me. Then there was the Smithsonian exhibit I saw as a little girl that made a big impression: it recounted the first automobile fatality in the history of the world. (How many people have died in car crashes since?) And terrifying and terrible and sorrowful as September 11, 2001 was, still I remember walking five miles home from Manhattan to Queens thinking that the city was a completely different place with no traffic.

I recognize that cars are convenient; they get you where you want to go when you want to go there. I own one. Nonetheless, I don’t like them much, and I have occasionally consigned their inventor to hell, right next to the inventor of coffee creamer. I don’t like to drive. I don’t like to pay that painful monthly installment. When I am out riding my bike, I am petrified I will be hit by a fast and heedless driver.

But more than these, I dislike how cars have shaped our world, bringing us traffic, global warming, obesity, roadkill, smog, noise (Freeport residents, I am thinking of you) habitat fragmentation (roads may connect us, but they disconnect wild animals), dead dogs including my sister’s dearly beloved Mishka, and neighborhood destruction (imagine how lovely the Casco Bay side of East Deering was before I-295 smashed through it).

All of this is a long and no doubt haranguing way of saying that this transportation-related issue of Source is dear to my heart. Maine is a big, largely rural state, which complicates public transportation, often making it expensive and unfeasible. Still, I cannot believe that individual cars are the best way for 7 billion people on our much put-upon planet to get around (admittedly, just 1.33 million of them in Maine, but hey we’re citizens of the world). In this issue, we describe the efforts of some Mainers – and the state itself – to tread a little lighter when it comes to going places, to repair cars in an eco-friendly way, to encourage carpooling and riding the train, to be a one-car family, to get around by bike. Until someone invents a mode of transportation much less destructive but just as popular as the automobile, transportation fixes will remain the sum of many such individual endeavors.

SOUTH PARIS — The brake cleaner used to really get to Adam Baril and Tony Giambro. In the service departments of the Auburn car dealerships where they worked as mechanics, it was a mainstay; their colleagues freely sprayed the aerosol cleaner around while working on brake jobs.

“You breathe it in and it hurts your lungs,” Baril said. Giambro raised his shoulders and shuddered. “It would get all over me,” he said.

There’s no traditional brake cleaner in sight at the Paris Autobarn, the duo’s year-old automotive repair business. What you do see are young apple and pear trees, flowering just outside the door, the beginnings of grape vines and a vegetable garden adjacent to the driveway. A heat pump is mounted on the back wall, to cool the shop in summer and heat it in the winter. The south-facing wall of the roof awaits the 45 solar panels due to be installed this month, funded in part by a USDA loan.

The place does look like a barn – peaked roof, stained red – but no, this isn’t some farm-to-car trend. It’s what Baril, 27, and Giambro, 31, hope will be the wave of the future, a local auto repair shop with a fervent interest in all things green. They even asked the distributor of the bio-based oils they buy, primarily extracted from soybean crops, if the manufacturers used GMO crops. (They’d rather be GMO-free.) The distributor thought not but couldn’t guarantee it. People who care deeply about sustainability tend to have at least a slightly conflicted relationship with their cars. Especially when stuck in traffic listening to the kinds of radio news stories about carbon emissions, dwindling resources and climate change that make it seem like wishing for grandchildren might be a very bad thing.

But how many drivers give any thought to the environmental impacts of taking their car to the shop? What solvents might be toxic, what might be released when that fixed dent gets spray-painted, whether their used oil gets recycled or if the antifreeze ends up oozing into the ground out back?

In 2004, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) began an outreach program directed at small auto repair and auto body shops to improve compliance on areas that present environmental and health risks. That included emissions from solvents used in parts cleaning, metal particulates from sanding and emissions from that fresh coat of paint on a car that just had the dings taken out of it, all of which can add up.

“The idea is that 10 small sources equal one major source,” said Julie Churchill, the assistant director of Maine Department of Environmental Protection’s Office of Innovation and Assistance. “So it is important for them to be in compliance.” She oversaw an EPA funded-program for Maine in 2005 to address those issues. (Maine was one of about a half-dozen states that received the innovation grants that year.) The $400,000 grant was used in 2005 to educate small shop owners in ways to prevent pollution.

There are 966 auto repair and maintenance shops in Maine, employing about 3,900 employees, according to Maine Department of Labor statistics from 2014. That’s a lot of potential for non-compliance with EPA rules – unintentional or not – although Peter Carney, who tracks violations for Maine’s Department of Environmental Protection (DEP), said he couldn’t recall complaints specific to auto shops in recent years. The department doesn’t regulate these businesses; it only responds to complaints about them. (In the last year, an auto scrapping business was fined for improper disposal of fluids from the crushed vehicles.)

“In pretty much every sector there are going to be some people who don’t get it,” Churchill said. “The majority want to be in compliance and want to do the right thing.”

NO GOLD STARS

The Paris Autobarn team of Giambro and Baril are savvy marketers, and so they reached out to Maine DEP, hoping for a certification or some other stamp of approval that would let potential customers know about the work they’re doing. They were disappointed; the department does provide various levels of green certification to Maine hotels, but offers nothing for businesses like the Autobarn. “Basically the outcome of our conversation is that they are severely underfunded and understaffed and that they don’t forsee the ability to add a category for automotive shops,” Giambro said.

Churchill said funding is limited at a national level as well; EPA is no longer giving innovation grants like the 2004 award. “That was cut,” she said. “And with the pollution prevention grants, it is cost-prohibitive for us to even try to get them.”

That’s not to say that there aren’t auto shops making efforts in Maine. Churchill said the response rate to the 2005 outreach and education effort was strong, with small businesses filling out the self-surveys and making adjustments. “We saw an increase in compliance rates,” she said. Dealers like Pape Subaru in Portland have made efforts across the board, from recycling oil in their service center to landscaping with plants that require no watering.

One of the early adapters to eco-friendly practices was Shawn Moody of Moody’s Collision Centers. He has nine auto body shops, primarily in the greater Portland area. When the EPA came to Maine to train business owners on its new Area Source rules (for smaller emitters) in 2008, Moody’s was already in compliance. Moody’s uses energy efficient lighting and air compressors and switched over to waterborne paint processing, which lowers the amount of VOCs (volatile organic compounds) released by 40 percent. “He is a very innovative thinker,” Churchill said. “He tries to always be beyond compliance and he is always thinking, ‘How can I do better, how can I reduce my environmental footprint?’ ”

Moody’s interest in environmentally friendly businesses began, in all places, with a junkyard. In 1988 he purchased Gorham Auto Parts, 35 acres of old tires, junk scraps and DEP violations. “It lived up to the stereotype,” Moody said. Most would have thought it a Superfund site, but it put Moody in the trash-to-cash mindset and soon he was recycling everything from antifreeze to the precious metals in catalytic converters and even winning a national award for environmental excellence from the Auto Recyclers Association. He sold that business to a national consolidator in 1999 and began building up his auto body business, applying the same model of frugality coupled with resourcefulness. Zero waste was a means to business success, and at the same time, helping the environment. “It’s that inner impulse to identify savings in everything you touch,” Moody said. “It becomes part of the company’s philosophy.”

OUTLIERS, FOR NOW

Because no specific certification program exists for auto shops, Churchill said it’s a challenge to know exactly who is doing what.

“Some businesses promote it more but I find in Maine we are kind of humble,” she said. “Even some of the bigger companies, with the bigger innovations they do, you don’t hear about it. They don’t even have it on their website but they do it because it makes good sense. Many times it is not regulatory based, it is, but more about, ‘How can I be a successful business in my community?’

“There is a lot of innovation out there,” Churchill added. “And I think we are going to see more of it.”

That’s what Giambro and Baril hope, although at this point, they feel like outliers. To outfit their shop in a way they could feel good about, they researched far and wide but couldn’t find any shops to model themselves on in Maine. They had support from Scott Vlaun, executive director of the Center for an Ecology-Based Economy (CEBE) in neighboring Norway (and Zizi Vlaun, Scott’s wife, designed their logo).

Some of their innovations include using bio-based fluids and lubricants. They’ve become a distributor for products like the MicroGreen extended service oil filters, which have to be changed only every 10,000 miles (and carry the promise that the oil itself needs changing only every 30,000 miles). The price is higher, about $45, including a few dollars more for the filter and if the customer opts for bio-based fuel as well, the change can run up to $90, up to three times a cheap chain store oil change. On the other hand, you don’t need to do it nearly as often so the price probably evens out. They offer the oil filters to customers, but don’t try to force anyone into them; people tend to be nervous about voiding their warranty by not following the usual 3,000-mile oil change policy.

“Most customers haven’t heard of them,” Giambro said. “A lot of shops don’t want to use them. Because you are essentially promoting a service that means the customer doesn’t come in that often.”

Drip pans sit under every engine or part they’re working on, so that the fluids can be recycled, and on the rare occasion when there is a spill, Giambro and Baril soak it up with a coconut husk product called Eco-Absorb. There are no drains anywhere, but the floor looks so clean the three-second rule could easily be extended to 30 seconds.

Skipping the floor drains is a major component of being truly green, said Charlie Ayers, president and CEO of the Coordinating Committee for Automotive Repair, a national group that helps promote environmental best practices. “The reason being, all sorts of icky stuff ends up falling off the cars,” he said. “The most environmentally conscious are building facilities without floor drains on purpose.”

When the solar installation on the roof is complete, the Paris Autobarn will be able to run its entire electric system, including that heat pump, for about $10 a month, and be truly carbon neutral. Giambro and Baril are hoping that the sight of that solar system will be an enticement for green-minded customers. And maybe to other auto shops and businesses. “It would be great if other people saw what we were doing and followed along,” Giambro said.

Baril walked over to a black and green machine about the size of a patio grill sitting against the back wall of the Paris Autobarn and gave it a proud pat. The biomediation washer uses non-toxic cleaning solutions. Baril gave a demonstration, showing off a part that looked as bright and shiny as the new Subaru engine sitting nearby. No brake cleaner necessary. The price tag was $3,500, about twice what they would have paid for a traditional parts washer.

“In the long term, it pays off in the health benefits,” Giambro said. And not just for him and Baril. Their goal is bigger: “I don’t want to destroy everything and everyone around me.”

Every day for two years, Inga Sullivan drove by herself from her home in Norridgewock to her job in Westbrook.

“It was about an hour and a half for me in the car, alone,” she said. “It was nice some days, but I just thought I could do something different with my time if I could connect with other folks who were doing the same thing.”

So Sullivan registered with GoMaine, the statewide commuter program sponsored by the Maine Department of Transportation and the Maine Turnpike Authority. Through its matching service, she found others to share her commute.

“I liked it as a rider because I could do some work or read a book,” she said. “You end up sort of becoming car friends. You end up getting to know each other, and it’s a nice feeling. If you’ve had a bad day and get in the car, someone can lighten the mood a little bit.”

After the driver in her group left the program, Sullivan took over and now does most of the driving herself in her Honda Civic. (She also maintains control of the radio. It’s NPR only on her watch because “it’s not a station that’s going to offend anyone.”) Every morning, she picks up three women in Augusta and drops them off in Portland, then it’s off to her own job. Each rider contributes $10 round-trip toward gas and maintenance on Sullivan’s car.

Sullivan and her “car friends” are taking advantage of a state-funded program that is at least a quarter-century old and still chugging away, even though most Mainers seem to have forgotten about it.

While the program helps only the 10 percent of working Mainers who carpool – at a time when carpooling nationally is undergoing a steep decline – the Mainers who use the matching service are pleased they’ve been able to save money and reduce their carbon footprint. The GoMaine program has also helped many private companies launch customized employee carpool and vanpool programs, some of which have evolved into sophisticated arrangements that help save money and the planet.

UPDATING THE INFORMATION

GoMaine was once well known for operating vans to encourage carpooling. But after the state stopped paying for the vans and outsourced that program in 2012, many people assumed the entire GoMaine program went away. And while some of the information on the website is a couple of years old, today the administrators are working to update it and the ride-matching software, and they plan a marketing blitz in the fall to promote ridership.

When potential carpoolers sign up for the GoMaine program at gomaine.org, the software finds out where they are and where they want to go. It asks them if they smoke and whether they like to listen to the radio in the car.

“The way I describe the program is we’re like eHarmony for carpoolers,” said Rebecca Grover, public relations and legislative associate at the Maine Turnpike Authority, who administers the GoMaine program.

Ride-matching programs are common in metropolitan areas around the country, according to Alan Pisarski, a Virginia transportation consultant who co-authored the 2013 National Report on Commuting Patterns and Trends for the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials.

“I can’t honestly say that those things have been a resounding success,” Pisarski said. “They’ll talk about how many people they have matched but then they don’t keep track, so they have no idea if those people are still using it.”

That’s been the case in Maine, where 3,000 people are in the database statewide – less than 1 percent of all commuters – but no one has any idea how many are still actively carpooling. “We match you up, and what happens after that we really don’t know,” Grover said.

But there’s more to the program than matchmaking. Take the Emergency Ride Home benefit, designed to take away one of the most common objections to carpooling – what happens if my child gets sick, there’s a family emergency or I have to work overtime?

If a GoMaine subscriber knows she won’t be able to make her evening pickup, she can get an Enterprise rental car for one day for free. Commuters in the Bar Harbor area have the option of a free taxi. Commuters who use Emergency Ride Home must be regulars – carpooling at least three times a week – and they can’t use the benefit more than eight times a year.

It’s proved to be a powerful incentive. “That’s really the carrot that gets people sometimes,” Grover said.

Valerie Cordwell, a resident of Augusta who commutes to her job in Portland, has a 5-year-old and has used the benefit many times. “There have definitely been times I’ve had to leave the office early and go pick him up,” she said.

PREFERENCE FOR GOING SOLO

In 1980, 19.7 percent of commuters in America carpooled, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s American Community Survey. By 2010, that number had dropped to 9.7 percent, and it’s probably lower now.

The decline has been attributed to many economic, social and demographic factors, from the rise of telecommuting to the decline of construction and manufacturing jobs, where employees answered to a whistle and worked with many others on identical schedules.

Modern commuters like having flexible work schedules, and they often multi-task by making stops on their way to and from work, a concept transportation planners call “trip-chaining.” They are also more likely to form “fampools,” which chauffeur family members, than traditional carpools.

More traditional forms of commuting still linger in places like Maine, a rural state where people travel longer distances to get to good jobs. “A lot of the vans go to Augusta, so you have a lot of workers who are on the same schedules and the same hours,” Grover said.

GoMaine vanpools run on routes all over the state. Most travel between Augusta and Portland or Bangor, but there’s also a coastal van that starts in the Brunswick area. Two private companies run vanpools, and several independent vans are run by commuters themselves.

The coastal van got its start after the state got out of the van business. Every day, a dozen commuters travel together in a Ford Econoline van they own from their homes in Brunswick and Topsham to their jobs in Augusta.

Driver Deane VanDusen, who lives in Harspwell and works for Maine DOT, had been carpooling with other GoMainers for about 15 years when the state outsourced the van service. He and some fellow riders did the math, and figured that using a private van company would cost them almost double what they had been paying.

So after consulting with carpooling lawyers, they drew up a detailed operating agreement, bought a used van, and formed their own tiny company: BT Shuttle LLC (the BT for Brunswick-Topsham).

Each rider pays a one-time $200 deposit and an additional $105 a month.

“I do it mostly for cost savings, but there’s also a very strong environmental component to my decision,” VanDusen said. “We all know the world is getting warmer, and if we can keep one car off the road, that’s one thing I can do.”

Maine businesses whose workers have long commutes – Jackson Lab on Mount Desert Island and Idexx in Westbrook to name two – have worked with GoMaine to start their own rideshare programs, and those programs often morph into something grander.

Idexx Parxx, as that company’s program is called, began with the carpoolers teaming up with GoMaine. Now, though, some employees telecommute. Others walk to work, or ride their bike or the bus; employees get subsidies for bus tickets that give them a week’s worth of free rides each month.

A group of Idexx employees commutes from New Hampshire in a 15-passenger van. They maintain the van; Idexx subsidizes it. Last fall, at a presentation at the company’s annual sustainability fair, the group estimated that since they started vanpooling, they have saved enough miles to circle the moon.

Their daily commute takes almost two hours, so Idexx provided the van with a hot spot, enabling employees to work en route. “We’re increasing productivity, we’re making employees happy, and it’s at very little cost to us,” said Devra Holmquist, an administrative assistant at Idexx who works with the program.

Pisarski said that’s exactly the kind of thinking that may keep carpooling relevant going forward. With the advent of new “Uber type of technologies,” he said, commuters may find themselves doing more “on-the-fly” carpooling.

“Instead of you and me and George agreeing that every morning we’re going to meet somehow and go to work,” he said, “you might just click an app and say you need a ride to somewhere and someone else going in that direction might agree to pick you up. You create an instantaneous carpool.”

According to a recent survey conducted by tire maker Bridgestone, 89 percent of Americans are planning a road trip this summer, with the average trip odometer set to register 660 miles.

As someone who’s got a friend’s wedding in central Pennsylvania to attend; a mom’s birthday in western Massachusetts to celebrate; and a son determined to check out colleges in Memphis, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York City and Providence, I am significantly messing with Bridgestone’s statistical curve. I’d hazard a guess they don’t mind my data transgression as they’re perfectly content to sell me new tires, just as Sunoco will happily take my gas money and Comfort Suites will gladly split my bill between my credit card and my loyalty points so I can sleep in their air-conditioned rooms while visiting the steamier destinations.

To help offset this carbon-loaded side of my summer travels, I will avoid buying prepackaged rest-stop edibles and corporate fast-food products at all costs. For the record, in my book, quaint roadside shacks advertising steamed Maryland crabs, fresh Amish pretzels and southern barbecued anything do not fall into either of those categories.

When starting out on a road trip, it’s greenest to use up the bits and bobs already in your fridge and cupboard, things that would go stale, off or rancid before you return. The last pita in the bag, for example, can be cut into triangles, brushed with a bit of oil, seasoned with salt, flavored with dried herbs and baked into Dorito replacements. Or a scoop of corn kernels can be popped and the half-eaten chocolate bar and last bit of peanut butter in the jar turned into a protein-enhanced, grown-up sweet and salty popcorn.

If you have to shop, look for farmers market items with minimal packaging that can handle sitting in a hot car for a couple of hours, if need be. At my market in Brunswick, these items are local beef jerky and dried apple slices, which I tend to share, and lavender shortbread cookies, which I don’t. I don’t recommend traveling with fresh fruits and vegetables as they get hot, bothered and bruised even with careful packing. But I will stop for any farm stand when I can see the ripe stone fruit from the road. We eat them on the premises, assuming the position that prevents the juice rolling down my chin from getting on my clothing.

With a bit of reusable gear – like insulated stainless steel water bottles and coffee mugs, a collapsible cooler that fits snuggly on the bump in the floor between the two backseat passengers in my fuel-efficient mid-sized sedan and an assortment of eco-friendly glass and metal food storage containers – we’re good to go, stopping only as nature requires.

ROAD-TRIP SALTED DARK CHOCOLATE AND PEANUT BUTTER POPCORN

Whether you’re the driver who needs to stay alert or the passenger who needs to stay awake to keep the driver company, the flavors and crunchiness of this snack help.

Makes about 6 cups

2 tablespoons neutral oil, such as canola or grapeseed

¼ cup popcorn kernels

4 ounces good-quality dark chocolate, chopped

1 teaspoon fine sea salt

¼ cup smooth peanut butter

Heat the oil in a medium pot over medium-high heat. Pour in the corn kernels, cover the pot and shake. As the popcorn pops, shake pan occasionally and remove from the heat once the popping slows to 2-3 seconds between pops. Pour the popcorn into a large bowl that has plenty of room to spare.

Place the chocolate and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a microwave-safe measuring bowl and the peanut butter in a second microwave-safe bowl. Heat both in the microwave in 30-second increments until both the chocolate and peanut butter melt and can be easily stirred. Pour both over the popcorn and stir to coat. Spread the mixture evenly on a baking sheet lined with parchment and sprinkle with the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt.

Let sit at room temperature until chocolate has hardened, about 1 hour. Pack in a metal cookie tin with a tight seal for easy access on your road trip.

Christine Burns Rudalevige is a food writer, recipe developer and tester and cooking teacher in Brunswick. She writes about feeding her family Maine seafood at www.familyfish.net. Contact her at cburns1227@gmail.com.

Brian Beeler II is the manager of passenger services for the Northern New England Passenger Rail Authority, aka, the Downeaster. This means he hears the laments (and praise) from regular passengers. About 30 percent of the Downeaster’s customers use monthly passes to commute, mostly to Boston.

Just after the news that ridership on the train is down, due to delays in much-needed work on the tracks – rough winter for everyone – we called Beeler up to talk about commuting via rail and how a guy with a degree in landscape horticulture from the University of Maine ended up riding the rails.

BACKGROUND CHECK: Beeler started working for the Downeaster in 2010. Before that he’d spent a dozen years at the Salmon Falls Nursery in Berwick. He’d worked his way up to general manager, but in 2009 he decided he needed a change. The seasonality of the work was tough; landscapers don’t exactly get a summer vacation. He’d almost completed an MBA at University of New Hampshire, had his first child and had recently lost his father. “Life hands you a few things and you just say, ‘It is time to try something different.’ ”

CASTING A NET: Landscaping had given him an understanding of the customer and “what you need to give great service.” The opportunity at the Downeaster, which started running in Maine in 2000, had the bonus of sentimental appeal: Beeler’s father was a teacher who spent his summers in the late ’70s and early ’80s as an engineer on the Wolfeboro Railroad, a train for tourists that ran on a short scenic stretch of track in New Hampshire. Then there was the model train in the basement. “My dad certainly had the train bug,” Beeler said. The Wolfeboro ran on a steam engine, and Beeler remembers well the sound and fury of it. “It always seemed like it was alive,” he said. “It always scared me to death.”

His father died before Beeler landed the job with the rail authority, but “he would have been ecstatic.” But they did ride the Downeaster together, to see the Red Sox, when Beeler was still a civilian.

CONDUCTING COMPLAINTS: Beeler is one of just six full-time employees working with the Downeaster, so his role is broad. But “my primary role is once the customer has purchased their ticket, from that point until they get off the train is my responsibility,” he said. That means fielding complaints about everything from weak coffee to the schedule. Despite many delays of late, it’s not all grumbling. “I receive my fair share of complaints and compliments,” Beeler said.

STATION AGENT: He also works as a liaison to the communities the train stops in and works with the rail authority’s large team of volunteers, who man the 12 stations on the line, often working four-hour shifts or longer. The Wells station, for instance, had over 2,400 hours of volunteer service last year. Some of the volunteers are train lovers, and some are seniors who are doing it to stay active. “They have a soothing effect on people,” Beeler said. “It is hard to yell at someone who looks like your grandmother.”

FULL SERVICE: Part of his duties involve riding the train (no conductor’s hat, just a polo with the Downeaster logo on it) to talk directly to passengers, or to keep an eye out for the school groups that regularly take the train on field trips.

The commuters on the 5:20 a.m. train tend to be pretty familiar with him. Conversations run along the lines of “Why don’t you have this kind of wine or beer in the cafe?” Sometimes he can help, and with other requests he has to say, “Hey, you’re right, this would be great, but we can’t do that,” he said. “We have a lot of things on the back end that people don’t understand.”

ABOUT THOSE DELAYS: They’ll wrap up soon, Beeler promises, likely by the middle of June. He notes that construction work is going on all over the state, but it’s much easier to divert automobiles when there’s work being done on a highway or bridge than it is to divert a train. “We don’t have another track to go on,” he said. “We are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel,” he added. “We are going to get back up on our feet real quick.”

TRAVEL TIPS: While nearly a third of the Downeaster’s ridership is made up of commuters (including some University of New Hampshire professors who commute from Portland to Durham), many ride the train as tourists. “You can drive to Boston faster and cheaper,” Beeler said.

Of course, it’s not exactly environmentally conscious, especially with just one person in the car. And then you’ll have to park in Boston. Not fun. “And you can take a bus that is going to get there quicker. But there is still a mystique about the train.”

Also: “a soothing, relaxing arrival into Boston, not the white knuckle experience of traffic. The train is an experience that you can make part of your day. That is how we really look at it.”

BEYOND BOSTON: You’d be surprised about the number of other good destinations on the Downeaster’s line, Beeler said. “If you have kids, Dover has got a really great kids’ museum, right downtown, and great places to eat.” Then there is Haverhill; a downtown revitalization project has yielded “tremendous” results, he said.

OPTIMUM TRAIN SEASON: What is Beeler’s favorite time of the year to ride the train? “With my previous career in landscape, I certainly appreciate the fall,” he said. “Our train travels through some extremely pretty areas.”

It’s not too bad to take the train in a blizzard either, he said. “Something that you couldn’t have driven to Boston through? That is certainly a good day.”

HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW? Given Beeler’s background in landscape design, it seems fair to ask about his garden. Beeler grows enough tomatoes to make sauce all winter (he still has two bags from last year in the freezer) and a lot of Christmas trees (between 2,500 and 2,750). But it’s a work in progress, he said. “Like the auto mechanic who is always working on his car.”

My preschool son Theo ran straight to our heavily bumper-stickered Subaru Outback, which greeted the two of us when we returned from Atlanta last Sunday at midnight. He threw open the door and jumped into the comforting embrace of his beloved convertible car seat.

“There’s Theo’s car!” enthused my husband, who had driven to the Portland Jetport from Brunswick to pick us up. It always feels like a homecoming when we return to Maine, where being a committed one-car family with a snow-suited Subaru or a fuel-efficient hybrid, and a husband who walks or bike-commutes to work, is a cliché we are happy – and admittedly privileged – to embrace.

We loved visiting my sister Elaine, whose family just welcomed their second son (I’m due myself in September). We soaked up Atlanta’s cultural and even sustainable attractions, such as the developing 22-mile BeltLine corridor, encircling downtown by rail and trail, to connect the city’s in-town neighborhoods and ample parks.

That’s a breath of fresh air from the SUV-driving commuters who clog interstates going to and from the city’s sprawling suburbs. Atlantans live farther away from their workplaces than commuters in any other large metro area in the nation, according to a recent Brookings report.

Still, my sister, whose family flocks to Belgrade Lakes for summer respites from the heat, brings some Maine eco-transportation values back to the South. She bought a Subaru shortly after we did and remains the only one of her friends to drive one; many of ours here do. We crammed three car seats into the back of hers during our visit. (The families I polled on Facebook through my Maine New Mama Tribe secret (shh!) group posted about the chaotic juggling act of staying single-car, or no-car, with a new baby, or when adding a second or third baby, especially when both parents go back to work full time.)

My sister’s family technically owns only one car now, too. Instead of replacing his old second car, her husband, Shep, enrolled in Clutch, a monthly subscription service expected to roll out to other cities soon; it allows him to lease a sporty or fuel-efficient car for commuting, which he can then exchange for a pickup truck, for example, for a weekend of yard-work hauling.

With myriad car-sharing and carpooling apps, public transport and bike-commuting options, one-car families – once the norm in an era of 1950s housewives with husbands who train-commuted to the city for work – appear to be on the rise again, not just in green southern Maine but across the nation.

Perhaps we’ve finally realized that long traffic-jammed commutes tax our well-being, gobbling up time better used for sleep, exercise, cooking and social interaction. The research shows that such unpleasant trade-offs make us less satisfied with our lives in general.

Imposing the simplifying constraint of one car upon our family is a “commitment device,” says my economist husband, Dan, forcing us to walk, bike and carpool more than we otherwise would.

As a couple, we’ve shared one car for much of our 12 years together. In fact, we were both car-free when we met in New York City, where owning a car is an expensive hassle. When Dan moved to Baltimore for grad school, he ran errands with his late grandfather’s Toyota Camry. When I followed him there, he donated the old Toyota to public radio, and I sprang for a Honda Civic hybrid for my 45-minute reverse-commute to the most rural bureau of The Baltimore Sun.

We have the luxury to stay one-car because my husband works predictable hours as a college professor. In Brunswick, we’re not uncommon, as many of my husband’s colleagues also walk or bike to work. We paid a premium to buy a house in a near-campus neighborhood, where the real estate market is tight and inflated. But we bought a Cape half the size of what our money would buy in a neighboring town. Our small house takes fewer resources to heat, plus we save the extra $9,000 per year on average it costs to own and operate a second car – which wouldn’t fit into our Cape’s one-car garage come winter anyway.

Bicycling makes the one-car lifestyle more feasible. It’s the second-favorite transportation mode of car-obsessed Theo, who turns 4 this month. He’s just taken his borrowed big-boy bike, sans training wheels, out for a successful solo ride. Kids learn young these days.

Since Theo was 3 months old, I’ve also bike-commuted with him attached in our Craigslist-scored, rugged Chariot trailer. We often travel to the farmers market or food coop this way, both when we lived in Car-Free Day-celebrating Corvallis, Oregon, and now here in Maine.

In community-minded Brunswick, we one-car families help each other out. In a pinch, when I had a late afternoon work assignment, my husband’s colleague drove him to ferry our son home from day care. And I installed a second second-hand car seat in our Subaru to drive Theo and his one-car family buddy, Zella, to a Music Together class in Bath most Fridays. That enabled Zella’s father, a musician who must remove her center car seat to accommodate his ample bass every time he drives his hatchback to a gig, to stay home with Zella’s infant sister.

Having one car keeps conspicuous consumption in check, too. We run errands in consolidated trips. And when my husband has our only car and I am carless, it encourages creative improvisation in the kitchen, requiring substitutes as in my flexible fruit crisp recipe below.

I must confess we’ll cheat next year on my husband’s academic sabbatical, visiting the University of Virginia in his hometown of Charlottesville. He’ll trade his 10-minute walk to Bowdoin for an unfeasible hour-long walk to campus from the house we’re subletting. Fortunately, the lease includes free light use of an old Ford Taurus.

Come fall, I’ll be tied down with a second babe, anyway. And I’ll welcome those long walks into town to burn off the baby fat and lull our newborn to sleep.

CAR-FREE RHUBARB, OAT AND PECAN CRUMBLE

A lazy gardener, I favor perennial plants – rhubarb, raspberries – that bear fruit year after year, despite my neglect. A lazy baker, I prefer fruit crisps to pies, which require making and rolling pie crusts. When you’re without the family car, use whatever fruit is on hand. And if your kitchen is bare of flour, sugar, butter, pecans or cornstarch, substitute what you have on hand – barley or buckwheat flour, maple syrup or honey, coconut oil or lard, almonds or walnuts or tapioca pearls. This recipe comes from the cookbook “Rustic Fruit Desserts,” a personal favorite, by Julie Richardson and Cory Schreiber.

Serves 8 to 12

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature, for dish

FOR THE CRUMBLE:

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup rolled oats

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

1/2 cup chopped pecans

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted

FOR THE FILLING:

1 cup granulated sugar

2 tablespoons cornstarch

3 1/2 pounds rhubarb (I just eye-balled enough to fill my baking pan), trimmed and chopped into 1-inch pieces; about 10 1/2 cups prepped

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Butter a 3-quart baking dish.

To make the crumble, mix the flour, oats, brown sugar, pecans and salt together in a bowl. Stir in the butter, then press the mixture together with your hands to form a few small clumps.

Freeze while you assemble the filling.

To make the filling, rub the sugar and cornstarch together in a large bowl, add the rhubarb and vanilla and toss until the fruit is evenly coated.

Transfer the rhubarb mixture into the prepared pan and scatter the crumble over the top.

Bake for about 45 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the filling bubbles up through it.

Cool for 20 minutes before serving.

STORAGE: This crisp is best served the day it is made, but leftovers are good the next morning for breakfast. Keeps at room temperature for two to three days.

Laura McCandlish is a Brunswick-based food writer and radio producer. Follow her on Twitter @baltimoregon and read her blog at baltimoregon.com.

Eugenie Mydear learned to ride a bicycle with no gears or brakes in a Ugandan refugee camp. Her family didn’t have a car, so they hauled water and groceries on the bike. They’d blast the horn to let people know they were coming.

“We learned how to use our feet” to slow down, says Mydear, who still has a scar from a childhood bike crash.

Since moving to Portland a year ago, Mydear and her three young children have been getting around by foot or bus. But she now has a purple and white mountain bike of her own – with gears and working brakes – thanks to the Bikes for New Mainers program.

Mydear was one of nine adult immigrants who participated in the program last weekend. They learned how to bicycle safely, then practiced riding around Portland. At the end of the nine-hour course, each received a used bicycle, helmet, lights, bell, lock and a gift certificate for bike repairs.

The Bicycle Coalition of Maine worked with Hope House, Catholic Charities’ Refugee and Immigration Services and several cycling organizations to start the program last year.

Nancy Grant, the coalition’s executive director, said many new immigrants “don’t have driver’s licenses, don’t have motor vehicles and are asked to go all over town to complete paperwork, to attend different kinds of orientations, to sign up for English classes and to take them.”

“If they had bicycles,” she said, “it would make life a lot easier.”

The coalition had bicycles left over from its Portland bike swap, and its members donated more bikes. Recycle-a-bike programs in Biddeford and Westbrook also gave bicycles. The Community Cycling Club of Portland provided bike locks.

The class has been offered three times and demand is strong. More than 60 people applied for the May class.

The students came from Iraq, Rwanda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Burundi, Angola and Uganda. Most had previously biked in very different circumstances. The African students said that in their native lands no laws protect cyclists and no one wears a helmet.

Mydear said that in Uganda and Rwanda it is not accepted for girls and women to ride bicycles. She used to sneak rides on her brothers’ bikes. As she got older, though, she feared she would damage her reputation, since women who on bikes are assumed to be prostitutes.

Coco Kazadi used to ride a bicycle on his uncle’s Congolese farm. There, bicycles serve the same purpose that pickup trucks do in the United States. Kazadi said his uncle depended on the bike to transport beans, maize and peanuts to market.

The Bikes for New Mainers class met for three sessions. Nathan Hagelin, the main teacher, arranged for use of a conference room at the Portland consulting firm where he works as a hydrogeologist. He also is a League Cycling Instructor, a nationally recognized credential for bicycle educators.

Hagelin taught students how to fit their helmets snugly. He showed them how to position themselves in traffic as they approach intersections. He encouraged them to be courteous to pedestrians.

After an hour in the classroom, the students were eager to try out their skills. Hagelin passed out orange and green safety vests, assuring students that they were very fashionable. “Don’t give me that face!” he teased.

The students learned how to pump up their tires. Then, Hagelin led them on a ride around the Portland peninsula. They followed trails through Bayside and past East End beach. They practiced making hand signals and changing gears. They called out to pedestrians, “On your left!”

As they approached downtown, Hagelin warned the class, “We’re going to have some cars, some hills, some traffic lights, some tight situations.”

Students rode single file, just as they’d been taught. They smiled and hooted triumphantly as they arrived back at the parking lot.

Mydear said her husband, who still lives in Uganda, considers her a “hero” for learning how to ride a bike better than he can. She plans to use the bicycle to get to classes at Portland Adult Education and, eventually, to a job. Soon, she said, “I’ll be riding all over the city.”

The Bicycle Coalition hopes to offer two more classes for immigrants this year. Grant, the executive director, would like to hire an interpreter and to translate curriculum materials. But all that depends on securing donations to cover costs and on rounding up more bicycles.

You can help. If you have an unused bike in decent condition that’s taking up space in your garage, consider donating it to the Bikes for New Mainers program. You can find out more by emailing info@bikemaine.org.

Shoshana Hoose is a freelance writer who bicycles in Greater Portland and beyond. Contact her at shoshanahoose@gmail.com.