Guest column: The car, the commute, and the city
I started commuting at a young age. My parents sent me to a French immersion school that was 50 kilometres away from our house. From the time I was five, I endured a one-hour bus ride twice a day. It sounds awful, but "kid commuting" wasn’t so bad. Since we were children we always had a bus driver to take us home, which meant we had time to play, read, write, imagine, and draw while riding the bus.