This map, showing the right-of-way widths of Toronto's major streets, is one of my favorite maps. It tells you so much about the scale of the city.
Even if you were entirely unfamiliar with Toronto, you could look at this map and gather from the width and spacing of its major arteries that the orange streets (20 meters) represent the oldest parts of Toronto and that the red streets (36 meters) represent the newer and more suburban parts of the city.
It's also interesting to think about this map in the context of other cities. Manhattan, for example, has a famous grid plan that generally contains north-south avenues and east-west streets. Most, but not all, of the avenues are 100 feet wide, or ~30 meters. And most, but not all, of the streets are 60 feet wide, or ~18 meters.
I tried to get Gemini to create a New York version of the above map using the same color legend, but it hallucinated and didn't give me what I wanted. So you'll have to use your imagination. Manhattan's avenues typically correspond to the dark blue lines on Toronto's map, and its streets are even narrower than the orange lines.
If you were to overlay these two maps at the same scale, you'd see at least two things: one, Toronto doesn't have the same kind of broad avenues cutting through its most urban areas (meaning it's harder to move cars around) and, two, Manhattan has a much thicker web of urban streets. Consider the density that exists on Manhattan's 18-meter-wide streets.
Toronto did not lay out its urban grid ahead of time like New York did with its Commissioners' Plan in 1811. In many ways, Toronto feels more like an accidental global city. But that doesn't mean we can't look at our urban grid today and decide what it wants to be for the next 200 years. I think that would be a good idea.
Cover photo by Tianlei Wu on Unsplash
Fred Wilson chose the perfect quote by William Gibson, here, to describe the current status of self-driving cars: "The future is already here — it's just not very evenly distributed." That's how it feels right now.
Waymo isn't in Toronto yet, but they are expanding rapidly throughout the US and elsewhere. Last week they announced fully autonomous driving in five new cities: Miami, Dallas, Houston, San Antonio, and Orlando. Autonomy is here, as we have talked about many times. There's no longer a question.
But what's interesting is that we're at the point in the hype cycle where expectations are not as inflated as they were a number of years ago (at least that's the way it appears to me). Years ago, everyone in real estate was talking about how it would disrupt parking requirements and reshape the landscape of our cities.
So when does this happen?
Fred ended his post by saying that "the downstream effects of this technology and behavior change are going to be profound." But he doesn't get into what these changes might be. Let's do a reminder of that now. Some of the most commonly believed consequences are as follows:
Cars consume a vast amount of real estate and also spend the vast majority of their lives just sitting around idle. Switching to a "mobility-as-a-service" model will require dramatically less parking. This is going to force landlords to repurpose the parking they already have and it's going to encourage developers to build new buildings with reduced parking, or no parking at all. That will be good for housing affordability.
However, the autonomous vehicles will need to park and corral somewhere at some point. My guess is that we will see something akin to rail yards today. This would be a good use for some of our excess parking, though this use won't require nearly as much. I would also imagine that many of the cars will leave the most valuable and dense parts of a city during off-peak periods.
At the same time, it's not clear what the winning business model for AVs will be. Will it be a Waymo-like model where the ride-hailing company owns and operates all of the cars? Will it be a Tesla Robotaxi model where individuals own the cars and put them out to work? In this case, maybe the Robotaxis just go back to people's individual garages. Or will Uber remain the dominant platform? Meaning, an asset-light model that aggregates customer demand remains the highest-value component of the stack. Personally, I can't see Tesla's Robotaxi model being very lucrative for individual owners, so I'm inclined to look toward Waymo and Uber.
This past Monday, approximately 44,770 attendees descended on the SkyDome, I mean Rogers Centre, in downtown Toronto to watch Game 7 of the ALCS between the Blue Jays and the Mariners. I was lucky enough to be one of them. And with one swing of George Springer's bat, we did it.
The Blue Jays became only the fourth team in the history of Major League Baseball to come back and win a best-of-seven series after losing the first two games at home. (Baseball is full of fun little stats.)
This is what makes October baseball so exciting. It's slow and suspenseful, but then all of a sudden — boom — you completely lose your voice because you're screaming so hard. I still don't have mine back at the time of writing this post.
What a game. What a moment for Toronto.
Now let's switch gears and think about all of this from an urban mobility standpoint. Forty-five thousand is a lot of people. How do you efficiently move this many people to and from a stadium? One option is you could build a ton of parking.
Here, for example, is Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles:
But this is a suboptimal approach, which is why a year ago the LA Times had to write: "Going to Dodger Stadium for the World Series? Five ways to avoid parking and traffic headaches." In it, they suggest the following: Take the bus, take the Dodger Stadium Express Bus, take an Uber, ride your bike, or walk 30 minutes to the nearest metro station (Chinatown).
On Monday, we took the Union Pearson Express from Bloor to Union. The train was absolutely packed, but we got on the first one and we were door-to-door in a little over 30 minutes. After the game, it was pandemonium. People were swinging from light poles, lighting off smoke bombs, and the lineup to get back on the UP Express looked like this:
But here's where I need to give a lot of credit to whoever was responsible for keeping things together on Monday night. They had stanchions lined up to accommodate the crowds flooding out of the Rogers Centre, they had staff walking up and down the lines so people could tap on ahead of time, and they had more trains operating. The result was that we waited maybe 10 or so minutes before getting on one.
Nobody got out of downtown this quickly unless you were on a train or you biked. My friends who had to take Ubers home were stuck for hours. In fact, one driver said, "We're not moving for a while. You're better off going into that bar right now and I'll come back for you later."
Sometimes when I write about trains and public transport, people comment that I'm living in the past and that it's an outdated technology. Look, I'm all for new tech. Bring on the autonomous vehicles and let's get the global financial system onto the Ethereum blockchain already. But when it comes to urban mobility, trains work. They're highly efficient at moving the greatest number of people.
And you really see that in action when there are sudden demand shocks, like what happened on Monday night when the Blue Jays punched their card to the World Series for the first time since 1993. Go Jays!
Street parking will be replaced by a proliferation of pick-up/drop-off zones. This urban design problem will need to be solved as we dramatically increase the number of people getting in and out of AVs on busy urban streets.
In the mid-1990s, Italian physicist Cesare Marchetti remarked that, all throughout history, humans have tended to cap their commute times at about 60 minutes per day. Something like a half hour each way. This became known as Marchetti's Constant. What this has meant is that as new technologies (streetcars, cars, and so on) allowed us to move faster within that 60 minutes, humans have tended to sprawl further outward. Will AVs do the same, and could they actually break Marchetti's Constant?
As we all know, the key difference with AVs is that we will no longer need to pay attention to our commute. We could sit in an AV and sleep, work, watch a movie, or do whatever else we'd like. One can think of it like a mobile office or mobile living room. This should, in theory, make commuting long distances a lot more enjoyable and encourage even greater "super sprawl."
The counterforce to this phenomenon is that if more people are willing to commute long distances in an AV, we will see demand greatly outstrip supply on our roads. In other words, traffic congestion in large cities will get even worse. I think this will force more/most cities to adopt congestion pricing. Politically, it will finally become acceptable, because now we'll be able to use "the machines" as our scapegoat. They're overrunning our cities! Ironically, this means that we won't adopt the thing that makes driving a lot better until we all stop driving.
So where do these opposing forces ultimately net out? Well, my view (and bias) is that human-scaled walkable communities will always have value. We are social animals. I also think that the experience within our cities will improve dramatically. Pedestrian safety will increase (the data already supports this) and far less space will be dedicated to cars. Good.
At the same time, I think that reducing commute friction will encourage an exurban explosion. Like the technologies that came before AVs, it's going to empower humans to further decentralize. What this will do is exacerbate the divide between our urban cores and our suburban and exurban fringes.
Of course, this is just me surmising. I don't really know. But AVs are here, and I think it's time we get back to discussing and planning for the second and third-order effects of this technology.
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