Welcome to Part 2 of this series where I continue unpacking how the U.S. systematically dismantled social connection in the name of “progress.” Last time, I wrote about how third places are disappearing. This time, I’m dragging the main culprit into the light: the car.
Yeah. That big metal box in your driveway? It’s not just polluting the air and draining your wallet—it’s actively devouring public space and community life.
How Cars Obliterated Third Places
Let’s be clear: the problem isn’t cars exist. The problem is how everything else was restructured around them, leaving zero room for anything human-scale. Starting in the mid-20th century, we redesigned American life for traffic flow, not people.
Here’s what that did:
Neighborhoods got zoned into silos—residential over here, retail over there, work way over there.
Public plazas, local markets, and informal hangout zones got paved over for parking lots.
Sidewalks were shrunk, ignored, or removed entirely. Because who walks anymore, right?
New “town centers” became drive-to destinations with no soul and no real public use space.
This made third places—those informal community spaces—impractical, unprofitable, and in many places, literally illegal to build.
Big parking with cars near the shopping mall center in New Jersey USA
Parklets: A Glimmer of Hope (That Mostly Got Crushed)
In the early 2010s—and then again during the pandemic—we saw something weird: parklets started popping up. Cities let restaurants and businesses convert curbside parking into mini patios and gathering spaces. They were scrappy, hopeful, often built with plywood and planters.
And for a moment? They worked.
People lingered. They talked to strangers. They treated streets like places to be, not just pass through.
Then the tide turned:
Restaurant leases ended, and the parklets vanished.
Cities caved to complaints from drivers about “lost” parking.
Insurance policies and red tape choked the small businesses trying to keep them alive.
And just like that, most parklets faded back into asphalt.
> “A third place is a space that isn’t home (the first place) or work (the second place). It’s where people go to just exist together.”
> — Ray Oldenburg (Paraphrased and adapted for modern reality)
Let’s get something straight up front. Third places are disappearing (or already disappeared) in America. And no, we’re not talking about some twee idea of a cafe with succulents and overpriced drip coffee. We’re talking about foundational infrastructure—the places that once held the social fabric together.
We’ve designed them out of our neighborhoods, priced them out of our cities, and paved over them in the name of “development.” What’s replaced them? Nothing of substance. Just parking lots, chain retail, and algorithmic dopamine feeds that masquerade as community.
What Is a Third Place (And Why It Matters)
A third place is simple in concept: a social setting where people gather that isn’t home or work. Think:
Libraries (Please stop closing them, just figure out how to make em’ work, because they will!)
Coffee shops (actual community hubs, not Starbucks outlets)
Bookstores with comfy chairs
Park benches with regulars
Local bars, barber shops, bike co-ops
Public plazas, community centers, corner bodegas where people linger
These places foster unplanned conversation, spontaneous collaboration, and yes—real, human connection. They offer a counterbalance to the transactional nature of modern life.
And in the U.S.? We’ve systematically eliminated them.
Business freelance team chatting during coffee break in office. Creative multiethnic colleagues engaged in teamwork at coworking open space
From Common Ground to Commercialized Nowhere
If you’re in a suburb, odds are your nearest third place is at least a 10-minute drive away—and no, a drive-thru Starbucks doesn’t count.
Urban planning over the last 50 years has systematically pushed out the informal, low-cost, and unbranded spaces in favor of traffic flow, parking capacity, and revenue-per-square-foot. The result?
Communities where there is no place to gather without spending money
Spaces that feel sterile, overly regulated, or outright exclusionary
Entire generations growing up with no idea what a third place even is
An aerial view of the Twin Cities Outer Suburb of Apple Valley, Minnesota
The Great Digital Substitution (That Isn’t)
Somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that social media was a good enough replacement. That Discord servers could be the new pub. That Reddit threads replaced roundtables. That Instagram comment sections were valid forms of shared experience.
No.
Those are digital holding pens designed to manipulate your attention, not give you context, warmth, or presence. You can’t replace a knowing glance or a random conversation with a stream of hot takes and emojis.
They mimic connection. But they don’t create it.
Case Study: Third Place Commons – Holding the Line
Located in Lake Forest Park, Washington, Third Place Commons is one of the few community anchors that still embodies what a third place should be.
It’s open to everyone.
It hosts events like chess nights, concerts, and civic forums.
It’s tied into a bookstore (shoutout to Third Place Books).
It isn’t flashy, and that’s the point.
When You Erase the Third Place…
…you erase empathy. You erase frictionless socializing. You erase the chance to bump into people outside of work and curated social events. You erase the “Hey, good to see you again” rhythm that holds communities together.
You replace it with:
Loneliness
Economic stagnation
Fragmented civic life
Performative connection
And then we act shocked when people are burnt out, disconnected, and angry.
Next Up: The Car That Ate Your Community
In Part 2, I’ll get into how the automobile didn’t just kill walkability—it nuked third places out of existence. We’ll talk about the rise and quiet death of parklets, the shrinking of civic spaces, and how cities like Portland tried (and often failed) to fight the tide with bike co-ops and transit stations.
If this series hits a nerve, good. It’s supposed to.
You can’t rebuild what you don’t even realize is missing.
Transit Sleuth 