If cities were rock bands, cars would be the overrated frontman hogging all the spotlight, leaving little room for other members—pedestrians, cyclists, and public transit—to shine. Let’s talk about why clinging to car-centric city planning is like insisting on using an outdated flip-phone in an era of smartphones—it worked then, not so much now. Ever zoom through a city and wonder why those vast parking lots haunt your downtown wanderings like ghosts of poor planning past? Let’s delve deep into the beloved, and oh-so-American ‘parking crater.’ The term emerged amongst urbanists as a flippant descriptor for spaces in urban areas that are dominated by parking facilities with very little economic or social utility to show, essentially craters created by massive asteroid impacts of poor urban design. They leave behind them spoiled landscapes where vibrant businesses and cozy homes could have stood. Looking for numbers? Based on the geometry of these craters, underutilized in terms of rent per square foot, parking lots and structures often contribute significantly lesser through annual taxes than would a comparably-sized residential or mixed-use development. Hosting a shopping spree of urban and economic maladies, these impervious surfaces contribute to increased stormwater runoff—hello floods!, high urban heat—our own miniature frying pans, and reduced pedestrian traffic— because who goes window shopping alongside a highway with no sidewalks, am I right? Plus, they radiate aesthetic appeal about as warmly as an ice cube on the Fourth of July. But kidding aside, gripping onto our cars like an old teddy bear by eclipsing public spaces isn’t just poor aesthetics, it’s bad economics. By cutting down parking requirements and upsizing our investment in public transports like suave subways, buses that bop on time, bike lanes wide enough to fit a parade—cities could save massively. The savings wiggle-room could be direct towards upgrading public facilities, becoming greener, and enhancing living standards—giving the humble walking shoes and bike pedals their well-deserved comeback tour. Now, pulling away from being parking lot BFFs doesn’t mean redesigning the city overnight into a parked-car free nirvana, but is the difference between a ghost town and a vibrant tableau only a matter of structured parking out of sight. Amid discussions about urban planning failures, broaden the frame—there’s laughter indeed when a sprawling city claims to love the environment but throws acres to motor vehicles that lounge around larger than some parks—a bit like using a dining table for just holding mail. But let’s envision progressive parking reforms vividly. Imagine witnessing a resurge in downtown foot traffic because people actually want to stroll through revitalized outdoors that no longer serve as vehicular storage. The erstwhile parking craters? Gladly exchanged for parks, local markets, housing and new businesses, giving cities the heartbeat they so intensely need. So next time you see a parking lot invading prime urban space, ask yourself: could there be more to this picture?