America’s "First Car-Free Neighborhood" Is Going Pretty Good, Actually?

It’s been two years since Culdesac Tempe, the self-proclaimed "first car-free neighborhood in America," opened with a goal of making walkability its centerpiece. With the first phase finished last year, the high-profile development continues to unfold on a 17-acre site along a light rail line in an established neighborhood about 15 miles east of downtown Phoenix. The $200 million project now includes 288 apartment units with about 300 tenants, reeling residents in with appeals of a healthier, more eco-friendly lifestyle, built-in community with ample amenities, and accessible transit to Tempe and the greater metro area.

Along with the hype, the ambitious experiment—building a "car-free" neighborhood in one of the most auto-dependent population centers on the planet—has aroused skepticism. An article by the nonprofit advocacy organization Strong Towns, for instance, contends that Culdesac is a far cry from "the incremental urbanism and thickening our cities need. A dozen or even a thousand Culdesacs can’t solve that problem," because they would lack long-term growth benefits including "the resilience of a system where many hands have built the neighborhood and have a financial stake in it" and would reflect "a zoning and finance stream that favors industrial over incremental production."

But these critics don’t live there. Those with more proximity see the place as a big plug.

"We were really interested in reducing our carbon footprint, especially since I’d been commuting from Canada," says Sheryl Murdock, a 50-year-old postdoctoral ocean researcher at Arizona State University who is well aware of the irony of where she conducts her particular work. To resolve this commuting dilemma, Murdock moved from British Columbia, where her husband and two children still live, into a one-bedroom apartment at the new development in June. "Culdesac said, ‘Here’s a free e-bike; here are free transit passes—use them.’ I was impressed, and the price is very reasonable for what you get."

Studios start at around $1,300 per month and three-bedroom units around $2,700, an average-to-slightly high rental fee for the market, and many lessees were incentivized by perks like the ones Murdock describes. (The median rent for a studio in Tempe is $1,375, while three-beds go for $2,341, according to Apartments.com.)

Murdock was also struck by the distinctive sense of place, the product of not only its desert-modern aesthetics but of building strategies that mitigate heat, promote wind flow and cross-ventilation, and encourage social interaction. Architect and urban planner Daniel Parolek, of Berkeley, California, firm Opticos Design, led the project’s architectural design and wrote that "not needing to accommodate spaces for car storage or circulation … opened up the opportunity to focus on creating people-oriented spaces." 

Instead of broad asphalt streets, a series of paseos between 10- and 15-feet wide stretch between clusters of flat-topped, irregularly situated two- and three-story buildings coated in heat-deflecting white stucco and sporadically adorned with vibrant murals. Walkways open onto brick courtyards and communal spaces ornamented with public art.

"It reminds me of Mykonos," Murdock says, however surprising that might sound. "The walkways, which limit sun and heat exposure, wind between bright white buildings while color accents make the whole thing feel bright and welcoming." Her single complaint is that, with three access points to the now eight residential pods, each of which have between 6 and 14 small buildings, the metal gates could be quieter upon shutting. A relatively simple fix, she thinks; management’s responsiveness to feedback on its online resident portal has been encouraging, she says.

But elsewhere online, and earlier in the project’s opening phase, more substantive complaints had begun surfacing, many focusing on a lack of amenities and incomplete construction. "The retail spaces didn’t have tenants right away and people were annoyed the pool hadn’t been built yet," says Murdock. "It didn’t hit the ground running but now there is a lot."

The pool has since been finished. There’s a two-story fitness center, a dog park, spaces for remote work, and neighborhood-wide indoor/outdoor 1GB WiFi. More than a dozen small retailers include a bike shop, Korean market, coffee shop comparable in price to Starbucks, and a James Beard–nominated Mexican restaurant with offerings like the $32 "Pollo con Mole." And with free light rail and an on-site five-dollar-an-hour car-rental service, access to outside amenities is arguably more seamless than for car owners in suburban neighborhoods.

"I’m hopeful the retail will become even more developed over the next few years, and this will become the ideal ‘15-minute city’ experience, where I’m close to everything I need," says Murdock. That hope does not seem unfounded given Culdesac’s intended interactive nature, with seasonal weekly open markets and public events where tenants can engage with each other, prospective new retailers, and the community at large.

After the prolonged summer heat finally subsided, "the markets that restarted again this fall were bringing people in to shop and wander around and residents could talk to prospective vendors, and then other conversations would emerge," says Murdock. "Improving bike infrastructure with local municipalities, for example, became part of the discussion."