We’ve all been there—our destination is too far to walk, but not far enough to drive. In times like those, using a ride sharing service like Lyft and Uber may come in handy, but you’re still dealing with Lombard Street traffic.

Bird, a California-based company, is hoping that Baltimore residents will see its electric scooters as the next best option.

“It’s clear there’s an urgent need for additional transit options in Baltimore, and Birds are a great solution for short ‘last mile’ trips,” said company spokesperson Rebecca Hahn. “As summer heats up, Bird offers a convenient alternative to sitting in traffic or sweating through a walk or bike ride.”

What is Bird?
The pilot launched in Baltimore last week with more than 60 electronic scooters placed throughout the Inner Harbor, Harbor East, and Fells Point. Unlike the city’s current Bike Share services, these scooters are completely dockless. Riders can just leave them anywhere when they’re done, and someone will collect it. They can be rented for just $1 to start, plus an additional 15-cent per minute using the mobile app.

Each scooter is calibrated to go a maximum of 15 mph and can travel up to 15 miles on a single charge. After facing regulatory issues in San Francisco with scooters popping up everywhere and littering the streets, Bird decided to remedy this problem in other cities moving forward by only allowing rides during the day. The cut-off every night is sunset, when scooters are collected and charged overnight and are redelivered the next morning at 7 a.m. to various “nests” around the city.

Who collects them?
Bird has a similar model to Uber and Lyft when it comes to employing local residents to become “chargers.” A charger is a person who collects the scooters each day and charges them overnight. A charger can make anywhere between $3 to $20 per scooter, and it typically will only cost them 8 to 15 cents to charge. If hired, Bird will mail all equipment needed to charge the scooters.

“Becoming a charger is a great way for someone to make extra money while they sleep,” Hahn said. “People can pick up as many Birds they want on any given day—or none at all.”

How do the scooters work?
While the scooters are pretty simple to operate—just a few pushes and it’s good to go—there are some rules and restrictions that come along with them. For example, the rider must by 18 years or older, have a valid driver’s license, and wear a helmet while riding (Bird offers them for free on their website).

Residents in other cities have also been concerned with reckless driving of the Birds, but the company has added safety regulations. Riders must obey traffic signs and laws and restrict the use of the scooter to designated bike lanes—never the sidewalk. The same consequences (traffic tickets and fines) apply.

“Right now, more than a third of cars trips in the U.S. are less than two miles long,” Hahn said. “Since launching here, we’ve been inspired by how people throughout the community have adopted our environmentally friendly transportation solution to get where they need to go, which is reducing traffic and cutting carbon emissions.”

What does Bird mean for Baltimore?
Bird launched in September 2017 and is led by a former Uber and Lyft executive Travis VanderZanden. According to Bloomberg, the startup is raising $150 million in financing that will value the company at $1 billion. So far, fleets of scooters have popped up in several cities including San Francisco, Washington, D.C., Dallas, and Atlanta.

Although the Baltimore City Department of Transportation (DOT) was not involved in the rollout of the program, it is supportive of alternative means of transport in the city.

“[We] support multimodal alternatives and believe that this technology can expand transportation options to the residents, businesses, and visitors of Baltimore,” said DOT communications officer German Vigil in an email. “We also see the potential of a new mobility pilot project and are in the process of investigating the effectiveness of a program such as this.”

After months of fighting fingerprint requirements, ride-sharing companies Uber and Lyft were able to strike a deal with the Maryland Public Service Commission last week. In order to get a waiver of the fingerprint requirement for their drivers, the companies must undergo an alternative background check process laid out by the commission.

The new background check requires that ride-share companies rerun background checks annually, require drivers to report arrests and convictions within three business days, look back through entire adult history of its applicants, require the driver to return the company’s car and decals if they become permanently deactivated, and file annual reports to the commission detailing any complaints or deactivations.

“We find that the alternative background check processes we approve are as comprehensive and accurate as the fingerprint-based background check,” the commission stated.

Although the validity of fingerprints in forensic cases has come under fire in recent years, other licensed professionals in Maryland, including taxi drivers and medical providers, must still have their prints examined against state and FBI databases.

Understandably, taxicab advocates were a bit let down with the decision. According to The Sun, Dave Sutton, speaking on behalf of the Taxicab, Limousine & Paratransit Association, said his group was “disappointed Maryland hasn’t chosen to require fingerprint background checks to protect passengers, but heartened to see incremental tightening in the requirements”

Uber Maryland, on the other hand, was ecstatic with the decision. “For more than five years, Uber has helped Marylanders with access to reliable, affordable transportation options and flexible work opportunities,” the company said in a statement. “Today the Maryland Public Service Commission made a positive decision that ensures that the Uber you know and love can continue to operate in Maryland. With your support, we were able to show the PSC Commissioners that the service provided through Uber is a safe and viable option.”

Of course, this could all be obsolete if Uber’s self-driving pilot program—which just moved from San Fransisco to Scottsdale, Arizona—gets off the ground.

Something about the empty driveway next to his off-campus house in
Georgetown always bugged Nick Miller. But he couldn’t quite put his
finger on it. Not until a trip to a Baltimore Ravens’ game took him
through Federal Hill. There, driving with friends, desperate for
parking, Miller saw residents holding up cardboard signs advertising
spaces for rent. And it hit him. Sure, parking demand reaches naturally
epic proportions on game days around M&T Bank Stadium; Miller, who
grew up in Harford County, knew that. But finding convenient downtown
parking in Baltimore and Washington, D.C., was always like searching for
a needle in a haystack. Could digital technology, he wondered, fill
those empty driveways, lots, and parking pads with actual cars in real
time?

Brainstorming with computer programmer Adam
Zilberbaum at the first Baltimore StartUp weekend, Miller’s epiphany led
to a prototype for a user-friendly, peer-to-peer parking website and
app. That was three years ago. Today, Parking Panda,
which receives a cut of all transactions, makes locating and reserving a
parking spot as easy as purchasing a seat online at Center Stage or
Camden Yards. To date, Miller—just 25, low-key, and usually unshaven—and
Zilberbaum, 31, have raised nearly $5 million in financing. They’ve
added 18 employees, expanded to 40 cities, and bolstered their operation
to include commercial parking garages.

But if their concept was
merely a one-off success, albeit a welcome help to alleviating downtown
traffic woes, it would just be a nice entrepreneurial story and end
there. It doesn’t. It barely scratches the surface.

When
Miller——who today bikes from his Fells Point apartment to his Federal
Hill office—travels out of town, he does what a rapidly multiplying
number of young adults do: He seeks out similar peer-to-peer services.
Rather than dropping a couple hundred dollars on an impersonal hotel for
a few of nights, he finds an inexpensive room he likes—and maybe
interesting hosts—online via Airbnb,
which enables almost anyone to turn their home or apartment into a
B&B by renting a spare bedroom. Instead of wasting money on a rental
car that will mostly sit idle, he’ll go to his smartphone to hook up
with a Zipcar, hop a ride with a Lyft driver, or tap Uber’s taxi-on-demand app. In D.C., he might use the city’s massive bike-sharing program.

All of which, like Airbnb, and a laundry list of related platforms, are taking hold in Baltimore, too.

In
fact, when Miller and Zilberbaum first began developing Parking Panda,
they were harbingers of a profound cultural shift. Enabled by mobile
technology, pushed by changing millennial values emphasizing
sustainability and creativity, and fanned by the economic slowdown—it’s a
transformation described as “the sharing economy.” Simply put, the
people born between 1980 and 1994—the largest and most educated
generation in U.S. history—are choosing to live differently and
reshaping how cities, including Baltimore, function at basic levels.

“There
are many different factors at work, and it can be difficult to separate
cause and effect,” says Susan Shaheen, co-director of the University
of California, Berkeley’s Transportation Sustainability Research Center.
“There’s been the wholesale introduction of wireless smartphones and
applications, but there’s also been a dramatic change in the younger
population—a reduction in the number of people getting driver’s
licenses—and a deliberate move away from suburban lifestyles. This
generation wants to live in urban areas with the culture and community
that affords and not have the burden of vehicle ownership.”

Raised
on “sharing” models from Napster to Spotify to Netflix—millennials have
also been referred to as “the cheapest generation.” Partly, this was
born out of necessity, things like exploding college debt and a horrific
job market. But millennnials always seemed fundamentally opposed to
paying for things previous generations took for granted—like music,
newspapers, and cable TV. Now, they’re not buying cars and houses at the
rates of previous generations. And, they are the first generation,
according to a recent study, to value their smartphones over their cars.

For them, it’s not much of a leap to use digital technology to share bicycles, handsaws (NeighborGoods), used clothes (thredUP), automobiles (RelayRides), pet-sitting duties (DogVacay)—or
even an apartment for a few nights. Especially if it’s more convenient,
less expensive, and maybe offers a more rewarding personal
transaction—another millennial value. (It’s called social media for a
reason.)

Got the money, but not the time? Find someone on Taskrabbit to run that errand. Need funding for your nonprofit? Indigogo
can help. Cash to make a movie? Baltimore filmmaker Lotfy Nathan raised
more than $30,000 for his documentary, 12 O’Clock Boys. Even though
millennials aren’t going to stores to buy music or movies, they will
support something they care about—if they can feel like a part of the
project.

“I think what Parking Panda, Zipcar, or Uber, Airbnb, and
these models do really well is more efficiently utilize existing
resources,” Miller says. “I think this generation is hardwired to think
that way. There’s a move toward ‘experience’ and away from ownership.”
If it’s more adventurous, like jumping in the front seat of a hot
pink-mustachioed Lyft car, charging your phone, and chatting with the
driver—probably about the same age—or getting the insider tip on the
best neighborhood dive bar from an Airbnb host, all the better.

To
listen to Miller, it was the desire for efficient logistics and
creative opportunities that led him to move into the city. “I love it,
but I didn’t necessarily anticipate that growing up [in a rural
county],” he says. “I can walk to Canton Square. There’s a culture, an
art scene, museums. I like to do a lot of things, and all that’s
possible because of the neighborhood I live in.”

Of course, the
new peer-to-peer models don’t just afford the chance to save
hard-to-come-by wages, but generate income on the other side of the
equation. Shaina and Trevor Holman, both in their late 20s and from
suburban North Carolina, decided to buy a house in Hollins Market when
she got accepted into the University of Maryland School of Dentistry.
“Our parents were like, ‘Buy a house in the city?,’” Holman laughs. “But
we found this neighborhood that is a really a good fit.” They get by
with one car—a “car-lite” household—because she can walk to school. And,
for the past year, they’ve made between $900 and $1,600 a month renting
a bedroom on Airbnb.

Holman learned about Airbnb from a neighbor,
who earned enough to quit her full-time job and launch a start-up
company. Three other neighbors are also renting rooms now, and her
husband, once his contract job expired, launched his photography
business while the extra income was streaming in. Holman admits that,
initially, there was a bit of an “ick factor” about inviting strangers
into their home, but she got past it. “It’s amazing how quickly you
become friends with some of the guests,” Holman says. She recommends
nearby Zella’s Pizzeria and CUPS Coffeehouse to visitors and helps them
navigate the city. “We still keep in touch with people who were here
just for two nights.”

A large factor in the confidence in
peer-to-peer models like Airbnb, Holman notes, is that people on both
ends are required to register online, get verified through social media
like Facebook, and then provide user reviews. “Like Yelp,” she chuckles.
“I was nervous about that, too, but it makes everyone want to leave a
good impression.”

In terms of how the new business models are
playing out in urban areas, physically it’s most apparent in
transportation. Some cities have wrestled with regulating the
peer-to-peer models, but Baltimore, so far, has taken a hands-off
approach.

Billy Hwang, of the Baltimore City Department of
Transportation, and a Gen-Xer, can’t help but laugh when he hears
Shaheen’s phrase, “the burden of vehicle ownership” repeated. He sounds
stunned by how fast changing millennial priorities and emerging
technology have affected urban planning.

“In my generation, the
first thing you did when you turned 16 was take your driver’s test,”
Hwang says. “Now, you look at something like bike-sharing. Five years
ago, that was a farfetched idea.

“The iPhone sparked a revolution
that’s been spilling over into transportation for the last two to three
years,” Hwang continues. “We’ve never seen anything like this—where
non-transportation technology is driving changes in transportation.”
Wireless radio-frequency identification, for example, is what enables
Zipcar members to open a car door with a swipe of an ID card or a
bike-share member to unlock a bicycle from a station. Also new: the
ability to track Charm City Circulator arrival times on a smartphone.

“When
we look back, we might put the turning point at 2010, when peer-to-peer
car sharing started in San Francisco and bike-sharing came to
Washington,” says Shaheen, who has studied transportation for 17 years.
“The phenomenon of ‘shared’ mobility is occurring and gaining
momentum.” (Hwang might add it was the same year the iPhone 4, still the
most popular iPhone, was released.)

Case in point: There are
currently bike-sharing programs in 46 U.S. cities, and Charm City
Bikeshare, Hwang confirms, will break ground this spring with 25-30 bike
stations. If doubts remain about the popularity of such bike and
ridesharing systems, consider that D.C.’s Capital Bikeshare accounted
for nearly 2.5 million trips last year. And that New York City’s
bike-share program posted 5 million trips in its first five months last
year. Or that Lyft, now in 18 cities, surpassed 1 million trips in
August, in its first year in business.

Zipcar, too, which arrived
with a handful of cars on Baltimore college campuses, has also expanded
dramatically. With 200 cars in the city, it’s now working closely with
the Parking Authority to reduce downtown parking demands, as well as
their Parking Authority fleet of vehicles. Parking Authority spokeswoman
Tiffany James, a married Hampden mom with twins, says Zipcar allowed
her family to sell one of their cars. “We have people who have asked us,
‘When can we get Zipcar in our neighborhood?’” James says. “Patterson
Park’s neighborhood association cheered when we introduced Zipcar.”

Jeremy
Pomp, who works for Zipcar, is from Harford County, just like Parking
Panda’s Miller. In many ways, his story parallels changing millennial
values. At 33, he’s old enough to have suffered through the worst of his
generation’s financial woes, having bought a house before the 2008
crash and then watching it lose 30 percent of its value almost
overnight. Today, he and his wife rent an apartment and live with their
two children near Ridgley’s Delight, also getting by, happily, with one
car—a 12-year-old VW Golf. Pomp bikes his 4-year-old daughter to school
before riding to work in Mt. Vernon. He takes advantage of previously
unavailable digital and GPS technology to live more efficiently—i.e.
less time in the car. “If we are out of peanut butter, I add it to the
list and order with Relay Foods [an online grocer now in 10 cites], and
they’ll deliver it.

“Zipcar, bike-share, Uber—these things
complement each other,” he continues. “And they are really about
removing barriers to living in the city that have been built up over
time.” His mother, he notes, grew up in Patterson Park when most
families got by with one car or no car, borrowing a neighbor’s for
weekend grocery shopping, if necessary. In that way, he says, new
technology is actually enabling people to live in downtown neighborhoods
more like they way people used to.

Shaheen agrees that the idea
of “sharing” resources isn’t new. It’s what people did in previous
generations before a 50-year splintering to the suburbs. At the same
time, she cautions about overstating the trend toward urban living among
millennials, who have also been delaying marriage and children.
“There’s still time for them to move to the suburbs,” she says. In other
words, there’s still no app for improving city public schools, or
lowering poverty and crime rates.

However, Holman, who is
pregnant, says she and her husband do not plan to leave the city. She
admits, though, that once the baby arrives, they plan to put a hold on
Airbnb.

“I don’t feel comfortable about having strangers in the
house with a baby,” she says. “But what’s funny, is that our parents—who
thought we were crazy to buy a house in the city and then crazier to do
Airbnb—are now like, ‘That’s a lot of money you’ll be losing. Are you
sure?’”

Ron Cassie is a senior editor at Baltimore.