Reimagining Albuquerque

At the beginning of March, the city celebrated the opening of newly upgraded bike lanes through the Downtown Core, marking a key step in making Central Avenue safer and more inviting for cyclists, scooters, and people on foot, as well. But the bigger story—tucked into a March 25 report by Downtown Albuquerque News—may have been Councilor Joaquín Baca’s remark that he hopes people will eventually stop driving down Central altogether. In his words: “That’s the hope.”

And what a hope that is.

For decades, Central Avenue has symbolized Albuquerque’s soul. It was once the path of the streetcar, then became Route 66, the mythic mother road of American mobility. It was Downtown’s commercial lifeblood, later gutted by suburban flight and urban renewal. Now, in its latest chapter, it may become something even more powerful: a space reclaimed for people.

This is not a radical idea. Cities across the country, and the globe, have closed key streets to cars and seen dramatic success. Santa Monica’s Third Street Promenade is one of the most beloved public spaces in Southern California, a hub of activity and civic pride. Denver’s 16th Street Mall has functioned as a transit- and pedestrian-priority corridor for over forty years, anchored by free shuttle buses and a mix of shops, plazas, and cultural institutions. These places are not antiseptic substitutes for malls. They are urban ecosystems in motion. And in Denver’s case, helped refill the scars left by destructive urban renewal. Is this a lesson for Albuquerque? We think so.

Albuquerque has tried something like this before. Fourth Street in Downtown was closed to traffic in the 1980s in an attempt to mimic suburban shopping centers. It failed, in part because it never truly prioritized people. Like many urban pedestrian malls of the era, it was surrounded by bulldozed buildings, parking lots, and a maze of one-way, high-speed stroads. Downtown Las Cruces’ Main Street fell victim to the same logic: erase context, add planters, and wait for crowds that never came.

In Albuquerque, that story is etched into the streetscape. Gold and Copper, once walkable and rich with small storefronts, civic institutions, and homes, were warped into high-speed, one-way feeders meant to funnel cars around the deadened core. These patterns persisted until relatively recently. Only in the last decade have we seen the restoration of walkable blocks on the east end of Downtown and the calming of the Central & 8th intersection a decade before that with a roundabout that slowed cars and created space for safer crossings—while restoring the grid.

But this moment is different. The new Central bike lanes reflect a modern approach. There’s green paint and better intersections. Bollards that slow turns. Loading zones thoughtfully integrated into the corridor. These are not half-measures. They are intentional steps toward a new urban reality: one where people, not cars, take precedence.

In that light, Baca’s vision for pedestrianizing the Central corridor from First to Eighth is not just a dream—it is the logical next move.

Modern pedestrianization efforts don’t just eliminate cars; they add life. They prioritize urban amenities, dense housing, small-scale retail, and placemaking. They anchor vibrant events, farmers markets, festivals, and spontaneous community. And they support equity. Not everyone drives. But everyone gets around. Everyone breathes cleaner air. Everyone benefits from streets designed for humans.

And yes, even car lovers can find a place in this vision.

Ideas about pedestrianizing Central through the Downtown Core are often met with concerns that doing so could disrupt cherished local traditions—especially Albuquerque’s vibrant cruising culture. But that doesn’t have to be the case, and it shouldn’t be. In fact, a well-designed pedestrian corridor could strengthen these traditions rather than sideline them. Imagine a version of Central that reopens to cruisers on Sundays, where lowriders glide slowly past strolling families, live music echoes between buildings, and photographers capture iconic moments beneath the glow of neon. That’s not a loss—it’s a fuller expression of what makes this city special.

There is symbolic power in reclaiming Route 66. The original myth of the highway was one of freedom, opportunity, and motion. But that mythology depended on a country building toward connection, not congestion. Central Avenue was once known as Railroad Avenue, the literal spine of our early city, built around transit. Then it became Route 66. Now, it’s our primary bus rapid transit corridor, home to ART. That makes Central more than a roadway—it is our shared artery. A transit-first, pedestrian-friendly Central honors its entire history.

Downtown doesn’t need pity. It needs praise. It needs love, energy, and belief. And we should commend Councilor Baca for being willing to imagine something different, something bolder. A Central Avenue closed to cars but open to people is not an experiment in exclusion. It’s an invitation.

It’s a promise.

If we can reimagine Central, we can reimagine Albuquerque. And that’s what it’s all about.