I live in London these days. Almost any journey is easiest by public transport, and my workplace, which employs in excess of 800 persons, has precisely a dozen parking spaces. Typically, they are used by contractors, and staff are permitted to use them in exceedingly rare circumstances - though more liberally at weekends by shift workers, especially with the late Sunday start to many lines.
It takes me 45-50mins, shift permitting, to get the tube and bus to and from work. Car would be longer, although weekend earlies it is quicker (my record being 19 minutes at 5.30am on a Sunday...).
I wrote a similar post to the below about 10 years ago - but I think it still stands, albeit an extreme example :
Now, suppose instead I lived in South Yorkshire. Let's assume that I live on a "main" bus route and work in a town centre (since radial services are almost extinct), and work permanent days (since there is no night service, and the frequency is low as early as 6pm). My employers likely have a free car park with ample spaces. I own a car which I use to get to and from work - doing around 40 miles per week, I buy around 1.5 gallons of petrol (less than a tenner) for commuting.
Let's say that such a person decides to try the bus, perhaps his car is in the garage or maybe he just thinks he should give it a try. He knows that buses pass on the main road, since the racket of ill maintained engines trying to climb a hill can be heard regularly. So the next morning, he goes down to the bus stop. There are timetables for five different services on the stop, with five different service numbers, although eventually he discovers that they are a supposedly integrated service which, combined, runs every ten minutes. That being said, the timetable does say that some services may not run during school holidays, but doesnt specify which, just for the added excitement. Oh, and there is no indication on the stop of how much the fare is! Still, there's a bus in a few minutes.... only the time comes and goes with no bus in sight. He thinks to ring the number advertised for enquiries, and gets through to a call centre who say they don't know anything about when the next bus is, since they are from the PTE and the buses are privately run. After a while, the bus behind turns up, and the surly driver is not happy being asked about fares, and even more unhappy when the passenger proffers a ten pound note. But, having parted with £4.90, the passenger takes his seat and admires the graffiti-covered interior, with litter from yesterday still strewn everywhere, and enjoys an elongated amble around back streets and other estates (covering for previously withdrawn minibus routes) arriving in town some time later. Oh, and in town there's a diversion, but nobody advises the passengers of this, so he ends up some distance away from where he reckoned.
Next time, he gets a lift with a friend!