There are all the cars, zipping in and out of the parking lots of the lively commercial strip along East Putnam Avenue. And there are the ones that go by at a faster clip, and more thunderously, on Interstate 95, whose elevated light blue roadbed casts shadows on some streets.  Then there are rowers — teenagers from private schools, as well as adults looking to stretch their limbs — who skim past in crew boats along the Mianus River. Others sail past in yachts from the necklace of marinas along River and Strickland Roads.  Also, a handful of commuters use bikes to get to Cos Cob’s wood-frame Metro-North Railroad station, before chugging off to Grand Central Terminal. About 20 percent of residents say they use public transportation to travel to work, census records indicate, versus 4 percent statewide.  Yet engines, pedals and oars are not the main reason that many end up in Cos Cob. Residents say the like the neighborhood’s walkability.  Playgrounds, mom-and-pop restaurants and a beloved library are often no more than a five-minute stroll away, and it is not uncommon to see people making their way there on the shoulders of roads, undeterred by the occasional lack of sidewalks.  Even after decades of living there, the novelty hasn’t worn off for Faith Toraby, who walks to the post office nearly every day at 4:30 p.m. to catch up on gossip, and sometimes even buy stamps. Having everything close in many ways recalls New York City, where Ms. Toraby worked as a lawyer for 12 years.  Ms. Toraby’s home, a daffodil-yellow Federal-style structure with six bedrooms, gazes down on it all from a perch on a hill. It cost her $660,000 in 1991, she said, estimating that it might sell for $3 million today, in part because she added a wing with a garage to the back.  From her windows, she can see I-95 in the distance. But if not for the efforts of preservationists in the 1950s, it might be much closer. They were the ones who urged highway planners to reroute it slightly south, historical accounts show.  Today the Interstate is more friend than foe, especially at night, Ms. Toraby said. “There’s something nice having a little twinkling of lights going by,” she said jokingly.  If there’s any outdoor noise to speak of north of East Putnam Avenue, it probably emanates from children skateboarding in the street, said Laura Yens, a new resident. She considers those sounds pleasing.  Last fall, she and husband, John McDonald, both lawyers, relocated from Bethesda, Md., after more than a year of hunting on Long Island and in Connecticut. Greenwich was an early favorite, but in the older houses they saw in Old Greenwich and Central Greenwich, the kitchens and baths weren’t always up to snuff. But the three-bedroom Foursquare they found in Cos Cob, with an octagonal window by the door, had up-to-date amenities, she said. It cost $800,000.  Though a newcomer, Ms. Yens has already broken in her shoes. She frequently makes use of a little red wagon to tow her son, Ryan, who is nearly 2, to the library, which on Wednesdays hosts sing-alongs with offerings like “The Wheels on the Bus.”  But no wheels are needed when she craves veggie wraps from Arcuri’s, a nearby pizzeria. “You feel silly getting in the car,” Ms. Yens said. “And it’s actually faster to go out the door and get them.”  Cos Cob’s four and a half square miles correspond roughly with the boundaries of the 06807 ZIP code, which follows the Mianus from its mouth to the Stamford border.  There are about 9,000 residents, about a quarter of whom claim Italian ancestry; historically, Italians lived in the microneighborhood of Mianus, which hugs the dammed portion of the river.  Between Valley Road and Bible Street, near Scarpelli’s market, is a mix of modest Capes and two-families, many of them amply clad in stucco. The backyard privacy so typical of Greenwich, enforced by privet hedges, is notably absent. Houses are cheek by jowl on sixth-of-an-acre lots.  Farther north the landscape opens up, and two-acre zoning is the rule. Contemporary styles and newer colonials relax on wooded cul-de-sacs off Cat Rock Road, where it is not unusual to find a pool or tennis court, or both.
Cos Cob, a snug enclave in Greenwich about 32 miles from Manhattan, seems a place in perpetual motion.