Why Do They—And We—Break Traffic Laws?

For a time, I belonged to a church that propagated the belief that we inevitably sin because we are innately sinners. I wondered whether that logic applies to secular law: Do we break laws because we are inherently criminals?

Although I believe the answer is “no,” I can understand why some people would think otherwise. At least one study indicates that the average person breaks a law every day. As often as not, the offenses are unintentional. But why do otherwise upstanding citizens have, shall we say, moments when they don’t play by one rule or another?

The answer, I guess, is that it depends on the situation, which rule or regulation is being flouted or ignored, and why.  An Idaho (Now you know where this is going if you’ve been reading my blog regularly!) survey of road users indicates as much.

According to that survey, 95.9 percent of cyclists reported breaking a traffic law. That is only slightly less than the 97.9 percent of pedestrians and 99.97 percent of drivers who admitted to doing the same.

What distinguishes cyclists from pedestrians and motorists, however, are their motivations for law-breaking. While 85 percent of drivers and 71 percent of foot-travelers said they broke or ignored traffic regulations to save time, 71 percent of bicycle riders said they skirted a rule for their own safety.

That statistic is part of an argument advocates in California and other states are making for the adoption of the so-called Idaho Stop. Since 1982, the Gem State has allowed cyclists to proceed through a “Stop” sign if there is no cross-traffic at the intersection.  Since then, a number of states and other jurisdictions in the US and Europe have adopted it or similar policies.

Photo by Melanie Curry for Streetsblog CA

Studies indicate that allowing cyclists to, in essence, treat a “stop” sign as a “yield” sign has a somewhat positive or, at worst, neutral effect on safety for cyclists, pedestrians and motorists. 

Authors of those studies, however, also recommend that instruction about the “Idaho Stop” and its benefits be included in driver’s education courses and manuals. The reason for that is simple: In spite of those studies—and testimonies from cyclists like me—many drivers and law enforcement officers believe that the “Idaho Stop” leads to reckless, lawless cycling. As any cyclist can tell you, proceeding through an intersection ahead of traffic flowing in the same direction is safer for everyone involved, assuming there is no cross traffic. For one thing, it all but eliminates the chance that a cyclist will be hit by a right-turning vehicle and greatly reduces the risk of being struck from behind or by oncoming drivers making a left turn. It also reduces the likelihood of a cyclist striking a pedestrian.

Most of the jurisdictions that have legalized the “Idaho Stop” or similar legislation did so during the half-decade or so before the COVID-19 pandemic. Since then, attempts to enshrine it in California, my home state of New York and other places have been stalled or halted largely because of panic about eBike safety. That concern grew in part because of electric motorcycles illegally sold as eBikes (which, in most cities and states, don’t require permits or licenses) and because the use of legal and illegal machines grew exponentially as delivery-app services swelled in popularity. Consumers demand fast deliveries; app companies make delivery workers, most of whom are immigrants, work under unrealistic time frames. 

The result?  Delivery workers who run red lights and ignore traffic signs —so that Buffy and Dane can get their sushi in ten minutes. And cyclists like me have to break a rule or two to keep from getting hit by them.

Calling Me To Attention

 Late yesterday, I rode the Bronx River Greenway. Cold dry wind rasped through bare branches. Birds tweeted—one, I noticed, louder and in a more plaintive way, as if pleading for something—to be rescued? Or simply to be noticed?

Of course I couldn’t rescue that darling little creature. But seeing it made my ride, and day.  I hope he/she/it felt the same way.

The Latest Pandemics?

 During the worst days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I and nearly everyone I knew had a relative, friend, co-worker, neighbor or other acquaintance who died from the illness. Something similar happened during the AIDS crisis, before effective treatments came along:  Between Memorial Day and Christmas of 1991, five people—including two good friends—were claimed by AIDS-related illnesses.

Lately, when I type “bicycle news” into a browser, I feel as if I’m getting a view of two other “pandemics,” if you will. The first one I’ll describe is, in its own way, as dire as—and, arguably, more preventable than—the COVID and AIDS epidemics. The other isn’t nearly so tragic, though it brings sadness and inconvenience to many.

Every day, it seems, there are more reports of cyclists killed or seriously injured when they are struck by— or more infrequently, strike—motor vehicles. Such incidents, which are often misnamed as “accidents,” are as often as not a result of poor road or bike infrastructure: For example, an intersection is configured, signals are timed (and dangerous laws enforced) so that cyclists cross directly into the path of turning vehicles.

(What I know about public health is on par with what I know about sub-atomic physics. So take what I am about to say for what it’s worth: If the Centers for Disease Control could declare—rightly, as they did—that gun violence in the US a public health crisis, the needless deaths of cyclists and pedestrians should also be so designated.)

The other, less catastrophic “epidemic” is part of the COVID pandemic’s fallout. As I and others noted, there was a “boom,” however brief, during the epidemic’s early days:  Many people took up, or returned to, cycling while already-active cyclists like me rode even more than we’d already been riding. 

Ironically, some shops (most notably Harris Cyclery, Sheldon Brown’s old home base) closed their doors because they ran out of bikes, parts, helmets and other related items just as nothing was coming through the supply chains. But even more shops—and manufacturers and suppliers of bicycles and related goods—fell victim during the past two years or so. In some cases, those companies ordered merchandise once supply chains opened up, but the ‘boom” went “bust.” 

There were also other challenges. People who might have bought traditional bicycles in the recent past are now buying electric bikes. And among buyers of non-assisted bikes, tastes—and the ways people buy bikes and related goods—change.

But another iconic company faced another challenge: where they make their products. I suspect that had something to do with Mercian’s near-death experience last year: Their frames are built and finished by hand in high-wage, high-cost UK. (A group of local cycling enthusiasts purchased the company a few weeks after it ceased trading and re-hired the frame builders who’d been working there.) And location, location, location was cited in CEO Daniel Emerson’s announcement that Light & Motion, a California manufacturer of lights for cycling (and diving and photography) is ceasing operations.

One passage from his open letter, in particular, could have been a jab at President Joe Biden or President-elect Donald Trump, both of whom have talked about bringing manufacturing back to the US, albeit by different means: “[T]he political winds, regardless of the talk, have been against US manufacturing, which continues its decline.”

I’m no economist, but my guess, however uneducated, is that his announcement should be heeded as a warning: It will take more than rhetoric, an “inflation reduction act” or punitive tariffs to bring manufacturing, of bicycle lights or anything else, “back” to the US. For one thing, once companies like Light & Motion shutter, their resources and expertise move elsewhere—or are simply lost. Factories become condos and cannot be re-opened as manufacturing facilities. Also, even if the product—whether it’s a bike light or an iPhone—were to be made in some low-wage, low-tax, non-union state, they probably will need components made in China or other countries. (If you bought, say, a US-made Cannondale or Trek, almost everything hung on the frame—and, perhaps the material for the frame itself —came from somewhere else.)

So, I would say that the two “epidemics” I’ve mentioned—bicycle fatalities and the demise of bicycle-related businesses—and the ways in which the COVID and AIDS epidemics unnecessarily claimed lives, are both due, at least in part, to wrongheadedness or mendacity on the part of politicians and policy-makers.