Swept By A Tide Of Poor Design

Yesterday’s  story told the tragic end of an award-winning journalist—and cycling enthusiast—on a Florida road.

The story I’m going to relate today didn’t end as badly—the cyclist survived.  But it had this in common with Tim O’Brien’s mishap:  It had a cause in something neither that cyclist, O’Brien (or, for that matter anyone else) could have foreseen.  That cause, however stemmed at least in part from poor planning, design or policy.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, O’Brien was struck by a car that ricocheted after it was struck by a pickup truck making a left turn on Route A1A:  a two-lane road (for most of its length) where drivers drive at highway speeds and make left turns onto side streets where, as often as not, there are no signals or signs.  Also, on A1A, the sidewalks serve as bike lanes and, too often, shoulders or pull-over lanes for cars.

The cyclist I’m going to mention today was swept off his bike by a tide—while pedaling along a bike lane that skirted the edge of the water.

This near-tragedy struck on the path between Lake Michigan and Chicago’s Lakeshore Drive.  Although Michigan, like the other Great Lakes, is filled with fresh water, it—like Superior, Huron, Erie and Ontario—is really a vast inland sea with its own tides. 

Those tides are affected by the same things that whip up the oceans:  the moon’s gravitational pull, geocentric forces—and the weather, the wind in particular.

I know these phenomena quite well:  I often cycle along the Verrazano Narrows, Long Island Sound, Upper New York Bay (where the Hudson River ends) Jamaica Bay and the misnamed East and Harlem Rivers.  All are inlets or bays of the Atlantic Ocean:  something people living by them learned the hard way during Superstorm Sandy!  I have been reminded of the waters’ provenance a few times when waves spilled onto the paths or streets I was riding.

Now, some might say that my and that Chicago cyclist’s experience were unfortunate accidents that were just part of life in the big city.  There was, however, a flaw in the Chicago path that I’ve noticed on some waterside bike lanes I’ve ridden: It sits several feet lower than the adjacent roadway.  Oh, and there’s no barrier between the lane and the water.

A bike lane sandwiched between a major roadway and a tidal waterway—built several feet lower than the roadway, with no barrier between the lane and tides? If I were just a little more paranoid, I’d think that it wasn’t just bad planning and design: I’d believe it was designed to do away with cyclists!