A “Guerilla” Bike Share

If you’ve ridden a bike from a share network like Citibike in my hometown of New York, you probably retrieved the bike from a dock by clicking an app or QR code. At least, that’s what I’ve done the few times I’ve ridden such a bike.

The earliest official share programs—like the one started in La Rochelle, France half a century ago (and still running to this day) could not, of course, have operated in such a way because we didn’t have portable phones, “smart” or otherwise, and the technological networks didn’t exist. So, I imagine, operating the share system must have been more labor intensive, and its bikes more difficult to keep track of, than its current iteration.

In my previous paragraph, I wrote that La Rochelle can lay claim to the first “official” bike share program. That is to say, it was the first to be organized and sanctioned by a city or other government. The idea of bikes publicly available to anyone who wants to ride them predates La Rochelle’s program by a decade or so:  During the mid-1960s, anarchists took abandoned bicycles, painted them white and left the Witte Fietsen on the streets of Amsterdam for anyone who wanted to ride them.

It seems that the spirit of that “Dutch treat,” if you will, has been revived in Montclair, New Jersey, only 33 kilometers (21 miles) or so from my apartment.

“Andy,” who would not give his full name, found a few bikes that were being thrown away.  He took them home, repaired them and collected more bikes. He soon had a full garage. 

One day, as he relates, he was talking to a co-worker who said getting to the bus he takes to work was ‘challenging.” “Andy”offered him one of the bikes, explaining that he could lock the bike up before he boarded the bus and hop back on it after returning.

A “Guerilla” bike in front of the Montclair Public Library.

So was the Montclair Guerilla Bike Share program born. It takes bikes from the trash, clean-outs and donors, makes them rideable and leaves them in public spaces where people can unlock them with QR codes or by visiting the website. After riding it, you can lock it in a public place for someone else to unlock it.

“Andy” says he’s improved the stickers and other markings to make them easier to find. He’s also installed trackers on them, which helps to ensure that they’re not stolen and makes it easier to check on their conditions.

I am sure he knows about Citibike and other institutionalized bike-share programs. But I wonder whether he knew anything about the anarchists in Amsterdam who were leaving bikes on that city’s streets a decade before he was born.

Fighting A "Culture War" They Can't Win (I Hope)

There are moments that change history.  Everyone knows some of them; others, we think we know.  Then there are the ones that, while documented, are forgotten even though their significance is both deep and broad.

We've all heard the story of how Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the Castle Church door in Wittenberg, Germany five centuries ago.  While almost no one doubts he actually wrote the theses--and he sent copies of them to church and political officials--the story about him hanging them on a church door is in doubt.

On the other hand, there is a video of an unknown taxi driver who, perhaps unwittingly, launched the movements for sustainable transportation and economies--and the backlash against them that has launched a culture war between drivers and cyclists, among other people.

In 1972, the unnamed livery driver was incensed that his "right" to drive wherever he wanted was "taken" from him by city officials who had the temerity to close off a street.  Why would such overbearing functionaries arrogate unto themselves the authority to keep someone like him from driving down a thoroughfare paid for with his taxes?

Well, if the answer is that the driver in this story paid a larger share of his income in taxes than his counterparts in other places, it would be almost understandable.  Somehow, though, I don't think that he was preoccupied with that fact. Like many drivers, he simply wanted to take the shortest, most direct and convenient, route to wherever he was going.  If he were being paid per-trip rather than per-hour, his frustration would have been a bit more understandable, if not justifiable.

But I think he simply was impatient in the ways drivers often are:  I guess it can be frustrating to have something that can get you somewhere quickly and with minimal effort, only to be stalled by something, animate or not, that doesn't "belong" in the roadway.

That something, in the driver's way was a set of barricades.  Their purpose?  To designate a "children's only" street.

Perhaps it had something to do with having children--perhaps the ones who would have been on that street--that led citizens of that city to denounce the driver and push for safer streets for pedestrians, cyclists and other non-motorized travelers.

That city was Amsterdam which, in 1972, was as choked with auto traffic as many other European capitals.  Now, of course, it's known as one of the world's most bike- and pedestrian-friendly cities, and has led the way--along with cities like Copenhagen--in developing walkable, cycleable city centers.  

That taxi driver may never be as famous for pulling down barricades as Martin Luther was for (allegedly) hanging up what might have been the world's first viral message.  He did, however, ignite a culture war that has been largely won by those he fought against.  Such a story gives me hope because in more car-centric places, the reactionaries (who abound in, but are not limited to, conservative political factions) are riling up their constituents  against an imagined "war on cars" from the borough of Queens, NYC (where I live) to Queenborough, UK and Queensland, Australia.

We are a nation of drivers.

Most of us use a car every day and, for many, life would be difficult without their car.

But too often, drivers feel under attack.

That changes today with a long-term plan to improve drivers' experience on the road.

Here’s how 👇🧵 pic.twitter.com/yJvotPyyYy

— Rishi Sunak (@RishiSunak) September 30, 2023

  Those would-be defenders of the diesel tend to be older, while those who don't want to spend three hours of their day driving to work and parking tend to be younger, in chronology and, like yours truly, in spirit---even if I am in, ahem, midlife!  

For Once, Don't Listen To The Talking Heads!

Six years ago, Paris drained its Canal Saint-Martin to clean it, as the city does every fifteen years or so. Although the canal now bisects fashionable streets with chic cafes and shops, it was once bisected a rather gritty working-class area.  But, perhaps to no-one's surprise, the most commonly-found objects found in every canal-draining were wine bottles.

And the second-most common?  Bicycles.  The only difference is that in the most recent cleaning, many of the bikes came from Velib, the City of Light's share program.

Bicycle uncovered during most recent draining of the Canal Saint-Martin.  Photo by Yoan Valat for EPA.

The company that ran Rome's bike-share program abruptly ended its contract because so many of the bikes ended up in the Tiber.  Not exactly what Remus and Romulus had in mind, is it?

Amsterdam has had to resort to "fietsen vissen"--bicycle fishing--because bikes were piled so high in the city's canals that they scraped the flat-bottomed boats.  At one time, freelance scavengers picked them up on poles and sold them for scrap.  In the 1960's, the city's water agency assumed responsibility for the "harvest."  Now a corps of municipal workers trawl for the submerged bikes on boats equipped with cranes attached to hydraulic claw grapples.  The bikes are hauled  to scrapyards for recycling where, according to urban legend, they become beer cans. (Think about that the next time you grab a Heineken or Amstel!)

The phenomenon of bikes "sleeping with the fishes" (I grew up in a Mafia neighborhood. Gotta problem widdat?)  isn't limited to European cities.  In Tokyo, officials decided to drain a large pond in the middle of Inokashira Park to rid it of a non-native species of fish that was causing environmental damage. Their work uncovered another species that wasn't native to the pond:  bicycles.  And, in February 2019, a Citibike appeared--covered with barnacles and blisters--appeared overnight in an Upper West Side docking station. A Hudson River conservancy group expert estimated that evidence--including "oysters on the handlebars" (Upper West Siders pay good money for such things!)--indicated that the machine met its fate in the Hudson the pervious August, or possibly June.

Jody Rosen has just written an article on this phenomenon for the Guardian. It speculates on some of the reasons why so many bikes end up in waterways.  Some are dumped when by fleeing criminals--who are as likely as not to have stolen the bike they're drowning.  Others are tossed or accidentally ridden into the water by drunken revelers.  (Could recycling be contributing, if unintentionally, to bikes ending up in Amsterdam's canals?)  And there are a few instances of folks who "ended it all" by riding into murky waters, as one woman did after handcuffing herself to her machine.

But, as Rosen points out, a bicycle--especially one whose owner is unknown or a corporate entity--is an easy target for people taking out their frustrations.  I suspect that at least a few share bikes were tossed into canals, rivers, lakes and other bodies of water by folks--more than likely, young--who feel lost, alienated, abandoned or simply ignored by their societies, cultures or institutions that control their lives, and over which they feel they have no control.

As a lifelong cyclist, I cannot imagine myself tossing a bike that did nothing wrong to me into the water.  And, as an environmentally-conscious person, I cannot condone throwing anything into a body of water that its native species can't eat.  But, as we've seen, these days, where there are bikes, there are e-bikes.  That, unfortunately, includes waterways, where e-bikes and mopeds are even more of a hazard because of the rare metals and chemicals used in batteries and other components.  

So, if you have a bike, e-bike, moped or scooter you want to get rid of, sell it or donate it. But please don't follow the advice of a Talking Heads song!

Bike Biennale

Say "Biennale" to intellectual snobs like me (We're the kinds of people who tap our index fingers to our chins and say, "Interesting" when we're looking at something we don't quite understand.) and we think of an art exhibition that takes place every two years in Venice--or other exhibitions that have stolen appropriated the name.

Now there's another kind of Biennale--one for bicycle architecture.  Even for someone who's as jaded as I am has as realistic expectations as mine for bicycle infrastructure, it looks like an enlightening (no, I won't say "interesting") exhibit.  And it would be even more enlightening for most of the folks charged with planning and executing bicycle infrastructure in most places.

This Biennale, which opened in Amsterdam (where else?) the other day, features bicycle infrastructure that's recently been built as well as design proposals.  In the former category are two lanes in Limburg, Belgium I'd want to ride because they seem so other-worldly. One slices directly through a pond, so that cyclists are riding at eye level with the water. (I think now of tour buses "parting" the "Red Sea" during the Universal Studios tour.) The other rises as high as 32 feet into the canopy of a forest.  Both of those lanes are intended to entice more people to ride.  

Among the proposals is one that, if built, I would be able to experience regularly.  It would be built on an abandoned rail line in my home borough of Queens.  In its path, an "upside down bridge" would feature a community center at the base, a "floating forest" at each end of the top and bike paths along the side.

I hope that this Biennale will show not only can bike infrastructure be both practical and beautiful, but can be built in places not called Amsterdam or Copenhagen.
  

A Lock--And A Blockchain?

Until a few days ago, I thought a blockchain had something to do with construction machinery or power tools.  Turns out, it's very high tech. In fact, it is a core component of the Bitcoin.

As I understand it, the "block" is a growing list of digital records linked by using cryptography.  Each block contains a cryptographic hash of the previous block, a timestamp and transaction data.  By its design, the cryptographic hash is a one-way function, meaning that it is impossible to invert, i.e., alter.  

Each of the blocks is linked using cryptography.  The blocks can originate from any number of sources and can be transmitted to others.  As an example, a block can be sent from the owner of an object to the police and an insurance company.

You can see where this is going, right?

IBM is working on a system that will allow a bike's owner to register his or her machine via an app.  That information would also be stored on a "smart" lock that would provide the location of the bike when it's parked--and allow transmission of that data to the concerned parties (owner, police and insurer) if the bike is stolen.

Currently, reporting a stolen bike is a cumbersome process in the US and Europe, as Louis de Bruin explains.  "Many interactions are required to exchange information that all these parties do not have at hand," said the IBM Blockchain Lead for Europe.  The blockchain "simplifies the process," he said, because "all information about the stolen bicycle and owner are recorded on the blockchain and available for all parties to access at the right moment."

That IBM is trying this system first in the Netherlands, via IBM Benelux, is not surprising.  After all, there are more bicycles than people in the low-lying nation, and theft is a problem, particularly in Amsterdam.  But IBM sees the potential, not only for individual bike owners, but for owners of rental or bike-share fleets.  In some cities, such as Rome, bike-share programs were halted because of theft and vandalism.

Of course, such a system could also be used to aid in recovering other stolen items, and in detecting counterfeit items.  But it's fascinating to see that, if such a system works, cyclists might be its early adopters.

Finding Its Way

So you thought all of the completely pointless high-tech innovations came from Silicon Valley types with too much time on their hands?

Well, here's one from Amsterdam.



As we all know, just about everything is legal there--including some mind-altering substances.  (The beer is pretty strong, too!) So, it's not hard to imagine someone coming up with a self-driving bicycle after inhaling.

Of course, as so often happens with such inventions, its creators didn't think about its target audience.  After all, who would have any use for a bicycle that doesn't need humans?

Still, I understand that sales are brisk...

No More Beer Bikes In Amsterdam

Within the past week, I've read articles in The Atlantic and Vanity Fair about Tim Piazza, a Beta Theta Pi pledge at Penn State University.  Those articles confirmed what I have long suspected:  Even though the legal drinking age is 21 almost everywhere in the US, and even though national fraternity organizations (and, often, college and university administrations) claim that "hazing" is not allowed and that fraternity recruitment programs are "alcohol free", the booze flows freely and pledges are often treated terribly.

I can only imagine what would happen if those frats operated in Amsterdam--and, more specifically, had access to something that's been part of its landscape for some time.

I'm talking about the "beer bikes", so beloved by stag parties and other (mostly male) groups who do all manner of things in the Dutch capital (and in other places) they would never do at home.

The "bike" is really more like a cart with pedals.  Whatever one calls it, it's essentially a rolling bar, or at least a rolling beer garden.   Not surprisingly, users of the beer bikes, almost all of whom are tourists, often become rowdy and, to put it politely, have difficulty navigating those vehicles.

So it's also not a surprise that they have become almost as despised by residents of the city as they are beloved by revelers.  Last year, then-mayor Eberhard van der Laan, who died last month, heard the collective cries of "Genoeg is genoeg!" (All right, that's a Google translation.) and instituted a ban on the beer bikes.  

That ban was challenged by beer bike operators and struck down.  However, the other day, the Amsterdam District Court agreed with the ruling.  It took effect the other day.

It's been a long time since I've been in Amsterdam and, I admit, when I was there, I was probably was in an even more altered state of consciousness than most patrons of the beer bikes.  Still, I remember the narrow streets that run alongside, and are punctuated by, the canals.  As I recall, navigating some of those streets is difficult even for sober cyclists, pedestrians and drivers.  And if I had to get up and go to work every day in "The Venice of the North," I probably wouldn't be too happy about losing sleep to, and weaving around, loud drunks.  So, I think I can understand and sympathise with those who wanted the ban.

Now, whether it will curb some of the "undesirable" tourism some city leaders and other residents lament, I don't know.

A Mayor For---Cycling?

Two years ago, when I was in Paris, I learned that the city had recently appointed its first "maire de la nuit":  night mayor.

When I first heard about it, I wondered whether there was some hour--say, 9pm--when mayor Anne Hidalgo clocked out of City Hall and Clement Leon R, the night mayor, took over.  One of my friends explained to me that Clement Leon R heads the "Conseil de la Nuit"--a night City Council, if you will.  They are tasked with overseeing night life in the City of Light.  Among other things, they try to manage, and sometimes smooth over, relations between such establishments as bars and music clubs--as well as businesses that are legal there but not here.  

The office is patterned after one started in Amsterdam in 2014.  That city's night mayor, Malik Milan, is exploring the possiblity of creating a "Chinatown of night life" where libraries for students as well as eateries and the traditional venues associated with night life could be open 24/7.  The idea, which other cities are exploring, would take noisy establishments out of residential and central business areas and put them in some neighborhood on the perimeter.  As Milan explains, "In Holland, you can't have a proper meal after 9:30 p.m., and when friends arrive late from out of town, all you can offer them is fries."

I imagine that if you arrive late by bike and get a flat, or have some other sort of mechanical issue, you couldn't have it fixed until the next day (unless, of course, you or your friend knows how).  Would a 24/7 bike shop be part of such a district?   And, if it did, would it be then under the jurisdiction of the night mayor?

Or would it fall into the purview of a bicycle mayor?

As my city, New York, is discussing the possibility of creating the office of "night mayor", another city has just appointed the first bicycle mayor in the United States.

Tiffany Mannion assumed that position in Keene, New Hampshire the other day.  While the first in her country, she joins "a worldwide network of bicycle mayors, called the Bicycle Mayor and Leader network," according to Jen Risley, who appointed her as a member of the Monadnock Alliance of Sustainable Transportation's Steering Committee.   In her two-year term as Bicycle Mayor, Mannion will "represent cyclists from throughout the region and focus on three areas: education, connection and creation," Risley explained.  



Mannion is a "regular bicycle commuter and explorer" who "hopes to ride toward her goal of 3000 miles a year," Risley added.  As the area's only certified cycling instructor, Mannion will "educate colleges, universities and businesses with the economic advantages of developing bicycle-friendly policies" and "work regionally to help create confident riders and supported infrastructure," Risley added.

In accepting her role, Mannion thanked a number of people and organizations.  "This small city has enormous dreams," she declared.


Could Keene set an example for my hometown, New York, for cycling as Amsterdam and Paris are doing for nightlife?

Paris In The Bike Lane

If you were to ask, "What is the world's most bicycle-friendly city?", the answers you'd most commonly hear probably would be "Copenhagen" and "Amsterdam".

It would be difficult to argue against either.  And, although it's more bikeable than most American cities, not many people would put Paris ahead of either the Danish or Dutch capitals.

If you've been reading this blog, you know that I thoroughly enjoyed cycling in the City of Light.  That is not to say, however, that there isn't room for making it an even better place for cyclists than it is.  Mayor Anne Hidalgo recognizes as much, and has said that she wants not only to improve the cycling experience in her city, but to make the French capital into "the world's cycling capital".

Although one sees many bicycles and cyclists along the banks of the Seine, the portion of the population that rides regularly, let alone every day, is still fairly low, at least in comparison to places like Copenhagen and Amsterdam.  Nearly everyone agrees that one of the goals in making a city more "bike friendly" is to get people out of their cars and onto bike for their commutes, and to shop and visit the sights of the city.  That can be done when cycling is made available, affordable, safe and practical for those who are not, and do not wish to become, hard-core cyclists.

From what I can see, Paris has succeeded with the first two priorities:  You don't have to go very far to find a Velib station (or other bikes to rent or buy), and rental rates and purchase prices  are relatively reasonable.  The availability of Velib even well beyond city limits at least partially addresses the practicality issue.  But another part of it ties in with safety:  a coherent scheme of bike routes that cyclists can actually use to get to work, school or anyplace else from their homes and is physically separated from vehicular traffic.

The new Paris bike expressway.  Photo from a tweet by Marie Fugain.

Such networks are what separates Copenhagen and Amsterdam from nearly all other cities, according to Mikael Colville-Andersen,a  planner who regularly works with cities around the world to improve cycling conditions.  Of his native city, Copenhagen, he says, "Visitors who come for the first time will easily find their way around by bike because the network is uniform. That is not the case in Paris," where he points to "incoherent" choices like putting buses and bikes in the same lane on some roads.  Then there are "utterly stupid" ideas, he says, like the bicycle lane in the middle of the Champs-Elysees that is scheduled for completion next year.  "It will fail," he pronounces, because it will "lead to accidents" which will "give ammunition to the bike haters."

He does, however, see signs of improvement, like the new bike expressway" along the right bank of the Seine.  The route was created by taking two lanes from the Voie Georges Pompidou, a motorway that winds past the Louvre and the garden of the Tuileries, across the river from the Eiffel Tower.  This new "expressway" meets the standards of "Copenhagenization" in that it runs in a continuous axis in both directions, has enough room for cyclists to pass each other and has a separator between the bike and auto lanes, according to Colville-Andersen.

He says it could be the start of a bicycle network that could take its inspiration from another network for which Paris is justly renowned: its Metro.

How Do You Sell Cycling In Amsterdam?

You've probably heard the expression, "He/She could sell snow to the Eskimos/Inuits/Laplanders/any other native of a cold climate".

Believe it or not, Snowbrokers was "set up a few years ago to service the need of online snow sales for the Inuit community of Alaska".  Wow!  I wish I'd thought of that!  I guess it's another one of those opportunities to get in on the ground floor of something that'll reach the sky that I missed.  

Then again, people have come up with even crazier ideas for businesses. Like an Uber for hitmen:  surge pricing is always in effect.  Or an online social network for people who don't use the Internet.  Or one of my favorites:  an a capella singing group that only does death metal covers.  All right, that's not technically a business idea, unless you believe that performers start groups only in the hope of making money. (And we all know that no performer with any integrity would ever think of that, right?)

OK, so at least we know  Snowbrokers, Uber for hitmen, the social network and the a capella groups are jokes--just like the Swiss Navy. (I didn't find out until I tried to join! ;-))  Unfortunately, there are some things that sound like jokes but were conceived without irony or mirth, such as The Flat Earth Society and more than a few political campaigns. (Of the latter, there are some that we wish were jokes.  I won't mention any names as I am trying to remain, ahem, apolitical.)  Oh, and a Creationist theme park.

Hmm...Would all of these schemes have been funded by selling snow online to Inuits in Alaska?  Hmm...Maybe the Samis of Norway would be a more lucrative market.

Or, perhaps, selling cycling in Amsterdam.

Anna Luten, Amsterdam's "bicycle mayor"

"It is harder than it sounds," says Anna Luten.  She would know better than perhaps anyone else:  She is the "bicycle mayor" of the Dutch capital. She was chosen for the voluntary position (Her "real" job is that of brand manager for Giant's LIV line of bicycles for women.) last month by a jury of city officials and bike advocates.  

In a city where there are as many bicycles as people, "Cycling is so normal for us that it becomes boring for us, and we neglect it," she explains.  Because cycling is  "not an identity like it is in other countries, it's just the way we get around", she says, in essence, that cyclists take their position ("because we ride a bike we own the roads"), and that of the city as a bike haven, for granted.  Amsterdam's cycling infrastructure "has to improve for future generations", she asserts, because "There are almost too many cyclists and bikes."  If things continue as they are, she says, "people will stop cycling because it won't be safe".

People will stop cycling because there are too many bikes on the road?  That makes me think of Yogi Berra's observation about a restaurant:  "Nobody goes there anymore because it's too crowded".

Seriously, though:  She has a point.  I mean, in how many other cities  are there bicycle traffic jams?  (In New York, where I live, and other cities, one of the reasons why we ride to work is that we can pedal around traffic jams instead of getting into them!)  Also, because so many people ride to work, there aren't enough ferries, bridges and tunnels to take cyclists across the city's waterways.  Starting more ferry lines isn't an ideal solution for those who depend on their bicycles to get to work, as the ferry rides --though picturesque and free for commuters-- are time-consuming.  Building a new tunnel would be a very expensive and lengthy process, given the city's marshy soil.  And talk of building a new bridge angers harbor boat operators, who fear they--especially those who conduct cruises--could lose out.

Finally, for all the publicity Amsterdam receives as a cyclists' utopia, one only has to cross the city's boundaries, or go into neighborhoods like Nieuw West with large immigrant populations-- to find people who don't share Anna's--and other Amsterdamers'--connection to the bicycle.  Many of the immigrants come from places where people (especially women) didn't ride bikes. Others simply see cycling as unsafe and drive their kids to school. "[W]hen those kids hit 16, they get motor scooters, not bicycles," says Maud de Vries, who runs the Cycle Mayor program.

(I noticed something similar in Paris:  When I cycled through la Goutte d'Or,  into suburbs like Saint Denis and Montreuil (not to be confused with Montreuil-sur-mer) or even the bike lane on Boulevard Barbes, I did not see any other cyclists. In fact, I saw  motor scooters--and a lot of pedestrians--in the Barbes bike lane.)

Some would argue that Copenhagen has overtaken Amsterdam as the world's most bicycle-friendly major city.  To Anna Luten, "the rivalry isn't important, so long as each city is a good place to cycle."  Her efforts, and those of people like Maud de Vries, come from the belief that "cycling has the power to transform".  Such a transformation, she says, would mean that there are "more cities like Amsterdam, where cycling is so normal and accepted that we are not even aware of it."

Then, maybe, no one would have to sell cycling in Amsterdam--or anywhere else.

Fishers Of Bicycles

If you grew up in Brooklyn during the 1960s and early 1970s, as I did, you heard stories about the Gowanus Canal.  One such tale held that it was the Mafia's necropolis:  Under the cover of night, hitmen hauled bodies from car trunks and tossed them into the turbid water.  The sheer number of such corpses, according to the legend, accounted for the foul smell that wafted from water as lifeless as the bodies submerged in it. 

A variation on this urban myth said that one reason why the "mob" chose the canal as its graveyard is that the chemicals in the water dissolved those bodies, effectively making their benighted owners disappear from the face of the earth.

While I must admit that I don't find such stories wholly implausible, I must also add this bit of historical fact:  Mesopotamians built the earliest known canals about 6000 years ago, while modern sewer systems have a history of not much more than a century.  Thus, almost any body of water could turn into a dump for everything from agricultural offal to industrial waste.  Really, just about anything that any person or company wanted to dispose could end up in a river, lake, ocean or canal.  

Yes, anything--including a bicycle.  A onetime riding buddy confessed that a bike he no longer wanted and couldn't sell "ended up" at the bottom of Jamaica Bay.  I have no doubt that thieves similarly disposed of bicycles they couldn't fence or simply didn't know what else to do with.  And I'm sure that more than a few people have tossed bikes into the nearest stream along with household trash.

via">http://giphy.com/gifs/bike-bicycle-amsterdam-3o85xAnA3oeurjxQRi">via GIPHY

Apparently, the latter fate seems to befall two-wheelers in Amsterdam.  So many bikes piled up in Amsterdam's canals that, by the 1960's, they were scraping the bottoms of boats, according to Diane Kleinhout.  She is a spokesperson for Waternet, an agency in charge of keeping the canals clean.  In the agency's attempt to clear out bikes--as well as scooters, wheelchairs, shopping carts and other wheeled items--Waternet employs bike fishermen.

Yes, you read that right.   The job of Richard Matser and Jan de Jonge is to use a huge hydraulic claw to trawl the canal's waters and base for the old bikes and other debris.  Their job has been compared to sticking your hand into a sink full of sudsy water and groping around blindly, with your fingers, until find a spoon or whatever you were looking for.  When the "fishermen" find a bike, they pull it out of the water and load it into a barge behind the claw.  Eventually, the bikes and whatever else the "fishermen" pull up will go to a recycler.

De Jonge says they "catch" about 15,000 bicycles a year.  Given that there are about two million bicycles in Amsterdam, that is a small percentage. Still, no one knows why that many bikes end up in the city's waterways. Some are attributed to thieves.  Ironically, in a city where, it seems, everybody rides bikes, two-wheelers don't get the same reverential treatment that American bike enthusiasts lavish on them.    Utility bikes can be bought for very little money; repairing them can cost more, so--according to one theory--people simply chuck them.

The Hills, The Wind Or The Cold: Why Do (Or Don't) People Ride?

In recent posts, I’ve noted that I’ve seen few—sometimes no—bike riders who weren’t making deliveries.  If you thought it was just a way of saying that I wasn’t riding, I won’t try to dissuade you from such a perception.

For much of the past couple of weeks, conditions on many New York City streets were simply dangerous for any wheeled vehicle.  There was ice everywhere and the effective width of some streets was cut, sometimes in half, by the piled-up snow and ice.

The last couple of weeks is the longest stretch I’ve spent off my bike since I was recovering from surgery four years ago.  A lot of other cyclists can probably make a similar claim.

That got me to thinking about the difference between weather and climate, and about terrain. 

In most places, there is seasonal variation in the number of people who ride bicycles, whether to commute, shop, race or simply for fun.  Put simply, fewer people ride when it’s cold and/or wet.

However, the places where the greatest number of people ride regularly are not necessarily the ones that have the most days of sunshine or the warmest winters every year.  Here in the United States, we see more cycling in New England than in the South, more riders in New York, Boston—or, of course, Portland-- than, say, in Miami, Tampa or Albuquerque.  In Europe, the most cycling-intensive and –friendly cities are found in the north—Amsterdam and Copenhagen immediately come to mind---rather than in Greece or even Italy.  And there are, from what I’ve seen, there are fewer everyday riders in Rome or Madrid than in rainier and cooler London and Paris.

From SFGate

As for terrain:  When I was in Prague, a few locals confirmed my impression that a cycling culture was just beginning there and that, while cyclists in the Czech capital are committed and enthusiastic, it will be a while before they have the kind of infrastructure—in terms of human and informational as well as physical resources—bikers in Berlin (the example they most cited) enjoy.  One reason, according to those Prague pedalers, is that the city is hillier than most others in Europe. 

That reason seems plausible enough:  A lot of people would indeed be deterred from cycling if they have to climb a steep hill to get wherever they’re going.  That would also partly explain the fact that I saw so few cyclists when I was in Istanbul a few years ago.  (In the former Ottoman capital, there are also cultural factors that would discourage cycling.)  On the other hand, San Francisco—one of the most vertical cities in the world-- has had a community and culture of cycling for much longer than most other places in the United States, including such pancake-flat places as Kansas.

(It occurs to me now that San Francisco’s street grid simply makes no sense in such a hilly place, but it would be perfectly suited for most towns in the Great Plains.)

So I wonder:  Why is it that, discounting for seasonal differences, places with less-favorable climates and terrains develop vibrant cycling cultures while seemingly-ideal places don’t?

Going Dutch

Yesterday, I mentioned that some people hate Citibike because they perceive it and programs like it to be "vaguely French."

Well, they've got it all wrong.  You see, as wonderful as le beau pays is, and even though it is (or, at least was, until recently) more bike-friendly than most other places, probably no place on earth is more bike-friendly than Amsterdam.

At least that's what the folks at Copenhagenize would tell us.  Based on my admittedly limited experience with Amsterdam, I wouldn't argue.  According to their index, the city from which Colorado and Washington have taken their leads (in one area, anyway, if you know what I mean) edges out the Danish capital.  

For all that's happened in places like New York, Boston and Portland, no US city made the top fifteen.  In fact, Montreal--which tied Munich for #11--is the only North American city in that group.

This infographic provides some interesting and relevant facts about cycling in Amsterdam:

From Easyjet

If Keith Bontrager Went Dutch

Keith Bontrager once said that everyone who builds or designs bikes, or parts and accessories, should spend a year in the Netherlands.

I can't help but to wonder what my Race-Lite would have been like had he followed his own advice.  I liked it a lot; I sold it only because I'd stopped mountain biking and wanted  it to have a good home, if you will.

In fact, I wonder what all of his parts--especially his wheels--would have been like.  To his credit, his designs were functional:  He had no concern for fads or trends, and he cared nothing for aesthetics (though some of his stuff is very attractive).  Also, he had no interest in, as he said, making "lifestyle" products and had no intention of releasing a line of leisure wear with his name on it.

In some weird way, I think the mountain bike maven from Santa Cruz, CA would have been right at home in this milieu:

Bike Lanes Don't Make People Ride More

I have long suspected that the construction of bike paths and lanes has very little to do with how much cycling people actually do, at least here in the US.


Of course, my belief was based on nothing more than my own observations and experiences.  One thing I've always noticed is that racers and dedicated cyclists tend to ride whether or not there's a bike lane, or even a well-paved road that doesn't have much traffic.  (The latter category includes routes departmentales, on which I did much of my cycling in France.)  On the other hand, there are lots of people who say they'd "love" to ride to work or for pleasure, but feel that "it's too dangerous" or that it's inconvenient.  Such people never seem to be swayed--with good reason, I've come to realize--by the construction of a bike lane, even if it takes them door-to-door from their homes to their workplaces or wherever they shop or entertain themselves.


Don't get me wrong:  I appreciate the efforts of governments to improve conditions for cyclists.  As an example, I am very happy that lanes were constructed on the Queens side of the Edward I. Koch/Queensborough/59th Street Bridge. I often cross that bridge. Its entrance at Queens Plaza is also a conduit for traffic to and from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and Long Island Expressway. Getting to and from the Bridge could be, until the construction of the bike lane, a harrowing experience.


On the other hand, I've seen a lot of poorly-conceived and -constructed bike lanes that were actually more dangerous for cyclists than the nearby roadways.  Or, they simply went from nowhere to nowhere and were therefore not practical for any cyclist who actually had to go someplace.


To be fair, we have a lot of impractical bike lanes and paths in the US because we don't have the history of cycling that many European nations, Japan and other places have.  Or, to be more precise, our cycling history was interrupted for about three generations or so.  The result is that American transportation experts and urban planners are still learning things their French, Dutch, British, German and other counterparts have long known.


Funny that I should mention the Dutch.  They have long been seen as the avatars of bicycle commuting.  It's been a while since I've been to Amsterdam, but I'm told that one still sees bikes everywhere in that city.  In spite of the increasing numbers of Dutch who drive, the bicycle remains one of the, if not the, main means of transportation in that city.


I'm thinking about what I've just mentioned because I've stumbled over some studies that argue, in essence, that what's happened over the past two decades in Amsterdam parallels what I've seen in New York and other parts of the US.  That is to say:  Ridership has almost nothing to do with the construction of bike lanes and paths.


According to the studies cited, the (relatively small) increase in the number of cyclists over the past two decades has as much to do with the increase in population (fueled more by immigration than, shall we say, the noncycling recreational activities of the Dutch) as anything else. There has also been an increase, however slight, in the length of cyclists' commutes and the distances ridden for other purposes.  The authors of the studies in question argue that the increase really has had to do more with the warmer-than-normal weather in the Netherlands during that time than it's had to do with other factors.  


Of course, one can find flaws in that argument.  The most obvious is that other nearby countries (e.g., France) have also seen unusually warm weather, but no increases in cycling, during that time.  Also, whatever increases in population the Netherlands have seen are mainly a result of immigration from the Middle East, Africa, Indonesia and Suriname.  If anything, those immigrants are actually less likely, for a number of reasons, to ride bikes to work or weekend picnics than the descendants of longtime Dutch people.  


Still, the argument that bike lanes and paths have little or nothing to do with whatever increases in cycling or the number of cyclists are quite plausible, especially if you understand what motivates cyclists to ride.  One might say that there simply isn't that much room for cycling to grow in the Netherlands, which is one of the most bike-intensive nations on Earth.  There, even more than in other places, bike paths won't have much impact on who rides and doesn't ride, and when they ride and don't ride.  


Still, I think that those studies hold important lessons for American planners.  One is that simply constructing bike lanes isn't going to get people to forsake their cars and pedal to the Home Depot.  Rather, there has to be a cultural as well as a physical infrastructure that supports cycling as a practical alternative to driving. That is what the Dutch have long had and the US will need another generation or two to develop, if indeed such a thing will develop on this side of the Atlantic.