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.

New York: Where Utility Bikes Are Made, Not Born

In Amsterdam and Copenhagen, one is struck by the degree to which bicycles conduct the flow of daily life.  People ride them to go to work, to go shopping, to run errands, visit friends and to do go to all of those meetings, appointments and other events that are part of daily life.  And one thing that's gratifying is that in those cities, many people who ride to work and such could afford to drive a car.  To be sure, ten-dollar-a-gallon gasoline is a strong incentive to forsake automobiles for short trips.  But I think that in those cities, people also see the practicality of cycling:  In those settings, it's often quicker and easier to ride a bike than it is to drive or even to take mass transit.  

It's been a while since I've been to the Dutch or Danish capital, but from what I hear, cycling is still as prevalent a mode of transportation as it was years ago.

What's also striking is the fact that in those cities, no matter what a person's occupation or income, he or she is likely to be riding a bike very similar to whatever someone else might be pedaling to a job, a store or a friend's house. Some might have more elegant paint jobs or a few more creature-comfort accessories, but the basic bike doesn't vary so much.  By now, most Americans have seen at least an image of the prototypical Dutch (or Dutch-style) city bike.  On it, weight is seemingly no object:  Carbon steel bikes with internally-geared hubs are fitted with racks, fenders and other accessories made of the same material.  And, of course, they have full chain cases and the women's bikes often have dress guards.  Convenience for someone who thinks of him or her self, not as a cyclist, but as a waiter, bookkeeper, technician, accountant, artist, writer or any other kind of worker on his or her way to a job on his or her bicycle.  Or, he or she is a shopper, or a grandparent en route to see the grandkids, or can have any number of other identites--and he or she is using a bike as a vehicle (in the original sense of the word) to fulfill tasks, wants, needs, or pleasures.

What I have described is true, if to a lesser degree, in other European cities. And they have their own variations on the "city bike," which have evolved out of decades or even a century or more of cycling as a part of daily life.  A French city bike, as an example, is likely to be a bit lighter than a Dutch bike, and is as likely as not to have derailleur gears rather than an internally-geared hub.  This has to do with the fact that most French cities are at least a bit hillier than Amsterdam or Copenhagen. (Then again, most cities are.)  Plus, even though Paris, Lyon, Toulouse and Bordeaux are relatively compact, given their populations, they are still a bit more spread out than Amsterdam or Copenhagen.  

Even so, they are not as hilly as many cities in the Americas.  (Lyon is an exception; even Toulouse, which is in the foothills of the Pyrenees, is relatively flat.)  And their ideas about how to ride to work are different from those Americans who ride their bikes to their jobs.

Plus...Here's something I've experienced first-hand:  Their streets are, for the most part, better-maintained than those in American cities, or at least the ones in New York.  There, bikes "age" and get "weathered;" here, a bike that's ridden  and parked on the streets every day gets beat up.  And, finally, it seems that there's more bike theft here than in European cities.

So, while shops here have begun to carry bikes that are meant to be utilitarian commuters (like the Pashleys and Abicis), I don't see that they are becoming "consensus" commuters.  I've seen a couple of those bikes hee, and a few more that strive to emulate (or cynically copy the most obvious features of ) them, like the Breezers and the city commuters marketed by Specialized, Giant and Trek.  But I think that if they are going to become standard commuters' fare in this city, that day will be some time in coming.

New York is still a city in which bikes become, rather than are made to be, commuters or utility vehicles.  I realized this when I passed by the Bel Aire Diner, which is three blocks from my apartment.  I often eat there, and I pass it (or at least see it) nearly every day.  There is always a gaggle of bicycles outside

Yes, those really are delivery bikes:  The diner does a lot of deliveries and employs more delivery men (Yes, they're all male.) than the average restaurant. 

They're like a lot of bikes that are ridden to jobs, schools, appointments and stores:  Far from their original owners and purposes.  About ten or fifteen years ago, most bikes parked on streets were bike-boom-era ten-speeds (Some of which had been turned, whether or not by design, into single-speeds.); some were English three-speeds or imitations thereof and some others were lower-end, first-generation (early-to-mid '80's) mountain bikes.

These days, those bikes, like the ones parked by the diner, are likely to be mountain bikes from the early-to-mid '90's or thereabouts.  There are a few road machines, and still a few "classic" bikes from the '70's. Even many of the so-called "hipster fixies" started their lives as multigeared touring or racing bikes from that era.  

But, even with all of the students who ride to Pratt or SVA on "hipster fixies," or all the mountain-bikes-turned-delivery-hacks, there is still no signature commuter or utility bike for this city as there is for its European counterparts.  And, somehow, I don't think there will be, at least not for some time.   

How I Ended Up Here

I wasn’t the best kid in the world.  But my parents know that, sooner or later, one way or another, I do whatever they say I should do.  It might take me 35 years, but better late than never, right?

So what does that have to do with today’s ride or anything else related to this blog?  Well, during my ride, I went someplace my father wanted me to go upon graduating high school. I didn’t go in quite the way he’d hoped, but I went nonetheless.

I’m talking about the United States Merchant Marine Academy in Kings Point, on the North Shore of Long Island.  He didn’t want me to go there specifically; he wanted me to go to one of the Federal academies dedicated to training officers for the armed forces.  I actually did get Congressional nominations to the Naval Academy in Annapolis and the Military Academy at West Point.

Every member of Congress is allowed to appoint one person to each academy (the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs is included) and to nominate other candidate.  Being nominated is like being placed on a waiting list:  If, for whatever reasons, the appointee can’t or chooses not to go, the member of Congress can appoint one of his or her nominees.  That did not happen to me.

As you can probably imagine, I have no regrets now.  I certainly wasn’t sorry then.  Then again, anyone who’s been reading this or my other blog knows that.

However, it was a lot of fun to go there today.  It’s actually a lovely place:  It’s, as one might expect, on the water and has a couple of ships and a bunch of boats.  And some of the buildings are exquisite.  Although they are of different styles, as different parts of the campus were built at different times (and a couple of buildings predate the founding of the Academy), they actually work well together.  Perhaps it has to do that they are all in shades of beige, tan, yellow and white.  They suggested, at least for me, sand, which makes sense for a maritime campus.

Unfortunately, as you might expect in the post-9/11 world, I couldn’t photograph them.  The guard at the entry gate was very friendly, as was everyone else I encountered.  But he said—almost apologetically—that, due to “security,” photography wasn’t allowed.

Oddly enough, although I was the only person riding a bicycle, I didn’t feel out of place.   The fact that I’m old enough to be the cadets’ grandmother also didn’t make me feel strange.  And, no, that other way in which I’m different from (at least to my knowledge!) any of them didn’t make me feel distant.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that today was one of those wonderfully beautiful and clear days that can make even someone as old and cynical as me feel as if those barriers people erect between each other don’t exist.  It reminded me of what has always drawn me to cycling, and in particular rides like the one I took today:  I feel that on my bike, the whole world is available to me.  If you don’t feel that way before you embark on a long ride, you’ll feel that way sometime during the ride.  Otherwise, you’ll quit.

That, I believe, is the reason why today, three decades after I took my first trip, I cannot imagine having experienced France or any other part of Europe in any other way.  I didn’t see as many places as my peers who had Eurail passes, and, to tell you the truth, I didn’t want to.  Even then, I knew that I would do better to experience a few places intimately than to get as many stamps on my passport as I could.  (Back in those pre-EU days, one had to go through customs each time one crossed from one country to another.) 

Anyway…How did I get from Long Island to Languedoc without getting on a plane?  I don’t know.  To be completely honest, I don’t know how I got to some of the places I saw today.  I got on Arielle and decided I had no destination in particular.  I did, however, decide that as much as I love the ocean, I didn’t want to ride through or to any of the beach areas today.  I knew that people would be going to them in droves.

Had I gone to Kings Point or one of the other academies when I graduated high school, my entire curriculum and career would have been spelled out for me.  Now, I know I like and need some structure in my life.  But I also know that the things I’ve enjoyed most—including my favorite bike rides—just sort of happened when I set out without a specific itinerary.

That’s what happened thirty years ago—and today—on my bike.