Snark Alert: If You Can't Find An Apartment You Can Afford, Blame Bike Parking

Three years ago, the city of Portland, Oregon implemented bicycle parking requirements for new residential buildings.  Last week, the city's Planning Commission voted to recommend rolling back key provisions of the mandate.  

The campaign that led up to the vote included allegations by members of "community associations" that bike parking spaces come at the expense of low-income housing.  That, of course, is a classic "divide and conquer" strategy:  pitting two vulnerable groups of people (the cyclists because of their relatively small numbers, low-income people because of their lack of resources) against each other by creating a false equivalency.

As pointed out by more than one person who objected to the roll-back--which would include decreasing the number of bike parking spaces per housing unit--would increase the number of new apartments (or other housing units) by a tiny number, and the number of units available to low-income people by even less.  

Another objection to bike parking spaces is cost.  But, as Bike Portland's "Todd/Boulanger" explains, bike parking spaces and facilities end up costing more than they should because it's usually the last item on a project, which increases implementation costs not only because the cost of everything related to a project tends to increase over the lifespan of the project, but also because the installation of racks and other facilities, which should be simple, often has to be worked around other things, such as HVAC systems, that have already been done.  

To me, both arguments sound like variations of the " take "You take up too much space!" complaint drivers who are the sole occupants of their SUVs make when they have to share the road with a cyclist.

Thanking One Of Our Friends

 He looks like a hippie who became a prep-school Latin teacher.  For me, that was his charm.

And it probably helped him to be effective at his job.

Since 1996, he could be seen with a bow tie between the wings of his shirt collar—and a fluorescent bicycle pin on the lapel of his blazer.

Perhaps not surprisingly, he’s been the best friend cyclists have had in the US Congress in, oh, a century or so. In addition to crafting legislation that allocated money for cycling and pedestrian infrastructure, and for making his hometown the “poster child” for livable, sustainable cities—at least among US cities—he helped to expand healthcare coverage through the Affordable Care Act, save over 100,000 restaurants during the COVID and—in something almost un-heard of these days— worked with a member of the opposing party to create a pathway to permanent legal status for Iraqi and Afghan nationals who directly supported US military missions in their countries.

Perhaps it will not surprise you to learn that he has represented Oregon’s 3rd Congressional District—which includes most of Portland.  In fact, he has been called “Mr. Portland.”

Earl Blumenauer has just announced that he is not running for re-election next year. I guess it is understandable:  Not only has he spent 27 years in Congress; he is 75 years old.

He has not been specific about his “next chapter.” The Democratic legislator said, however, that he plans to continue his work to “make communities more livable, people safer, healthier and more economically secure…without the burden of day-to-day politics.”

Thank you, Earl Blumenauer, for all you’ve done.  And I wish you well in whatever comes next.

Is Cycling Withering On The Lanes In The Rose City?

Last Saturday marked three years since the World Health Organization declared that the COVID-19 outbreaks were, indeed, a pandemic.  Not long after that, schools and businesses closed and a seeming caravan of ambulances flashed their lights and blasted their sirens through my windows, which are only a block and a half from Mount Sinai-Queens--one of the first hospitals in this city to set up a temporary morgue outside its doors.

Like other locales where residents weren't subjected to a hard lockdown, New York experienced a "bike boom."  Because the city's subways shut down for a while, and bus service was reduced, people who hadn't been on a bike in ages started pedaling to work. (During that time, I gave one of my bikes to an emergency room worker at Mount Sinai.) Though shops and even online retailers soon ran out of bikes, parts, helmets and almost anything related to bicycles,  the world (parts of it, anyway) seemed like a cyclist's dream come true:  There was very little traffic and, those who ventured outside, whether by choice or necessity, were almost preternaturally courteous and even empathetic. 

Oh, and about a year into the pandemic, a new bike lane opened on my street, for better and worse.

While my hometown of New York and the city that comes closest to my second home--Paris--experienced the "boom" in cycling I've described (which, when I visited in January, seemed to be going even stronger in the City of Light!), the city that has been called America's "biketopia" continued a steep downturn in cycling that began a few years before COVID-19 struck.

According to the Portland Bureau of Transportation (PBOT), fewer people were cycling in Oregon's largest city than at any time since 2006.

From 2019 to 2022, the number of cyclists in the Rose City dropped by 37 percent.  In other words, more than one of every three Portlanders who pedaled the year before COVID-19 reached these shores was no longer in the saddle during the pandemic's third year. 

Actually, the decline began after 2013, when almost half again as many people rode bicycles as did in 2022. But, as you can see, the drop over the past four years from 2019 to 2022 was even steeper than during the previous six years.

From KATU News

Now, some might argue that cycling was bound to fall off in "America's Weirdest City" just because it reached such (at least comparative) heights.  Well, from what I've heard and read, it did--or, at least, cycling culture did--from about 2005 to about 2010.  But there are other, more pernicious factors in play than the disappearance of custom frame builders and bikes shops--and Portlanders themselves, many of whom moved in after places like San Francisco and Seattle swelled with tech money-- only to be, in a cruel irony, priced out of Portland. 

According to at least one survey, the chief reasons for the sharp fall-off in cycling are not that people are still working from home (after all, in other places, people continued to ride to the stores, theatre or just for fun even if they didn't return to their offices or classrooms) or the sharp rise in bike theft that accompanied the increase in ridership and shortages of bikes and supplies, although both were cited.  Rather, by far the biggest reason why some people have stopped cycling is something that I haven't--as yet, anyway--seen here in the Big Apple:  homeless people setting up tents or otherwise camping themselves in bike lanes.  

(To be sure, the homeless population has exploded during the past few years in my hometown, but I haven't seen them in bike lanes.  Then again, I don't do most of my riding in the lanes because they can't always get me to where I need or want to go and I sometimes feel safer riding in traffic than on poorly-designed or maintained lanes where motorbikes and motor-scooter riders zip along without regard for anyone else or the rules of the road.)

That issue, according to Bike Portland editor Jonathan Maus, has to be addressed in any discussions of solutions and safety.  "What we've ended up with is allowing people just to sleep anywhere," he explains, "and there's never been a conversation about taking the transportation routes and making sure that people who use them can feel safe and still get to where they need to go."  That second part of what he said leads to the second most common reason Portlanders cite for giving up on cycling:  drivers who, like their counterparts in New York, seem to have become even more aggressive since the pandemic.  

You'll Never Believe Where She Got This Ticket

A decade ago, a driver upbraided me for not riding in a bike lane.  None was present along the avenue where we encountered each other.  I pointed out that out to her. Still, she insisted, I should have been riding in the lane (where nothing but a line of paint separated cyclists from motorists) on a nearby avenue which parallels the one I was riding.

I politely told her I was going someplace on the avenue where we crossed paths. (Pun intended.) "Would you drive along a street that doesn't take you where you want to go?"

She then launched into a lecture about how riding on the path is safer than riding on the street, which revealed that she wasn't a cyclist.  Her claim that she had to go somewhere at that moment revealed that she'd lost the argument.

The reason why that exchange stays with me is that it revealed one of the many misconceptions that guide, not only everyday motorists, but too many planners and policy-makers.

Even in that supposed cycling Nirvana of Portland, Oregon.

On Monday, a police officer pulled over and cited a woman for not riding her bike in a lane.  To be fair, the law she, a daily bike commuter, violated was not specific to the city but, rather, an Oregon state law. ORS 814.420 states that "a person commits the offense of failure to use a bicycle lane or path if the person operates a bicycle on any portion of a roadway that is not a bicycle lane or bicycle path when a bicycle lane or bicycle path is adjacent to or near the roadway."

Photo by Jonathan Maus, Bike Portland

When folks like me don't use the bicycle lanes--including the one that runs right in front of the building where I live--we are accused of being "reckless," "entitled" or worse.  Truth is, sometimes it's more dangerous to ride in the bicycle than in a traffic lane.  Too often, drivers park or pass, or pick up or discharge passengers, in bike lanes.  I've even seen cops munching on their donuts or sandwiches in the cruise cars they parked in a bike lane.

If I am headed northbound on the Crescent Street lane, I am riding against the direction of vehicular traffic. (Crescent is a one-way southbound street.)  If a car, van or truck pulls into the bike lane, for whatever reason, I have two choices. One is to detour onto the sidewalk.  That option, however, is negated when the vehicle in question is from a contractor or utility company and construction or repair work on a building or power line obstructs the sidewalk.  Such a situation leaves one other option:  to veer into the edge of a lane where the traffic is going in the opposite direction.

Also, I've ridden along too many lanes that make it more dangerous for a cyclist to cross an intersection than crossing from a traffic lane would.  To make matters worse, some folks like to end their evening revelries by smashing their booze bottles, or dumping other debris, onto the lane.  And some lanes are hazardous simply because they're poorly constructed or maintained.

As I have never been in Portland, I don't know about the bike lane the ticketed woman was "supposed" to ride.  But, because she has commuted by bicycle on that same route for eight years, I don't doubt that she has encountered some or all of the hazards I have described, and possibly others.  If only the police in Portland--that supposed Mecca for cyclists--and Oregon lawmakers understood what that woman, or I, encounter regularly, they might finally understand that simply building a bike lane is not enough to ensure the safety of cyclists--or motorists.

How Safely Is Your Bike Parked?

What's the difference between true love and an STD?

Only one of them is forever!

Not many things in life are "forever". (On a purely semantic level, nothing is, because, well, none of us is forever!) One thing that that doesn't last for eternity is security, at least the kind provided by bike locks.  Sooner or later, someone figures out how to pick, break or hack even the best security device.

That is what happened with the Ottolock.  Given that it's a light, flexible band, I am not surprised.  I imagine that there isn't much consternation among Ottolock's creators, either:  The Portland (where else?) company acknowledges that it's not a primary theft deterrent.  It should be used only for short durations in low-theft areas, or in conjunction with a stronger U-lock, according to company representatives.

Still, I can see the egg on their faces when "Lock Picking Lawyer" posted this video showing how easily he cut the band:

Oregon Handmade Show Cancelled: Will Portland Remain "Bicycle City?"

In January, I wrote about an Ohio town that was best known for the bicycle company that, from 1925 to 1953, manufactured its wares right in its center.  The Shelby Bicycle Historical Society was recently formed to commemorate the role bicycle-manufacturing played in Shelby, about 150 kilometers southwest of Cleveland.

Other communities have been defined by bicycle manufacturing.  Although Raleigh is associated with Nottingham, the center of the British bicycle industry was Birmingham, where a company bearing its name--Birmingham Small Arms, or BSA--made the most sought-after componentry in the peloton, as well as some fine racing bikes.  

Likewise, for most of the 20th Century, the nexus of France's bicycle industry was St. Etienne, a gritty industrial city about 50 kilometers from Lyon.  Many editions of the Tour de France have included a stage that began, ended or passed through the city, and a French rider winning such a stage is a point of pride for the nation.

For much of the time Birmingham and St. Etienne dominated their respective country's bicycle industries, a certain bike-maker was a major employer on the South Side of Chicago.  I am referring to Schwinn which, as Sheldon Brown pointed out, was the only American brand with even a pretense of quality during the "Dark Ages" of cycling in the US.

Chicago, Birmingham, Saint Etienne and Shelby all had their heydays as centers of bicycle (and, in the cases of Birmingham and Saint Etienne, component) making.  But, like empires, those enterprises fell.  Cheaper imports, mainly from Asia, are often blamed (less so for Shelby than the others).  But the biggest reasons for their demise are their failures to keep up with changes in demand as well as innovations.  Schwinn, like other companies, sponsored racing teams, but limited their efforts almost entirely to the US, until it was too late.  So, the Paramount line, begun in 1938, was, by the 1960s, a dinosaur (its fine craftsmanship notwithstanding) compared to racing bikes from Europe.

More recently, the US city most commonly associated with bike-making has been Portland, Oregon.  One difference, however, is that in the Rosebud City's bike-building scene has more closely paralleled its "craft" beer milieu than it has reflected trends and practices in mass-production bicycles.  During Portland's frame-building heyday, from about 2005 to 2010, it was claimed that over a hundred builders practiced their craft in a city of about 600,000 residents.  

It was during that time that the Oregon Handmade Bicycle Show began as an annual event in 2007.  Builders enthusiastically set up booths to show their creations to ever-appreciative audiences.  How much those exhibits translate into orders is, however, a topic of debate:  Many people go to "ooh" and "aah" at frames they will never be able to afford, or simply don't feel a need to order, their fine artistry not withstanding.  

Framebuilder Joseph Ahearne at the 2017 Oregon Handmade Bicycle Show

The phenomena I've described are being blamed for the cancellation of this year's show.  Some builders said it simply wasn't worth the time and money it took to, not only create and set up an exhibit, but to actually get to the show.  Portland and Oregon are more spread out than, say, San Francisco or any number of East Coast cities one can name. That means it's harder to entice people to attend when an event is scheduled to be  held in an out-of-the-way place, as this year's show was.

But other factors were chipping away at enthusiasm for the show.  One is that more people are buying bikes and equipment online.  Another, though, is the builders themselves:  Some have had to scale down their operations, move or simply leave the business altogether.  While the bicycle industry is trending larger--think bigger conglomerates selling more and more merchandise at lower prices--builders who make their frames by hand work in the opposite direction:  They sell less, and for higher prices.

What that means is that in spite of the high price tags for such frames, most builders don't get rich.  In fact, many barely make a living at all.  All it takes is a major rent increase in their workspace to put them out of business:  Building bikes requires a lot of space, and if builders are forced out of their loft or wherever they're working, they have can have a very difficult time finding a comparable amount of space for a rent they can afford.  

Especially if the city is gentrifying, as Portland is.  The things that made it so appealing--its roots as a blue-collar town, its scenery and its edgy arts and social scene--are attracting trust fund kids and other people with money.  It's more or less what happened to places like Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which is now just as expensive as Manhattan but now manages to be as much a theme park as Las Vegas but with all of the character of Davenport, Iowa.

Now, I've never been to Portland, so I can't say whether it's becoming as dispiriting as Williamsburg is to me now.  (A few years ago, I felt differently.)  But from what I'm reading, the city sorts of folks depicted in "Portlandia" are changing their careers or lifestyles, or moving out.  So are the kinds of unique and unusual businesses--including custom frame building--associated with the city?

Could it be that Portland is ceding its place as the bicycle capital of the United States?  If it is, perhaps the change was inevitable: Small, labor-intensive enterprises with niche audiences generally don't last when the real estate becomes expensive.  How many bike shops, craft beer breweries, fabric weavers or tatoo artists are on 57th Street in Manhattan?

Telling Bike Stories In Portland

I have been called a storyteller--sometimes as a compliment, other times as a derogatory epithet, and on a few occasions as a statement of fact.  

Indeed I am one, for better or worse.  Students in one of my classes are reading Plato's Trial and Death of Socrates; I can only imagine what either philosopher would make of me,or this blog.  All I could tell them is that everything I tell is  true.  Really!

Still, I admit I have a weakness for a good story.  Whether it's fact or fiction, poetry or polemics, I like any story that stimulates, inspires or simply entertains me.  I'll also admit that I can be as taken with the person telling the story as with the story itself.

So, if I could get to Portland on Friday night, I'd go to Alberta Abbey.  It's hosting a bicycle-themed storytelling event called Live The Revolution.  Admission is $17 at the door; tickets still can be bought for $15 in advance. Proceeds will benefit The Street Trust's efforts to support cycling, walking and public transit. 

Oh, and there's a raffle.  Prizes include two Public C1 bicycles, a messenger bag, REI gear, a set of wheels from Sugar Wheels, a Thule trailer and gift certificates.

(The Street Trust was formerly known as the Bicycle Transportation Alliance.)

Chasing Zero In The Emerald City

Nearly four years ago, Bill de Blasio began his first term as Mayor of New York City.  One of his first major acts was to implement Vision Zero, a project with the goal of eliminating traffic fatalities.  It began in Sweden two decades ago and, since then, most European nations, as well as Canada, Japan and other countries, have adopted it.  So have a number of US cites besides New York.

One such city is Seattle.  The stated goal of the Emerald City is zero fatalities by 2030.  Casualties have certainly decreased since its implementation, but questions remain as to how much this reduction has to do with the program itself or the demographics of the city.

by Gabriel Campanario, The Seattle Times

To its credit, Seattle has achieved decreases in traffic casualties, particularly among pedestrians and cyclists, even though it is the fastest-growing large city in the nation.  It has among the largest percentages of commuters who cycle or walk to work among large cities, though those percentages have remained unchanged since 2012 and had changed little for several years before it. It should be noted, however, that mass transit usage has increased at a faster pace than the population growth, in part because of changes to bus routes and new light-rail stations in key locations.

It's also interesting to compare Seattle's statistics with those of other comparably-sized cities.  In 2016, the number of police-reported traffic collisions increased to 11,603 from 10,930 in 2015.  That followed a decade of steady decreases in both the number of collisions (15,744 in 2005) and the collision rate per traffic volume (79.4 to 55.5 from 2005 to 2015).  The 2016 collisions resulted in more serious injuries than those in 2015, but in 20 fatalities, compared to 21 in 2015.  In all, five pedestrians and three cyclists were killed in 2016:  both numbers were down by one from the previous year.  

(It should also be noted that 23 percent of the 2015 fatalities occurred in just one crash on the Aurora Bridge.)

While one fatality is too many, I think it's fair to let Seattle take some pride in its numbers.  While it witnessed a total of eight fatalities among cyclists and pedestrians, in Nashville, with roughly the same number of people, 50 cyclists and pedestrians died in traffic crashes.  Meanwhile, Washington DC and Portland OR, with slightly fewer people than Seattle, had 26 and 13 such deaths, respectively.  And, in the same year, my hometown of New York, which has about twelve times the population, recorded 162 deaths (18 cyclists and 144 pedestrians).

Will any city or country ever reach "zero"?  If so, which will be first?  If not, which will come closest?

Bikes For Kids In "Bike City"

All right, I'll admit it:  the culture snob that is moi might actually look at It's A Wonderful Life.  Again.

You see, inside the heart of this fan of Mizoguchi (especially Osaka Elegy) and John Coltrane is someone not above a little sentimentality and a happy ending or two every now and again. 

Anyway...If you've been reading this blog, you've probably noticed that I like telling stories of folks who get bikes to kids who might not otherwise get them, especially during the holiday season.  What's not to like about a kid riding a bike for the first time?

That is the experience 400 kids in Portland, Oregon had the other day.  Their "Santa Claus", if you will, is the city's nonprofit Community Cycling Center.  Since 1995, the program has provided over 10,000 bicycles to children from lower-income families.

It's not hard to understand why someone would volunteer for such a project.  "Everyone can remember the joy of their first bike and the feeling of being on a bike as a kid and the excitement and freedom and joy that comes with it," says Kassandra Griffin, who works with the Center.  And other organizations, including Trauma Nurses Talk Tough, aid the Center's efforts.   

The Nurses provided helmets for the children who received bikes.  Like other volunteers, they are motivated by the sense of community their work provides and seeing the delight of kids--who are given safety lessons--taking their first rides.  "I've been an emergency nurse for 12 years," said Geri Gartz, "and...this is one of the best experiences I've had in my career."  

What's not to like about seeing a girl like Nolia Okada getting a pink bike, especially when her family "couldn't afford" it, according to her mother Momo Okada.  "She's going to practice and we can be riding together."

Could this be the beginning--or, at least, part of--a wonderful life?  One can hope.  

Could The Insurance Capital Help Cycling Bloom In The Rosebud City?

Bicycling is good for business.

Cities large and small are discovering how this is true, and not just for bike shop owners.  Obviously, we are good for coffee shops, bakeries and such.  But we--cyclists--use most of the same products and services as everybody else.  Thus, we will patronize the same sorts of businesses.

But we are also good for business, especially in urban downtown areas and on Main Street-type shopping strips in smaller towns, in the same way that pedestrians are.  Stores in such environs--whether they sell books or craft supplies or serve babkas or craft beer--are more likely to find customers among those who walk or pedal in front of them than from drivers who pass by because they can't find a parking spot.

That, I believe, is a reason why more cities here in the US are trying to make themselves "bike friendly"--or, at least, are doing the things they believe, rightly or wrongly, will make them so.  Chambers of Commerce or Business Improvement Districts will install bike racks (good) and nudge their cities into painting bicycle lanes on the streets (sometimes not so good).  They perceive that making their shopping areas more attractive and convenient for cyclists will do more to help business than squeezing more cars into already-crowded streets could.

Apparently, some folks in Hartford, Connecticut had the same idea.

Now, when most people think of Hartford, the insurance industry comes to mind.  It still is known as "The Insurance Capital of the World", with good reason.  Those with a sense of history might recall Connecticut's state capital was also a major industrial center.  In 1850, a native named Samuel Colt invented a precision manufacturing process that enabled the mass production of revolvers--which, of course, bore his name--with interchangeable parts.  His method would be adopted by a couple of guys named Richard Gatling and John Browning who made their own firearms, and the Weed Sewing Machine company, which dominated the market at the time.

Weed would also produce the first bicycles manufactured in the United States.  Albert Pope, another Hartford native, saw British high-wheeled velocipedes at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition and bought the patent rights to produce them in the US.  Since he had no manufacturing facility, he contracted Weed, who would produce everything but the tires.  Soon, production of bicycles--Columbias-- overshadowed that of sewing machines, and Hartford became one of the leading centers of bicycle-making in the US.

Lest you think that the city's energies have been devoted entirely to commerce and industry, some very creative individuals in the arts have called Hartford home.  In fact, a couple of books you may have read--A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn were written in a house that is today a museum dedicated to their author. (I was there once, years ago, and thought it was interesting.)  And one of America's most innovative poets, Wallace Stevens, was an executive with the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company!

Anyway, it seems that creative thinking lives on in Hartford. For years, the city's Business Improvement District has run a "safety ambassador" program.  The "ambassadors" patrol downtown streets, acting as security escorts, providing free help to stranded motorists and acting as additional sets of eyes and ears for the police.  In May, the BID added bicycle maintenance and repair to the work done by the "ambassadors" in order to encourage bicycle commuting and assuaging some of the fears associated with it, according Jordan Polon, the BID's executive director.

Eddie Zayas, a Hartford "safety ambassador",

Ambassadors give their phone numbers to people who ask for them.  Maureen Hart was one of those people. Just a few days after getting that number, she was riding home from a concert when she got a flat.  She called that number and became one of 42 cyclists who have received roadside assistance since the program started. 

"It's such a cool service," she said.  "I know people who live in Portland and that's a really bicycle-friendly city.  They don't have anything like this.  This is amazing."

Well, you can't have bicycle-friendly cities without bicycles.  And Hartford was making them long before most people ever heard of Portland.  Now the capital of the Nutmeg State looks ready to teach The City of Roses how to make it even easier to ride in their city.

(Here's another fun fact about Hartford:  It's also home to the oldest continuously-published daily newspaper in the US.  The Hartford Courant has been in print since 1764, making it 87 years older than the New York Times--and 12 years older than the United States itself!)

Davis: Still Trying To Set People On The Path Of Cycling

"It was Portland before Portland was Portland."

That is how someone described Davis, California for me. 

 Today, when you ask people to name a "bicycle-friendly", they are likely to think of the City of Roses.  I will not quibble with its reputation:  Few American cities have done more to promote bicycling as a viable means of transportation (though, as in most places, some of those efforts have been misguided).  Portlanders adopted their first bike plan in 1973; after meeting its goals, which included 190 miles of bike paths, new bike plans followed in 1996 and 2010.

It should be pointed out, however, that Davis was developing a reputation as a bicycle haven as early as the 1950's, at a time when few American adults cycled--and Portland was still a lumber-and-mining town.  (When Bill Walton arrived to play with the Trailblazers, the local NBA team, he was dismayed to find a "redneck" burg.)  The local agricultural college had just become the University of California-Davis (UC's seventh campus); the city's flat terrain and warm climate as well as enthusiasm over a new educational project attracted a diverse group of people who were willing, well, to try something new.  

According to local lore, the real driving (pun intended!) force behind the city's pro-bike efforts were a family who returned from a year in the Netherlands in the early 1960s.  They found sympathetic ears in a newly-elected city council that, no doubt, saw bicycling as a way to promote their city as well as the new UC campus. In 1967, Davis striped what were claimed to be the first bicycle-specific lanes in the US.  

Other efforts and experiments soon followed, which included facilities  and ways of accommodating bicycles at traffic signals.   The university invented the bicycle roundabout, now used on many other schools, to handle the large number of bicycles on campus.  Today, the city of ten  square miles boasts 50 miles of on-street bike lanes the same amount of off-street bike paths.

Even after other cities have ramped up their efforts to make themselves more appealing to cyclists, Davis is still seen as a cyclist's paradise--at least, in comparison to other American locales.  A far higher percentage of its citizens cycle to work or school every day than in almost any other city of its population (67,666, according to a 2015 estimate).  Still, Susan L. Handy muses, "Perhaps even more interesting than the fact that so many people in Davis cycle is the fact that so many more don't."

Professor Handy is the Chair of the Department of Environmental Science and Policy at UC-Davis.  She is also Director of the Sustainable Transportation Center, part of the Federal University Transportation Centers Program.  She is probably  in as good a position as anyone can be to understand patterns of bicycle usage--and, more important, what might be behind those patterns.

She also uses what is, arguably, some of the best bicycle infrastructure in the United States. Still, she says it is not enough.  "[W]hile good infrastructure is necessary to get many people bicycling, it is not enough to get most people bicycling".  The experience of Davis would seem to bear this out:  Although a higher percentage of Davis workers ride their bikes to their jobs than their colleagues even in nearby Berkeley (home to another UC campus)  or Palo Alto (Stanford University), or in other campus towns like Ithaca, New York (Cornell University)  and Boulder, Colorado, the number for Professor Handy's hometown is still only 15 percent.  

Still more telling, a similar percentage of children cycle to their soccer games, even though most don't have to go very far.  

According to Professor Handy's research, whether or not children cycle to their soccer games is influenced by whether or not their parents also ride.  Ditto for whether or not they--or their older siblings who attend high school--ride their bikes to classes.  Of course, as in most places, whether or not kids ride to their high schools is also a function of whether or not they have drivers' licenses or access to automobiles.

Interestingly, according to the research, friends' and peers' attitudes about cycling have little or no effect on whether kids or teenagers ride to school or their soccer games.  Based on my own admittedly informal observations, I would say the same for whether or not adults ride their bikes to work.

Another factors that  helps to depress the numbers of cyclists who ride to school or work is the perception of safety:  People often express fear of traffic, crime or other factors.  (I often hear such anxieties expressed here in New York.) Perhaps not surprisingly, women express these fears more than men do.  And then there are those who simply don't like to ride bikes.

Nobody seems to know how to influence that last category. (I failed with a spouse and a couple of romantic partners!) They, like those who come from families who don't ride or worry about their safety, are not pedaling to work because of their attitudes about cycling.  And, as Professor Handy says, attitudes are even more important than infrastructure in getting people to forsake the steering wheel and grab a handlebar.

If there is anything discouraging about Professor Handy's conclusions, it is this:  She came to them in one of the few places in the United States with two generations' worth of "cycling memory", if you will.  In most other places in this country, most drivers have little or no idea of how to act around cyclists because they haven't ridden a bike  on a street, for transportation or other utilitarian purposes, since they were children--if indeed they even rode then.  In much of Europe, by contrast, far greater numbers of drivers are still cyclists, or have ridden recently in their lives.  And they are more likely to have come from families with at least one member who regularly cycled.  

I offer myself as an example:  I am the first--and, to date, only-- member of my family to regularly ride a bike beyond the age at which I could hold a drivers' license.  (I am also the first to do a number of other things, such as earn a high school diploma and college degree, and to do things that are the subject of my other blog!)   But I am an anomaly:    I simply found that I enjoyed riding and never lost that love.  I rode, even with a complete lack of infrastructure , very little cycling culture and few peers who rode. And I continue to ride. On the other hand, I have never been successful at enticing anyone to ride who wasn't already inclined to do so. The complaints and excuses were the same then as the ones I hear now.  

As Professor Handy points out, the real challenge is to change those attitudes--if they can indeed be changed.  She seems to think it possible.

This Bike Share Program Could Come Up Roses

Portland, Oregon is often called the most "bike-friendly" city in the US.  I have never been there, but from what I've read and heard, it probably deserves that designation.

Ironically, it doesn't have a bike share program.  That may soon change.  Today, Mayor Charlie Hales and Commissioners Nick Fish (great name, huh?) and Steve Novick have announced a proposal that could make 600 bikes available for public use.

Sometimes "coming to the party" later can have its advantages.  Bike share programs in New York, Paris and other cities had a "learning curve" that Portland won't have:  They had to work out technical problems and find ways to combat problems such as the theft of the programs' bikes.  The folks in Portland will be able to draw upon what their peers in the Big Apple, the City of Light and other places have learned from their experiences with their bike share programs.

One of those problems is what deters folks like me from using Citibike, Velib or other similar programs:  What to do if there's no bike port in sight.  In Paris, I noticed, it probably wouldn't have been much of a problem, as the ports seemed to be everywhere in the city and in points beyond. (Still, I prefer to have a bike for which I don't have to think about such things.  I'd rent again from Paris Bike Tour or bring my own bike.)  However, here in New York, the ports were found, until recently, only in lower Manhattan and in the Brooklyn neighborhoods closest to Manhattan (e.g., Williamsburg).  So, if I were to ride, say, from one of those places to my apartment, or to work, I would almost certainly exceed the time limit.  Taking longer recreational rides would almost certainly be out of the question, let alone using a Citibike to go to museums, galleries and such.

In Portland, I imagine the problem I described would be even more acute, as it's more of a sprawling city than New York or Paris, or others--like Boston and Montreal--that have bike share programs.

Cyclists departing Boston's City Hall plaza to help launch Hubway--the city's bike share program in July 2011.

According to the Portland Bureau of Transportation, there are 3000 bike racks in the City of Roses.  According to John Brady, the PBT's Director of Communications, the bikes in the program would include a locking technology that work on any of those racks--in effect turning them into docking stations. 

That, I think, could go a long way toward turning a bike share program in Portland--or in many other cities--into a truly viable part of the transportation system.  A city that doesn't have many bike racks could probably install them for a good deal less money than special bike ports.  Also, there probably would be less objection to regular bike racks than to the ports, which take up a lot more room.  Their smaller size and relative ease of installation would also make them easier to build in, or next to, train and bus stations or municipal parking lots.

 

Naked In The City Of Rosebuds

OK, I admit it:  I've never been to Portland.  Now you might be asking yourself, "What kind of cyclist is she, anyway?"

And, sad to say, I don't expect to be there on the 7th.  Then again, some might be happy that I won't be in the City of Rosebuds for the World Naked Bike Ride.

I've never participated in a Naked Bike Ride.  Sometimes I had a very convenient excuse:  I was in a different part of the world from wherever the ride was taking place.  Even when the ride was in a more convenient location, I had a "scheduling conflict" or had less than a moment's notice.

Now, as to why the amount of notice should matter when the ride is happening in the city where I happen to be:  I don't know.  After all, how much planning could it take to get on your bike while wearing nothing at all?  Right?

Anyway, the ride's organizers say they're trying to promote positive body images.  Maybe that's the best reason for me to participate in the ride: I know I'm among the 99 percent.  Well, yeah, that 99 percent, but also the vast majority who look better with clothes than without them.  (Don't ask how I gained such knowledge!)

 

From last year's Philadelphia Naked Bike Ride

Like other Naked Bike Rides, only the starting point has been announced.  The route is a secret.  The reason for that, of course, is to minimize the risk of arrest and of meeting protesters, hecklers and those who would wreak havoc with the ride (as in breaking bottles in the roadway).  I'm thinking now of one of the objections voiced by Orthodox Jewish communities to bike lanes being built in their Brooklyn communities:  The paths would channel "scantily clad bicyclists" (Yes, they used that phrase) through their streets, in front of their houses and shuls.

Interestingly, fundamentalist Christians and Muslims--Yes, there are lots of such people in the Big Apple!--did not voice the same objections.  And the Hasidic Jews of Williamsburg have become among the biggest users of Citibike, New York's bike share program.

In any event, I wish the Naked Bike Riders well. From what I've heard about the city, I'm sure they'll have a great time in Portland.

Thanks to Mandie's Bikes and Beyond for alerting me to the ride!  Check out the blog.