What The Bollards?!

 In previous posts, I’ve written “lines of paint do not a bike lane make.”

I admit it’s not Shakespearean.  (Then again, what besides Shakespeare is?) But I think it sums up at least one major flaw in too much of bicycle infrastructure planning.

Now I have to come up with another catchy line—for bollards.

I was greeted with this scene at the other end of my block.  The city’s Department of Transportation probably believed cyclists like me would be thrilled to have a bike lane running down our street.  But I, and some other cyclists, are among its most vocal critics.The lane isn’t wide enough for two-way bicycle traffic, let alone the eBikes, mini-motorcycles and motorized scooters that, most days, seem to outnumber unassisted pedal bicycles.

Moreover, as you can see, bollards offer little more protection than lines of paint.  On more than one occasion, I have seen drivers use the bike path as a passing lane—when cyclists are using it.  I can understand ambulances or other emergency vehicles passing in the lane (as long as bicycles aren’t in it, of course) because Mount Sinai hospital is on the lane’s route. But some drivers, I think, pass in the lane out of frustration or spite.

The situation has been exacerbated by the recent construction in the neighborhood.  I suspect that the bollards were crushed by a truck pulling toward or away from one of the sites. I also suspect that the destruction wasn’t intentional:  In my experience, commercial truck drivers tend to be more careful than others and when they strike objects—or cyclists or pedestrians—it tends to be because the drivers didn’t see them.

Anyway, what I saw underscores something I’ve told friends and neighbors:  Sometimes, the most dangerous part of my ride is the lane that runs in front of my apartment!

Ride, But Don’t Cross!

 

Why didn’t the cyclist cross the road?

No, I it’s not an “ironic” version of an old joke.  I reckon, though, that the punchline could be, “They couldn’t get to the other side.”

And it would accurately describe what cyclists encounter on a new bike lane in Newcastle, England.

 Carved out of Heaton Road, one of the city’s main thoroughfares, it features separate traffic signals for the auto traffic and bike lanes.

That would make perfect sense if they were timed so that cyclists could cross without having to worry about being struck by a turning car or truck.  The problem is that the signals don’t allow cyclists to cross at all.

Not legally, anyway.  According to local riders, the signals for cars operate normally.  The bike signals, on the other hand, are permanently stuck on red.

It’s as if the local authorities want to legitimize motorists’ complaints that cyclists are “always running red lights.”

Don't Use This Bike Lane!

Lately, I've had to ask neighbors and friends not to wave or call me when I'm riding down the Crescent Street bike lane, which takes me directly to my door.  I've explained that for almost any ride I take--whether it's to run errands on Steinway Street or to Connecticut or Point Lookout--the Crescent Street lane is the most dangerous stretch.  It's less than three meters wide--for bicycles, e-bikes, mini-motorcycles, motorized scooters and pedestrians, sometimes accompanied by their dogs, who wander into it while looking at their phones.  

The thing is, unless I'm crossing Crescent Street from  31st Road, the lane is the only way I can get to my apartment.  There is simply no room between the traffic lane and parked cars on the west side of the street or the parked cars and traffic to the east side, where I live.  Before the lane was constructed, I could maneuver my way through traffic, which can be heavy as the street is one of the main conduits between the RFK/Triborough and 59th Street/Queensborough Bridges. Then again, I am a very experienced cyclist and didn't have to contend with the scooters, e bikes and other motorized forms of transportation.

In addition, and a couple of blocks up from me is Mount Sinai-Queens Hospital and the ambulances and other vehicles that embark and return.  Furthermore, there has been residential construction along Crescent, so trucks are all but continuously pulling in our out of, or parking in, the lane. Oh, and even when there's traffic, some drivers still seem to think Crescent Street is the local version of Daytona or Indy--whether they're young men who just want to drive fast and make noise or commuters or other drivers who want to beat the traffic jams on the 59th Street Bridge or the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.

So, I would tell anybody who doesn't need to use the lane--as I do--to stay away.  It was poorly conceived and constructed and, to be fair, when it opened--early in the COVID-19 pandemic--nobody could've anticipated the explosion of e-bikes, scooters and other motorized conveyances.

Mind you, the Crescent Street lane doesn't share some of the defects I've seen in other bike lanes in this city and country.  It is clearly marked and relatively easy to access from the RFK/Triborough Bridge.  The transition from the end of the lane to the 59th Street/Queensborough Bridge, or the local streets around Queensborough Plaza, could be better, but is still better than others I've ridden.

In light of everything I've said, I must say that I can't blame Bike Cleveland for advising local cyclists not to use the new Lorain Avenue bike lane.  According to BC. the lane, near the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge, "is short-lived, and quickly  disappears and drops riders into the sharrow (shared)lane that has existed there for years." The bridge BC notes, is "well known as a haven for speeding motorists on the move to make the highway connection at the other end."

I've never been to Cleveland, but that sounds very familiar to me.

A Barrier To What--And Whom?

If you have studied any post-Renaissance history or theology (and you thought I wasted my youth only  on the things the young waste their youth on!), you have heard the question, "How many angels can dance on the head (or tip) of a pin?"  The question was posed, rhetorically by 17th Century Protestants to mock Scholastics such as Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, and of angelology, a hot topic among Catholic theologians of the time. 

Oh, by the way, one answer to that question is:  an infinite number, as angels don't occupy physical space.

(So when a former partner of mine called me an "angel"--before she knew me better, of course!--was she really referring to how skinny I was at the time?)

Now, if you are not a transportation or utility cyclist, this question may seem as esoteric as the one about celestial beings and fasteners:  How many cyclists does it take to lift a cargo bike over a route barrier? I think it's the structure of the question makes it seem, at least rhetorically, as detached from any real-world concerns.  Then again, it could sound like a joke like "How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

(The answer to that one is "Fish!"  What else could it be?)

The question about cargo bikes and route barriers is important, though, if bicycles and other non-motorized vehicles are going to become an integral part of any city's transportation system.  Those little fences, in zig-zag patterns at the entrance to some bike lanes and pedestrian-bike overpasses, are supposed to keep motorbikes out, but in reality, they don't. Moreover, nothing is done to enforce stated bans:  On some lanes, I see four or five motorized bicycles and scooters for every traditional bicycle.  Those barriers do, however, inhibit or prevent access for wheelchair users and the aforementioned cargo bikes.

There are many barriers to cycling in London, some are physical especially when riding a cargo bike. Luckily I had my trusted group of riders with me to help me out on this occasion in Roding Valley @willnorman @ternbicycles @RedbridgeLive @London_Cycling pic.twitter.com/rcxTqQmcRu

— Mariam Sayed (@MariamCycles) March 22, 2023

Possibly the worst examples I've seen are the barriers on each end of the pedestrian-bike overpasses over the Clearview Expressway (a.k.a. I-295) in the eastern part of my home borough of Queens. Not only do they inhibit access for wheelchairs and cargo bikes, they also endanger cyclists or pedestrians entering exiting them because, once you go through the barriers, there is nothing separating you from the expressway's service road, where traffic enters (on the east side) or exits (on the west) at Expressway speeds (50MPH+).  I occasionally use those crossovers when cycling to or from Fort Totten or other areas along the North Shore.

If you look closely at the right side of this entrance to a Clearview Expressway overpass, you can see the zig-zag barrier.

For a time, bicycles were actually banned as a result of an eleven-year-old boy who was struck and killed by a car when he tried to exit the overpass.  In a way, that doesn't surprise me:  Most planners and politicians aren't everyday cyclists or even pedestrians, so they can be depended on to simply ban something when it could be made safer.  In the case of the Clearview overpasses--and, I suspect, the one in the Tweet I've included--accessing and using a lane should be made safer for all non-motorized (and wheelchair) traffic, and a ban against anything with a motor (besides a wheelchair) should be enforced. 

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.

A Bike Lane To His Death

In earlier posts, I have lamented "bike lanes to nowhere."  They start or end without warning or don't provide safe or convenient routes to any place a cyclist--whether he or she is pedaling for transportation, recreation or training--might actually want or need to go.  Such lanes, I have argued, will do nothing to encourage people to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, even for short trips.

The worst such "lanes to nowhere" are not mere inconveniences; they are veritable deathtraps.  Such ribbons of illusory safety end by merging into traffic. The most perilous paths of all lead cyclists onto multiple lanes of cars, SUVs, trucks and other motorized vehicles traveling at high speed.  In the most dire of scenarios, there is no way for cyclists to avoid such a merge and no other way to anywhere else but the road onto which the path merges.

Although I have never seen it, I feel confident that my description fits the Longview Lake loop in Kansas City.  Longtime cyclist Athol Barnes' delight at the Loop's construction was muted because he noticed exactly the flaw I've described. As cyclists approach the intersection of SW Longview Road from the north, along View High Drive, the bike lane runs out past the intersection of East 109th Street, forcing cyclists to merge onto the road with drivers.

Charles Criniere (in cap) with his wife Megan and nine of his ten children.

He became especially worried about that merge after he encouraged his friend, Charles Criniere to start riding.  The middle-school teacher and father of 10 started by accompanying Barnes on early-morning rides during which they talked about the things that mattered to them:  family, faith, youth and eighth-grade math students. 

Criniere quickly gained cycling savvy, but Barnes' worst fears came true the Saturday before last.  Around 6:15 am, police were called to the intersection I mentioned earlier in this post.  A vehicle, which police believe to be a white Acura MDX, fled the scene.

Criniere was declared dead.  Police are looking for the driver.

In this photo, the photographer, Jeremy Van Deventer rides past a memorial for Charles Criniere.

Although he is glad the city is creating more bike lanes, Barnes also knows--and this incident confirms--what I've long known:  All else being equal, cyclists are safer on the road, and the real hazards are drivers, who aren't cognizant of, or are hostile to, cyclists and are driving bigger vehicles faster and distractedly.

We Need To Be Counted Because We Count

One of the reasons why underserved communities are underserved is that the folks who decide, for example, where to build schools or run bus lines don't know how many people are in those communities--or even that those communities exist.  Some of that has to do with members of those communities not making themselves know--for example, by not filling out census forms, for whatever reasons.  There is also a matter of the biases of the data-gatherers:  Some don't want to recognize members of such communities, but more often, they simply don't know where to look for them or how to count them.

So it is with cyclists.  While many American cities have found effective ways to gauge motor vehicle traffic, whether through "car counters" or other means, almost none have done even a rudimentary, let alone an accurate, count of bicyclists.  Worse yet, when we are counted, those tallies don't reflect where, when or for what purposes we ride. As an example, counts taken on bike lanes in central areas of cities will find commuters, while tallies taken on bike lanes leading out of those neighborhoods will find more recreational cyclists.  And if a bike census, if you will, depends on counts from bike share docking stations, yet another type of rider will be found.

A subtle bike counter. Photo by Christopher Porter,.

The problem is that jurisdictions that bother to count cyclists tend to use only one method to record riders.  The most common is volunteers stationed, with a clipboard and pen, in places where significant numbers of people ride.  I once was such a volunteer, for a day,  with Transportation Alternatives:  I stood on the Manhattan side of the Queensborough-59th Street Bridge and counted the cyclists and pedestrians (this was before motor scooters became popular)  descending from its ramp to First Avenue.  As diligent as I was, I am sure I missed riders or pedestrians.  Even if my count were completely accurate, I had to wonder how useful it would have been for anything but deciding whether to widen the bike lane--which would never happen.

As Kea Wilson points out in a recent Streetsblog article, cities need not only to start counting cyclists; they also need to employ a number of methods, including devices like the "car counters" many already employ and data from sources like Strava and even cell phone data. Although they, together, won't count 100 percent of riders --sometimes mechanical and electronic counters stop working or, if they're programmed to detect a certain level of speed, miss a cyclist who's riding faster than a bus-- they will do much to make us less under-countednand, more important, mis-counted, than we are now.  

Perhaps even more important, though, is a thoughtful analysis of the data collected.  Why are cyclists riding (or not)  where they're riding (or not)? Are they riding on one street rather than another, or instead of a nearby bike lane?  What are some of our common destinations?  Also, if a "census" is to be useful in improving bike safety, it needs to help in determining where crashes and injuries are most likely to occur.

Until cities and other jurisdictions start to make accurate counts of cyclists and assesments of how, where and why people ride (or don't), they won't build bicycle infrastructure or will continue to build more of the  poorly-designed, -constructed and -maintained bike lanes we too often see.

Going Nowhere, Unsafely

What's the easiest way to anger urban drivers?  Take a lane out of "their" street or roadway and turn it into a bike lane.

Here's something that will leave them more enraged (I can't blame them):  When we, cyclists, don't use the lane designated for us.

We eschew those pieces of "bicycle infrastructure" our cities and counties "provide" for us, not because we're ingrates.  Rather, we avoid them because they're unsafe or impractical.  As I've said in other posts, paint does not infrastructure make:  Simply painting lines on asphalt does nothing to improve the safety of motorists driving at 30MPH (a typical urban speed limit)  or cyclists pedaling at half that velocity.  And too many bike lanes simply go from nowhere to nowhere.

Both of those flaws, it seems, came together this winter, Chicago's Department of Transportation constructed a "protected" bike lane on the city's West Side, along Jackson Boulevard between Central Avenue and Austin Boulevard.  The lane is only ten blocks long (which, if those blocks are anything like those here in New York, means that the lane is only half a mile long).  The worst thing about it, for both motorists and cyclists, is that it took a lane in each direction from a busy if narrow thoroughfare that connects the northern part of Columbus Park with Oak Park, an adjacent suburb.

The Jackson Boulevard Bike Lane. Photo by Colin Boyle, Block Club Chicago

In doing so, the Chicago DOT made an often-congested route even more crowded.  One problem is that drivers often use Jackson to reach the Central Avenue onramp for the Eisenhower Expressway.  Drivers making a right turn on Central get backed up behind drivers going east on Jackson because they can't make the turn on a red light.

Things are even worse during rush hour, school dismissals and when the 126 bus makes one of its four stops along the route.  The result is "total chaos and confusion," according to Salone.  It might be a reason why "I have yet to see one bike there."  City and school buses may be picking up and discharging passengers in the lane, and having to cross an entrance to a freeway is, for me, a reason to avoid a lane or street. (That is one reason why, when cycling back from Point Lookout or the Rockaways, I detour off Cross Bay Boulevard a block or two after crossing the North Channel (a.k.a. Joseph Addabo Memorial) Bridge:  I want to avoid the Belt Parkway entrance and exit ramps.)

The result, according to resident Mildred Salone, is "total chaos and confusion."  That might be a reason why she has "yet to see one bike there."  An equally important reason was voiced by someone else, who called Jackson Boulevard a "bike lane to nowhere."  

That title was bestowed upon it by Oboi Reed, who founded Equicity, a mobility justice organization that seeks, among other things, to start a bicycling culture in the area.  "When the bike lanes drop out of nowhere, people are turned off," he explained.  "People have to feel ownership and excitement."  

He says that in addition to the lane's faulty planning and design, people were alienated because they see the bike lanes as vectors of gentrification.  The Jackson Boulevard neighborhood is full of longtime residents, some of whom live in multi-generational homes, and most of whom are black and working-class.  They cyclists they see are mainly younger and whiter than they are, and don't share their roots in the neighborhood.

So, it seems to me, Chicago's Jackson Boulevard bike lane encapsulates all of the faults of "bicycle infrastructure" in the U.S.:  It was poorly planned and designed, with little or no regard for whom it would serve or the neighborhood through which it was built.  The result is something that makes motorists and cyclists equally unhappy.  Unfortunately, unless planners and policy-makers pay more attention to cyclists as well as other people who might be affected, we will see more unsafe bike lanes to nowhere.

What's Worse: Paint Or Police Passing?

 If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I don't give a blanket endorsement to roadside bicycle lanes.  Too many, at least in the US, are poorly-conceived, constructed and maintained.  The worst sort of lanes are the ones that serve no pratical purpose-- the ones I call lanes from nowhere to nowhere--because they do nothing to encourage cycling as a practical alternative to driving for commuting, errands and other purpose-driven trips.  And the most dangerous ones are the ones that separate motor traffic from cyclists by nothing more than a line on the pavement.  As I've said on more than one occasion, "paint is not infrastructure."

Studies have shown that painted cycle lanes do nothing to reduce injuries and "advisory lanes"--one which motorists are allowed to enter--are worse than no lane at all:  they increase the odds of injury by 30 percent.

The only news, for me, in those studies is the number:  I know, from experience, that a painted is as much a margin of safety for cyclists as a swath of fishnet scotch-taped at the nose bridge offers against COVID-19 or any other contagious virus.  And too often, motorists use "advisory" and even painted "bike-only" lanes to pass or double-park; the latter is often done by drivers of delivery trucks. 

To be fair, drivers, until recently, have been inculcated with the notion that they are the "kings of the road":  that motor vehicles take priority over cyclists and pedestrians.  If they haven't cycled during their adult lives, it's hard for them to un-learn such an attitude.  Also, some lanes, especially the "advisory" ones, aren't marked in ways that motorists can easily see, especially if they are driving large vehicles.

But some of the worst offenders, in my experience, are police officers in their "cruisers."  I can't begin to tell you how many times I've seen them parked in the middle of lanes while munching on donuts and sipping coffee.  And I've had a couple of close encounters with constabulary cars that weren't responding to an emergency call.  At least, I don't think they were:  their lights weren't flashing and their sirens weren't blaring.

Some have debated whether what was captured in that image was indeed a "close call" with a police car. However, Andrew Frogley on the Road.cc blog, who didn't think it was such a "close call," nonetheless agreed that one blogger had a legitimate question:  "What's worse?  The painted cycle lane or the close pass?"

Geoff Hickman had, I believe, the best answer:  "One enables the other."

Paint Is Not Infrastructure

 I don't know whether Robert "Bicycle Bob" Silverman, about whom I wrote yesterday, uttered the title of this post.  It's not hard to imagine that he did--le peinture n'est pas une infrastructure--when he was campaigning for the safe, practical lanes Montreal's cyclists enjoy.

Someone who did say that--in English--was a fellow identified only as "John" in Hertfordshire.  He documented a "near miss" in which a driver squeezed him over to the curb.  

"John" blames, in part the driver:  "Whilst this was telegraphed right from the point when the van signals to turn right, there was a weary inevitability of at least one of the drivers not being able to see beyond the end of their bonnet and creating an easily preventable situation"  

While the carelessness or cluelessness of drivers is not news to cyclists in the UK or US, "John" also blames what an editor of road.cc sarcastically calls "a great piece of cycle superhighway."  His all-too-close encounter, he says, "demonstrates that poor cycle infrastructure, in this case a narrow lane that disappears just when you need it, can cause more problems than it solves."

He said what I've said--and, what I don't doubt "Bicycle Bob" said:  Poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained bicycle infrastructure is not only less convenient, but more dangerous, for cyclists and motorists alike, than no infrastructure at all.  I have seen too many examples of that here in New York, but too many planners persist in believing that simply painting a few lines on a street will lead to a safer co-existence, or at least a truce, between cyclists and motorists.

Where Are You Going? Does The Bike Lane Go There?

In one of my early posts, I recounted a distracted driver who made a dangerous turn in front of me.  She rolled down her window and castigated me for not riding in a bike lane.

I explained, as politely as I could, that the lane followed another street and wouldn't take me to where I was going.  She insisted that I should ride that lane anyway, not "her" street, where I was riding.  I then asked her whether, if she had to be someplace, she'd drive down a street that didn't take her there.

The memory of that incident has stuck with me because that woman echoed what seems to be a notion that (mis)guides planners, designers and builders of bicycle infrastructure.  They seem to think that cycling is only a recreational activity, not to be taken seriously.  So bike lanes are designed for, at best, aimless meandering (which I sometimes do) rather than as conduits of transportation. The lane that woman believed I "should" have taken is fine for riding from the neighborhood near LaGuardia Airport to Astoria Park, and useful for commuting if you work at the power generating plant or one of the metal fabrication shops (or the Halal slaughterhouse!) along the way.  

That driver didn't "get it;" perhaps she still doesn't.  But Alex Kent of Amherst, Massachusetts does. In a letter to the Daily Hampshire Gazzette, Kent makes the point that "bicycles are essential."  

The letter is a response to another letter writer who "claims not to understand why bike lanes are needed in Northampton when there is a rail trail nearby."  That person, Kent shows, does not understand that a bicycle is not simply a piece of exercise or recreational equipment; it is "an essential form of transportation."  The bicycle is "a way of getting from one place to another" and, as Kent points out, that place "may well be a business on Main Street and not on the rail trail."  Moreover, Kent explains, many cyclists--especially in places like Northampton and Amherst as well as cities like Boston and New York--don't even own cars:  The bicycle is their main form of transportation.

Alex Kent could have been me on that day when a driver cut me off and tried to tell me it was my fault because I wasn't riding in a bike lane that, at that moment, was of no use to me.  Unfortunately, I think there will be many more encounters like the one I had with that woman, letters like Kent's and "bike lanes to nowhere" before we have bike lanes or other infrastructure conceived as though the bicycle is a viable form of transportation.

Even The Dutch Take A Wrong Turn Sometimes

Which of these statements is true?

A. The Netherlands gets it right when it comes to cycling infrastructure.

B.  Justine Valinotti is a direct descendent of Christopher Columbus and inherited his sense of direction.

Actually, neither is completely true--or false.  I can't claim lineage (as far as I know, anyway) to the guy who didn't "discover" America, but my navigational skills are on par with his.  It's a good thing I have a sense of adventure!

As for the Netherlands:  Much of the world sees it as a cycling paradise.  Indeed, there are more bikes than people, and its system of bike lanes and other structures are, well, a system, more or less:  They actually make cycling a real transportation alternative, at least in the cities.

That said, even Dutch planners get it wrong sometimes.  Mark Wagenbuur reminds us of this in a recent post on his blog, Bicycle Dutch.

Once or twice a year, he rents a bike at the Venlo train station and rides to his in-laws in Grubbenvorst.  In times past, his route was perhaps not the most scenic, but was pretty direct--and, from his direction, relatively safe for cycling.  Four years ago, however, the local government built a viaduct for cyclists that was ostensibly safe and convenient for cyclists.

The problem, from Mr. Wagenbuur's point of view, was that one of the roads he took on earlier trips was closed to cyclists--and the viaduct was designed, in part, to bypass that road. It forces cyclists to take a slightly longer--but considerably more complicated--route.

The blue line is Mark Wagenbuur's current route.  The horizontal blue segment is the viaduct.  His old route is in green.  In red are possible connections that could make his route more straighforward. From Bicycle Dutch.

He admits that the additional distance isn't much--it adds only 36 seconds to his trip--but the detours and other turns are exasperating.  I guess he's a bit like me in that way:  I don't mind taking a longer route, whether it's for a commute or a fun ride.  If I'm trying to get to a particular place (e.g., work or a doctor's appointment) at a particular time, though, I prefer to minimize my chances of taking a wrong turn.

As I've said in other posts, merely building bike lanes isn't going to convert people from four wheels to two.  Those lanes have to be planned in order to provide safe, convenient and practical routes for cyclists.  That happens more often in European countries, like the Netherlands, than in the United States.  But, since Dutch planners are people (and may not realize that folks like me are navigationally-challenged), every once in a while they make missteps--like the viaduct Mark Wagenbuur described.

Swept By A Tide Of Poor Design

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Should Be Happy For This, But...

This is what I see, now, outside my window. 

It's an urban millennial's dream.  I'm supposed to be happy. 

I'm not the only one who isn't--and not only because I'm not a millennial.  Some of my neighbors hate it. I can't say I blame them, even if their reasons are very different from mine.

A few weeks ago, the Crescent Street bike lane "opened for business," if you will.  On paper, it sounds like something every cyclist in northwestern Queens (and, probably, other parts of this city) dreamed of:  a direct bike route from the Robert F. Kennedy to the Ed Koch (or Triborough to 59th Street, to old-time New Yorkers) Bridges.  

Now, if I were still riding to the college every day, or I were still working in Midtown or Downtown Manhattan, I might have welcomed the lane--had it taken a different route and been constructed differently.

One common complaint was that drivers on Crescent routinely exceeded the speed limit by a lot.  It's not hard to see why:  This stretch of Crescent is a long straightway not unlike some race tracks.  And, as I mentioned, it connects the two bridges--as well as the Grand Central Parkway (which goes to the airports) to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and, in effect, four of the city's five boroughs.  That is one reason it was so much used by taxi and car-service drivers, many of whose "home" offices and garages are near the RFK Bridge.

Even so, I didn't mind riding on Crescent:  Because the street sliced through the neighborhood like an exclamation point, and I knew the drivers' habits, traffic was predictable.  Plus, the drivers who regularly used Crescent knew that the neighborhood is residential and  we--cyclists and pedestrians--also used the street.

But now there's only one traffic lane, so drivers can't maneuver--and become very short-tempered and resentful, sometimes endangering cyclists out of spite. Worse, they can't see you behind the row of parked cars.  These are  real problems when taxis, livery cars and other "work" vehicles pull into the lane to discharge or pick up passengers, as they often do by the hospital.  If you're riding down from the RFK bridge, and you don't run into red lights, it's easy to build up speed. When an ambulance or truck pulls into the lane, you have no choice but to take a hard right into the traffic lane--or to end up in back of the ambulance!

One more thing:  When cars parked along the curb, where the lane is now, they served as a buffer between traffic (bicycle and motor) and pedestrians crossing the street. Even if a careless pedestrian wandered, mid-block, into traffic, he or she had to cross through the parked cars.  Now, those same pedestrians step directly into the bike lane as they're looking at their screens, oblivious to their surroundings.  

Some of my neighbors would love to see the lane removed.  I agree with them, almost.  They complain that it's less convenient, or even "impossible" to park.  To me, it's more dangerous--for me, for them and for pedestrians.  The Crescent Street lane, I believe, would be better on another street:  one that parallels Crescent (28th or 30th come to mind) from the RFK Bridge to Queensborough Plaza, where it's easy to access the Ed Koch Bridge.

 

He Wants To Prevent "The Kiss Of Death"

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I am not wholly enthusiastic about bike lanes.  In part, my attitude includes remnants of the late John Forrester's influence early in my cycling life.  I subscribed to his philosophy of "vehicular cycling" which, as the name implies, calls for cyclists to ride as if they were any other vehicle on the road.  This meant that, like him, I detested bike lanes.  He argued that bike lanes turn cyclists into second-class citizens and, worse, put them in more danger than they'd experience if they were to ride in the roadway.

These days, my lack of enthusiasm for bike lanes is rooted in something to which Forester sometimes alluded, and which I have experienced all too often:  those lanes, particularly here in the States, are, as often as not, poorly- conceived, designed and constructed.  

Dave O'Neill learned that lesson the hard way.  He has cycled across the country and "thinks nothing of" cyclng 150 miles a day.  Two weeks ago, he was cycling from the Nubbe Lighthouse in York, Maine to his home in Greenland, New Hampshire.  While pedaling through Portsmouth, a city that borders Greenland to the east, he experienced one of our worst nightmares:  He was "doored."

He was riding down the city's Middle Street bike lane, his friend ahead of him and his wife behind him.  Like too many recently-constructed bike lanes, it rims a curb and is separated from street traffic by a line of parked cars.

I avoid using such lanes whenever possible for two reasons:

  1.) Drivers often pull into, or park, illegally.  Sometimes they do so out of carelessness or disdain for others. Other times, lanes and parking spaces are not clearly delineated and drivers mistakenly park in the lane.  

2.)  In such a lanes, cyclists are riding to the right of parked cars.  Specifically, they are pedaling by the passenger side of parked cars.  In my experience, passengers are more likely than drivers to embark or disembark from vehicles--especially taxis and Ubers--without paying attention to their surroundings.

Dave O'Neill at the Middle Street Bike Lane

Dave O'Neill experienced a "perfect storm" if you will:  A passenger-side door opened on a car that was illegally parked. Worse, a utility pole abutted the street right next to where the door opened. "I had zero time to react," he recalls.  

When the car door flung into his path, it stopped his bike in its tracks and sent him airborne.  He  landed face-first. "I had gravel in my mouth," he says. "It was the kiss of death."  Still, he says, his injuries would have been "much worse" had he hit the pole instead of the door.

As a recent face-plant victim, I empathize with him.  I also recall a similar situation I faced before I started this blog.  I was taking one of my first post-surgery rides in the 34th Avenue bike lane, not far from my apartment.  That lane was configured in the same way as the one on Middle Street in Portsmouth, with the curb on the cyclists' right and a lane of parked cars on the left.  A passenger opened his door into my path.  

Fortunately for me, the door struck only my left side.  I wasn't seriously injured, but I got a pretty nasty bruise on my side.  And, for a couple of weeks, I looked like I was pregnant on my left side.

By the way:  I haven't ridden the 34th Avenue lane since that incident.  If Dave O'Neill doesn't ride the Middle Street lane, I couldn't blame him.  He believes that lane should be deconstructed and parked cars returned to the curb before someone experiences what he calls "the kiss of death."

Capital Fine

Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

I could say something like that on those rare occasions when I agree with the Automobile Association of America or the Washington Times.  Well, today I hit the "daily double," if you will.

The District of Columbia's Department of Public Works says that, later this month, it will begin to levy $150 fines on drivers who stop or park in bicycle lanes.  Perhaps not surprisingly, both the WT and AAA hate the idea.  

One point on which I agree with them is that the move probably won't help to improve cyclists' safety or the flow of traffic.  I am not familiar with that city's bike routes, but if they're anything like some that I've seen here in New York, they're worse than no lanes at all for cyclists.  And, of course, they frustrate drivers.

Perhaps more to the point, though, is this:  New York's ban against stopping or parking in bike lanes is rarely, if ever, enforced.  Will the Capital City do better in making drivers better at respecting the rights and safety of cyclists as well as pedestrians?

If it doesn't, the result will most likely be more injuries and fatalities--and frustrated drivers, which could lead to more deaths and injuries.  

Even more important, though, is the design of both lanes and streets.  Unless that is improved, no other policy or piece of bicycle "infrastructure" will do anything to help both motorists and cyclists navigate often-chaotic conditions. 

I’m Not Crazy About Their Steaks—Or Bicycle Infrastructure

I have never been to Omaha, and I have met only two people who hail from O.N.E. (Omaha, Nebraska) in my life.  So I won’t make any generalizations about it.  I will say, however, that the seem to have made the same mistakes in bicycle infrastructure planning and construction countless other places—including my hometown of New York.

While city officials are congratulating themselves for stringing together a “network “ of bike lanes that will allow cyclists to get around in the city, local cycling advocates are making the same justified criticisms one hears all over this nation.

From what I can see, local officials think that all you have to do to make a bike lane is to paint lines on the side of the road, and all you have to do to “connect” them is to install a few signs.

I’d protest by boycotting Omaha Steaks, but It wouldn’t change their thinking.  Besides, I’ve never ordered Omaha Steaks before and very rarely eat steak at all.  I’m not a vegetarian, but—I know that this will seem like heresy to some—I’m not so crazy about steak.  Or most bicycle infrastructure I’ve seen.  And I probably won’t like Omaha’s infrastructure, either.

A Baltimore Bike Lane That "Caused Problems"

A researcher cuts off a gazelle's leg.  The gazelle can't run.  The researcher then summarizes his findings: "Gazelles can't run."

I don't remember where I read or heard that story. Whether or not it's true, it's a pretty good metaphor for the way policy-makers make decisions about bicycle infrastructure.

To such policy-makers, bicycle infrastructure can be defined in two words:  bike lanes.  And, to them, a bike line is anything so marked in paint on the side of a road.

As often as not, one of the following happens:

• A cyclist is hit by a motor vehicle that pulls in or out of the bike lane.  The policy-makers conclude, correctly, that the bike lane isn't safe, but makes the faulty inference that all bike lanes are unsafe.
• Altercations between motorists and cyclists ensue.  This leads policy-makers to conclude that bike lanes are inherently a bad idea.
• Cyclists don't use the lane because it's inherently unsafe or poorly maintained.

Any of these scenarios can, and often does, lead to the decision to get rid of the bike lane--and, sometimes, for policy-makers to decide that bike lanes are generally a lousy idea.

One problem is, of course, that a couple of lines of paint does not a bike lane make.  

Another, more important, problem is that bicycle infrastructure is more than just bike lanes.  

That is evident at the Roland Avenue bike lane in Baltimore, which is about to be removed for "causing problems."  Of course, the real problems aren't being addressed, one being that the lane is delineated by nothing more than paint stripes.  

Another is that there are bus stops in the bike lane. Too often, bus drivers simply don't see cyclists and veer into them.  Also, like too many other curbside bike lanes, the one on Roland Avenue ends at the corner and resumes across the intersection.  What that means is that cyclists crossing the intersection enter it from a "blind" spot, especially if they are following the traffic signals and regulations.  I recall at least a couple of occasions when I could have easily been struck by a right-turning driver while entering an intersection from a bike lane.

City officials say that the bike lanes caused "problems," which they mis-identify.  Sadly, other municipalities act in much the same way.  So, the Roland Avenue bike lane in Baltimore is not the first, nor will it be the last, such lane to be borne of misguided notions about bicycle safety and infrastructure, and to be scrapped because it "causes problems" or cyclists don't use it.

The Sidewalk Was The Path To His Death

One thing I've learned during my trips to Florida is that many sidewalks are de facto bike lanes.  

More precisely, there are ribbons of concrete that wind and wend alongside multilane roads where the speed limit is 45 MPH (70 KPH)--which, in Florida, means 65 MPH.  One rarely sees a pedestrian on those "sidewalks", so there are no prohibitions against cycling on them.  

The good thing about them is that they are usually separated by at least a meter of something--usually grass or other vegetation--from the roadway.  Interestingly, I almost never see motorists pulling into them. I don't know whether there's a law against doing so.  My theory is that the drivers know some of those little "lawns" might actually be mini-swamps, and their vehicles could get stuck in them.

Riding on the "sidewalks" isn't bad:  Most are well-maintained and rather spacious.  But there are two major hazards I've found, both of which might be reasons why Florida has, by far, the highest death rate for cyclists in the US.

One is crossing traffic intersections.  Nearly all of those sidewalks lead cyclists and pedestrians into the path of right-turning vehicles, who are often going fast.  To make things worse, sightlines are often poor, so even the most conscientious of drivers could hit a cyclist who's clad head-to-toe in safety yellow.

Another is that, sometimes, parts of those sidewalks are blocked, without warning.  So, if you are moseying along and suddenly you find a crew from the power or water company drilling into your path, you have nowhere to go--except the roadway which, as often as not, doesn't have a shoulder.

Dr. Robert Dalton Jr.

Dr. Robert Dalton Jr. encountered such a scenario while pedaling from his home to the Maitland Sun Rail station where, on a normal day, he'd catch the train that would take him to Orlando Health, where he practiced his profession as a cardiologist.

His work no doubt saved more than a few lives.  But nobody could save his on 17 December, when he was struck by a driver.

The sidewalk was blocked for construction of an apartment complex.  This has led to some finger-pointing between the local officials--who say that the construction company should have erected scaffolding that would have allowed cyclists and pedestrians to pass underneath--and the construction company, who say that the city or county or whomever should have put out blinking lights or other warnings for drivers to slow down.

Of course, the scaffolding would have been the better alternative.  But even that would not have addressed other problems, like the ones I've mentioned, that are found on Florida sidewalks-cum-bike lanes.  And, of course, nothing will bring back a well-regarded doctor and beloved member of his family and community.