Where The Ghosts Come From

 So where do “ghost bikes” come from?

An article in today’s New York Times answered that question:  The bikes are donated by shops, friends or located via word of mouth. Volunteer strip away parts line pedals to make the bikes unrideable, then give them that familiar coat of white paint.  The volunteers also make the signs that read “Cyclist killed here. Rest in peace,” that are usually attached to, or by, the bike.

In addition to describing how volunteers create “ghost bikes,” the article raises some important questions—and disseminates, if unwittingly, some misconceptions about why we’re seeing more “ghosts.” 

As the article points out—Vision Zero notwithstanding—2023 was the deadliest year for New York City cyclists since 1999. The vast majority of casualties were on eBikes.  But the article goes on to quote advocates and planners who say the network of bike lanes and other infrastructure is “disconnected.” 

Photo from the New York Times.

True enough, as I know all too well. But I don’t know how fixing that problem will make cycling safer for people like me, on traditional bikes, when much of this city’s laneage is dominated by eBikes and motorized bikes on which the motor is the sole means of propulsion rather than a means to assist pedaling. Too often, those bikes are ridden by “cowboy” delivery workers whose employers incentivize or pressure them to make as many deliveries as possible, as quickly as possible, safely be damned—or by young joyriders equally disdainful of the rules of the road.  Oh, and don’t get me started on how often drivers (including cops) park in those lanes or pull over to have their coffee and donuts. 

Also, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, the police—and very often, the public— blame cyclists who, if they don’t survive a crash, can’t defend themselves. (I have said that running down a cyclist is the easiest way to get away with murder in the US.) Never mind that the driver was speeding or ran a red light:  There’s an attitude that cyclists “have it coming to them” when they’re injured or killed.

As long as misconceptions and misguided policies shape efforts to make cycling “safer,” those volunteers who make “ghost” bikes won’t lack for work—though they probably would love to do other things, just as Robert Capa hoped to “stay unemployed as a war photographer “ for “the rest of my life.”

Will The Velo Continue to Vive After The Greve?

I can recall three transit strikes in New York City.  The first began with the new year in 1966.  I was a child then, and the main thing I recall is my father missing a couple of days of work, then taking cabs with co-workers.  

The second lasted nearly as long, and began on April Fools' Day in 1980.  I was a student at Rutgers but was making frequent trips into New York.  Back then, buses along the Princeton-to-New York/Port Authority Route had large luggage hatches on their undersides.  Since they were almost never used for the intended purpose, and because the bus operating company didn't seem to have any written policy against using those hatches for any other purpose, I and a few other cyclists would stow our bikes in them.  I recall one friendly driver who'd help us angle our bikes into the compartments and make sure the door was shut; other drivers simply looked the other way.  So, once I arrived in the city, I had a convenient way of getting around.

The last strike I recall began just before Christmas in 2005. Subway and bus workers walked off their jobs for three days.  I was teaching at another college and, since the strike coincided with the end of the semester, we were concerned that exams would be postponed until January--and that I'd have to postpone or cancel a trip I'd booked for then.  Thankfully, that strike ended before the holiday and only a few classes and exams, none of which were mine, had to be rescheduled.

During the 1980 and 2005 strikes, many commuters walked or rode bicycles to work.  (In fact, the practice of wearing a business suit with sneakers and carrying dress pumps or wingtips in a bag is said to have begun with the 1980 strike.)  I have had a difficult time finding statistics to confirm my observation that, while some continued to pedal to their offices, stores, factories or schools after each of those labor stoppages, more people continued to ride to work after the 2005 walkout than after the 1980 halt to the trains and buses.  

If my observation can indeed be borne out by empirical data, it would indeed be interesting, especially because the conditions of each strike were very different:  The 1980 strike unfolded with some of the blooms in the city's gardens, while the 2005 strike coincided with both the official beginning of winter and that season's first cold spell. 

Also, because the 1980 strike was much longer, one might expect the habit of cycling or walking to become more ingrained than it would have during the 2005 stoppage.  

Then again, some who weren't so inclined to ride or walk might have seen having to do so during the long 1980 strike in the way people viewed shortages and other privations during World War II or other protracted national emergencies:  They were eager to get back to their old ways.  On the other hand, having to bike or walk for only three days might leave people with more pleasant memories.

Moreover, as I recall, 1980 was a "year without a spring".  A cold, damp April gave way to a heat wave in early May that presaged a hot, dry summer.   Perhaps such weather was a disincentive to continue cycling, at least for some people.  On the other hand, after the cold wave during the strike, the winter of 2005-2006 was mild.  Perhaps it is no coincidence that the surge in the number of commuters and recreational cyclists began to surge right around that time.

I mention all of these things because the strikes in France--which include greves on the Transports Parisiens et Transiliens--have ended.  The trains and buses, with a few exceptions, came to a halt for most of December and January.  So there is a valid basis for comparing the change in transportation habits as opposed to the previous year.

Turns out, on the whole, the number of January cyclists in the City of Light--at least as measured on its major bike lanes--increased by 131 percent--over the first month of 2019.  That is to say, the numbers more than doubled and on two--the Voie Georges Pompidou and le Pont National--more than three times as many cyclists rode by.

It will be interesting to see how many of those "new" cyclists continue their riding habit as Metro and bus services return to normal.  I suspect they will, simply because cycling culture, while not as prevalent in Paris as in other parts of France, existed to a greater degree than it did in the Big Apple when its conductors, drivers and maintenance workers walked off their jobs.  Also, Paris' system of bike lanes and other infrastructure is more extensive and generally more useful than what New York has even now, let alone 15 years ago or 40 years ago, when it was all but nonexistent.

All I can say is to Paris is Vive la Velo!

 

Bike Biennale

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

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

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

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

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