A Path Through Vermont?

 

Image by Markus Spiske via Pexels

Someone, I forget whom, quipped that the definition of a Canadian is someone who lives as close as possible to the United States without living in it. That makes sense when you realize the country’s largest cities—Toronto, Montréal and Vancouver—all lie within 100 miles of the border.

That same wag might’ve said that the idea of US Route 5 might’ve been a highway as close as possible to New Hampshire without actually crossing into the Granite State. That is exactly what the thoroughfare does for much of its Vermont segment along the Connecticut River, the Green Mountain State’s boundary with New Hampshire.

Route 5 is extremely popular with tourists, as it passes through many towns and villages that are more picturesque than any place has a right to be. It also links the rest of New England with Québéc.

And, having cycled in Vermont, I can’t recommend it highly enough, whether in the spring, summer or its incomparable fall foliage season. The one drawback I could see is that being mainly a rural state, you have to know it—or go with a local—if you want to ride the less-trafficked roads. That can make it more difficult to plan a multi day tour or even a commute and, perhaps, keeps cycling from being even more popular than it is.

Now the Vermont Agency of Transportation, commonly known as VTrans, is taking feedback from municipalities along Route 5 for a possible bike route that would parallel the corridor from Vermont’s southern boundary with Massachusetts to its northern border with Québéc. The route would consist of separate protected lanes for some of its length and on-road painted lanes in other parts.

One of the difficulties in building such a route is that it would require the cooperation—financial and otherwise—of the many towns and villages along its way. While some balk at the possible cost and time commitments, others—like Fairlee—also see an opportunity because such a bike route would link already-existing bike routes as well as the towns themselves.

My hope for such a project is that actual cyclists are involved in planning, designing and building it.  Too many bike lanes I’ve ridden seem to have lacked the understanding that comes from spending time in the saddle.

JFK: What If?

 

I hesitated to write this post.  But even if what I say seems irrelevant or simply wrong, I have to say it.

As you’ve heard by now, sixty years ago today, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

I was a very, very young child that day.  My memories of that time are not of the event itself, but of people expressing grief or—to use a word that I wouldn’t learn until many years later.  Even in Brooklyn, where I lived at the time, there were people who hated Kennedy as much as any Klan member, and for the same reasons.

I would say, though, that grief or, at least, shock. He was the first Roman Catholic to become President, and most of the people in my neighborhood shared his faith or, at least, attended the same kinds of churches.  Most of the non-Catholics in our community were Jewish—working-class, like us—and felt as much as we did that JFK “belonged” to them.

I’ll spare you all of the hackneyed rhetoric about the youthfulness and optimism he radiated. And I won’t insult your intelligence by repeating that oft-echoed canard that the nation “lost its innocence” that day.  This nation was never innocent; nor was any other, ever.

And for all that he accomplished, his re-election in 1964 probably wouldn’t have been a “slam-dunk.” People referred to the states south of the Mason-Dixon Line as the “Solid South:”  Democrats had won most elections, from those for Congress and governors’ mansion all the way down to dog-catcher, for the century that had elapsed since the Civil War. But the “Dixiecrats” had completely different ideas about race relations and other issues from those of Democrats like Kennedy and Franklin D. Roosevelt. They, however, needed Dixiecrats’ support not only to win elections, but also to pass legislation.

It almost goes without saying that if JFK had lived and won the next election, we would be living in a very different—and, I believe, better—country. For one thing, it would be easier (though not easy; it never is) to be non-White, non-male, non-heterosexual non-cisgender and non-wealthy. I think legislation intended to guarantee the rights of people I’ve mentioned (who include me) would have passed sooner and wouldn’t have been weakened.

I also think we’d be in a “greener” country.  JFK was the first President since pre-war JFK whose guiding principles included environmental consciousness. Most of his efforts focused on coastal landscapes because those were most familiar to him as someone who sailed from Cape Cod. But I believe that his consciousness about the natural world would have expanded—which would have helped to foster an environment that encouraged research and development of cleaner energy sources—at least in part because of his friendship with Rachel Carlson.

Who knows?  If Kennedy had lived and served longer, the bicycle might be seen as a mode of transportation and not a toy for kids-or adults. Might we have more and better bike lanes? Would my hometown of New York be the new New Amsterdam?

Women Ride In Copenhagen. Why Not Here?

In an earlier post, I wrote about how women's greater propensity for obeying the law--or simply our risk-adverseness--actually puts us at greater risk of injury and death while cycling.

In that post, I wrote about how the "Idaho Stop" could help to close that "gap."  Briefly, the "Idaho Stop"--so named because the Gem State legalized it all the way back in 1982--allows cyclists to treat red lights like "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs like "Yield" signs.  In other words, cyclists can proceed through a red light if there is no cross-traffic in the intersection.  That allows cyclists to proceed through the intersection ahead of any traffic--including right-turning trucks and buses--that might be following them.

I got to thinking about that in reading Cara Eckholm's comparison of bicycle commuting in Copenhagen, where she spent her early twenties, and New York, where she currently resides.  She points out that in the Danish capital, female cyclists actually outnumber their male counterparts, but on the Big Apple streets, men outnumber women on bikes by a factor of three to one, even though women outnumber men in "spin" and other indoor cycling.

Some of that difference, she contends, has to do with the state of bicycle infrastructure in each city (and country).  Studies show that women's participation in cycling tends to increase when there are more protected lanes and other cycling infrastructure. But she also believes that the cultural norms around gender and cycling are perhaps more important.  As an example, she cites reports--and I can attest--that drivers are more likely to encroach on a female cyclist's space that that of a male rider's.  

Moreover, women are far more likely to be using their bikes to ferry their children to school or ballet or soccer practice, or to shop or do household errands, than men are.  For such riding and riders, the monocoque carbon frames and spandex riding outfits featured in most ad and p.r. campaigns aren't very practical.  Eckholm contends that showing women--whether on city, cargo or e-bikes--in non-bike clothing with their kids, groceries, books or other items that don't fit in a jersey pocket would probably encourage more women--and members of racial and ethnic minorities--to think, "Hey, I can ride a bike!"

Illustration of "New Woman" by F. Opper in Puck magazine, 1895.  From the Library of Congress.

That is more or less the image cycling has in places like Copenhagen.  And, ironically, it harkens back to the images of the 1890s that showed proud, confident women in their "bloomers" and derby hats astride two wheels.  

The Bike Lane Didn't Get Her There Safely

 Some who read yesterday's post might believe that I'm becoming (or already am) a whiny ingrate. But even in a relatively bike-conscious country like the UK, simply building bike lanes--even "hardened" ones--isn't enough to ensure the safety of cyclists.

Last Friday afternoon, Trish Elphinstone was riding on a designated bike path--one that is physically separated from the road it parallels.  A driver steered a black sedan across that barrier, clipped Ms. Elphinstone's front wheel and sped away.

The lane where a driver steered into Trish Elphinstone's wheel.  Google image.

The encounter left her with swelling on her shoulders and knees, in addition to a "face matted with blood" as a result of a cut above her eyebrow.  Needless to say, she spent the rest of the afternoon in an emergency room rather than the meeting she was riding to.

She admits that it's "ironic" that the meeting she missed was about road safety.  You see, just last month, she was elected from the Labour Party to represent Rose Hill and Littlemore in the Oxfordshire City Council.  She narrowly defeated Michael Anthony Evans, an Independent politician whose platform included staunch opposition to Low Traffic Neighbourhoods and traffic-calming schemes, which he described as a "blunt instrument that divides neighborhoods."  

One might assume that he opposes bike lanes and anything else that might encourage people to cycle for transportation, or at least get out of their cars.

I'm not saying a conspiracy was involved when that car clipped Trish Elphinstone's front wheel--and kept her from a meeting on traffic safety.  But...

Hardened About Bike Lanes?

The Department of Transportation in New York City, my hometown, has announced that we can expect to see ten miles of new "hardened" bike lanes this year, in addition to other ("soft"?) lanes.

So what does the city mean by a "hardened" lane?  Apparently, it's one separated from traffic by a concrete or other immovable barrier, in contrast to most lanes, which "protect" cyclists from traffic with flexible bollards or lines of paint.

If a sound like a cynical curmudgeon, well, I won't deny that I am one, at least somewhat.  You see, a DOT spokesperson says that building the lanes is, in part, a response to the increasing accident and death rate for cyclists.  Now, if I weren't (snark alert) one of those mean, nasty, entitled lycra sausages, I would simper "Oh, how thoughtful of them!"

Now, I am not against "hardened" lanes or even the "soft" ones, at least in principle.  What bothers me is planners' misconceptions that are almost inevitably built into bike infrastructure in this city and country. 

Crescent Street bike lane:  the one that runs right in front of my apartment.  Photo by Edwin de Jesus.

For one thing, when motorists maim or kill cyclists, sometimes deliberately, they usually get away with little more than a "slap on the wrist."  The Police Department seems to give attacks on cyclists the same priority as bike theft--which is to say, no priority, or even less.  

To be fair, some motor vehicle-bicycle crashes are caused by miscalculations rather than malfeasance on the part of drivers.  If they haven't cycled for transportation rather than just in leisurely social spins in the park, they aren't likely to understand what are truly the safest practices--for cyclists and motorists alike--for proceeding through intersections and other situations in which drivers and cyclists meet.

But what really drives me crazy is how planners seem to give little or no thought to where they place the lanes.  Too often, they begin seemingly out of nowhere or end without warning.  That is not a mere inconvenience.  For one thing, it renders lanes impractical:  The only way cycling will ever become a respected part of this city's traffic landscape will be if it becomes a practical means of transportation for people who don't live within a few blocks of their schools or workplaces.  For another, bike lanes that don't have clear beginnings and endings, and aren't integrated with each other, put cyclists and motorists alike--and pedestrians--in more danger.

So, while hoping that the new lanes will reflect a more evolved philosophy than previous lanes did, I remain a skeptic.

Who Are They Attacking?

Motorists' umbrage over bike lanes or other bicycle infrastructure, is expressed as a matter of losing "their" traffic and parking lanes, and other facilities, to us.

Notice the last word in the previous sentence.  While the anger might be articulated about things, in the end, I think it's really a resentment against us--or, at least the way they perceive us.  That is to say, when I've been screamed at simply for being on a bike--all the while following traffic rules and regulations--the person yelling at me doesn't see me because, to them, a cyclist is not a person like me.  The stereotype of a cyclist, at least in New York and other US cities, is that of a "privileged" Milennial who washes down chia seed-garnished slices of avocado toast with IPAs brewed in small batches--who, as often as not, comes from privilege and some place far away.  In other words, they don't see a woman of, ahem, a certain age who grew up in a working-class enclave of their city.

In that image of cyclists, we are also painted as "lone wolves" or as people who ride and hang out with other people like ourselves.  What doesn't occur to them, it seems, is that one reason bike lanes and other facilities have been built is to encourage families to cycle together, whether for fitness, recreation or transportation.  And, in some places--including, not infrequently, here in New York--one does see adults and children riding together in the lanes.

So folks who break bottles, scatter screws and tacks and leave all sorts of other large and sharp objects in bike lanes are endangering, not only those whom they resent, but people who are more like themselves and, perhaps, people who matter to them--namely, their children.

That truth has become all too evident on a bike lane along Australia's Gold Coast.  Not only did the debris cause flat tires that caused people, including children, to push their bikes several miles; the shards of glass, metal and other substances also caused more serious damage to bikes and the bodies of people--including children who were riding with parents or other adults.

In the photo on the right is a box full of objects swept off an Australian bike lane on a recent day.  Photos from the Tweed-Byron Police District, on Facebook.

Whenever I see broken beer bottles or other trash strewn along a bike lane, or anyplace we might ride, I see not only an attempt to damage our bikes or injure us physically.  I also see an attack on a stereotype of what we are.  In other words, I see another kind of bigotry.

Sans Casque?

In the sweep of history, four years isn't even the blink of an eye. But, even at my age--when you start to think of people within fifteen years or so of your own age as your peers--four years, especially if they're anything like the ones that have just passed, can seem like a geological age.

I'll spare you the cliche that "we are living in a different world" from that of 2019. (OK, since I've mentioned it, I didn't spare you from it, did I?) I have seen changes in my Astoria, New York neighborhood and in the city as a whole.  The passage of time, however, seems all the more sweeping when you return to a place you haven't seen in a while, especially if that place doesn't change as much or as quickly as your own environs.

While Paris is a modern city in terms of technology and infrastructure, its overall appearance doesn't change nearly as dramatically as that of New York in any given period of time.  You can count on returning to a building you saw in the City of Light four, fourteen or forty years ago.  Even some of the stores, restaurants and cafes you remember will be there if you return.  So, perhaps, that quality makes any change  all the more striking.

In my case, I couldn't help but to notice how many more people were on bikes than I saw during previous visits.  I'd heard and read that many people took to riding--for transportation, recreation and fitness--during the pandemic.  Apparently, they stayed in the saddle.  Of course that makes me happy.  I also noticed, on the other hand, e-bikes and scooters, which were nowhere to be seen the year before the pandemic.  I saw the proliferation of those vehicles in New York as the first weeks and months of the pandemic turned into years, but in Paris, it seemed as if they were all superimposed on the image I had of the city from the last time I saw it. 

One thing hasn't changed, though:  Almost no scooter-rider or cyclist, whether of the completely human-powered or electric variety, was wearing a helmet.  I admit that I didn't wear one, either:  It's not the easiest thing to pack, especially if you're traveling only with a carry-on bag.  But somehow I didn't feel as vulnerable or exposed as I do when I leave my apartment avec velo, sans casque.

I got to thinking about that when I came across this article. It points out, correctly, that the obsession with helmet-wearing is mainly an American one.  As the article's author, Marion Renault, points out, few cyclists in the Netherlands don the plastic and foam shells.  One reason, according to Renault, is that the Dutch feel safer while riding:  Their infrastructure lends itself to safe cycling to a much greater degree than what we have in the 'States.  Also, Dutch drivers' awareness and attitudes towards cyclists are very different from those of their American counterparts.

Something similar could be said, I think, for Paris and France, if to a lesser degree. Certainly, I felt safer, whether I was riding on a protected lane or in traffic.  About the latter:  Even though Paris streets are narrower than those in New York, I felt as if I had more room to maneuver.  Most likely, that had something to do with the fact that vehicles are smaller and lower to the street:  You don't often see anything like America's best-selling vehicle class: the Ford F-Series, which weighs 7500 pounds and has a hood that stands four and a half feet tall--about the height of an adult's chin.

That brings me to another point Renault makes:  most helmet testing does not, and cannot, measure the impact of a collision between such a vehicle and a cyclist.  For one thing, it's all but impossible to replicate such conditions in a laboratory.  There are more variables in such collisions than there are in, say, a clash between (American) football players.  

One of those variables, as I implied earlier, is the driver him or her self.  When I was doored two years ago, a nurse in the emergency room declared, "Good thing you were wearing your helmet."  While that was probably true, I would have been safer had the driver glanced out her window and seen me on the other side before she opened her door. I think a lot of French and Dutch riders would agree.  They also know that having good bike lanes, room to maneuver and traffic regulations that makes sense do at least as much as any piece of protective gear to promote their safety:  Their cyclists' rates of injury and death are much lower than those of their American counterparts.

So, if and when I return to Paris or Amsterdam, or anyplace else in France or the Netherlands, will I see as few cyclists wearing helmets as I saw during the trip I just took?

Connections In (And To) The CIty Of Brotherly Love

 If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that some of my pet peeves include New York's, and other US cities', follies in creating "bicycle infrastructure."  Often, it seems that those who conceive, plan, design and build bike lanes and other facilities haven't been on a bicycle since they got their driver's licenses, or at all.  

Evidence that I am not engaging in conspiracy theories or am simply a chronic complainer can be seen in the routing of bike lanes.  Too often, they put cyclists in more danger than they'd face while riding in traffic. They force cyclists to cross intersections where drivers--sometimes of buses and trucks--are making right turns in front of them.  Or they are simply poorly marked and maintained.

One of the hazards, which seems like a mere inconvenience to anybody who doesn't cycle, is the way some lanes begin or end seemingly out of the blue:  what I call the bike lanes from nowhere to nowhere.  When such a lane begins or ends abruptly--in some cases, in mid-block--motorists and cyclists alike are caught unawares, which probably does more than anything else to increase chances of a tragic encounter.

Those lanes from "nowhere to nowhere" also help to foster the attitude among non-cyclists that we're a bunch of entitled whiners engaging in a frivolous recreational activity.  While I do ride for recreation (or, more precisely, physical and mental health), I also ride for transportation.  So do many other riders in this city, and others:  They go to work or school,  visit friends and family members as well as museums and other venues, or the store, on their bikes.  Some might go a few blocks, but others--like me--venture beyond our neighborhoods and even our cities.

It must be said that I have been cycling for most of my life and in this city for about four decades.  I rode to school and work when none of my peers did; I pedaled through neighborhoods and towns when I was the only adult cyclist most residents had seen.  So, for me, the absence or presence of cycling "infrastructure" won't affect my decisions to ride or not.  

But, for a prospective, new or less-experienced cyclist, it might.  They might decide to pedal to their classrooms, workplaces or any other place they want or need to frequent if they felt there was a coherent system of bike lanes or other routes that could take them safely for all or much of their trip.  Not only would such a system allow them to ride with fewer worries about traffic, it would make navigating a route easier.

The Schuylkill River Trail

The Bicycle Coalition of Greater Philadelphia seems to understand as much.  That is why they have been working with the city's Circuit Trails network to fill in the "gaps" between some of the lanes within the City of Brotherly Love--and the communities surrounding it.  The stated goals of the program are 500 miles of trails by 2025 that will be--and this, to me, is the more important goal--that will be part of an integrated system.

Such a network, I believe, might entice some people who live in nearby suburbs--including a few, like Cherry Hill, across the Delaware river in New Jersey--to commute or take pleasure trips into the city by bicycle.  

Why Bike Theft Should Be Taken More Seriously

Perhaps it should surprise no one that in New York and other American cities, bicycle theft isn't a high-priority crime for police departments.  If your bike is stolen, you probably won't see it again and the cops will tell you there's "nothing" they can do.  And they might give you a lecture in which they tell you to do the things you'd already been doing.

Depressingly, that is the case in other cities throughout the world.  A case in point is London.  According to a report the BBC cited, about 18,000 thefts were recorded in the city between November 2021 and October 2022. Only 206 resulted in a charge or caution, the latter of which is the British justice system's of saying, "You've been caught; don't do it again."

The BBC news item offered an interesting analysis of the situation.  According to experts, the report goes, many stolen bikes end up on auction sites and those sites should be doing more to stop it.  The report also calls bike theft an "entry level crime," that often leads to bigger crimes.  I wonder whether that separates London bike theft from its counterparts in American cities, which tends to be a crime of opportunity or done by professional thieves.

But aside from losing bikes and contributing to overall lawlessness, bike theft has another undesirable effect. According to Tom Bogdanowicz, a senior policy officer at the London Cycling Campaign, about a quarter of all bike theft victims never cycle again.  This, he said, is "not good for the city" because "if there's less cycling, then there are more emissions from cars, more congestion and people's health isn't improving."  Moreover, he said that while building bicycle infrastructure encourages cycling, if people have their bikes stolen, then you lose customers."

Then, of course, motorists will complain that "their" traffic lanes were "taken away" for bike lanes that "nobody uses."

Thus, not taking bike theft seriously adversely affects public health and exacerbates the already-adversarial relationship that too often exists between motorists and cyclists.  None of that can be good for anybody, I think.

  

Combining Her Passions For Pedaling And Painting

Perhaps it's because I've lived in New York most of my life: For me, bicycling and public art have become more and more intertwined.

These days, however, one doesn't have to go to biketopias like Portland or Amsterdam or art havens like Paris or New York to experience murals, large sculptures or installations during a ride.  It seems that smaller 'burgs are getting in on the idea of combining the two.  I think it has to do with increasing numbers of artists living and working outside of the traditional creative capitals for any number of reasons (not the least of which is the cost of studio space, supplies, or simply feeding and housing one's self) and cycling becoming a transportation option and recreation choice for many more people.

Among the communities that are bringing cycling and art together are the city of Kalamazoo and its eponymous Michigan county.  To that end, Bike Friendly Kalamazoo commissioned a mural that is going up along Lovers Lane, a popular cycling route in the city of Portage.

Photo by Dan Nichols for WWMT

The very colorful 17-by-58 foot image is being painted by local artists and is slated to be finished by the 15th of this month.  On that day, a public engagement will be held for the families that helped to paint it.

For the creator of the mural, Ellen VanderMyde, working on this project combines her passions for pedaling and painting.  She grew up in Portage and "grew up cycling this path" and hopes that people will ride to the mural to see it in person.

"We wanted to express the joys of cycling," explained Bicycle Friendly Kalamazoo President Paul Selden.  He hopes that "everybody who sees it would maybe want to get on a bicycle and if not maybe give those who are on bicycles a little more space on the road."

He also hopes to have another mural completed this year and that it, along with the work in progress, will be the beginning of more such installations. 

As far as I am concerned, public works of art readily visible to cyclists--whether or not those works are bicycle-themed--are  part of a city's cycling infrastructure.  If nothing else, I'd rather see a mural or a sculpture while I'm riding than risk my bike or my self on a poorly-conceived, -built or -maintained bike lane.

  

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.

A Chain Of Neglect

Police barricade tapes are bright yellow.  Construction-site cones are orange.  The bollards used to separate bike lanes from the street are finished in similar hues, or white.

Those color choices are not just fashion statements:  They are made for visibility.  It's pretty difficult for most people to claim they didn't see those tapes, cones or bollards.  

On the other hand, you don't have to be color-blind to miss chains--which are almost always dull gray-- drawn across roadways or bike lanes.  This is especially true in low-light conditions, such as night, the beginning or end of day, inclement weather, and under aqueducts, railroad trestles and highway overpasses. 

Such  chains are used to temporarily block off streets or paths for events like street fairs or for construction.  Unfortunately, cities and other jurisdictions that place them often forget to remove them when the event is done or construction work is finished.  Worse, an unsuspecting cyclist or scooter-rider who is paying attention to other road hazards can easily miss them.

The chain that entangled a cyclist--and his bike after the crash. Photo sent by reader of Bike Portland. 

That is what happened to one unfortunate cyclist in Portland, Oregon.  He was riding along North Holladay Street when he passed under the Interstate-5 overpass when he was suddenly entangled in a chain and thrown over his handlebars. He suffered significant injuries to his arm and both wrists.  He also incurred a minor impact to his head that, probably, could have been worse had he not been wearing his helmet.  

The street where he had his mishap, while not as popular for cycling as another nearby street, is nonetheless part of a designated bicycle route. The intersection is adjacent to the Oregon Convention Center. So, according to Bike Portland editor Jonathan Maus, the chain may have been installed to cordon off the street for an event. But, as he points out, that event was long over by the time the unlucky cyclist crashed.

I think that the neglect that led to the cyclist's injuries may have been a result of the auto-centric mentality of city planners.  A chain, debris or some other obstruction--like a sewer grate with wide slats that parallel the curb or divider-- might be mere inconveniences to cars, trucks or buses, but can snag bike tires--or cyclists themselves

I hope that cyclist has a swift and thorough recovery--and, as Maus recommends, city or other government agencies in charge of roadways, bike lanes and other infrastructure pay more attention to seemingly-small details--and basic maintenance.

When Will World Bicycle Day Be For Everyone Who Cycles?

 Today is World Bicycle Day.

The United Nations designated this "holiday" was in 2018.  Whether it has contributed to the growth in cycling is debatable.  But I won't argue with having such a day.

Interestingly, it's also National Free Donut Day.  We have to get our carbs one way or another, right?

Anyway, while one sees bike lanes winding through urban neighborhoods and bike-share programs and bikes, parts and accessories have been in short supply, the attention to such things has focused on the ways they affect young, upwardly mobile people in trendy urban neighborhoods--where, to be fair, the growth in the number of cyclists seems to be greatest.

An article in today's Forbes magazine illustrates, if unintentionally, a possible cause and effect of the phenomena I've mentioned.  In it, Jeffrey Steele lists, as his title says, "buildings supporting pedal power."  The office and residential towers he mentions feature dedicated bicycle parking rooms, some with security cameras and other amenities.  Some of those buildings also include lockers where cyclists can stow their bike-related stuff.  The commercial buildings he mentions also have washrooms or even showers and changing rooms and, in one instance, a cafe.

The bike room at 45 Main Street in DUMBO, Brooklyn (Photo from Two Trees Management)

It all sounds really good.   I know this city well enough, however, to see that all of those buildings are places where the residents or workers are the sort of young and affluent (or, at least, upwardly mobile) folks I mentioned at the beginning of this post.  Now, I don't have anything against young afflueint people--OK, I get a bit envious of people making more in their first job out of college than I've ever made (I shouldn't have graduated into a recession with a liberal arts degree, right?). My issue is this:  Bicycling and cyclists will never get the respect, or at least escape the scorn and hostility, of greater society until, well, all segments of greater society start cycling for transportation and recreation.  Also, I think cycling won't become a "people's choice" in the United States or other nations that don't have the cycling culture of some European countries until people who ride to low-wage jobs on handed-down, salvaged or bought-for-cheap bikes are given the same attention and respect as the Instagram images one sees rolling down bike lanes in Williamsburg or other havens of the young, rich and hip.

So, I hope that, if nothing else, World Bicycle Day becomes a way to give all cyclists--rich, poor, male, female, genderqueer and ahem, white, black, brown, yellow, red or whatever color--the respect we deserve for getting to where we want and need to go in a socially and environmentally conscious--and fun!--way.

Oh, and  remember that you can "fuel" your ride for free at your nearest Dunkin' Donuts, Krispy Kreme or Tim Horton’s!

What Do We Know? We Just Ride Bikes!

I am going to rant.  You have been forewarned.

Nothing angers me more than someone in a position of authority who schedules a meeting or gives you a few minutes to "state your case" when they've already made up their mind. Someone who is deemed an "experts," has a fancy title and is given unilateral decision-making power seems to be particularly prone to such behavior.  

What bothers me about such a person is not that they make the wrong decisions or simply ones that I disagree with.  Rather, it's their pretense of considering what  you have to say, when, deep down, they have no interest in learning anything more than they already know and are convinced that they can't learn it from you--a mere prole or rube, in their eyes.

I've seen many such people in the academic world. Because they have advanced degrees to go with their fancy titles, they know more or better than you, or so they think.  They're even worse after they've taken a workshop or seminar on something like race or gender identity or discrimination:  They are absolutely convinced that they already know what they need to know and would never consider hearing from somene who has actually experienced what those workshops and seminars supposedly taught them.

There is, of course, a parallel in the world of urban and transportation planning, especially when it comes to bicycling.  The planners may not have ridden bikes since they were kids--or, possibly worse, they ride on a path in a park while on vacation and think of themselves as "bike riders."  They plan and develop bike lanes that go from nowhere to nowhere and have turns, stops and signals that actually endanger cyclists more than riding in a traffic lane ever would.  And they hold hearings in which they invite representatives of bike advocacy groups to "get input" about the "bicycle infrastructure" they want to build.

I thought about my experiences in the academic world and bicycle and transportation advocacy when I came across an article about the Reno's pilot program that seeks to make "infrastructure improvements"  for bicycles, scooters and other "micromobility solutions." In a typically clueless statement, the Nevada city's assistant director of public works, Kerri Koski, said "We'll take and collect the data that we get, we'll analyze that and take a look at what makes the most sense."

Truckee Meadows Bicycle Alliance President Ky Plakson said that while area cyclists may welcome whatever the city ultimately does, they were not apprised of the study or the pilot program.  "We're told at the last minute that something's happened; we're brought into the conversation after the decision has been made," he said.  That sounds unfortunately familiar.  And he echoed something I said before, and after, any number of "bicycle infrastructure" projects were initiated--including the bike lane that lines the street where I live:  "If you're going to build a bike path, talk to people who ride bikes."

Do they teach that in graduate programs for urban planning?

Death At An Intersection Of Choices

A few years ago, I taught a "capstone" course, required of graduating students, about the Bronx.  It seemed to make sense, as the college is located in the borough--in the heart of the poorest U.S. Congressional District, in the South Bronx--and most students live there.  As much as I tried to make it interesting and relevant, students were less than unenthusiastic:  They saw the course as one more thing standing between them and graduation.

If they've forgotten me, the projects they did (or didn't do), the class itself and the college, I hope they remember one lesson that, I believe, the course reinforced: Everything they lived with, good and bad, in the Bronx was the result of decisions made by human beings.  Sometimes their motives were nefarious, but at other times they were simply misguided.

Fahrad Manjoo makes that point today in a New York Times editorial, "Bike Riding In America Should Not Be This Dangerous."  In his essay, he briefly recounts how urban and transportation has prioritized the "speedy movement of vehicles over the safety of everyone else on our streets.  He doesn't get much into specifics--whole books have been written about that--but that governing principle took hold well before the high priest of auto-centricity, Robert Moses, started his work.

Manjoo's editorial was motivated by the death of 13-year-old Andre Retana at a Mountain View, California intersection that is an "asphalt-and-concrete love letter to cars."  On two corners stand gas stations; America's Tire occupies a third and the fourth is taken up with a BMW dealership.  "To keep traffic humming along," he writes, "motorists on all of its corners are allowed to turn right on red lights."

The intersectio of El Camino Real and Grant Road, Montain View, CA. The "ghost" bike commemorates Andre Retana, who died here.  Photo by Mark Da

As I have pointed out in other posts, such an arrangement endangers cyclists--when they follow the traffic signals as motorists are required to do.  A cyclist at the corner of an intersection is vulnerable to a right-turning vehicle, especially a truck--or an SUV (which I call "trucks for people who don't know how to drive them")--makes a turn. 

To be fair, most truck drivers, especially the long-distance variety, courteous and conscientious.  On the other hand, their vehicles are particurly hazardous for two reasons.  One is that because their vehicles are so large, they sometimes veer into pedestrian and cyclists' paths, or even onto sidewalks, especially on narrow streets in dense urban areas. The other is sight lines, or lack thereof: Drivers sit so far away from everything else on the street that they simply can't see someone crossing a street.

Those factors, and the right to turn right on red, contributed to Andre Retana's death.  The truck driver came to a complete stop at the instruction.  Andre pulled up alongside him.  In an unfortunate twist, he fell off his bike in the crosswalk near the front of the truck--at the very moment the driver, who didn't see him, decided it was safe turn.

The driver didn't realize he'd struck the boy until bystanders flagged him down. Andre suffered severe injuries and died a short time later in the hospital.

Manjoo points out that the intersection, not surprisingly, doesn't have a "box" or safe area where cyclists and pedestrians can wait, and neither of the streets leading to it--El Camino Real and Grant Road--has a protected bike lanes.  But, as much as I respect him for pointing out the dangers-by-design, he seems to share the same misguided thinking behind too many schemes to make cycling safer:  That more bike lanes and other "infrastructure" will do the job and that planning future roads with built-in bike lanes will help.

As I've pointed out in other posts, too many bike lanes are poorly conceived, planned and constructed:  They go from nowhere to nowhere and actually put cyclists in more danger.  Staggered signals, which Manjoo also recommends, could also help.   Moreover, he says that while transitioning from gasoline- to renewable energy-powered vehicles will help for health and environmental reasons, we really need to find ways to get people out of SUVs and into smaller cars.  And, while he doesn't say as much, it could also help to re-design trucks with better sight lines.

But, as I've pointed out in other posts, other changes, like legalizing some form of the "Idaho Stop," are also needed.  Most of all, though, I believe--as Manjoo seems to--that the way transportation is conceived has to change.   Not only are new street and vehicle designs and regulations needed, things like the tax structure, have to change.  Most people don't realize just how much driving is subsidized--yes, in the US to the point that the worst car choices and driving habits are rewarded.

None of the needed changes will bring back Andre Retana.  But they might prevent future tragedies like his--and make cities and societies more livable.  Such changes can only come about by choice--just as all of the mistakes that led to a 13-year-old boy's death were.

  

 

  

Minneapolis Mandates Bike And Scooter Share Equity

The first known public bike-share program began in La Rochelle, France in 1974.  About three decades would pass, however, before other cities in significant numbers would adopt such programs.

Since then, the successes, difficulties and criticisms of bike share schemes have been similar.  In the latter category is the allegation--credible--that share programs were serving only central downtown areas and nearby neighborhoods where the young and affluent live and shop.  

Since then, some cities have tried, with varying degrees of success, to make share bikes available to older, poorer--and sicker--residents.  I've seen Citibike ports by city housing projects whose residents, for a variety of reasons, are more likely to have chronic and acute health conditions (including COVID-19) than other New Yorkers.  Rides and memberships have been made more affordable, or even free, for residents and others who receive public benefits in an effort to improve their health and transportion options.

Photo by Jeff Wheeler, for the Star-Tribune

Minneapolis, it seems, is going even further than most other cities.  Its "Nice Ride" share bikes and scooters will return to the city's streets in the middle of this month.  The city has just signed new contracts with vendors (Lime and Spin for scooters, Lyft for bikes, e-bikes and scooters).  What is interesting, and possibly unique (at least for now) about the new arrangement is that it attempts to remedy the problem I mentioned.  

According to the agreement, the vendors must distribute at least 30 percent of their scooters in Equity Distribution Areas of north and south Minneapolis.  A maximum of 40 percent of vendors' scooters are allowed in downtown and surrounding neighborhoods.

But the contract goes even further: All of the vendors are required to offer low-income pricing arrangements.   It also includes incentives for the operators to provide more parking infrastructures, including bike racks, parking stations and on-street corrals.  Moreover, the vendors are mandated to provide ongoing education and outreach on safe riding and parking behavior, and on state laws for motorized and manual scooters.

It will be interesting to see what comes of these efforts.  If anything, they sound like more integrated efforts than those in most other cities to provide a true alternative transportation infrastructure that includes bicycles.  As I've said in other posts, bike lanes and share programs, by themselves, don't make for an infrastructure that will encourage people to trade four wheels for two, at least for local trips.

Pit Stops In The Pelican State

One of my recent posts is titled “Paint Is Not Infrastructure.” Too often, planners and policy-makers act as if painting lines on a road shoulder makes a bike lane, and that bike lanes are the beginning and end of bicycle infrastructure.

At least some folks in Louisiana understand as much and are enlisting business owners.  Bike Baton Rouge and Bike Easy, advocacy organizations in the state’s capital and largest city (New Orleans) are partnering to create a network of emergency pit stops for cyclists in their cities.

The two groups are working to secure sponsorships from ten businesses in each cities.  The money will be used to purchase emergency supplies that will be housed in bundles housed at the sponsors. 

The plan is to form a web of businesses where cyclists who need spare parts, air for their tires or even sunscreen can stop.

This, I believe, could help to ease the anxiety some people feel when they consider commuting or even recreationally.  As an example, I’m often asked, “What if you get a flat?” or “What about the weather?” when people learn that I pedal to work, school or anywhere else.

I also can’t help but to think that at least one business owner will see an opportunity.  If someone riding to work or school stops to pump a tire, get sunscreen or simply to rest at, say, a store, there’s a good chance that cyclist will return to shop.

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.

Will Bicycles To Bring Them Back To Buffalo?

For at least a couple of decades, young people, particularly the educated ones, have gravitated toward cities like San Francisco, New York, Boston and Washington, DC.  All of them--with the possible exception of Washington, government basically is the economy--are what might be called "post-industrial" cities, where the chips and digits have largely replaced furnaces and smokestacks.

Buffalo, in media depictions and the public imagination, is anything but such a city.  It might one of the "poster children," along with Detroit and smaller cities like Youngstown, Ohio and Gary, Indiana, for what is commonly known as a "Rust Belt" community.  Because they have--or are perceived to offer--few opportunities, the educated and ambitious young rarely move to them, in spite of other attractions and resources some offer, not the least of which is housing (and an overall cost of living) that are a fraction of that in the coastal metropoli.

That incentive could become more powerful if the trend toward working at home continues.  But most such cities and towns will need to offer even more, such as cultural events and lifestyle amenities.  In the latter category is something I'll mention in a minute and relates to one of the disincentives to move to some place like Rochester, New York.

The home of Kodak was the smallest city in America with a subway line until 1956, when the downtown track beds were used to construct sections of two Interstate highways.  Other "rust belt" cities suffered similar fates when the Interstate system was built and automobile companies bought subway and trolley systems to destroy them and eliminate competition. (Buses, or at least the parts for them, were made by the auto companies.)

Buffalo had a similar story.  Ironically, it has a subway system "from nowhere to nowhere" that was built during the 1980s.  But, in a similar way to Rochester and other cities, it had a system of streetcar (tram) lines that connected different parts of the city and the city itself to some surrounding communities from the 1830s until 1950.  

I mention this history because it points to a disadvantage many of many "Rust Belt" cities:  the lack of a transportation system, whether because, like Rochester and Buffalo, it was disbanded or because the city never had one in the first place.

So, some folks in Buffalo--specifically, the Buffalo News editorial board--understand that making their city more bicycle-friendly might help to lure some young residents.  They seem to understand that many of us (OK, I'm not as young as the folks they probably have in mind!) bike to work, school or shop simply because it's often the most convenient or even fastest, not to mention the least expensive (aside from walking) way to go.  

Go Bike Buffalo members painting arrows for the area's first protected bike lane--which lasted only a year due to protests from motorists.  Photo by John Hickey for the Buffalo News.

Perhaps even more to the point, they understand that there's more to  making their city more amenable to young cyclists than building bike lanes. They also mention that such efforts must include "re-educating resistant drivers and residents who think the roads are theirs, alone" (That's the first time I've seen a comma used in such a contenxt in a long time!) or people who "don't see the advantages of creating spaces that might attract new, younger residents."

The folks at the Buffalo News sum up their case thusly:  "Making the roads safer for cyclists makes it safe for everyone, improves the quality of life and atracts young people to the area."

They won't get any argument from me.  I just hope Buffalo doesn't become Williamsburg-on-the-Niagara, complete with $15 slices of avocado toast and $25 craft beers.

 

What If He'd Stayed?

Yesterday, I wrote about an effort to make Austin, Texas more bike- and pedestrian-friendly. I haven't been there, but if it's anything like the parts of the Lone Star State I've seen, the complaints of its cyclists and pedestrians don't surprise me:  Even Houston, its biggest city (and the fourth-largest in the US) can seem like an expanse of auto-centric suburban sprawl, especially if you're accustomed to a city like mine (New York), Boston, San Francisco or most major European burgs, bourgs or bergs.

Then again, I have to admit I was a little bit surprised that, from what I was reading, bike lanes and sidewalks are so poorly conceived, designed or maintained--or nonexistent outside central parts of the city.  After all, during the past three decades, many young, educated people--the ones who, during the same period, were most likely to become recreational or commuting cyclists--moved to the Lone Star Capital.  And it has a major university, which usually is enough to ensure a significant number of cyclists.

Today I was reminded of another reason why one might expect Austin to be a better place for cyclists.  Now, I know that almost anything that happened more than two years ago seems as distant as the Mesopotamian civilization but, believe it or not, three decades ago isn't so long in, as Doctor King said, the long arc of history.  

Just as there was indeed a time before COVID-19, there was also a time when Lance Armstrong was a kind of "golden boy."  He had just won the World Championship and was seen as an heir apparent to Greg LeMond and the generation of American riders who put their country on the sport's map for the first time in decades.

Well, back then, Lance lived in Austin. Professional cyclists are like other professional athletes in that they aren't "working" only when involved in a race, game or match.  Having been a racer for very brief time in my life, I know that in order to be competitive, you have to pedal for a few hours every day.  It's really as much of a commitment as going to the office, factory, school or wherever you make your living or forge your identity.  In addition, most cyclists, as well as other athletes, spend considerable amounts of time in other kinds of conditioning, such as running or weight-lifting.

Photo by Jeff Wilson for Texas Monthly

But one would think that with all of the cycling Lance--and, most likely, others--were doing, the city would have been more conscious of their needs.  You see, not only was he seen as a "rising star;" he had yet to be tainted by accusations of drug use.  In fact, he may not have been using any banned substances (at least, not in detectable quantities) in those days, before his cancer diagnosis. If you look at pre-illness photos of him and compare them to images of him after he returned to the sport, it's not difficult to believe as much.

Anyway, I couldn't help but to wonder whether Lance, had he retained his status, could have made a difference in hometown's cycle and pedestrian infrastructure.  Maybe he could have.  Then again, maybe he couldn't have:  After all, aside from people who bought Trek bicycles in the US Postal Service Team colors, I'm not sure he influenced much else. 

Still, it makes me feel old to think there was a time before COVID-19--and when Lance was revered.