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

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

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

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

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

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

What Does Bike Parking Have To Do With LGBTQ, Gender and Racial Equality?

I, personally and cyclists, collectively have been accused of "taking too much space" on the road--by drivers of SUVs and gaudily painted pickup trucks that have never been besmudged by a tool box in the cargo area or a dirty hand on its steering wheel.

So I wouldn't have been surprised, though I would have been no less upset than Scottish cyclist Alan Gordon was to find this:

Lovely evening in Colinton at the volunteer start up session for the new SW tool library and a wee blether in the Spylaw afterwards. pic.twitter.com/ZxMhtLeP6T

— Alan Gordon (@agordonsalive) May 22, 2023

He locked his bike to a curbside railing in Colinton, an Edinburgh suburb, to attend a volunteer start-up session for the area's new free tool library.  I would assume that the library would benefit residents of the complex as well as people in the surrounding community.

Anyway, in the Twitter thread that followed, someone showed a motorcycle and a two garbage bin in another parking spot, taking up more space than two bikes like Alan's would have.  No one left a "polite notice" about them.

(As someone else noted, starting the note with "Polite Notice" was a tip-off that what followed would be the exact opposite, just as people who say "I'm not a racist" usually follow it with some stereotype or another.  Or the person who, a couple of days ago said, "I'm not a transphobe, but..."  to me.)

Oh, and someone made a comment about paying road tax.  I don't know about the laws over there, but I've gotten into that exact argument with drivers here. And I have very politely pointed out that I do, in fact, pay road tax.  The only tax I don't pay that motorists have to pay is for gasoline.

This may seem strange (of course it won't when I explain it), but recounting Alan's tale reminded me of another part of the conversation I had with the "I'm not a transphobe" dude and other people with similar mindsets. Any time a law is passed to give Blacks, immigrants, women, LBGBTQ+ people or anyone else who is in a "minority" the same rights as white, cisgender, heterosexual Christian men, such people whine that things have "gone too far" or that we're getting "special privileges." Complaints like the one Alan received in the "Polite Notice" have the same feel to them.  

As I have pointed out to such folks--including a few relatives of mine--if you have always enjoyed a right or a privilege, you don't notice it until someone else gets it--or you lose it.  The latter has happened to me in my affirmation of my female self:  I lost some of the assumption of competence, innocence and other things I once could take for granted.  Likewise, most drivers, especially if they're not regular cyclists, would never know how much of the landscape and economy are shaped by their driving--which, I grant, is a need for some.  Contrary to what some think, though, I am not trying to take anything away from them--or cisgender people.  I only want the same rights and protections they take for granted.

 

You Can Leave Your Bike Underwater--And It Will Survive

When a bicycle ends up underwater, it's not a good thing.  At least, most of the time.  I think now of all of those bikes from share programs that were sent to "sleep with the fishes" (if indeed any are present) in the rivers, canals and lakes of the cities served by those programs. Or of any other stolen bikes that met a similar fate, or bikes that were made to take a dive without scuba gear because their owners were too lazy to find new owners or simply discard them in more environmentally conscious (though not absolutely environmentally conscious) ways.

Perhaps it surprise no one that in Amsterdam--where the bicycle-to-person ratio favors velocipedes even more than the gun-to-person ratio favors firearms in the United States--thousands of two-wheelers have met their untimely and uncalled-for demises at the bottom of the city's canals.

This week, however, the city's cyclists can leave their bicycles under the waves of the so-called Open Harbourfront--and their bikes will not only collect seaweed, barnacles, debris or toxic chemicals, they will even remain dry.  And safe.

In a stroke of genius that can come only from a city that's one of the world's most densely populated--with people and bicycles--a bicycle parking facility, complete with useful racks and a security system, opened under those waters where they lap up by the Amsterdam Central Station, the city's main rail terminal.

Now, aside from its unique concept and design, what else makes this facility something from which other cities can learn?  Well, the fact that it allows direct access to the city's--and, by extension, the country's and continent's--rail system means that bicycles can become part of a reliable transportation system for many more people.

A few forward-thinking planners are starting to realize that if they want to get at least some cars off their city's streets, they not only have to make cycling (whether on a traditional or electric bike) more available and safer for more people, they also have to integrate it with mass transportation--which, of course, also has to be made more available and safer for more people.  

Many people who would be willing to cycle for all or part of their commutes, or simply for recreation, are not long-distance cyclists or any other kind of athletes. Even for those who are, the distances between their homes and classrooms, offices or other workplaces make an all-cycling commute impractical or simply inconvenient. (After all, if you have to ride two hours each way, spend 8-12 a day at work, you don't have time for much else.) But riding to a train or bus, and knowing that, when they return, the bicycle will be where and in the condition in which they left it, could entice some people out of their cars.

The thinking that went into Amsterdam's new underwater facility is a hopeful sign.  Here's another:  Another such facility, albeit smaller (4000 bikes vs 7000) is scheduled to open next month.

 

Sticking Its Neck Out

 Go to any bike parking facility.  Among the many bikes chained and locked to the bars and post, there's always one that stands out.

Bike Parking For Business And Democracy

Warning:  I am going to complain.  And I will quote someone who shares my complaint.  So if you want a feel-good piece, skip this one--though, I promise, it's entirely related to you if you do practical cycling of any sort.

Yesterday was the deadline to file for an absentee ballot in New York.  Even so, there weren't many people at the Board of Elections and the woman at the desk, in an orange blazer that matched her lipstick, was friendly and helpful.  We even shared a chuckle when she asked, "Can I help you?" and I replied, "Well, if you know somoene between 45 and 65; race, religion and gender not important, who likes bicycling, the arts, reading and writing and cats--not necessarily in that order.  Or, a winning lottery number would be nice."

"Of course, I wouldn't blame you if you kept them for yourself."

I started to fill out my application when I saw that I was using a red pen.  I brought my application to her. "Oh,  no problem," she said.  I explained that, as someone who teaches, I associate red pens with correcting mistakes. "Don't worry, you didn't make any," she quipped.

The whole process didn't take more than five minutes.  And the ride there, which I stretched out with a circuitous route that took me around Forest and Flushing Meadow Parks and into a couple of quiet neighborhoods tourists never see, was pleasant even on what turned into a hot, humid day.  My complaint about yesterday involves my arriving at the Board of Elections.

It takes up the 11th floor of a building that stands on the opposite side of the Van Wyck Expressway from the Queens County Courthouse.  The Queens Boulevard block on which it stands is short and its sidewalk too narrow for the subway station and stands for three buses that stop there--or for the stores, coffee and sandwich shops and hair salon that occupy it.  So, it's like the stereotype of a Manhattan street you see in the movies or on TV where, the moment yo set foot on it, you're competing for space.

You have three choices for parking your bike:  three sign posts for the buses. So, if you lock up to any of them, you'll get dirty looks from the people who crowd around them, waiting for their ride.  And there's a good chance that you'll have to thread your way through those throngs of people waiting for their bus when you go to retrieve your bike.

When I can't find parking on the block where I'm running an errand, I look around the corner.  Unfortunately, the situation was even worse on the side streets:  There wasn't anything to which one could lock a bike.

While the are more bike parking "donuts" available throughout the city, they're found mainly in downtown Manhattan and the Brooklyn and Queens neighborhoods directly across the river.  They're scarce or non-existence further from what I call Linus-Land, where the young and affluent ride stylish-looking bikes to the kinds of work spaces or cafes one sees in design magazines--in other words, locales like the Queens Board of Elections.

The Board of Elections is on the 11th floor of this tower.

Of course, difficulties in parking a bike are not limited to Queens or any other part of New York City.  Sharon Bailey recounts similar experiences in and around Buffalo and Niagara Falls, where she lives.  She works remotely and rides for transportation as well as recreation.  There are few dedicated bike racks and while she can find railings at or near some of her regular destinations--or can wheel her bike up to a counter--she and her partner can't ride to some of their favorite al fresco dining spots.

Sharon Bailey

Some merchants on Queens Boulevard protested the bike lane, believing that it would take away parking and thus hurt business.  I don't know whether that's happened, but it seems that bike parking facilities would probably help.  They should think about cyclists like Ms. Bailey and her partner who would patronize their businesses.  Oh, and cities should consider folks like me who are riding their bikes to register to vote--or, of course, to vote.

Build It And...They Won't Park?

Anti-bike folks like few things more than an "I told you so!" moment.  

An example is when some piece of bicycle "infrastructure" is built and cyclists don't use it because it's useless or unsafe.  Last month, I wrote about a bike lane in Chicago that raised motorists' ire because nobody was pedaling on it.  Like too many other lanes, it begins and ends in seemingly random places--what I call a bike lane from "nowhere to nowhere" and riding it is less safe, especially when entering, exiting or making turns, than riding in traffic.

Something similar could be said for bicycle parking "facilities."  Usually, they are racks of some sort or another by a curb or building.  During the past few years, some workmanlike but useful racks have been installed on New York City sidewalks.  They don't allow for more than a bike or two at a time (five or six, perhaps, in the bike shelters), but they do the job.

They are better than too many other bike parking facilities I've seen.  An old workplace of mine had an old-school grid rack on its grounds.  It was removed because only one person was using it. (Guess who?)  Granted, fewer people were cycling to work in those days.  But I had to wonder whether some thought about riding their bikes to our workplace but were deterred by the pitiful parking provision.

Well, even today, there are racks as bad, or even worse, the one at my old job.  

It's been a while since I've heard "Up Against The Wall!"  I hope not to hear it again.  But I just might, if I ever have to park my bike in Melbourne, Australia:

Of course, the Aussies have an excuse:  The Brits sent their prisoners there.  But, it seems, their former colonizers still know a thing or two about confinement:

Maybe this Macclesfield contraption is an example of that dry British humor we don't get on this side of the pond. 

Speaking of dry, this rack in Atlanta looks more suited to making toast than parking bikes:

If nobody uses those racks, will they be removed?  Or will they be kept just so cyclists won't use them--and give drivers one more reason to be pissed off.

 

 

The Future of Bike Parking in Your Neighborhood?

 

In October, I wrote about a bicycle parking locker the Brooklyn startup Oonee installed by Grand Central Station.

Now, the company’s founder, Shabazz Stuart (cool name, isn’t it?) is taking his idea “on tour,” if you will.  Yesterday, the parking pod was brought to Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, where it will remain for a month.  Following that, it will go across town to the Lower East Side and Union Square before crossing the bridge in June to Stuart’s home borough of Brooklyn, where it will spend a 29-day “residency” on Vanderbilt Avenue—near Barclays Centre, Atlantic Terminal and the Brooklyn Academy of Music.  Finally, it will trek up to my home borough—Queens—and my neighborhood, Astoria. At each location, the city’s Department of Transportation will grant access to a spot on the curb for 29 days.

The mini pod is free to use but requires an Oonee membership, which allows access by a key fob or mobile app.  

Although its scale, at the moment, is small, Stuart calls it “ powerful step forward.” He notes that this pilot marks “the first time any big city in the United States has had a secure bicycle parking facility on the curb.” He plans to expand his idea to other parts of the city and to cross the Hudson to Jersey City and other parts of the Garden State.

In Philadelphia, You Can Park By A Hydrant If....

Firefighters might be one of the most loved and respected groups of people.  Even they, however, sometimes incur rage for doing their jobs.   As an example, one firefighter told me about the man who showed up at his firehouse, irate.  Turns out, the guy parked next to a hydrant and the firefighters had to damage his car to route the hose and ladder to an inflamed building.

Philadelphia has one of the largest communities of bicycle commuters in the US.  In one part of the city, nearly a fifth of all commuting miles are done by bicycle. Riders in the City of Brotherly love have similar complaints to their peers in other cities.  One is the lack of bike parking spaces:  Especially in central areas, where many work or go to school, cyclists find full racks when the try to park their bikes.

So, you ask, how are those two stories related?

The common thread was woven when three young people met in graduate school for industrial design. Grace Choi, Corey Jameson and Colin Lew formed an alliance called Team Sophon.  Under that moniker, they submitted a proposal to the Rack 'Em Up Bike Parking Competition.  Along with 16 others entries, Team Sophon's ideas were judged by a panel that included members of the city's Office of Transportation, Infrastructure and Sustainability (OTIS), Parking Authority, Fire Department and other agencies.  Five of  those entries were short-listed, and Team Sophon's was ultimately chosen.

Team Sophon's prototype, called "Harbor,"  would include a designated space in front of a hydrant where cyclists would stop and steer their bikes to the racks. That space--painted green--would be segregated by flexible barriers like the ones used to separate bike lanes from streets. Steel bollocks were initially proposed for the purpose, but selection committee members expressed concern that they could be dangerous in a crash.  And the racks, made from thick steel tubing, would sit under a canopy illuminated by solar-powered lights that would be activated when users enter.

Team Sophon's victory comes with a $3500 prize.  To begin, at least two Harbors will be built: one in West Philadelphia and another in the Old City, near a garage owned by the Philadelphia Parking Authority.

Those facilities will at least make some firefighters and cyclists happy.  Motorists, maybe not so much.

Hide Or Seek?

There are two interesting, and opposing, theories about urban street bike parking.

According to one school of thought, you should leave your wheels in the most visible place possible.  The thinking behind this is that would-be thieves are less likely to do their work if they're being watched.

The other notion is that the bike should be hidden, camouflaged even.  The idea behind that, I believe, is that a thief won't take what he or she can't see.

Perhaps the owner of this bike can't decide:

Or is the bike playing peek-a-boo?

Good Neighbors Make Good…

 Just as, at my age, I don’t have to be told to slow down, there are many other things no one has to remind me not to do:

From a Reddit thread

Because That's Where The Bikes Are

Because that's where the money is.

So responded Willie Sutton to the question of why he robbed banks.  I got to thinking about him when I wrote yesterday's post and a story that came my way afterward.

One reason why some people don't include cycling in their daily commute is their all-too-justifiable concern that when they park their bikes at the train or bus station in the morning, it won't be there when they return in the evening.  Bike thieves know that transportation hubs are mother lodes for bikes that can be quickly sold or parted out.

Another rich vein for velocipedic gold, if you will, is college campuses.  Students at California Polytechnic State University (Cal Poly) in San Luis Obispo have discovered this the hard way.  

While some students lost their bike through carelessness--  they thought they could leave their bikes "for a minute" or used their big, strong U-Locks only on the front wheel--others who were careful and diligent nonetheless have lost machines they depend on for transportation as well as recreation.

Students who lost their bikes echo a common refrain of victims in other venues:  The cops don't care.  Their complaint is valid:  The percentage of stolen bikes that are reunited with their owners is abysmally low.  That, even though, "At bike shops in town, it's not uncommon to see stolen bikes come in," according to Sam Coyle, a Cambria Bicycle Outfitters Employee.

And the the thieves went to where the bikes are.

Six Parking Spaces At Grand Central

Imagine free tickets to a Beyoncé concert--on a first-come-first-serve basis.  

Imagine that only six are available.

Yesterday, New York's Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) made an announcement akin to what I've described.

But, instead of concert tickets, what the MTA is about to offer are secure bicycle parking spaces at Grand Central Station.

Those spots will become available next month, after a locker is installed in the terminal's "taxiway" that closed twenty years ago.  The locker will be operated by a company called Oonee and accessible a smartphone app or key card.  

Rendering of bike parking locker at Grand Central Station, courtesy of Oonee

This offering will be a year-long pilot which, hopefully, will lead to more safe bicycle parking in this city's transportation terminals. 

When asked what he thought about a country without a flag, Mort Sahl* said, "Well, it's a start."  That's my response, for now, to the MTA's announcement.

*--More recently, he reported that Donald Trump was "hospitalized for an attack of modesty."

Where You Want To Leave It

One of the best ways to get people out of their cars is to make cycling and mass transportation more efficient and convenient--and to facilitate links between them.  

One way to accomplish that is to make to provide safe bicycle parking at transportation hubs.  That means more than simply installing a few racks.  Bikes should be treated with the same care and respect as other parked vehicles.  That involves sheltering bikes from the elements and damage from other bikes and vehicles.

A facility that provides safe bike parking should also be environmentally sustainable.

The Tengbom architectural firm seems to have accomplished all of those goals with its bicycle parking garage at the Uppsala Central Station in Sweden.  The eco-consciousness of the design is not limited to its energy sources:  The materials are also sustainable (and few in number) and the building's design allows for optimal use of light that enters it.

Best of all, it has a restrained, but elegant aesthetic that fits, not only with the immediate surroundings, but an overall Nordic mentality.

Send lead architecht Cecilia Oberg--and Tengbom--here, to New York and the USA!

If They Can Park, They Might Pedal

In earlier posts, I’ve lamented the poor conception, design and construction of too many bike lanes in New York, my hometown, and elsewhere.  

Sometimes I feel that a bike lane that doesn’t provide a safe, useful route to schools, workplaces or other forms of transportation (like trains or ferries)—or a truly interesting or physically invigorating ride between parks, museums, shopping areas or anything else people might want to visit—is worse than no bike lane.  

Such shoddy bicycle infrastructure, I believe, does nothing to encourage people to even consider the bicycle as a healthy, economical, environmentally conscious—-and safe—alternative to driving or other forms of transportation or recreation.

If urban planners and other policy-makers can’t or won’t come up with bike lanes that make sense or other useful infrastructure, I would rather that they provided good bicycle parking, whether curbside or in protected areas.  That might do more than anything else to entice people into the saddle.

At least, more and better bike parking would augment other initiatives, such as bike share programs.  That is the premise of a report issued by Transportation Alternatives, an organization of which I am a member.

Finding Your Spot

 The New York City Department of Transportation has been installing "hoop" bicycle racks all over the city.  In fact, there are a few just around the corner from my apartment.

Still, there aren't enough.  There never can be enough:

From Exclusive Pictures

Park At The Met

Yesterday I contrasted the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" with the speeches of the Republican National Convention, which ended the night before.

Speaking of dreams: One of mine has long been to have indoor, or at least protected, bicycle parking at museums.  Well, that dream has just come true--for a while, and at one institution, anyway.

Today the Metropolitan Museum of Art is, like the Statue of Liberty* and a few other New York City museums and landmarks, re-opening to the public.  Visitors must purchase tickets and schedule their visits in advance.  Upon arrival, their temperatures will be checked and anyone who is 38C (100.4 F) or higher will be asked to visit on another day.

Some visitors, however, will be treated like VIPs.  From today until 27 September, "the Met" is offering valet bicycle parking at its Fifth Avenue plaza, just north of the steps to its main entrance.  An initiative by Kenneth Weine, the museum's vice president of external affairs, resulted in a partnership with Transportation Alternatives that brought about the parking arrangement.

Weine, who describes himself as an "avid biker," routinely rides from his Brooklyn home to work.  The museum has tripled bike parking capacity for staff in an effort to encourage more cycling to work.  Weine lauds the city for developing more bike lanes and says that "if we can be one extra link in that chain" by "offering an additional way for people to come to the museum, we're happy to do it."

In other posts on this blog, I have said that cycling enhances my perceptions of art, and that some art should be seen only after riding a bicycle to reach it.  I wonder whether Weine, or other museum administrators or curators, feel the same way.

Where Did You Leave Your Bike?

When I go to work, I park my bike on the rack in the college's parking lot.  There, a Peugeot mixte from around 1985 has been parked for at least a couple of years.  I can so date the bike because it's the same model I gave my mother:  a basic carbon-steel frame painted burgundy with yellow and orange graphics, equipped with European components except for the Shimano derailleurs and shifters.

At least one security guard has asked me whether I know who owns that bike.  I don't:  It was just there one day, and has been there ever since.  In the meantime, the chain has turned nearly as orange as the graphics, and other parts are tarnishing or rusting.  The paint still looks pretty good, though, which means that the bike probably wasn't ridden much before it was parked on that rack.

Campus security personnel want to clip the lock and give the bike to a charity or someone in need.  But, as one officer said, "The day after we get rid of it, its owner will show up."

So the owner of that bike remains a mystery. Perhaps she (or he) rode in one day, had some sort of emergency and never returned.  Or perhaps s/he decided that one ride was enough and simply abandoned the bike.

We've all seen bikes like that chained to trees, signposts or other objects for what seem like geological ages.  Once, I went with my parents to the Post Exchange (PX) at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, when my father was a reservist.  I saw a nice Fuji--an S10S, I think--chained to a pole seemingly since that base opened.  A soldier noticed that I was eyeing the bike. He said "the guy", meaning the bike's owner, probably "shipped out."  In the military, they can tell you to go to the other end of the world literally on a moment's notice, he said.

How many "orphan" bikes are there?  What are the stories of the people who left them behind?

Those questions have been asked for years about a bicycle on Vashon Island, Washington, about 15 minutes from Seattle.  This bicycle, though, isn't locked to a tree:  It's in the tree.

Not surprisingly, a few legends have grown about, and claims have been made for, it.  In the latter category is the claim made by Don Puz, who grew up on the island.  When he was a child, his family's house burned down.  Donations to the family included a bicycle, which was too small for Don and had hard rubber tires.  He says that one day in 1954, he rode his bike into the woods where he met some friends.  They weren't riding bikes, so he walked home with them, leaving the bike in the woods.  He simply "forgot" about it, he says, until it showed up on Facebook.

Which brings us to the legends--one of them, anyway.  According to the Facebook posting, "A boy went to war in 1914 and left his bike chained to a tree.  He never came home."

That myth isn't hard to refute:  It's very unlikely that a  boy small enough to ride that bike would have gone to war. Also, if he was American, he probably wouldn't have gone to war in 1914, as the US didn't enter World War I until 1917. 

As for Don Puz's claim, it's plausible if one question can be answered:  How did the bike end up as part of that tree?  Hmm..Dear readers, are any of you dendrologists?   

How Safely Is Your Bike Parked?

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

Only one of them is forever!

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

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

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

The Apple Of A Cyclist's Eye

Bicycle parking racks usually are rather nondescript:  A couple of bars of metal planted in the ground or sidewalk.  On occasion, though, one finds a rack that is beautiful, creative, unusual or funny. Sometimes they are practical, sometimes not so.

This one is on the campus of Winthrop University in Rock Hill, South Carolina:

I like the look, though I have to wonder how practical it is.  I mean, if only one bike can be parked in it, it's probably not the most efficient use of space.  Then again, being enclosed in such a rack is certainly a way of giving your bike the "royal treatment", to the extent that such a thing is possible when locking your bike outdoors.

When The Shoe Is On The Other Saddle

On a couple of occasions, my seat was stolen when I parked my bike.  I've since learned a trick that, I think, will prevent most such thefts most of the time.

When you lose your saddle, you have one of two choices:  a.) Walk the bike or, b.) Ride it standing up.  The latter option is more viable if you haven't far to go. I don't think I'd want to ride for a few hours and, when I'm tired, bend down to sit on a missing seat!

Or you could try this: