Citibike at 10. What’s Its Future

Leonardo di Caprio with Polish model Ela Kawalec

 Citibike—the bike-share program in my hometown, New York—turns ten years old tomorrow.

When it started, journalists, policy-makers and casual observers predicted its rapid demise.  They cited problems, including vandalism, theft, software glitches, in other cities’ bike share programs.  Some complained about docking stations taking up “their” parking spots or detracting from the aesthetics of their buildings and blocks. Oh, and some drivers were simply hostile to the idea of more bikes and cyclists on the streets.

But, as the saying goes, rumors of the program’s death were wildly exaggerated.  Moreover, the blue bikes gained unexpected popularity among people and communities—like the Hasidim—not known for cycling. (An explanation why so many ultra-Orthodox Jews took to them is that many could not keep bikes in their apartments or houses because their large families gave them little space.) And the actual and perceived problems with mass transit—some of which preceded the pandemic—made the bikes and, as they were added to the program, eBikes, real alternatives for commuters.

But now there is a new threat: finances.  

Five years ago, Lyft—the ride-share company—bought Citibike operator Motivate. Like other tech companies, Lyft is experiencing changes in its leadership and has laid off a significant portion of its workforce.  Nobody knows what the company’s new direction might be. 

Even though Citibike is the largest share program, by ridership and revenue, in North America, it’s actually a small part of Lyft’s operations.  So it might be one of the first things to go when shareholders demand that the company become “meaner and leaner.”

One way Citibike differs from other share programs (except for those in China) is that it operates with almost no public funding.  Therefore, some—including Streetsblog contributor David Meyer—have proposed the city or state allocating money or, possibly, making Citibike part of the MTA, DOT or some other city or state agency.  In other words  they’re saying  Citibike should be a city or state service.

For Once, Don't Listen To The Talking Heads!

Six years ago, Paris drained its Canal Saint-Martin to clean it, as the city does every fifteen years or so. Although the canal now bisects fashionable streets with chic cafes and shops, it was once bisected a rather gritty working-class area.  But, perhaps to no-one's surprise, the most commonly-found objects found in every canal-draining were wine bottles.

And the second-most common?  Bicycles.  The only difference is that in the most recent cleaning, many of the bikes came from Velib, the City of Light's share program.

Bicycle uncovered during most recent draining of the Canal Saint-Martin.  Photo by Yoan Valat for EPA.

The company that ran Rome's bike-share program abruptly ended its contract because so many of the bikes ended up in the Tiber.  Not exactly what Remus and Romulus had in mind, is it?

Amsterdam has had to resort to "fietsen vissen"--bicycle fishing--because bikes were piled so high in the city's canals that they scraped the flat-bottomed boats.  At one time, freelance scavengers picked them up on poles and sold them for scrap.  In the 1960's, the city's water agency assumed responsibility for the "harvest."  Now a corps of municipal workers trawl for the submerged bikes on boats equipped with cranes attached to hydraulic claw grapples.  The bikes are hauled  to scrapyards for recycling where, according to urban legend, they become beer cans. (Think about that the next time you grab a Heineken or Amstel!)

The phenomenon of bikes "sleeping with the fishes" (I grew up in a Mafia neighborhood. Gotta problem widdat?)  isn't limited to European cities.  In Tokyo, officials decided to drain a large pond in the middle of Inokashira Park to rid it of a non-native species of fish that was causing environmental damage. Their work uncovered another species that wasn't native to the pond:  bicycles.  And, in February 2019, a Citibike appeared--covered with barnacles and blisters--appeared overnight in an Upper West Side docking station. A Hudson River conservancy group expert estimated that evidence--including "oysters on the handlebars" (Upper West Siders pay good money for such things!)--indicated that the machine met its fate in the Hudson the pervious August, or possibly June.

Jody Rosen has just written an article on this phenomenon for the Guardian. It speculates on some of the reasons why so many bikes end up in waterways.  Some are dumped when by fleeing criminals--who are as likely as not to have stolen the bike they're drowning.  Others are tossed or accidentally ridden into the water by drunken revelers.  (Could recycling be contributing, if unintentionally, to bikes ending up in Amsterdam's canals?)  And there are a few instances of folks who "ended it all" by riding into murky waters, as one woman did after handcuffing herself to her machine.

But, as Rosen points out, a bicycle--especially one whose owner is unknown or a corporate entity--is an easy target for people taking out their frustrations.  I suspect that at least a few share bikes were tossed into canals, rivers, lakes and other bodies of water by folks--more than likely, young--who feel lost, alienated, abandoned or simply ignored by their societies, cultures or institutions that control their lives, and over which they feel they have no control.

As a lifelong cyclist, I cannot imagine myself tossing a bike that did nothing wrong to me into the water.  And, as an environmentally-conscious person, I cannot condone throwing anything into a body of water that its native species can't eat.  But, as we've seen, these days, where there are bikes, there are e-bikes.  That, unfortunately, includes waterways, where e-bikes and mopeds are even more of a hazard because of the rare metals and chemicals used in batteries and other components.  

So, if you have a bike, e-bike, moped or scooter you want to get rid of, sell it or donate it. But please don't follow the advice of a Talking Heads song!

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.

What The Coast Guard Doesn't Like About Bike Share Programs

In an earlier post, I wrote about a legitimate complaint some people make about bike-share programs, the Uber-style programs in particular.  Because bikes in such systems can be located with a smart-phone app, users can leave bicycles wherever they are finished with riding them.

The problem is that in some instances, bikes are left literally wherever their riders stopped riding them.  This became a particular concern in Chinese cities, where streets and sidewalks are narrow and all manner of vehicles, from trucks to rickshaws, compete for space with cyclists and pedestrians.  Some streets and sidewalks became literally impassable, and police warned that the masses of abandoned bikes were keeping police, firefighters, medics and other responders from reaching emergency sites.

Here in the US, you can add the Coast Guard to the list of non-fans of bike share programs.

Why?, you ask.  Well, according to a recent report, bicycles--usually from share companies--are left on Washington State ferries.  When ferry crew members see a bicycle but can't find whoever was riding it, they have to send an emergency call to the Coast Guard which, in turn, has to start a rescue operation.  Since neither the Coast Guard nor the ferry operators can assume that the bike was simply abandoned, the operation is treated as a "person overboard" issue.

Cyclists disembark from Washington State ferry.

Such missions, as it turns out, are expensive.  In one incident last week, it cost $17,000 to send out helicopters and other equipment as well as Coast Guard members to ensure that no passenger ended up in the water.  Such missions take time and, as with any nautical rescue operation, must cover a large expanse of waterway, as currents can pull or push a struggling swimmer many kilometers in any direction.

(I know a bit about such things because my father was a Coast Guard reservist for more than two decades.)

Now Captain Linda Sturgis, the Coast Guard commander for Puget Sound, is urging people to leave share bikes on shore and board as passengers.  That sounds reasonable enough, but, as it turns out, many commuters get to and from work by riding share bikes to and from the boats.  So, upon disembarking from the ferry, a commuter would have to find another share bike to complete his or her trip.  I have never used such a system, but I imagine that there will be time when a bike can't be located in a timely fashion, as we used to say at the office.

Now I have to wonder whether ferries here in New York--in particular the Staten Island and Wall Street ferries--are experiencing similar problems.

Bike Share Over The Cuckoo's Nest?

I haven't been to Eugene, Oregon.  From what I hear, though, it's developing the sort of reputation Portland had maybe fifteen years ago:  a town of young artists, old and latter-day hippies as well as other free spirits.  And cyclists.

Someone I know described it as "Madison West."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. After all, the University of Oregon is there.  And, interestingly, several tech startups first saw the light of day there.  So did a certain company launched by a guy who paid a graduate student $35 for her design.

That graduate student was Carolyn Davidson. And the guy who bought her drawing was none other than Phil Knight, the founder of Nike.

Imagine that:  the designer of the Nike "Swoosh" was paid only $35. But, she says, it led to other things that made her quite a bit of money.

Oh, and the author of a certain book that became one of the texts, if you will, of the counterculture--and, later, a much-lauded film--spent much of his life in Eugene.  I am talking about Ken Kesey, who wrote One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

So, I am not surprised, really, to find out that Eugene residents anticipate having something Madison has.  Austin, Texas--another town to which Eugene is increasingly compared--also has it.

I'm talking about a bike share program.  A local business owner is working on a plan for it.  Lindsey Harward's newly-formed company, Eugene Bike Share, will offer rides for a couple of dollars a day as well as yearly memberships.  Her current plan calls for 300 bicycles and 30 pick-up/drop-off locations.

While Eugene has only slightly fewer people than Salem, the capital and second-largest city of the Beaver State, it has only about a quarter of the population of the state's largest city, Portland.  So, while it might not be considered a "small" city, few would confuse it with a megalopolis or world capital.  

I find it interesting that the fastest growth in bike share programs is found in second- and third-tier cities like Portland and Madison.  And you could be forgiven for thinking that the bike-share concept is "trickling down" from world capitals and centers like Paris, London and New York.

The irony is that, as I learned recently, a city with about half of Eugene's population (though on a quarter as much land-area) had the first known bike-share program.  In 1976, La Rochelle, a lovely town on the French Atlantic (Bay of Biscay) coast, launched its fleet of velos jaunes for use by the public.  The current incarnation of the program is called Yelo and still uses, yes, yellow bicycles!

Hmm...I wonder what color Eugene's share bikes will be.