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.

Connecting Ithaca

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know thar one of my pet peeves is “bike lanes to nowhere “:  ribbons of dirt, concrete or asphalt that begin or end abruptly and do not connect common destinations in any meaningful way.  They are a reason for motorists’ animosity towards cyclists;  As long as bike paths are seen merely as “nice places to ride” rather than transportation conduits, drivers will see us as over-privileged pleasure- or thrill-seekers who are “taking “ their lanes and parking spaces. 

So, I am glad to hear news that Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, secured a Federal grant to connect the Black Diamond and Gateway Trails, two bike lanes on opposite ends of Ithaca, an upstate New York town best known for its gorges and Cornell University.

Yes, Bicycling Helps You To Achieve Balance

Because I was brought up working-class, and have spent much of my life teaching people from backgrounds similar to or poorer than my own--including immigrants and refugees--I am aware that many people have talents and skills that go unrecognized and, therefore, unrewarded.

A recent encounter reminded me of that.  I was pedaling away from a Dollar Tree store when I saw a woman--from Senegal, I think (How do you tell a Senagalese?  In Yoruba or French, of course!)--balancing a load on her head. Many girls and women do the same every day, in that woman's native country and others but their ability to balance, not to mention their strength is almost never translated into cycling, in part because girls and women are discouraged of even forbidden from riding.  Such skills are also not transferred to remunerative activities because women are similarly discouraged or forbidden from work that pays as well or better than their husbands', brothers' or uncles', or any paid work at all.

To be fair (After all, I'm trans:  I have to see all sides of the argument!), many boys and men have skills and talents that aren't validated, let alone valued, because those talents and skills weren't incubated in the walls of prestigious or even state-recognized academies, universities and other institutions. The lucky ones, at least here in the US, became rappers, break dancers, graffiti artists, BMX riders, skateboard stunt performers and the like.  

To the list of such folks we can add this man in India:

A commenter described him as a "human Segway with a built-in gyroscope."  He reminds me of people I saw in Cambodia, Laos and in the Turkish countryside, who carried loads in every imaginable way while riding their bicycles.  I even see cyclists here in my native city, lugging bags almost as large as themselves (or so it seems) full of recyclable cans and bottles.  As much as I like the speed and spectacle of racing, and enjoy riding a finely-tuned bike, I actually have more respect for people who carry--without the newest panniers or backpacks--whatever they need to transport from Point A to Point B.

Can A Bicycle Make Your Life 15 Percent Better?

Almost nobody would dispute that receiving a bicycle will improve an impoverished person's lot in life.  But  by how much?

Dave Schweidenback, founder and CEO of Pedals for Progress, has an answer:  "Every one of those bikes represents a minimum 15 percent increase of income for the individual who gets it."

He was referring specifically to the bikes the Green Mountain Returned Peace Corps volunteers are collecting for Pedals for Progress, who is sending them to Guatemala and other developing countries.  But his claim is probably valid in reference to bikes donated to just about anyone, anywhere, whose income-earning (and, in many cases, educational) opportunities are constricted by a lack of transportation.  I would imagine that receiving a bicycle would enable not only people going to regular jobs in stores, factories, offices or other sites, but also folks who weave, sew, cook, bake, carve, paint or practice other crafts--many of whom are women-- and sell their wares.  They could use bicycles to bring their work, say, to a marketplace or to deliver to people's homes.

Dave Schweidenback, founder and CEO of Pedals for Progress, with the 150,000th bike collected.

Speaking of which:  The Vermont-based Peace Corps group is  collecting, in addition to bicycles, used sewing machines.  I would imagine that while a bicycle might increase someone's income by 15 percent, it--or a sewing machine-- might allow someone else in an impoverished area to work in the first place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bicycle Ambulances In Uganda Are FABIO!

There are some places that can't be reached easily, or at all, with cars or trucks.  In some places, like rural Uganda, that can be a matter of life and death. 


Uganda's infant, newborn and maternal mortality rates are among the highest in the world.   The harsh terrain spreads between the vast distances pregnant women often must traverse in order to get care for themselves or their newborns.  As an example, early in her pregnancy, Sandra Naigaga had to walk more than four kilometers (2.5 miles) to access antenatal care in Kibibi.  Later in her pregnancy, that distance may as well have been the distance to the moon.

Fortunately for her, the First African Bicycle Information Organization (FABIO:  Could you ask for a better acronym?)  introduced bicycle ambulance service to her region's two major health centers late last year.  FABIO has been offering similar services, ferrying pregnant women as well as other people needing medical care, in other parts of Uganda since 2006.

Sandra Naigaga (R) after arriving at the antenatal care centre in Kibibi

Aside from the services it provides, another thing that's great about FABIO is that it tries to maintain an environmentally sustainable system that can be easily maintained by local people using local materials from local sources.  So, the ambulances are built around basic black bicycles for which spare parts are readily available, even in such a remote region. And the carts that are attached to those bicycles are made from locally-sourced materials.  FABIO's ambulances are thus "African solutions to African problems," in the words of field officer Jeremiah Brian Nkuutu.  

Jeremiah Brian Nkuuti welding a carriage for a FABIO bicycle ambulance.

While most of the bicycle ambulances are of the pedaled, mechanical kind, FABIO also has ambulances towed by rechargeable e-bicycles.  These are used in hilly areas and, like the bicycles, are chosen for their reliability and the local availability of spare parts.

Citibikes Are Nice, But We Need More Bike Racks

In New York City, my hometown, 460,000 daily trips were made by bicycle.  That is up from 270,000 trips in 2011--a 70 percent increase.

Some of that, of course, has to do with the Citibike share program, which launched in 2013.  The operative word here is "some":  Many more cyclists are riding to work on their own bicycles.

During the past four fiscal years, the city has set up an average of 1633 new racks.  Now, what do you think the average was during the previous four years?

2808.  In other words, 42 percent fewer racks have been installed during the past four years, which have fallen squarely in Bill de Blasio's administration, than in the previous four, which were mainly under Mike Bloomberg's administration.

What that means is that the city lacks "essential infrastructure" needed if bicycling is truly to become a transportation option, according to Bike New York spokesman Jon Orcutt.  "Everybody's talking about Citibikes and scooters, but it's the humble rack that needs more attention," added Orcutt, who served as the city's Department of Transportation policy director under Bloomberg.

Citibikes are fine for commuting if there's a bike port near your home and another near your workplace--that is, if there are available bikes when you leave for work and if there's an available space in the dock when you get to your job.  

You can ride your own bike, but there might not be a dedicated bike rack or other safe facility at your destination. Or, if there is such a facility, there might not be any space available when you arrive--or it might simply be unusable for whatever reason.

So, you look for a signpost, lamppost or other seemingly immovable object--which aren't as impervious to bike thieves as they seem.  And they might be full, too. Then, you lock to fencing, scaffolding or even a waste basket.  I've even seen a bike locked to the chain that holds the cap to a fire hydrant.

Those things, of course, are easy work for a thief who has the time you spend in your workplace or classroom.  Rose Uscianowski, an organizer for Transportation Alternatives, learned that the hard way when she locked her bike to scaffolding in front of a building on John Street, in the city's financial district.  "I came out of my office and found a bar of scaffolding on the floor and my bike missing," she lamented.  "The only reason I locked up to scaffolding is that there are only a few racks on John Street, and they're always taken up."

Even scarcer are racks by subway stations or other public transportation facilities.  For people who live in areas that are a mile or more from the nearest subway or bus station--which is the case for people in the outlying areas of Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx, and for nearly everybody in Staten Island--truly having the option of riding to transit and feeling more or less certain that your bike will be there when you return might do as much, or more than, congestion pricing or other proposed methods to reduce traffic.

Plus, I think that making bike-parking facilities available at public transportation stations will help the public to see that cycling is a transportation alternative for people from all walks (pardon the pun) of life rather than the plaything of the young and privileged, and tourists.

It Was Always The Future--Until Now?

A sportswriter once joked that soccer (what the rest of the world calls football) will always be the sport of the future in America.

And an economist once said, only half in-jest, that Brazil will always be the country of the future.

Likewise, back in the '70's Bike Boom, bicycles were being touted as the "transportation of the future."  Around 1979 (the time of the second American "gas crisis") I saw, in a shop window, a touring bike with a sign hanging from it proclaiming it "the RV (recreational vehicle) of the '80's."

Then, of course, Ronald Reagan was elected and put the kibosh on anything--except nuclear power--that might've reduced this country's dependence on fossil fuels.

Through the '80's and '90's, bicycle sales in the US basically flatlined, with a few upticks in the middle of each decade.  Anecdotally, I don't recall seeing many more cyclists on the road in the late '90's than I saw around 1983, when I first moved back to New York.  When I was mountain biking in the mid- and late '90's, I would sometimes see new faces on the trails, but they never seemed to do any other kind of cycling.  I wonder how many of them still ride.

I got to thinking about these phenomena after I came across Clive Thompson's article in Wired. "The Vehicle of the Future Has Two Wheels, Handlebars and is a Bike," exclaims the title.   I checked my cynicism at the door and read it.  He made one really interesting point:  The same technologies that are bringing us driverless cars and other things that seemed like the stuff of science fiction not so long ago are bringing us back to a reliable technology that's more than a century old, i.e., the bicycle.

Photo by Noah Berger

One of the main drivers, if you will, of that would-be trend is bike-sharing programs.  As he pointed out, they were tried way back in the '60's but, with no way to track the location of the bikes, the programs quickly died.  When the first of the modern share programs started just over a decade ago, the technology that gave rise to "smart" phones and their apps made it possible to track bikes--and, in the early programs, to create docks where bicycles could be secured.  Newer programs are, of course, dockless because they rely on another technology--phone apps.

Thompson didn't intend any pun when he said that to see the future, we don't have to re-invent the wheel.  And I don't mean a pun when I say that perhaps technology is bringing us full circle.

Bicycles just might be the transportation of the future--right now.

Who Are We?

We're white.  We're male.  After our training rides in the park, we wheel our flashy carbon-fiber machines under canopies of luxury condo buildings.

We're male, too.  But we're brown and black.  We pedal dilapidated-looking-bikes--or bikes that we're not supposed to be able to afford because, well... We don't speak English well, or at all.  We're probably undocumented, to boot,

We are also male--and could be white, brown or black--but we're not likely to be yellow.  We are riding bikes because...we can't afford to drive.  Or we can't drive because we've lost our licenses, or couldn't get them in the first place.

The Rev. Laura Everett describes each of these stereotypes about cyclists in her Daily Beast editorial, "We Need To Ditch All The Old Cliches About Cyclists."  She makes a very good case against each of those cariactures, using data (e.g., that the majority of cyclists are indeed poor, but don't necessarily fit into the second and third stereotypes) from various studies I have mentioned in some of my earlier posts.

She also makes a very interesting point:  During the two previous "golden ages" of cycling in the US--1890-1910 and the 1970s--cycling was seen as a pastime of the leisured class.  And, once it lost that status, cycling fell into a steep decline.  The first "boom" ended when automobiles became affordable to average working people. (Interestingly, during the 1890s, a bicycle cost what an average worker earned in year!)  The second declined with a deep recession fueled by a spike in petrol prices and suffered its death blow when the election of Ronald Reagan ended the first major environmental movements in the US.

She sees that we are in a third "golden age" of cycling. In order to sustain it, she says, all of the stereotypes have to be shattered. Cycling will never become mainstream if it is not seen, by planners and the general public alike, as a vital link in the transportation system.  That, in turn, will not happen if cycling is seen only as a leisuretime activity of the privileged or as the "last resort" of the poor, nonwhite or criminal classes.

For her part, Rev. Everett says she began cycle-commuting because she was a poor recent graduate who was just starting her career.  Seven years later, she continues to ride because, as she says, it really is the best transportation option for her--and because she enjoys it.

To me, she sounds like the kind of cyclist the public needs to know more about if cycling is to become mainstream  And, I must add:  She's a woman.  Thus, she can't help but to break the stereotype.  I  like to believe that I am, too.

The Biko Bike Project

If you are a student in the University of Manchester (UK), you can rent a bike for one pound a week, with a 40 GBP deposit that's returned to you when you return the bike.

You have your choice of road bikes, mountain bikes or city bikes.   What they all have in common is their colour (it's in the UK, remember!) scheme:  The frame is yellow and the front fork is an Easter-egg purple.

These bikes are rented by the Biko Bikes Project, organized by members of UM's Student Action, the self-described "volunteering arm" of the UM Student Union.  They are involved in community-based volunteer projects that help, among others, the homeless and refugees, and in cleaning up the environment. (Manchester was one of the first cities changed by the Industrial Revolution.)  The Biko Bikes Project aims to promote "the best mode of transportation":  cycling.

The bikes are "rescued" by agreement with the university, having been abandoned in various places in and around the campus.  Then the bikes are stripped, painted an rebuilt by students who take the repair workshops the Project conducts.

In addition to bike repair, the Project also offers workshops in "bicycle confidence", in recognition that for many people, one of the greatest deterrents to cycling is the fear of traffic and other conditions they might encounter on a bicycle.  

The Project is named in honor of Steve Bantu Biko, who is considered one of the "martyrs" of the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa. 

Like Frantz Fanon, he studied medicine but developed an intense interest in black consciousness, which led him to the organizing activity that would get him banned from the university in which he was studying.  The protests he organized culminated in the Soweto Uprising of June 1976.



A little more than a year later, on 18 August 1977, he was arrested at a police roadblock in Port Elizabeth under the Terrorism Act No. 83 of 1967, enacted specifically as an attempt to thwart activists like Biko.  The arresting officers took him to a police station, where he was subjected to a 22-hour interrogation that included torture and beatings that sent him into a coma.  He suffered a major injury and was chained to a window grille for a day.

On 11 September, police officers loaded him--naked and manacled, and barely alive-- into the back of a Land Rover for an 1100 km (685 mile) drive to Pretoria, where there was a prison with hospital facilities.  He arrived the following day.  Not long after, he died.  The original report said he'd died of a long hunger strike, but an autopsy revealed, in addition to numerous abrasions and bruises, a brain hemorrhage from his massive head injuries.

Were he alive, Steve Biko would turn 70 years old today.  The students at the University of Manchester could hardly pick a better person to commemorate than a man who "they had to kill" at age 30 to "prolong Apartheid".

Who made that trenchant observation?  Somebody named Nelson Mandela.

Update (23 December 2016):  Timothy Loh of Biko Bikes says that, for budgetary reasons, the bikes are no longer painted.  They still, however, are affixed with the Biko decal.

Off The Railroad And Onto Bikes: Reading, Pennsylvania

Whenever a city builds bike lanes or starts a bike share program, there is resentment.  As often as not, it's voiced as a class argument:  Cyclists are seen as young, rich and "privileged", and that poor working blokes are subsidizing their fads and fetishes.

One reason for this, I believe, is that most urban bike lanes have been built, and most bike share ports installed, in central downtown areas or in nearby areas where the young and affluent (who, as often as not, come from someplace else) congregate.  As an example, here in New York, the first Citibike ports installed outside of Manhattan were placed in the Brooklyn and Queens neighborhoods closest to Manhattan:  the "Hipster Hook" communities situated directly across the East River and at the ends of bridges.  You won't find many marked paths or  Citibikes in East New York or South Jamaica, or even in relatively affluent (but further from Manhattan and less hip) areas like Mill Basin and Fresh Meadows.

What is often forgotten, however, is that in neighborhoods like the South Bronx and East New York--and in cities like Newark--there are people who ride to work, or wherever else they need to be, not because it's fashionable, but because they can't afford any other way besides walking.

They don't have the funds or a credit card to buy a new Linus "Dutch" bike or a Trek Chelsea.  The bikes they ride, in fact, may have come from tag sales or dumpsters, or been given to them.  Those machines may have parts that were not intended for them:  For example, a wheel may have been replaced by one of a different size.  And those riders aren't stopping in the trendy bike cafes for Marin Macchiatos or Linus Lattes.  If anything, they might be holed up in the local Dunkin' Donuts, if they can afford even that.

The communities in which they live have low percentages of people who ride to work.  Part of the reason for that is, well, a lot of them don't work:  They lost jobs and weren't able to find others, or they didn't have jobs in the first place.  

Many of them live in areas where there is little or no mass transit--and, even if it was available, it would be a strain on their budgets, if not financially out of reach altogether.  Or the nearest bus stop or train station is, say, a 45-minute walk away (as is the case for some residents of Red Hook, Brooklyn).  That makes it difficult, to say the least, to keep appointments with doctors, government agencies and the like, let alone get to work on time and have any time left for anything besides commuting and working.

Reading resident Harrison Walker doesn't own a car and bikes everywhere.

Almost everything I have said in the previous four paragraphs can be said about the city of Reading, Pennsylvania and its people.  Once a thriving railroad hub (If you've played the classic version of Monopoly, you've bought and/or sold the Reading Railroad!) situated halfway between the anthracite coal mines of central Pennsylvania and Philadelphia, this city was beset by many of the problems older industrial cities like Detroit and Cleveland experienced when their industries died or moved away.   

Five years ago, the New York Times published an article declaring Reading the poorest city (of 60,000 or more people) in the United States.  More than 40 percent of its residents were living below the Federal poverty line.  Things seem not to have changed much:  While the official unemployment rate has dropped, at 8.3 percent it still is three percentage points higher than the national average.  And, of course, that number doesn't include the people who gave up on trying to find a job or whose unemployment benefits ran out--or those who returned to school or entered some sort of retraining program after they could not find jobs in the industries in which they had been working.

Those un-, under- and never-employed Reading residents make up most of the city's cyclists. "Reading's poor, and a lot of people who live here are poor," explains Dani Motze of ReDesign Reading, a nonprofit group that's trying to revitalize the city.  "[S]o bike riding is how they get from place to place."  

The demography of Reading's cyclists may be a reason why the city hasn't attracted the attention of urban planners involved with cycling infrastructure--until now.  Craig Peiffer became the city's zoning administrator a few years ago.  He was shocked at what he found.  "As a planner here in Pennsylvania," he relates, "I've seen smaller towns--significantly smaller towns--where they were already putting in designated bike lanes."

He and a colleague decided they were going to make Reading a more hospitable place for cyclists. However, their aim in doing so would be different from what has motivated officials in other cities to make them more "bike friendly."  In those communities, bike amenities are often used to attract outsiders--especially affluent millennials and sustainability advocates.  "Other cities have used biking because biking is cool and hip," declares Brian Kelly, executive director of ReDesign Reading.  He has no problem with that, he explains, but that is not the point of what he, Peiffer and others are trying to do in Reading.  

Jason Orth, manager of the Reading Bike Hub, fixes a bike for a customer.

Instead, they are--in addition to working on acquiring the money for bike lanes--making cycling more affordable and convenient for the city's residents.  Bike racks have been installed on all of the city's buses.  The city has also launched a bike-share program.  But, perhaps most important of all, it opened Reading's first bike shop. Unlike the bike boutiques of trendy neighborhoods, the Reading Bike Hub, in addition to conducting safety workshops, sells used bikes and affordable parts--and loans tools.  "If I were to go buy this tool, I'd have to go to Sears,"  says Harrison Walker, who rides his bike "everywhere".  The tool he had just borrowed from the Hub would "probably cost upwards of $20 just for this one wrench," he observes.

I am glad that the folks at National Public Radio, where I learned of Reading's programs, were able to see and communicate some of the challenges faced by people who are forced to rely on their bicycles for transportation.  It is only with such knowledge that American cities can make bicycles a viable transportation option for all of their citizens.

The Money Cycling Saves

I'm no expert on public policy and budgets.  Of course, that's not going to stop me from saying what I'm about to say.

People are always saying "I can't afford X". Public officials and voters are always saying "We can't afford Y."  "X" and "Y" can be any number of things:  X might be a seemingly-expensive purchase (like a quality bicycle), "Y" might be an infrastructure expense such as public transportation or some other pubic expenditure such as a raise in teachers' salaries.

Yet money is spent on all sorts of other things that make me wonder what people are thinking.  Someone can't afford to buy vegetables and fruit yet can afford a two-pack-a day (here in NYC, about $30) cigarette habit.  A city might not be able to find the money in its budget to keep its streetlights on but can build a sports arena for some team owner who can easily afford to pay for it himself.

And, in study after study, it's shown that spending on things like transportation, education and even providing meals for needy families creates more jobs and other economic activity, per amount of money spent, than a stadium, megamall or weapons system.

I got to thinking about that after overhearing a conversation between two old-time Queens residents.  One is one of the few remaining US-born Caucasian taxi drivers left in this city; the other is the widow of a blue-collar worker.  They are both warm, generous people (I have been witness and recipient to their acts of kindness) who would never dream of voting for any Republican and who believe that we are all accountable to God (as they perceive him--and both perceive him as male) but will enter a church only under great duress.  Obviously, they are not part of the class of people who got theirs, or are trying to get theirs, and don't care about anybody else.

Their conversation took a bunch of twists and turns, as any really good conversation does.  Somehow they got onto the topic of bike lanes.  Both decried them, and both offered the same rationales--one of them being the cost of constructing them and of putting cops on the street to enforce safety.

Now, I didn't mention that I'm not in favor of creating separate bike lanes, especially given how poorly-conceived and constructed too many lanes I've seen are.  However, those two folks--one a good friend, the other a friendly acquaintance--talked about "priorites".  One of them complained, "How can they spend money on bike lanes when there are so many other pressing issues, like police and firefighters?"

Back in the Reagan years, people--perhaps not those two--would have wondered the same thing about "the arts" or, more specifically, the National Endowment for the Arts.  And I would give the same answer I gave to those two people who decried bike lanes:  They're such a small part of the budget.  If they were eliminated, it wouldn't save enough money to keep even one branch of the library open for longer hours. (In the NEA argument, I'd say something like "one Air Force bomber" or something like that.) Besides, all kinds of other money is wasted on truly useless projects or lost to graft and corruption.   

What I didn't mention is that just as spending on the arts generates economic activity in other areas, so does bicycling.  In fact, the "return" in both cases is much greater than the expenditure, whether at the household or national level.

I couldn't have cited any figures off the top of my head.  But I would've loved to have the following graphic on hand.  Even though the numbers were compiled for Atlanta, I think they could be scaled to New York and other cities.

From The Atlanta Bicycle Coalitiom

Mackinac Island, Somewhere In Time

What do these images have in common?

Well, in both photos, people are on bicycles.  But there doesn't seem to be much else in common, right?

It's fairly obvious that the second photo was taken more than a century after the first. But they were taken in the same place--or the same locale, anyway.

I'm talking about Mackinac Island, Michigan.  It's in Lake Huron, between the state's Upper and Lower Peninsula.  

Motorized vehicles have been banned on the island since 1898.  The only exceptions are emergency vehicles (owned by the city that shares the name with the island), motorized wheelchairs and golf carts, which cannot be operated outside of the golf course.  Also, snowmobiles are permitted in winter.

In the 2010 Census, the Island had 492 permanent residents.  However, during the peak tourist season (summer), there are as many as 15.000 people.  Even then, neither visitors nor residents report a sense of being overcrowded. 

The Island also boasts the only state highway in the US--M185--where motorized traffic is not allowed. The road circles the island, hugging the shoreline, and thus affords some fine views.

Mackinac has one of the strongest historical preservation movements in the US.  As a result, the entire island is designated as a National Historic Landmark.  Among the most iconic structures is the Grand Hotel, which featured prominently in two films:  This Time For Keeps and Somewhere In Time, which was shot entirely on the island.

 Bicycling is said to be the most popular way of getting around the island.  Also, people walk a lot, and quite a few roller-skate.  All of that human-powered notion is no doubt fueled by the island's most famous product:  its fudge.

It's interesting and perhaps ironic that in a state that's synonymous with the automotive industry, there's a place where no cars are allowed.  Even more interesting, the now-115-year-old ban began right around the time that the auto industry was beginning.