Equal Rides, Unequal Fares

 $2.90

$4.79

Those two prices say much about the state of mass transit in New York City, my hometown.

The former is what you pay for a single ride on a city bus or subway.  The latter is what half an hour on a Citibike costs.

I would reckon that a typical subway ride—say, a commute from Astoria or Williamsburg to Midtown or Downtown Manhattan—takes about half an hour to 45 minutes. The disparity between the transit fare and a Citibike rental becomes even more pronounced, however, when you realize that if your bus gets caught in traffic or you decide to take a longer excursion on the subway, it won’t cost more. On the other hand, each additional minute beyond that $4.79 half-hour on a Citibike will set  you back 36 cents.

Photo by Joe Buglewicz

A bill introduced in the City Council last week would keep Lyft, the company that operates Citibike, from charging more than the cost of a transit fare for a two-hour bicycle ride or an hour on an e-bike. “Bike share is an essential part of the New York City transit landscape,” said Lincoln Restler, a Brooklyn council member and the bill’s sponsor.”We need to make it accessible and affordable to all.”

Restler has been one of the Council’s strongest advocates for cycling.  His remarks reflect a philosophy that includes cycling as a vital part of this city’s transportation system. It seems that his bill has at least a chance of passing, given that Mayor Eric Adams has said he would be “open” to considering more Citibike subsidies for low-income New Yorkers.  The chief stumbling block is that what the bill proposes couldn’t take effect until 2029, when Lyft’s current contract with the city ends.

Their City Is Dying. Blame The Bike Lane.

Recently, another neighbor of mine lamented that the bike lane on our street--Crescent, in Astoria, Queens--is "ruining the neighborhood."

"How?" I asked.

"It used to be so easy to park here.  Now it's impossible," she complained.

I didn't express that I found her cri de coeur ironic given that she doesn't drive.  I believe, however, that she knew what I was thinking:  "When I did drive, one of the reasons I moved here from Manhattan was so that I could have a car.  So did a lot of other people."

To be fair, the reason she doesn't drive is an injury incurred in--you guessed it--a car crash.  So while I conceded that some folks--like the ones who pick her up for errands and outings--need to drive, I pointed out that others could do their chores by walking or biking and their commutes on buses or trains--or bikes.  "Didn't people find it harder to park as more cars came into the neighborhood."

"Yeah, but the bike lane made things worse."

In one sense, I agree with her:  the bike lane was poorly-conceived and -placed.  But blame for decades' worth of traffic and parking congestion on bike lanes that are only a few years old seems, to me, just a bit misplaced.

It seems that such mistaken vilification is not unique to my neighborhood or city--or to American locales in general.  In the UK city of Doncaster, "cycle paths, pedestrianisation and poor bus planning" are "slowly choking our wonderful city centre."  Nick Fletcher, a Tory MP, heaped on the hyperbole, begging planners to "reverse this trend" before "Doncaster becomes a ghost town."

What is the "trend" he's talking about?  The one he and others claim they saw unfold in nearby Sheffield:  a plan to turn downtowns into "15 minute cities," where all of the businesses and services a resident needs are within a 15 minute walk or bike ride. Fletcher and other conservative MPs see such plans the way much of today's Republican Party sees vaccination, mask-wearing during a pandemic, teaching actual history and science and shifting from fossil to sustainable fuels:  as "socialist conspiracies."

Doncha' no"?  They're part of a socialist conspiracy to destroy their city!

Where I live is, in effect, a 15 minute city:  Whatever one's needs, interests or preferences, they can be reached within that time frame, without a motorized vehicle.  Even midtown Manhattan is reachable in that time when the trains are running on time.  And in my humble judgment, Astoria is hardly a "ghost town."  Nor are neighboring Long Island City, Sunnyside or Woodside--or Greenpoint in Brooklyn-- all of which are, or nearly are, 15 minute cities. 

Oh, and from what I've heard and read, Sheffield and Doncaster are both "post industrial" cities in South Yorkshire.  Steel is no longer made in Sheffield, once the nation's center of that industry, just as coal and mining were once, but are no longer, synonymous with Doncaster's identity.  Both cities have endured losses of population that disproportionately include the young and the educated.  So it seems as ludicrous to blame bike lanes and bus routes, even "poorly planned" ones, for turning those cities into "ghost towns" as it does to blame a poorly-conceived bike lane for the lack of parking in a neighborhood to which people moved from Manhattan so they could have cars.

They’re Not Alone In The Lone Star State

 What do New York, Paris, Amsterdam and Copenhagen have in common?

Well, since you’re reading this blog, you probably guessed that they all have large numbers of cyclists.  

They are also mostly or completely flat, dense and have relatively mild climates, many young workers and students and, perhaps as a consequence, progressive politics (at least in relation to the rest of their nations.

Save for the politics, nothing I’ve said applies to Austin, Texas:  Its sprawl encompasses many long, rolling hills.  And brutal heat smothers the city, not only through “official” summer months, but also for significant parts of Spring and Fall.  It also affects the city’s air quality.

But those aren’t the only, or even the chief, reasons why, although their numbers are increasing, bicycling comprises only one percent of all commutes. 

Rather, Austin residents, like people in other parts of the world, cite “fear of motorist aggression “ and “poor quality and condition of dedicated bike lanes” as deterrents to stepping out of their cars and slinging a leg over a saddle.

Photo by P. Owens, Warrington Cycle Campaign 

Bike Banks: A Solution To A "Hidden Poverty?"

I haven't been to the Netherlands in a while.  So my firsthand memories of it aren't as clear as they are of countries I've seen more recently. But an impression I formed during my time there has been reinforced in all sorts of ways:  It is a country of contradictions and paradoxes.  You can see it in the art:  Few countries can claim as many renowned artists, in proportion to its population. Those artists include Rembrandt and Mondrian; Vermeer and Van Gogh (though the French love to claim Vincent as their own, as he lived and did his best work in Arles).  

Another paradox is that it's the country that, some historians and economists argue, created modern capitalism--or, at any rate, exported it to the world. Yet it was one of the first nations to institute a comprehensive--or, if you like, socialist-- safety net for all of its citizens.  

That system, which includes single-payer healthcare, is one reason why Dutch society isn't as socially stratified as the US.  While there are some very rich people, few (if any) approach the level of affluence seen in the wealthiest Americans, Russians or the economic elite in other countries.  Yet, there is still a stigma attached to a particular kind of poverty or hardship: the kind in which parents have difficulty providing for their children.  Even in a time or near-record inflation, including energy costs that have doubled, people are expected to "just shut up and get a job and don't complain," as one person put it. 

Some Dutch people and families, like their counterparts in other countries, have to make difficult choices.  So one of the things that might be sacrificed is--even in nation where it's said, only half-jokingly, kids learn how to pedal before they learn how to talk--a bike for a kid. Not having a bike, for a young person, can result in taunts and bullying--and make a commute to school even longer and more arduous.

That is where Dutch "bike banks" come in. Think of them as a cross between a program like Recycle-A-Bicycle and a food bank.  They Royal Dutch Touring Club ANWB has created a scheme in which volunteers train people, including teenagers who have dropped out of schools, to make second-hand and discarded bikes ride-worthy.  Those bikes are then distributed to kids in need.  

The biggest problem is that even in the Netherlands, where bikes outnumber humans at roughly the same ratio that guns outnumber people in the USA, there aren't enough bikes to meet the demand. One bike bank in Amsterdam has received 1200 applications for 400 bikes.

The "bike banks," some of which are found in low-income neighborhoods of cities like Amsterdam and the Hague, not only spare kids from taunting and parents from shame.  Bicycles are ingrained in Dutch life in ways that few Americans can understand. "In Holland, you need a bicycle to join in," said Inge Veliscek of ANWB.  A bicycle is necessary "to go to your football, or to your friends or the school of your choice," she explained.  

Photo by Anna Holligan for the BBC.

As an example, a girl named Sanna picked up a sky-blue cruiser. "It's pretty," she exclaimed.  But even more important, according to her mother, it will allow her to ride to a better school in a better neighborhood. Knowing that, it's easy to imagine that having a reliable bicycle can result in a better job or living situation--or to have a job at all if paying transit fares every day is too much of a strain on the budget.

A bike "makes your world bigger," Ms. Veliscek said.  Not having one is a "hidden poverty."

Perhaps understanding that last phrase is key to creating, not only a bike culture that does more than fetishize accessories, but a transportation system in which bicycles are a key component.  Such an endeavor seems anathematic to "law and order" American politicians, but completely logical  to the Dutch, who prize order as much as anyone in the world.

He Rides To Work. Why Don't More Cyclists Follow Him?

We've all heard some variant of the question, "If a tree falls in a forest and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?"

Here is anothe variation:  If a bicycle valet service opens in a city and nobody hears about it....

How do you finish that question?  All right, it won't quite follow the rhetorical pattern of the "tree falls in a forest" query.  But it's pertinent nontheless.

Here goes, "Will anybody use it?"

That is what the folks from the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition and The Chase Center might be asking themselves. From the moment the venue--which hosts Golden State Warriors games, among other events--a bicycle valet parking service has been available.  

Now, the Chase Center isn't the only such venue or institution to offer such a service.  The valets aren't even the only ones who will take your helmet with your bike.  They might not even be the only such service not to require an admission ticket to the venue in order to use it, like the services I've used in places like the Metropolitan Museum.  

What makes the Chase Center's bicycle valet service unique, to this date, is that it was designed as part of the Center when it was built.   Yes, there is an entrance built into the spherical structure of the arena specifically for the designated bicycle valet area.  

Better yet, the service can park as many bicycles--300--as many venues can park cars in their garages or lots.

In such a bicycle-conscious city as San Francisco, and in a densely-trafficked neighborhood like the one where the Center is located, one might expect a bicycle valet service to be a "build it and they will come" facility and service.  Sadly, though, such is not the case.  According to an investigation by the SF Gate, usage has topped out at around 100 bikes per Warriors game or other event.

While neither the SF Gate report nor team nor venue officials offered an explanation as to why the service is under-used, I have to wonder how many people know it's available.  Whatever the reason, I hope that the folks who run the Center don't decide to turn the space into, oh, I don't know, another gift shop.

There's nothing like a celebrity endorsement to boost a product or service's popularity. So, perhaps, this video or Warriors star Klay Thompson riding his bike to work--a playoff game--might entice more cyclists to park at Chase Center:

Imagine A City Of Cyclists

Today I am going to take you to a city with an international airport named after a Beatle.  To my knowledge, it's the only such city.

You may have guessed that city is Liverpool, England.  Now I'll give you a clue as to which Beatle has the honor:  Its mayor has said the time has come to be "as radical as possible."

Which member of the Fabulous Four are you most likely to associate with the word "radical?"  John Lennon, of course.

All right, I admit that I took his quote just a little out of context.  And, of course, I can't take you to Liverpool:  Not even the airlines can do that right now.  For that matter, there aren't many places the airlines can take you now.

But, as I used to tell kids for whom I did creative writing workshops, your imagination can take you anywhere.  If you can imagine (There's another John Lennon word!), you can.  

And, it seems that Mayor Joe Anderson is doing just that. He is pleased with the improvement of his city's air quality since the lockdowns began.  More important, he imagines maintaining it.  More important still, he understands what needs to be done in order to keep its skies the clearest they've been since the Industrial Revolution began.

Mayor Anderson has just green-lit 2 million GBP to improve cycling in the city by introducing up to 100 km of pop-up lanes.  He gave his approval as the city has already begun a 45 million GBP redesign of the center city that includes 11 km of permanent bike lanes. 

While that will make the city's center more bikeable and walkable in the long-term, the "pop up" lanes are intended, in part, to help in the city's recovery from the pandemic.  It comes at a time when the UK Government is encouraging local councils to improve cycling and walking structure as public transport will be operating on very limited schedules due to social distancing guidelines.

All of this, it seems, comes from a recognition of a question I've raised about in a couple of recent posts:  Of those who have taken up cycling during the pandemic, how many will continue once things return to "normal?"  

As I have mentioned, during the 1966 and 1980 New York City transit strikes, some people cycled to work.  But once subway and bus service returned to normal, they hung up, sold, gave away or discarded their bikes.  I maintain that in 1966, few adults cycled in the US and there was no cycling infrastructure; by 1980, more adults pedaled but there was little infrastructure.  On the other hand, after the 2005 transit strike, many new cycle commuters continued to ride to work and school, in part because there was more of a cycling culture--and more infrastructure--than existed during the earlier labor stoppages.

Mayor Anderson seems to recognize that some Liverpudlians who took up cycling or walking are enjoying favorable conditions, with far fewer motorized vehicles on the city's streets than one normally encounters.  Once shops, offices and other workplaces, and schools, re-open, traffic volumes could creep back up to pre-pandemic levels.  And once public transport returns to a full schedule, people will return to commuting on buses and trains.  Some of the newly-minted cyclists and pedestrians could be enticed to continue walking and riding if there are spaces in which they feel safe while riding, and other infrastructure (bike repair stations?) to support them.

"The COVID pandemic has impacted our way of life beyond imagination but the challenges it has presented has also provided us with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to re-imagine how we use and travel within our cities," Mayor Anderson says.

"Imagine."  "Reimagine."  How appropriate for a city that named its airport after John Lennon.

(Thanks to regular commenter "Voyage of the Eye" for alerting me to this story.)

The New Toilet Paper?

Today's post relates, at least somewhat, to yesterday's.

As I mentioned, bikes are in short supply all over the world as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.  With transit systems on severely restricted schedules, or shut down altogether, many vital workers are pedaling to work and people are using their bikes to get to appointments and whatever stores are still open.

One result is that some communities have declared bicycle shops as essential businesses.  If you're reading this blog, that designation seems self-evident.  Some people, however, seem to disagree--and have some ideas that are, to put it charitably, interesting about what constitutes an "essential" business. (Tatoo parlors? Golf courses?)

This conflict came to head in Normal, a central Illinois town of 55,000 people that is home to the main campus of Illinois State University.  Its mayor, Chris Koos, has threatened to hand out summonses to anyone who doesn't follow the State of Illinois order to maintain social distance--or any open business not deemed "essential" by the State.  So far, that doesn't sound like anything officials haven't done in other parts of the world.

Also not unusual  are the the protests against his mandate, or the fact that many of the protestors--some of whom started a Facebook group and even made death threats--own or work in hair salons and other businesses deemed "not essential."  I have never been to Normal, but I imagine at least some of them associate bicycles with the college, which they equate with privilege.

As Mayor Koos has said, they don't understand that many people depend on bicycles for transportation, in much the same way people see their cars as necessities.  Also, most cyclists were, in effect, "social distancing" before it was required.

Last week, a group of protestors gathered near the Vitesse bike shop to decry the shop's--and other bike retailers'--opening.  

Why did they choose to gather at Vitesse?  Well, it just happens that Mayor Koos has owned it for the past 42 years.  He and his employees have received death threats, and the shop's website has been "bombed".  He, however, came up with a creative response to the threats and protests.

"PROTESTER FLASH SALE," the banner read. "Protesters Only 5-6 p.m.  Bikes Parts and Accessories on Sale!"

None took the bait.  Koos seems to expect as much:  "It was as much a joke as anything."  But, he says, he would have given the protesters sale prices for whatever they wanted.

The protesers didn't take him up on his offer, but many others didn't need such a lure.  Since the pandemic hit, Koos explains, sales have been up 71 percent and the shop gets "constant service requests."  Like Charlie McCorkle and other shop owners, he says he can't get enough bikes to keep up with demand.

 "Bikes are the new toilet paper, " he says.

Where Are The Bikes?

There is a national bike shortage, unlike anything I have seen before. This is due to increased demand and extensive disruptions to the supply chain. My advice: when you see something that you like – BUY IT. I expect to have a very limited inventory of our most popular bicycles very soon.

That message came from Charlie McCorkle, co-founder and owner of the Bicycle Habitat shops here in New York.  He is echoing somthing I've heard and read from sources all over this country, as well as in England, France and other places:  The shutdown or limited schedules in effect on transit systems, restrictions on travel and increased numbers of people working from home (or not at all) have boosted the demand for bicycles.  People who haven't been astride two wheels in decades are mounting saddles and pushing pedals to get to their jobs in hospitals, nursing homes, shipping centers and other places where essential work is done.  Other folks are riding bikes to shop at whatever places are open, and I've noticed more families (or, at least, adults and children) riding together than I can ever recall seeing.

But the restrictions on travel--and employees who are too sick to work or are self-quaranitining--mean that bicycle manufacturers, importers, wholesalers and shippers means that fewer bikes are being produced, and whatver bikes are produced are slower to arrive in shops.  Moreover, most bike dealers are, ironically, remaining open for fewer hours, and with fewer employees (due to social distancing regulations), so it takes longer for bikes to go from their shipping cartons to the shop floor.

This situation reminds me of the 1970s North American Bike Boom.  At its peak--around 1972-73--domestic manufacturers simply couldn't crank out bikes, and importers couldn't bring them to this country, quickly enough.  Customers frequently had months-long wait times for popular models from major brands.  I know, because I was one of those customers:  I placed a deposit on a Schwinn Continental in July 1972, just after my birthday, and didn't receive it until the middle of October. 

Back then, companies simply couldn't keep pace for a sudden surge in demand.  This time, though, the capacity is there, but the people aren't.  Also, during the Bike Boom, most bikes purchased in the US were made in-country or came from Europe or Japan.  Now, the vast majority of bikes and bike-related items sold here come from China or Southeast Asia, where production has decreased or stopped altogether.  So, while the bike shortage of the Bike Boom didn't extend to other pars of the market or economy, bikes are in short supply now for the same reasons medical suppliles and other goods are hard to find right now.

The Queen Of De-Confinement

What does the 1970s Energy Crisis have in common with the 1966. 1980 and 2005 transit strikes in New York?

Each of those events motivated thousands of people to commute by bicycle.  Only the 2005 stoppage, however, seems to have resulted in significant numbers of permanent or even long-term bicycle commuters.  

Commuters on the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge during the 1980 NYC Transit strike.  Photo by Fred R. Conrad for the New York Times.

The 1970s Oil Embargo affected the entire United States as well as other countries.  Some of those who turned to pedaling two wheels had been driving four wheels and, once gasoline supplies returned and prices leveled off, returned to their cars.

To be fair, many of those temporary bike commuters depended on their automobiles because they lived and worked in areas where mass transit was scant or non-existent.  On the other hand, most situational cyclists returned to their old commuting routines, whether by subway or bus, once the 1966 and 1980 strikes ended. Some didn't care for riding in rain or cold; others just didn't care for cycling.  

But those aren't the only reasons why those service disruptions didn't create many lifetime cyclists, if you will, in the way the 2005 strike did.  In 1966, the North American Bike Boom was a few years on the horizon.   New York City was one of the few places in the United States with significant (if still relatively small) numbers of adult cyclists;  even so, most people still regarded bike riding as a kid's activity and bikes as toys.  

By 1980, the Bike Boom was a few years in the rear-view mirror.  Some people who bought Schwinns and Peugeots and Raleighs continued riding them, so even those whose feet never touched a pedal knew someone who rode to work or for pleasure.  In other words, an adult who rode a bike wasn't as much of an anomaly in New York, or much of the US, as it was a decade and a half earlier.  Never underestimate self-consciousness as a factor in someone's choice to ride--or not.

Someone riding to work in a dress or a suit was even less of an aberration in 2005 than he or she would have been a quarter-century earlier.  That, I believe, is a reason why fewer of them returned to buses and trains than their earlier counterparts did.  In general, the public was more conscious of cycling and cyclists.  It was around that time that the first traces of a cycling infrastructure, such as it is, started to take shape in the Big Apple.  So, some who might have been uneasy about spinning through traffic felt, with or without justification, safer in riding the newly-constructed bike lanes--and more confident about parking their bikes in the dedicated racks that began to appear on city streets.

Even so, the health benefits (mental as well as physical) they derived from cycling to work weren't enough to keep some people from reverting to their old commuting habits.  I would bet some gave up on bike commuting when they got a flat or had some other malfunction en route and couldn't  fix it.  Or they tried to use a bike that hadn't been ridden in years only to discover, well, why it hadn't been ridden in years.

Some French officials seem to understand as much.  They also want to enforce social-distancing mandates that will remain in effect once the country's lockdown (one of the strictest in the world) is lifted on the 11th.  However you define "social distancing," it's impossible on a half-full metro car, let alone one that's packed with rush-hour commuters.  Thus, the French government wants to encourage people to continue (or start) cycling, rather than taking mass transportation.

The result is a program--"Coup de Pouce Velo" (Bike Boost)-- that includes, among other things, up to 50 Euros (about $55 at current exchange rates) cyclists can use toward repairs, or on helmets, lights or other safety accessories, at partner bike shops.  Also included in CPV will be funds for temporary bike parking (new permanent facilities are in the works) as well as educational sessions with program-affiliated schools and coaches.

In announcing the program, French Environment Minister Elisabeth Borne tweeted, "Nous voulons que cette periode fasse franchir une etape dans la culture velo, et la bicyclette soit la petite reine du deconfinement."  We want this time, she said, to mark a step forward in bicycle culture, and for the bicycle to be the queen of de-confinement."

The "queen of deconfinement". (All nouns in French are masculine or feminine; the bicycle, whether it's called "velo" or "bicyclette," is feminine.)  I think Ms. Borne understands something else about cycling:  It's freedom for so many of us!

Will It Take A Virus To Bring Us Our Due?

During any crisis, actual and self-styled pundits weigh in about how said crisis will change some aspect of our culture, society or economy.

In that sense, the COVID-19 pandemic has been no different.  Wherever I tune, click or listen, someone is talking about how shutdowns and lockdowns will forever change the ways we live, work, eat, shop--and, yes, even make love.

Of course, it will be a while before we know which prognosticators are correct.  I hope that at least one of their forecasts comes true.  Specifically, it's one that appears in Tree Hugger.

That title--and the fact that I'm talking about it--is a giveaway that it has something to do with bicycles.  The opening line of Lloyd Alter's article sums it up:  They are not toys, they are transportation, and they can be a big help in this crisis.

Alter, however, is not merely making a prediction or expressing a hope.  Rather, he describes the way the definition of an "essential business" has evolved during the crisis.  He mentions that when Governor Andrew Cuomo declared a shutdown of "non-essential" businesses in New York State, he included bicycle shops--but not auto-related enterprises--in that category.  London Breed made a similar pronouncement when she ordred a lockdown in San Francisco, where she is the Mayor.  After pressure from folks like me, she and Cuomo revised their definition of "essential" businesses to include bike shops.  Not only is cycling one of the few outdoor activities in which one can engage in a dense urban area while keeping a safe "social distance", some essential workers, like food deliverers, use them to perform their jobs while others, like hospital employees, are using them to get to their jobs as trains and buses become more crowded due to service cutbacks.

As Alter points out, this crisis might finally show that bicycles aren't just a viable alternative to other forms of transportation; they should be considered integral parts of transportation planning.  Even after the virus is "defeated," many people will be reluctant to return to commuting in trains, buses or other shared vehicles.

That said, as I mentioned the other day, some shops (including one of my favorites) have chosen to remain closed, or to see customers only by appointment.  I understand their decision, just as I am happy that some shops have remained open.

The Right To Mobility

Are bicycles a human right?

The organizers of a workshop don't ask this question directly.  But they could have:  Their event, to be held on the University of California-Davis campus on 1-2 November, is concerned with "mobility justice."

The school's Feminist Research Institute is inviting "emerging scholars" whose work "engages issues of race and inequality in studies of bicycling and sustainable transportation."  These junior scholars and graduate students will discuss ways in which "complex systems of history, power and oppression affect people's movement and ability to live, work and play."  The goal is to make bicycling, along with "new mobilities" and other forms of sustainable transportation, "accessible and desirable to all."

This sounds interesting and necessary.  As I have said in other posts, bicycles and other sustainable forms of transportation are vital to our future for all sorts of reasons, from mitigating climate change to making cities more habitable.  But they're also vital, in some places, for giving people any sort of mobility at all:  Think of jungles and other rural areas where, even if people could afford cars and trucks, they wouldn't be able to use them.

Well, judging from what UC-Davis Feminist Research Institute says about its upcoming workshop, they seem to think mobility is a human right.  I would agree, and bicycles are certainly part of that.