Trying To Clear The Air

According to the World Health Organization, the cities with the world's worst air quality are clustered, with a few exceptions, in three areas:  India/Pakistan, China and the Middle East.

What most of the cities on WHO's list have in common is rapidly-developing economies, mainly in manufacturing and other highly-polluting industries.  However, one of the reasons why so many Chinese and Indian cities make the list is, ironically, the opposite of a reason why Middle Eastern urban areas are found on that same list.

That reason has to do with petroleum.  Countries like Saudi Arabia and Iran have lots of it, and use it.  On the other hand, while India and China are also petrol producers, they have also become importers because their industries and vehicular traffic have grown so much, and because their current oil reserves are more difficult to tap than the ones that have previously been tapped.  Plus, both countries are rich in coal, which is widely used as fuel as well as in making steel, a major export for both countries.

But it seems that even in parts of the oil-rich Middle East, there is some awareness of the perils of petrol dependency.  Some of them are, of course, economic:  What will they do when the oil runs out, or simply becomes too difficult or expensive to extract from the ground--or, for that matter, if demand for it decreases?  Other hazards of fossil-fuel addiction include--you guessed it--health hazards related to poor air quality.

So, perhaps, it is not surprising that the Netherlands Bicycle Partnership, a consortium of public and private organizations working with the University of Amsterdam, is working to encourage cycling in Tehran, the capital of Iran, as well as other cities (which made the WHO list) in the country.

The NBP, formed in 2015, works with local governments and organizations on sustainability issues.  It recently helped to devise a document designed to encourage cycling in the Iranian capital over the next five years.  The city is starting to take the steps necessary to develop the infrastructure and do the other things needed to meet the goals of the document.  This is significant because previous attempts to promote cycling failed, in part, due to the lack of said infrastructure--including bike lanes and ride-sharing programs.

It would be interesting--and gratifying--if an area with an economy so tied to petrol production can develop the sort of bicycle infrastructure--which, one imagines, could encourage bicycle commuting as well as recreational cycling--found in petrol-poor countries like the Netherlands, which has significantly better air quality in its cities.

(Interesting side-note: In Europe, the west generally has better air quality than the east--and the differences are stark.  In fact, there's a clear line between the two, and it roughly follows the old Iron Curtain.)

Lime In The Queen City Of The Southern Tier

If you have ever wondered what La Belle Siffleuse did, take a listen:




I mention Alice Shaw, not because she might be one of the world's few whistling virtuosas or for making one of the earliest known sound recordings, but because she hails from the same town where a fellow named Samuel Langhorne Clemens is buried.

How did Mark Twain end up in the ground in Elmira, New York?  The short explanation is that his wife's family had a plot (which couldn't have made him too happy) in the city's Woodlawn Cemetery.

Other justly and unjustly famous people have come from self-proclaimed Queen City of the Southern Tier. In more recent years, this city hard by the Pennsylvania border has fallen on hard times:  It now has less than half of the population it had in 1950, when it was a center for both manufacturing--which declined in the region--and railroads, which declined and nearly died everywhere in the US.  As if those losses weren't bad enough, it's been said that the city never recovered from the flood of 1972, which decimated residential as well as industrial areas.

I mention the city's hardships, not to denigrate it, but to highlight something it has in common with other areas that have a service that's about to come to Elmira.

I'm talking about Lime Bikes, the dockless sharing service with green bikes you just can't miss.  This summer, I saw them along the Rockaway Peninsula--both in the popular beach areas and in Far Rockaway, a long-depressed area where high-rise public housing looms over rather forlorn (but still, in their own way, charming) bungalows.  I also saw Lime Bikes in Yonkers, which has its share of affluent neighborhoods that fit the stereotype of Westchester County but also areas like Getty Square, which locals have dubbed "Ghetto Square" because of crime and general seediness.

I know that Lime can be found in thriving upscale (or, at least, young and hip) communities in other parts of the US.  But it's interesting to see them in poorer areas more established share services like Citibike seem to shun.  Lime also is making inroads into college campuses which, like the neighborhoods I've mentioned, are full of people who don't have a lot of disposable income. 

From A Eugenicist To A Bicycle Advocate: A School Is Renamed

During the past few years, all sorts of things have happened that I never thought I'd see in my lifetime.  

Here's another:  a middle school named after a bike advocate.

Really.  That school was commemorated yesterday at the ninth annual Bike Palo Alto.  

The school's namesake, Ellen Fletcher, served for many years as a councilwoman in the San Francisco Bay Area city.  Her advocacy is widely credited for making Palo Alto one of the most "welcoming" American cities for cyclists:  She campaigned, successfully, for safer bike paths and bridges in a community where over 40 percent of middle schoolers choose to pedal to school.

Ellen Fletcher, at the dedication of the bike boulevard bearing her name, in 2002.

With a role model like her, how could they not?  She owned a car--a 1964 Plymouth Valiant--but almost never used it.  In fact, she continued riding, both for transportation and recreation,until a year before she succumbed to lung cancer at age 83 in 2012.

Born in Berlin, she lived in a series of Jewish orphanages after her parents divorced. When the Nazis came to power, she and her father were deported because he was a Polish citizen.  They were slated to go to his native land, but was able to get to London through the Kindertransport program.  

A year before she died, she recalled seeing "everyone" biking in England.  She shared the enthusiasm the Brits had for cycling at that time and brought it with her to New York, where she emigrated--at age 17-- in 1946 and enrolled in Hunter College. There, she said, she was "the only one who had a bike on campus" and rode it year-round.

Shortly after graduating, she moved to the Bay Area and continued riding in one of the few areas of the US with a measurable number of adult cyclists.    Almost from the beginning, she was determined to put the bicycle on the radar of policy makers who, as she aptly noted, "were almost exclusively focused on cars." 

One of the early fruits of her labor came in 1982, when Bryant Street opened as the "Bike Boulevard."  It was renamed in her honor two decades later.

Palo Alto Bike, fittingly, followed Ellen Fletcher Bicycle Boulevard.  I don't know which Bryant was honored with the street, but the school renamed for her originally bore the name of Lewis Terman.  While his studies on giftedness and how intelligence influences health outcomes and other kinds of success made real contributions to psychology, his legacy is tainted for his advocacy of eugenics. 

Although there can be no justice for the Holocaust, I think there is some small measure of cosmic recompense in seeing a school named for him renamed for someone who might have fallen victim to beliefs he advocated.  

So He Can Live His Life

I was talking with the director of an organization that helps people with disabilities. She'd come to the college, where I was teaching at the time, to recruit soon-to-graduate students looking for jobs as well as volunteers.  During the course of our conversation, she mentioned that part of her organization's work involved workforce development.

She explained that, once on the job, people with disabilities--whether intellectual, emotional or physical--are no more likely to be absent or have other issues than non-disabled people in the workplace.  "In fact, they often are better"  because "their jobs mean more to them" she told me.

The hardest thing, according to her, is getting them into the workplace.  I thought she was referring to notions prospective employers might have about disabled people.  Those indeed exist, but the biggest difficulty is actually getting them to the workplace.  "They lack transportation," she explained.

Her organization is based here in New York City.  One would think that in a city like this, with all of its mass transportation, one could find his or her way to the job.  But even here, there are "transportation deserts" where the subways don't go and there are few or no bus lines.  Those areas include most of Staten Island as well as the outer parts of the other boroughs--even Manhattan. It's even difficult to get a taxi or Uber car in those areas--assuming, of course, the person needing transportation could afford either.

If transportation can be such a barrier in the Big Apple, it's worse in suburban and rural areas--in fact, most of the United States outside of the coastal metropoli and Chicago--where there is little or no public transportation and people are likely to commute greater distances.  If someone doesn't have a car, or can't drive, getting to work can be daunting, if not nearly impossible.

Having a disability makes it more likely for someone not to have a car or to be unable to drive.  (I used to know someone, in fact, who wasn't allowed to drive because he was classified as "legally blind" due to his lack of peripheral vision. He could--and did--ride a bicycle to work.)  That means either not getting a job or very long walks to work.

Jonathan Clouse with his new bike in front of his workplace.

The latter describes Jonathan Clouse's situation.  It took the 19-year-old an hour to walk to or from his job at an Applebee's restaurant in Burlington, Iowa.  He never told any of his co-workers, but one day Jerry Woodsmall, a cook at the restaurant, saw him walking in--soaked, after trudging through a thunderstorm.  

He spread word about Clouse, and he and his fellow employees pitched in to buy him a bicycle and helmet. For them, it was as much an expression of how they feel about him as anything else: "We all like Jonathan, and I think everyone deserves a chance at working," explained his boss, Lisa Gosney.

He is grateful for the opportunity--and the bike--which, he says, have opened up a new world for him.  "Why would anyone want a job?  So they can live their life," he said.

And his bike will help him with both.

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.

My Coffee Runs Are Nothing Compared To His!

When I was a NYC bicycle messenger, relatives, friends and others urged me to get another job.  "It's so dangerous!" they exhorted.

I hear that same admonition, sometimes, when people learn that I continue to ride in the Big Apple.  A few people I know have told me they used to pedal the pavement of the big city or spin their wheels somewhere else, but they stopped because it was "too dangerous".

Now, I know I have to be vigilant when riding in traffic.  And there are other hazards.  To me, though, riding in my hometown is no more--and probably much less--perilous than pedaling in other places.  

I know.  I have ridden in some of those other places.  None of them, however, is nearly as hazardous as what these folks traverse every day:

The border area between Sudan and South Sudan is one of the most dangerous places on Earth.  The climate, terrain and political situation make for a truly hazardous coffee run, to say the least.

I do not make that last statement lightly.  The bicycle traders in the video make two-day trips to get coffee, juice and other items that might not be available in their home villages.  

And I used to feel proud of going a few miles along sometimes-potholed roads for bagels!

Investment In Cycling In The Equality State?

Wyoming is the least populated state in the US. As a New Yorker, my perspective is that The Equality State has barely more people than Staten Island, the least populated of the Big Apple's five boroughs. And only Alaska is more sparsely populated.

Why is Wyoming nicknamed "The Equality State"?  Well, in 1869--twenty-one years before it became a state, and fifty-one years before the  Nineteenth Amendment was passed--the then-territory of Wyoming became the first government in the world to give women the right to vote.  The reasons for this have long been debated, but almost everyone seems to agree that one motivation was that Wyoming's legislators wanted their territory to become a state and, because there were so few people, women's votes were necessary to get Congress to consider the territory for statehood.

Cheyenne resident Dave Flores riding in his hometown.

But I digress.  Wyoming's stunning vistas and open spaces mean that people travel great distances for work, school or almost anything else in their lives.  So, getting the state to invest in bike or pedestrian lanes can't be the easiest "sell" in the world.  And that is what the Bicycle and Pedestrian System Task Force is telling the state to do.  

Although people often vacation in, or even move to, places like Wyoming because they believe the environment is pristine, there are environmental problems  not found in the larger, denser coastal cities.  Like neighbors Colorado and Montana, much of the state lies two kilometers or more above sea level.  Since the air is thinner at such high altitudes, it doesn't take very many vehicles to pollute the air. (Denver has some of the worst smog of major American cities.)  So, perhaps, Wyoming needs to encourage people to walk and cycle as much as, or more than, even Los Angeles--especially if more people decide to move there and enjoy its "rustic" charms.

This Price Is Right

$88 billion isn't chump change, even for Warren Buffett.

It's greater than the GDPs of about 50 countries, including Moldova, Kosovo and Rwanda.  Moreover, it's the value of a not-insignificant industry.

Now, when I say that something is "not insignificant" on this blog, you know it has something to do with cycling.  In this case, that $88 billion is the "economic impact" bicycles have on the United States.  

The fellow who pointed that out ought to know:  His state is one that benefits more than most from all of those bikes, parts, helmets and related items cyclists buy--and from related services.

He is David Price, who represents North Carolina's Fourth District in the US Congress.  That district includes much of "The Triangle," home to several leading universities and research laboratories--where one finds, not surprisingly, lots of cyclists.  

Also, right in the heart of that district is the headquarters of Performance Bicycle, one of the world's largest cycling retailers.  Their "command center" employs 200 people, while another 2000 work in its online store or retail shops.

It also just happens that some 35 bicycle equipment manufacturers are located in the Tar Heel State, as well as 229 brick-and-mortar retailers and 44,103 PeopleForBikes members.

I don't know how many people are employed by those manufacturers or retailers, but I'm sure that it's more than a few.  And that's just in North Carolina:  There are surely thousands, if not millions, more in the rest of the country.

So why is Congressman Price pointing out the economic impact of the bicycle in the US? 

David Price

He is part of the PeopleForBikes Summer Campaign, which includes a tour of bicycle industry companies and retailers.  The campaign, says Price, "highlights the impact that Federal infrastructure investment programs have in providing alternative modes of transportation that can enhance the quality of life in a community."  

He knows what he's talking about:  he is the highest-ranking Democrat on the Congressional subcommittee responsible for federal infrastructure investment.   Moreover, he is a member of the Congressional Bike Caucus who vows to "continue fighting for programs that enhance the cycling experience."

Of course:  If you "enhance the cycling experience", you just might entice people to leave their cars home for errands, shopping trips or even their daily commutes--and for day and weekend trips, or even vacations.  That will keep more than a few people working, I'm sure!

The Future In A Milk Crate?

Perhaps it has to do with having gone from living as a guy named Nick to a woman named Justine. Or maybe it's just a result of aging.

Although I still like long rides--and, sometimes, to pedal as long, fast and hard as I can--my attitudes about cycling have been changing.  Now I can see how arrogant and, frankly, elitist--at least when it came to cycling--I was not so long ago.  Sometimes I still find remnants of those old notions within me: I still get annoyed with riders (these days, many of them on Citibikes) who twiddle along and take up just enough of the lane or road to keep me from passing.  Those dilettantes!  But now I understand how such snobbishness--whether against riders who aren't kitted out in the latest lycra uniforms or bikes that aren't what riders in the Tour would ride--has kept bicycles from becoming the vehicles for change (pardon the pun) they can be.

To be more precise:  Such attitudes have kept people (like yours truly) from allowing the bicycle to transform our cities and our lives in, well, ways that would make our cycling more pleasant as well as practical.  Too many planners see planning only in terms of painting lines on a streets and calling them "bike lanes"; in turn, too many people see those lanes--as well as bike share programs as entitlements for privileged young people.  

As much as I love my nice bikes and rides, I know that if cycling has a future, it lies with the unemployed and minimum-wage workers who ride so they don't have to spend large portions of their incomes (or savings) to buy, maintain, fuel, park and repair cars.   It lies with people pedaling to their schools, offices and shops, and those who go for a spin with their kids or parents or neighbors at the end of the day--as well as those who want to have schools, offices and shops to ride to, and people to ride with.

Last year, I wrote about how city planners and non-profit groups came to recognize these facts, and re-thought what makes a city "bike friendly". They came to see that in Reading, Pennsylvania, where they were working, it meant creating a network of bike lanes that actually allowed people to pedal quickly and safely all over to the city.  They also realized that, in a poor post-indstrial city that has little mass transportation, they had to make bicycling more affordable and convenient for residents.  So, bike racks were installed on city buses, and when Reading's first bike shop opened, it concentrated on selling used bikes and affordable parts, conducting safety and repair workshops--and loaning tools.

Now, I don't know whether planners in Stockton, California have been paying attention to what the folks in Reading have done.  It seems as if they have been:  The city's latest plan calls for a series of bike lanes that will allow cyclists to pedal out of their neighborhoods and ride all over town.  But these lanes won't be just lines on the street:  They will be separated from motor vehicle traffic by barriers or raised medians.  In some areas, traffic lanes will be removed in order to make room for cyclists.

Whether or not the planners in Stockton followed the work of their peers in Reading, they at least seemed to be listening to the concerns of everyday cyclists like Alfonso Macias.  He is a 56-year-old farm worker who doesn't own a car.  Bungee cords hold a grocery crate to the rear rack of a bike he pedals to the store, where he buys the food he carts to his house.  Along the way, he has to share streets that don't have bike lanes, or even shoulders, with drivers who weave around him, or around whom he has to weave.  "Thank god I've never been hit," he says.

Now, he is cycling out of necessity.  Others, who could choose to leave their cars home and ride for errands and such, are deterred from doing so because of the hazards Macias faces.  Here in New York, people have expressed similar concerns, and even wondered how I could ride in this city's traffic. "Aren't you scared?," they wonder.

Even if people perceive cycling as more dangerous than it actually is, their fears need to be heard.  So must the concerns of folks who tie grocery crates to their bikes so they can go shopping.  They, not the wannabe racers encased in lycra, are the future of cycling.

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 Last Miles, The Longest Miles

Paris and Los Angeles are "the last cities standing", if you will, in the contest to host the 2024 Olympics.

Upon visiting each city, Olympic Committee members noted that the City of Light and La-La Land both had, among other things, already-existing venues for hosting events.  So, while hosting the Games won't be cheap, it won't be quite as expensive as it would be in some other cities.  In other places, the need to construct everything from new stadiums to housing for athletes has spawned opposition from citizens who believe the money could be better spent on, say, hospitals or schools.  Thus, everyday people as well as high public officials in the home of Impressionism and the kingdom of the silver screen support their hometowns' bids for the 2024 Games.

The Olympic Committee, of course, also found vast differences between Paris and Los Angeles.  One of them is the distances athletes, spectators and others would have to travel to and from events.  Although its officials are making efforts to develop a real mass transportation system and to make their town more bike-friendly, L.A. is still considered the capital of car-centered culture.  The City of Angels was founded in 1781, but it didn't become one of the major cities of the United States until about World War I--which, of course, is the time the automobile literally changed the region's, and the nation's, landscape.

Paris, on the other hand, is a pretty compact city.  It's almost exactly the same size as the Bronx (with nearly three times the population).  Thus, most people can walk, cycle or take take mass transit to work, shop or do almost anything they need to do, and arrive in their destinations within minutes.  Paris, of course, has one of the largest bike-share programs in the world, and no point in "Paname" is more than 500 meters from a Metro (subway) station.

That difference is emblematic, not only of the two cities, but also (to a large degree) the countries of which they are part. You probably wish, as I do, that more people would ride bikes to work.  In fact, you might wish that you were one of the people who rides to work.  If you are, you have a lot of company:  In various surveys, people have said they would bike to work if they lived closer and there were facilities like secure parking and places where they could wash up and change clothes.

The fact that this country depends on the internal combustion engine more than almost any other is what has led people to live further from their workplaces than their peers in just about every other nation.  (The Tri-State area has now become the Quad-State Area, and Las Vegas has become a de facto suburb of L.A.)  Let's face it:  Someone who lives 200 kilometers away from his or her job isn't going to ride a bike to work, even if he or she were capable of doing so.  

The fact that this country and culture are so auto-dependent has led to what is one of the most vexing ironies of transportation.  It can be expressed thusly:  "The last miles are the longest."  So, as an example, it could take someone an hour to go the 30 miles from home to work in his or her car.  But the last three or four miles might take up half of that commuter's time.

The reason is that the last part of the commute is usually the most congested part.  Even if someone commutes on a bus or train, that last part is the longest, especially if the commuter is headed for a large terminal like New York's Penn Station or Port Authority Bus Terminal--and has to take a local bus or train from there.

Longtime New York Times fashion photographer Bill Cunningham rides to work in 2010.

Some folks in Bedford, Massachusetts are aware of this phenomenon.  So, they came up with an idea to encourage more of their town's workforce to ride their bikes to their jobs:  They designated parking spaces near the town line for people who would, after parking their cars, pedal the rest of the way.  

A year after this program's implementation, more people are riding to work. Still, Selectmen Margot Fleischman would like to see more people avail themselves to the option of pedaling from the town line to its center, which takes less time than driving.  While she is thinking of the benefits (and possibly pleasures) of cycling, she is also thinking about traffic congestion in the town's center.

If more people are willing to follow the lead of those who park and pedal, the last few miles of a commute will still be the longest only because of the anticipation and dread of facing bosses, customers or whom- or whatever the workday might bring!

Men On Mixtes--And Women's Bikes--In Mosul

I bought Vera, my green Miss Mercian mixte, from a guy who had it built for himself after a hip injury and surgery.  

Now, I know some guys wouldn't be caught dead on a women's or mixte bike.  I was one of them, but not because of my insecurity about my gender identity, ample as that was.  You see, I wanted to ride only "performance-oriented" bikes and believed that mixte and women's frames weren't as stiff or strong as diamond "men's" frames.  The "stiff" part may well be true, but I haven't had much opportunity to compare diamond-framed bike models with their corresponding women's or mixte counterparts.  One reason is that many--particularly high-end--models come only as one or the other.

One difference I can find between the two types of frames in general is that diamond frames are generally more stable than those without a horizontal top tube.  I've especially noticed this when I've tried riding women's or mixte frames with fixed gears.  

Of course, another difference between the two types of frames is that the women's/mixte varieties are easier to mount.  That was, I think, the original rationale for such designs.  Sexism might have been a motive:  Perhaps bike designers and builders believed that we needed easier-to-mount bikes because we're the "fairer" (translation:  "weaker") sex.  Another reason for the designs was, of course, that at one time women almost always wore skirts or dresses, which make it more difficult (especially if the skirt is not flared or falls below the knee) to sling a leg over a top bar.

There are men, though, who ride women's or mixte frames.  I often see them here in New York.  Some of those guys are probably riding a bike they inherited for someone or got very cheaply.  Others, I suspect, are riding them for the same reason men in Mosul are on them.

That reason has only a little bit to do with the fact that women simply don't ride bicycles there.  Even before the Islamic State (ISIS) captured the city nearly three years ago, it wasn't done, though what I've read suggests that women not riding bicycles was more of a custom rather than the reult of an outright prohibition.  

Rather, men say they ride women's bicycles because they're easier to handle in the city's potholed,rubble-strewn streets, especially when cyclists are transporting food, medical supplies and other items.  The shop Mohammed Sabah Yehia recently opened on the east side of town, in fact, stocks and sells nothing but women's bicycles.

Mohammed Sabah Yehia in his East Mosul shop.

The way he entered the velocipedic trade is emblematic of what has turned Mosul, which is bisected by the Tigris River, into a city of bicycles.  He used to sell motorcycles on the city's west (of the river) side, where there was a flourishing bicycle trade, until his shop was destroyed during the ISIS offensive.  Then motorized vehicles were banned because of gas shortages.  

A campaign to take back the city started in October has resulted in the liberation of the east side of the city.  Since then, traffic has returned.  But police have been stopping and confiscating motorcycles because ISIS members have been using them. As a result, many men are weaving their bicycles through the throngs of cars to find stores, pharmacies and other establishments that are open.

On the west side, on the other hand, cyclists ride on traffic-free streets.  But that is not a result of city authorities trying to make their community more "bike friendly". Iraqi and ISIS forces are still fighting, and the former have barred cars--which the latter use as suicide vehicles--and motorcycles. 

Some cyclists from the east side--like Yehia--don't want to venture onto the west side "until it's secure".  They also avoid riding at night, out of fear of remaining militant "sleeper cells".   Still, for the time being, it seems that for all of the hazards, cycling will be the best way to transport people and supplies in Mosul.  And men will be riding women's bikes. 

Thinking About The Bicycle

Go to any residential college or university--or even to some commuter schools--and you will see racks full of bikes.  Where racks are lacking, bikes will be locked to lamp posts, fences and any other stationary object.

It's likely that the majority of those bikes belong to students.  Administrators don't seem to ride much, but more than a few faculty members (including yours truly) pedal from their homes to their campuses. 

Given how many bikes and riders are on American post-secondary campuses, it's astounding that so little academic attention is paid to them.  I don't recall any course about any aspect of bicycles or bicycling--or even any class that mentions them in any way--offered in any of the schools in which I've studied or taught.

Among that rare breed of academic offerings is something with an unlikely title.  At least, the first part is unlikely--for a college class, anyway:  Cars Are Coffins:  Ideologies of Transportation, offered at Adrian College in Michigan.

The emphasis is, of course, on the second part of the title.  The course in question "draws attention to how decisions we make concerning mobility and the design of our public environments have profound implications for how we understand community and identity," according to Scott Elliot, one of the course's instructors.  A study of such matters is important, he says, because it provides an "opportunity to discuss matters of justice, ethics and quality of life."

What makes that course unique (to my knowledge, anyway) is that it includes work in a bicycle shop.  The students dismantle, repair and reassemble bicycles, in part to make them intimately familiar (if they aren't already) with the mode of transportation they're studying.  Another reason for this work is that it brings students into contact with people and communities they might not otherwise encounter.  You see, the shop in which they work isn't selling carbon fiber machines with five-figure price tags to investment bankers.  Rather, it's ReBicycle, located in the same town as the college.

Adrian College senior Scott Campbell works on a donated bicycle under the guidance of  Scott Dedenbach, a professional mechanic who volunteers at ReBicycle.  Photo by Mark Haney of the Daily Telegram.

Like similar shops in other locales (such as Recycle-A-Bicycle, which I've mentioned in this blog), ReBicycle refurbishes used bikes donated to them.  Some of those bikes are sold; others are earned by people--including some students--who take their classes and volunteer in the shop.  Places like ReBicycle and RAB, as a result of such work, serve a wider cross-section of a community--from people who see bikes strictly as a form of transportation to those who cycle for fun, and a few as a religion--than bike boutiques.  

Elliott and fellow Adrian professor Tony Coumondourous taught a smaller but similar course for two years.  That effort helped to bring about Bruiser's Cruisers, the campus bike sharing program.  The increasing demand for the service and what the class was teaching were among the factors that motivated Elliott to continue and expand the course this year.

Another thing that spurred him on was an experience he had last July: "I was nearly killed when I was hit by a drunk driver while riding my bicycle".  If such an experience doesn't highlight how auto-centric transportation planning and infrastructure are (at least here in the US), I don't know what does.  

Interestingly, neither Elliott nor Coumondouros has any formal education or training in urban planning or engineering.  They are both professors of Philosophy and Religion:  Elliott is a Bible scholar and literary theorist, while Coumondouros is a specialist in ancient and political philosophy, the history of philosophy--and ethics.  So, not surprisingly, students in the bicycle course come from a wide variety of majors and backgrounds.

Talk to any scholar and educator, and he or she will probably tell you the purpose of research and education is not to "know stuff".  Rather, it is helping people to learn ways of thinking about a number of topics, including some students may not have previously considered.  From what I can see, Coumondouros and Elliott are doing that for their students, precisely because they had to do it for themselves.

Turn, Turn, Turn (And We're Not Talking About The Byrds)!

Until recently, I believed most bike lanes were designed by people who don't ride bicycles.  You may think I'm cynical, but I've ridden on too many lanes that ended abruptly ("bike lanes to nowhere"), had poor sight lines, let cyclists out into the middle of major intersections or were, for various other reasons, simply not any safer than the streets they paralleled.

Now I'm starting to wonder whether lane designers are acting under orders to reduce the population of cyclists.  I guess, for them, that's the easiest way to appease motorists upset that we're "taking the road away from" them.  

I mean, what other reason is there for this?



Had the bike lane continued in a straight line, or simply ended at that intersection, it would be safer for anyone who has to turn left from that intersection.  Instead, a cyclist riding through that loop has to make two sharp left turns almost within meters of each other in order to go where one left turn would have taken him or her.

And studies have shown that left turns are significantly more dangerous than right turns for motorists.  (That is the reason why, for example, all United Parcel Service delivery routes are planned so that the drivers make only right turns.)  What sort of diabolical mind would force cyclists to make two such turns in succession?

This strange piece of transportation "planning" was inflicted on the cyclists of Nottingham.  I thought planners in England knew better.  Oh, well.

Be The Ride You Want To Take

Published on Earth Day, 1971

We have met the enemy and he is us.

So spake Pogo in the comic strip that bore his name.  That quip is a twist on what Oliver Hazard Perry said after a naval battle:  "We have met the enemy, and they are ours."

There is at least one situation in which the enemy is both ours and us.  In particular, I am thinking about traffic jams--or, more specifically, being stuck in one.  I would guess that just about anyone in that situation thinks of him or herself as being stalled by--that is to say, the victim of--a traffic jam.  Does anyone see that, at the same time, he or she is a cause--however unwittingly--of that traffic stoppage?

From bluepearlgirl's world

You are not stuck in traffic.  You are traffic.  I can almost imagine someone using those words as a prelude to a saying that was not, contrary to popular belief, uttered by Gandhi:  "Be the change you wish to see." 

Whatever you think of any of those slogans, you have to admit that "You are traffic" sign offers some good advice:  Get a bike!

Grass On Top, Bicycles At Base: From The Vision Of Oculus

Here in New York, we (those of us who aren't architecture critics, anyway) learned of him from this:

Oculus lifts its wings just north of Liberty Tower, where the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center once stood.  It rises, like a cross between a ghost and a phoenix, above the transportation center that brings seven New York City subway lines, as well as the PATH system, together.

It lifts and spreads our vision over and across a plaza surrounded by tall glass and steel towers.  In a way, it's almost an inverse image of I.M. Pei's Pyramid in the Louvre courtyard, which directs our vision from a focal point above the ground and, like Oculus, spreads it, though toward the ground, in a milieu of cream-gray Oise stone walls.

Although I like Oculus, I think it's fair to criticize it for housing what is essentially a high-end shopping mall on the site of one of the worst tragedies in this country's history.  (Ironically, it sits in the same concrete bathtub as the 9/11 Memorial Museum, which is as muted and somber as the Oculus is light and airy.)  But I also feel that beauty, in any form, is a fitting way to honor victims of a horrific event.

Oculus' designer created another iconic transit hub twenty-six years ago.  In fact, it is now one of the busiest rail terminals in Europe.  But, in an ironic twist, this terminal, designed to facilitate the movement of people to, from and through a major city, has been plagued with congestion.  Now the architect who created the train station is going to add something to it that might help to alleviate that overcrowding, at least somewhat.

Santiago Calatrava, who hails from Spain but is now based in New York, has unveiled plans a grass-topped office block on the plaza of his Stadelhofen Station in Zurich, Switzerland.  His glass "twenty first century office building" will feature bulging walls with slanted angles at the corners that--to my eye, anyway--are somewhat evocative of the ribs that comprise Oculus.  There will be a triangle of grass on the roof.

But one of the most intriguing aspects of this planned building (and the reason why I'm writing about it on this blog!) is that the plan includes public parking for 1000 bicycles on the ground level.

With his plan, Calatrava becomes the latest in a growing number of architects to integrate cycling infrastructure into an otherwise commercial project.  If successful, it will have the benefit of making both cycling (particularly for transportation) and mass transit more convenient--or, to some, simply more palatable. Whatever you think of his designs, he ought to be commended for that.

Davis: Still Trying To Set People On The Path Of Cycling

"It was Portland before Portland was Portland."

That is how someone described Davis, California for me. 

 Today, when you ask people to name a "bicycle-friendly", they are likely to think of the City of Roses.  I will not quibble with its reputation:  Few American cities have done more to promote bicycling as a viable means of transportation (though, as in most places, some of those efforts have been misguided).  Portlanders adopted their first bike plan in 1973; after meeting its goals, which included 190 miles of bike paths, new bike plans followed in 1996 and 2010.

It should be pointed out, however, that Davis was developing a reputation as a bicycle haven as early as the 1950's, at a time when few American adults cycled--and Portland was still a lumber-and-mining town.  (When Bill Walton arrived to play with the Trailblazers, the local NBA team, he was dismayed to find a "redneck" burg.)  The local agricultural college had just become the University of California-Davis (UC's seventh campus); the city's flat terrain and warm climate as well as enthusiasm over a new educational project attracted a diverse group of people who were willing, well, to try something new.  

According to local lore, the real driving (pun intended!) force behind the city's pro-bike efforts were a family who returned from a year in the Netherlands in the early 1960s.  They found sympathetic ears in a newly-elected city council that, no doubt, saw bicycling as a way to promote their city as well as the new UC campus. In 1967, Davis striped what were claimed to be the first bicycle-specific lanes in the US.  

Other efforts and experiments soon followed, which included facilities  and ways of accommodating bicycles at traffic signals.   The university invented the bicycle roundabout, now used on many other schools, to handle the large number of bicycles on campus.  Today, the city of ten  square miles boasts 50 miles of on-street bike lanes the same amount of off-street bike paths.

Even after other cities have ramped up their efforts to make themselves more appealing to cyclists, Davis is still seen as a cyclist's paradise--at least, in comparison to other American locales.  A far higher percentage of its citizens cycle to work or school every day than in almost any other city of its population (67,666, according to a 2015 estimate).  Still, Susan L. Handy muses, "Perhaps even more interesting than the fact that so many people in Davis cycle is the fact that so many more don't."

Professor Handy is the Chair of the Department of Environmental Science and Policy at UC-Davis.  She is also Director of the Sustainable Transportation Center, part of the Federal University Transportation Centers Program.  She is probably  in as good a position as anyone can be to understand patterns of bicycle usage--and, more important, what might be behind those patterns.

She also uses what is, arguably, some of the best bicycle infrastructure in the United States. Still, she says it is not enough.  "[W]hile good infrastructure is necessary to get many people bicycling, it is not enough to get most people bicycling".  The experience of Davis would seem to bear this out:  Although a higher percentage of Davis workers ride their bikes to their jobs than their colleagues even in nearby Berkeley (home to another UC campus)  or Palo Alto (Stanford University), or in other campus towns like Ithaca, New York (Cornell University)  and Boulder, Colorado, the number for Professor Handy's hometown is still only 15 percent.  

Still more telling, a similar percentage of children cycle to their soccer games, even though most don't have to go very far.  

According to Professor Handy's research, whether or not children cycle to their soccer games is influenced by whether or not their parents also ride.  Ditto for whether or not they--or their older siblings who attend high school--ride their bikes to classes.  Of course, as in most places, whether or not kids ride to their high schools is also a function of whether or not they have drivers' licenses or access to automobiles.

Interestingly, according to the research, friends' and peers' attitudes about cycling have little or no effect on whether kids or teenagers ride to school or their soccer games.  Based on my own admittedly informal observations, I would say the same for whether or not adults ride their bikes to work.

Another factors that  helps to depress the numbers of cyclists who ride to school or work is the perception of safety:  People often express fear of traffic, crime or other factors.  (I often hear such anxieties expressed here in New York.) Perhaps not surprisingly, women express these fears more than men do.  And then there are those who simply don't like to ride bikes.

Nobody seems to know how to influence that last category. (I failed with a spouse and a couple of romantic partners!) They, like those who come from families who don't ride or worry about their safety, are not pedaling to work because of their attitudes about cycling.  And, as Professor Handy says, attitudes are even more important than infrastructure in getting people to forsake the steering wheel and grab a handlebar.

If there is anything discouraging about Professor Handy's conclusions, it is this:  She came to them in one of the few places in the United States with two generations' worth of "cycling memory", if you will.  In most other places in this country, most drivers have little or no idea of how to act around cyclists because they haven't ridden a bike  on a street, for transportation or other utilitarian purposes, since they were children--if indeed they even rode then.  In much of Europe, by contrast, far greater numbers of drivers are still cyclists, or have ridden recently in their lives.  And they are more likely to have come from families with at least one member who regularly cycled.  

I offer myself as an example:  I am the first--and, to date, only-- member of my family to regularly ride a bike beyond the age at which I could hold a drivers' license.  (I am also the first to do a number of other things, such as earn a high school diploma and college degree, and to do things that are the subject of my other blog!)   But I am an anomaly:    I simply found that I enjoyed riding and never lost that love.  I rode, even with a complete lack of infrastructure , very little cycling culture and few peers who rode. And I continue to ride. On the other hand, I have never been successful at enticing anyone to ride who wasn't already inclined to do so. The complaints and excuses were the same then as the ones I hear now.  

As Professor Handy points out, the real challenge is to change those attitudes--if they can indeed be changed.  She seems to think it possible.