What Color Is Your Lane?

What do Amsterdam and Austin have in common?

Well, they both begin with the same letter.  And they're capitals:  one of a nation, the other of a US State that was once, albeit briefly, a nation and sometimes acts as if it still is one.

Otherwise, I'd guess that they don't share much.  Then again, I haven't been to the Dutch city in a while, and I've never been to the center of the Lone Star State.

I have just learned, however, that they do share a trait that most people wouldn't notice, unless they were cyclists.  It has to do with bike lanes.

In New York, San Francisco and other American cities, they're painted green. That color was chosen because it stands out against the rest of the pavement and isn't easily confused with, say, a parking or bus lane. While it's great for visibility, it makes a bike lane more expensive to build and maintain because it's a coat of paint over asphalt, which wears away even when it's covered with a clear sealant.  Also, the particular shade of green used on bike lanes is more expensive to make than other colors.  

And there is another problem: Depending on the paint used, the surface can become slippery in wet weather. That might be one reason why Amsterdam doesn't paint its lanes green--or any other color.  Instead, a red  pigment is mixed with asphalt to yield a rather lovely terra cota hue.

Photo from the City of Austin

I don't know whether Austin's planners were looking to their Dutch counterparts when they designed their city's bike lanes.  They did, however, adopt the same system--and color--for the bicycle byways.  One reason is the aforementioned cost.  But just as rain wears paint away, so does heat--which, from what I understand, Austin experiences for months on end. 

While the terra cota shade is not the kind of red used to denote Texas politics, it's still rather ironic that the color is used on bike lanes in one of the state's "blue" islands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Dealing With A Transit Strike, The Dutch Way

When there's a transit strike in a US city...

All right, I'm starting off with an iffy proposition.  There aren't many US cities with real transit systems:  New York, Boston, San Francisco, Chicago and a few others. 

OK, so now that we've got that out of the way, let's proceed:  In a US city with a transit system has a transit worker's strike, what happens?

Well, if history (at least here in NYC) is any guide, the city will try to make it easier for cars to enter and park.  A road shoulder or part of a bridge might be designated as an ad hoc bike and pedestrian lane.  And, given the way things are today, the city just might grant more Uber permits.

Now you might think I'm being cranky and cynical. (I am a New Yorker, after all!) But we all know that when it comes to bicycling or transportation, the most forward-thinking American cities might do something the Danes or Dutch did twenty years ago.

Yesterday, transit workers went on strike in the Netherlands.  Yes, in the whole country, not just in Amsterdam or Rotterdam.  That work stoppage involves, not only train and bus operators, but all other workers in those areas, as well as on trams and ferries.

That last item is important because Amsterdam isn't the only part of the country that's laced with canals. Also, the geography of the capital and other Dutch cities means that getting from one part of town or another often involves crossing a body of water.

So what did authorities in Amsterdam do?  They closed the IJ Tunnel--an artery as important to the city as, say, the Brooklyn Battery, Queens-Midtown, Lincoln or Holland (!) tunnels are to New York--to "fast moving" traffic.  They then opened the mile-long tube, which connects the center of the city with its north end--to bicycles.  Pedestrians, though, still aren't allowed.

The way commuters are howling over the prospect of congestion pricing, can you imagine how they'd react if any of those tunnels were opened to cyclists?

Finding Its Way

So you thought all of the completely pointless high-tech innovations came from Silicon Valley types with too much time on their hands?

Well, here's one from Amsterdam.



As we all know, just about everything is legal there--including some mind-altering substances.  (The beer is pretty strong, too!) So, it's not hard to imagine someone coming up with a self-driving bicycle after inhaling.

Of course, as so often happens with such inventions, its creators didn't think about its target audience.  After all, who would have any use for a bicycle that doesn't need humans?

Still, I understand that sales are brisk...

No More Beer Bikes In Amsterdam

Within the past week, I've read articles in The Atlantic and Vanity Fair about Tim Piazza, a Beta Theta Pi pledge at Penn State University.  Those articles confirmed what I have long suspected:  Even though the legal drinking age is 21 almost everywhere in the US, and even though national fraternity organizations (and, often, college and university administrations) claim that "hazing" is not allowed and that fraternity recruitment programs are "alcohol free", the booze flows freely and pledges are often treated terribly.

I can only imagine what would happen if those frats operated in Amsterdam--and, more specifically, had access to something that's been part of its landscape for some time.

I'm talking about the "beer bikes", so beloved by stag parties and other (mostly male) groups who do all manner of things in the Dutch capital (and in other places) they would never do at home.

The "bike" is really more like a cart with pedals.  Whatever one calls it, it's essentially a rolling bar, or at least a rolling beer garden.   Not surprisingly, users of the beer bikes, almost all of whom are tourists, often become rowdy and, to put it politely, have difficulty navigating those vehicles.

So it's also not a surprise that they have become almost as despised by residents of the city as they are beloved by revelers.  Last year, then-mayor Eberhard van der Laan, who died last month, heard the collective cries of "Genoeg is genoeg!" (All right, that's a Google translation.) and instituted a ban on the beer bikes.  

That ban was challenged by beer bike operators and struck down.  However, the other day, the Amsterdam District Court agreed with the ruling.  It took effect the other day.

It's been a long time since I've been in Amsterdam and, I admit, when I was there, I was probably was in an even more altered state of consciousness than most patrons of the beer bikes.  Still, I remember the narrow streets that run alongside, and are punctuated by, the canals.  As I recall, navigating some of those streets is difficult even for sober cyclists, pedestrians and drivers.  And if I had to get up and go to work every day in "The Venice of the North," I probably wouldn't be too happy about losing sleep to, and weaving around, loud drunks.  So, I think I can understand and sympathise with those who wanted the ban.

Now, whether it will curb some of the "undesirable" tourism some city leaders and other residents lament, I don't know.

What If They Took Out The Traffic Lights?

Here's an experience that's in the "Don't Try This At Home" category:

Once, years ago, a NYPD officer pulled me over for riding through a red light on Broadway, just north of 23rd Street, in Manhattan.  He lectured me about how traffic lights are for everyone, and that I could endanger myself or others by not heeding them.  

At that time, I, as a cyclist, was even more of a minority than I am now.  Moreover, I was a messenger on duty that day, which made me even more of an outcast.  So I was not expecting that officer to understand what it was like to ride on city streets, let alone have any sympathy for me.

But I pointed out that I went through the red light ahead of two trucks that turned right when the light turned green.  Had I waited for the light, I could very well have ended up underneath one of those vehicles.

He put his pen down and looked at me.  I had the feeling he didn't trust me; after all, he'd probably heard all sorts of things from people who were trying to talk their way out of traffic summonses.  After what seemed like an endless silence, he said, "OK.  Just be careful."

"Good day, officer."

Now urban planners are starting, however slowly, something that cyclists have long known:  Following traffic signals doesn't always ensure a cyclist's, or a pedestrian's safety. If anything, at times--such as the situation I described--it can actually endanger us.  

Part of the reason for that is that, according to at least one study, signals can actually make drivers less attentive to their surroundings.  According to proponents of this idea, having fewer demarcations such as traffic lights, kerbs/curbs, traffic signs, road surface markings and regulations actually encourages cyclists, pedestrians and motorists to negotiate their movements with each other, usually through eye contact or hand signals.

The late Dutch traffic engineer Hans Monderman was one of the chief proponents of this urban planning concept, commonly known as "shared space".  His studies found that traffic safety and efficiency increased for all when public spaces were redesigned so that cyclists, motorists and pedestrians had to negotiate their movements with each other.  He went so far to say that the safest roads are those with the fewest marking, signs and traffic lights.

Meredith Glaser probably had his work in mind.  She's a researcher at the University of Amsterdam's Urban Cycling Institute (Can you imagine such a thing in the US?), which did a study of cycling in Alexanderplein, a busy intersection near the center of Amsterdam.  According to the study, about 40,000 cyclists ride through it every day--6000 an hour during peak times.  In addition, many pedestrians, automobiles and streetcars tranverse the crossroads every day.  

Institute researchers then asked 200 cyclists what they thought of the intersection.  "Chaotic" and "messy" were the most common responses.  Most said more traffic lights were necessary.

However, the researchers knew the city had a different plan:  The lights were shut off in May of last year.

While the lights were off,the researchers returned and asked another 150 cyclists for their thoughts.  About 60 percent said the intersection worked better without the signals.    The city's technical study found similar positive results, and no increase in the number of accidents.  In September, the city decided to remove the lights altogether, citing the fact that trams were not delayed and motor delays were cut in half.  In addition, bicycle traffic jams, usually caused by signals, were all but eliminated.

In the intervening year, the city has done similar things in other spots, with success.  Glaser thinks this could be a model for other cities in the world.  So does Dongho Chang, the Chief Traffic Engineer for the City of Seattle. "In an urban environment, you don't want a driver to be zoning out," he explains.  "You need them paying attention and looking for the unexpected."  He points out that only 8 percent of his city's intersections have traffic lights, but they account for 51 percent of accidents over the past 13 years.

Now, one obvious explanation is that the signalled intersections are the most heavily-trafficked and tend to have the most complex or complicated configurations.   Chang concedes as much, but also says that in such intersections, signals lead to dangerous behaviors such as speeding through a yellow light or accelerating quickly from a green.

Chang's, Glaser's and Monderman's points are well-taken.  However, they (perhaps surprisingly, in the case of Chang) fail to take into consideration something I, and other cyclists, know from experience:  Few American drivers have the level of awareness of cyclists most Dutch--or, for that matter, European--drivers have.  Seattle's drivers might be among the exceptions (I don't know:  I've never cycled there) but it's hard to imagine that even they have that level of awareness I found even in Montreal, less than an hour from the US, let alone cities in France, Belgium or the Netherlands.

Still, the work of the researchers and planners I've mentioned helps to indicate a greater truth:  Most cycling infrastructure, as it's currently planned, constructed and maintain doesn't make cycling--or walking or driving--safer.

How Do You Sell Cycling In Amsterdam?

You've probably heard the expression, "He/She could sell snow to the Eskimos/Inuits/Laplanders/any other native of a cold climate".

Believe it or not, Snowbrokers was "set up a few years ago to service the need of online snow sales for the Inuit community of Alaska".  Wow!  I wish I'd thought of that!  I guess it's another one of those opportunities to get in on the ground floor of something that'll reach the sky that I missed.  

Then again, people have come up with even crazier ideas for businesses. Like an Uber for hitmen:  surge pricing is always in effect.  Or an online social network for people who don't use the Internet.  Or one of my favorites:  an a capella singing group that only does death metal covers.  All right, that's not technically a business idea, unless you believe that performers start groups only in the hope of making money. (And we all know that no performer with any integrity would ever think of that, right?)

OK, so at least we know  Snowbrokers, Uber for hitmen, the social network and the a capella groups are jokes--just like the Swiss Navy. (I didn't find out until I tried to join! ;-))  Unfortunately, there are some things that sound like jokes but were conceived without irony or mirth, such as The Flat Earth Society and more than a few political campaigns. (Of the latter, there are some that we wish were jokes.  I won't mention any names as I am trying to remain, ahem, apolitical.)  Oh, and a Creationist theme park.

Hmm...Would all of these schemes have been funded by selling snow online to Inuits in Alaska?  Hmm...Maybe the Samis of Norway would be a more lucrative market.

Or, perhaps, selling cycling in Amsterdam.

Anna Luten, Amsterdam's "bicycle mayor"

"It is harder than it sounds," says Anna Luten.  She would know better than perhaps anyone else:  She is the "bicycle mayor" of the Dutch capital. She was chosen for the voluntary position (Her "real" job is that of brand manager for Giant's LIV line of bicycles for women.) last month by a jury of city officials and bike advocates.  

In a city where there are as many bicycles as people, "Cycling is so normal for us that it becomes boring for us, and we neglect it," she explains.  Because cycling is  "not an identity like it is in other countries, it's just the way we get around", she says, in essence, that cyclists take their position ("because we ride a bike we own the roads"), and that of the city as a bike haven, for granted.  Amsterdam's cycling infrastructure "has to improve for future generations", she asserts, because "There are almost too many cyclists and bikes."  If things continue as they are, she says, "people will stop cycling because it won't be safe".

People will stop cycling because there are too many bikes on the road?  That makes me think of Yogi Berra's observation about a restaurant:  "Nobody goes there anymore because it's too crowded".

Seriously, though:  She has a point.  I mean, in how many other cities  are there bicycle traffic jams?  (In New York, where I live, and other cities, one of the reasons why we ride to work is that we can pedal around traffic jams instead of getting into them!)  Also, because so many people ride to work, there aren't enough ferries, bridges and tunnels to take cyclists across the city's waterways.  Starting more ferry lines isn't an ideal solution for those who depend on their bicycles to get to work, as the ferry rides --though picturesque and free for commuters-- are time-consuming.  Building a new tunnel would be a very expensive and lengthy process, given the city's marshy soil.  And talk of building a new bridge angers harbor boat operators, who fear they--especially those who conduct cruises--could lose out.

Finally, for all the publicity Amsterdam receives as a cyclists' utopia, one only has to cross the city's boundaries, or go into neighborhoods like Nieuw West with large immigrant populations-- to find people who don't share Anna's--and other Amsterdamers'--connection to the bicycle.  Many of the immigrants come from places where people (especially women) didn't ride bikes. Others simply see cycling as unsafe and drive their kids to school. "[W]hen those kids hit 16, they get motor scooters, not bicycles," says Maud de Vries, who runs the Cycle Mayor program.

(I noticed something similar in Paris:  When I cycled through la Goutte d'Or,  into suburbs like Saint Denis and Montreuil (not to be confused with Montreuil-sur-mer) or even the bike lane on Boulevard Barbes, I did not see any other cyclists. In fact, I saw  motor scooters--and a lot of pedestrians--in the Barbes bike lane.)

Some would argue that Copenhagen has overtaken Amsterdam as the world's most bicycle-friendly major city.  To Anna Luten, "the rivalry isn't important, so long as each city is a good place to cycle."  Her efforts, and those of people like Maud de Vries, come from the belief that "cycling has the power to transform".  Such a transformation, she says, would mean that there are "more cities like Amsterdam, where cycling is so normal and accepted that we are not even aware of it."

Then, maybe, no one would have to sell cycling in Amsterdam--or anywhere else.

Fishers Of Bicycles

If you grew up in Brooklyn during the 1960s and early 1970s, as I did, you heard stories about the Gowanus Canal.  One such tale held that it was the Mafia's necropolis:  Under the cover of night, hitmen hauled bodies from car trunks and tossed them into the turbid water.  The sheer number of such corpses, according to the legend, accounted for the foul smell that wafted from water as lifeless as the bodies submerged in it. 

A variation on this urban myth said that one reason why the "mob" chose the canal as its graveyard is that the chemicals in the water dissolved those bodies, effectively making their benighted owners disappear from the face of the earth.

While I must admit that I don't find such stories wholly implausible, I must also add this bit of historical fact:  Mesopotamians built the earliest known canals about 6000 years ago, while modern sewer systems have a history of not much more than a century.  Thus, almost any body of water could turn into a dump for everything from agricultural offal to industrial waste.  Really, just about anything that any person or company wanted to dispose could end up in a river, lake, ocean or canal.  

Yes, anything--including a bicycle.  A onetime riding buddy confessed that a bike he no longer wanted and couldn't sell "ended up" at the bottom of Jamaica Bay.  I have no doubt that thieves similarly disposed of bicycles they couldn't fence or simply didn't know what else to do with.  And I'm sure that more than a few people have tossed bikes into the nearest stream along with household trash.

via">http://giphy.com/gifs/bike-bicycle-amsterdam-3o85xAnA3oeurjxQRi">via GIPHY

Apparently, the latter fate seems to befall two-wheelers in Amsterdam.  So many bikes piled up in Amsterdam's canals that, by the 1960's, they were scraping the bottoms of boats, according to Diane Kleinhout.  She is a spokesperson for Waternet, an agency in charge of keeping the canals clean.  In the agency's attempt to clear out bikes--as well as scooters, wheelchairs, shopping carts and other wheeled items--Waternet employs bike fishermen.

Yes, you read that right.   The job of Richard Matser and Jan de Jonge is to use a huge hydraulic claw to trawl the canal's waters and base for the old bikes and other debris.  Their job has been compared to sticking your hand into a sink full of sudsy water and groping around blindly, with your fingers, until find a spoon or whatever you were looking for.  When the "fishermen" find a bike, they pull it out of the water and load it into a barge behind the claw.  Eventually, the bikes and whatever else the "fishermen" pull up will go to a recycler.

De Jonge says they "catch" about 15,000 bicycles a year.  Given that there are about two million bicycles in Amsterdam, that is a small percentage. Still, no one knows why that many bikes end up in the city's waterways. Some are attributed to thieves.  Ironically, in a city where, it seems, everybody rides bikes, two-wheelers don't get the same reverential treatment that American bike enthusiasts lavish on them.    Utility bikes can be bought for very little money; repairing them can cost more, so--according to one theory--people simply chuck them.

Where Did I Leave It?

New York City is one of the few places in this country where large numbers of people don't own, or even drive, cars.  I am among them.

It's pretty easy to tell those who drive from those who do: The latter complain about the lack of parking.  Someone with whom I used to work said that in his vision of Hell, he is doomed to forever roam the streets of Brooklyn in search of a legal parking space.

(Hmm...Would Dante have included that if he were writing The Inferno today?  If so, which circle of Hell would it be?)

That got me to wondering whether cyclists have the same problem in places where almost everybody rides.  After all, I have had to park my wheels a block or even more from my destination because there wasn't an unoccupied sign post or parking meter--let alone a bike station--where I could lock up my machine.

What do they do in Amsterdam?

From Danasaurus

Hmm...Now where did I park?