50 Kilometers--For Dumplings?

Bagel runs.  Pizza runs.  Taco runs.  Crepe runs.  Beer runs. 

I have made all of those "errands"--usually, at night--on my bicycle.  Some of those trips spanned only a few blocks; others were considerably longer, like the rides I took from Rutgers in New Brunswick, New Jersey to Brooklyn for bagels.  It's not that decent bagels couldn't be had in NB or, more precisely, neighboring Highland Park.  I simply believed that the bagels in Brooklyn--at one place in particular--were the best.

And, of course, those 50 or so kilometers (depending on which route I took) left a bagel (or two) sized hole in my stomach.  

I've probably taken rides of similar length within the bounds of New York City to taste a food that, while available in whichever neighborhood I resided, was better in some ethnic enclave or another:  knishes from Mrs. Stahl's in Brighton Beach, dim sum in Flushing, jerk chicken in Flatbush and, of course, soul food in pre-gentrified Harlem.  Oh, and few things can cap off a winter trek like pho in Sunset Park.

So I fully empathize with four students who made a 50 kilometer late-night run from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng--for soup dumplings. Of course, those young people claimed that they weren't riding only for a midnight snack:  They say they also took in some cultural attractions in Kaifeng, a city that has served as China's capital eight times during a history that stretches as far back as the Athenian Empire.  I believe them simply because I would do the same--while sampling the local cuisine, of course!

That all would have been fine with the local authorities if the ride was limited to those four students, maybe a few more.  But news of the trip went viral on social media. As a result, the quartet would be joined by 100,000 other cyclists, mostly young.

To put that into perspective, the Five Boro Bike Tour, one of the world's largest organized rides, attracted 32,000 riders this year.  Some people complain because they lose "their" lanes and parking spaces when streets are blocked off, but otherwise there is little public or private criticism because the ride is planned well in advance.  Thus, people are prepared for the street closures and police have an easy time patrolling and protecting. (Plus, one assumes, they don't mind the overtime pay.) 

The Dumpling Run, on the other hand, was a spontaneous event. Thus, no one else was prepared for the ensuing traffic jams and other interruptions it caused and local officials were, needless to say, not happy. Nor were bike share administrators:  They had to shut down their networks because most of the riders used share bikes and the networks simply couldn't keep up with the demand.  Also, the ride led to a glut of share bikes in Kaifeng and not enough in Zhengzhou.

Then again, some local papers, like People's Daily, have praised the event.  They cite the "energy" and "spirit" of the ride, not to mention the boost to restaurants and other hospitality businesses.  I can understand:  I've pedaled 50 kilometers, and more, for art, history, culture--and food!

From Cars To Bikes, On A Highway

Twenty-five or thirty years ago, streets in Chinese cities were as choked with traffic as the Long Island Expressway (a.k.a. The World's Longest Parking Lot) during peak commuter hours.  The difference was, of course, that the throngs of people going to work or school in Beijing or  Shanghai weren't enclosed in four-wheeled motorized vehicles.  Instead, they were astride bicycles:

Westerners--especially Americans--were amused by the idea of "bicycle traffic jams."  The Chinese who were part of them, like people stuck in any kind of traffic jam, probably weren't (or so I would assume).  But within a decade or so, their problem would be "solved":  Instead of being surrounded by cyclists on their way to work, they would be stuck in automotive gridlock that would make a trip across the George Washington Bridge at 8 am seem like, well, a bike tour along la route departementale 618 from France to Spain.

Now some folks in Beijing are realizing that driving isn't always as quick or convenient as they'd hoped. They, especially the young are--you guessed it!--getting back on their bikes.

I haven't heard any reports of bicycle traffic jams like the ones the city experienced when few people had cars.  But city planners might be anticipating them--or responding to folks who want their bike commutes to be safer and more convenient.  To that end, construction on a 6.5 kilometer bicycle highway is set to begin this September.  

Because it will cross major highways, much of the bike route will be elevated.  There will be no traffic lights, and its use will be restricted to pedal bicycles without motors.  Moreover, it will have a gated entrance--a feature borrowed, along with others, from the world's longest elevated bike path in Xiamen.

That southeastern Chinese city was mainly a port city until three decades ago, but has morphed into a center for financial services and technology.  It has also become, interestingly, the city frequently cited as "greenest" or "most livable" in the country.  The influx of highly-educated professionals probably has something to do with that.

Those are the same sort of people who live and work in Zhongguancun, the district in the northwestern part of Beijing where the new bike highway will be built.  It's often called "China's Silicon Valley."  If the area's scientists, engineers, venture capitalists and creative people are anything like their counterparts in California, it's not surprising that they've taken to cycling--and want better conditions for it.

What I find fascinating is that the move from bicycles to cars and back has happened more or less within a generation.   Here in the US, the cycle has taken a century--that is, in those areas where there are people who ride to work and school, and for pleasure.

No New Bike Shares In Beijing

It wasn't difficult to see this coming: Beijing has banned all new bike-share bikes.

China's largest city has been bedeviled by the same problems as other municipalities where Ofo, Mobike and other private bike-share companies have set up shop:  bicycles are left haphazardly on sidewalks, around people's houses and even in the middle of intersections--or they've been stolen, vandalized or even destroyed.

It seems that the very advantage those share  companies offered--their chip-implanted bikes could be located with an app and left anywhere, and didn't have to be taken from or returned to docking stations--also made life easy for vandals, thieves and people who are simply inconsiderate of others.

Beijing is not the first Chinese city to ban new share bikes. Since it is the largest, though, it begs the question of whether similar bike share schemes in the rest of the country are doomed.  Moreover, these bans are taking effect just as similar programs are starting in municipalities outside China.     

In particular, I wonder about similar operations in the US:  Just last month, Ofo began operating in Seattle, as an example.  It seems that such private companies appealed to cities like Seattle, where an earlier city-funded bike share program failed, or other American cities that are reluctant to use public funding, or where corporations like Citibank (the sponsor of New York's Citibike) might be reluctant to invest in such a project--or where property or business owners don't want docking stations by their frond doors. 

In cities large and small all over the world, there is certainly a demand for bike share programs.  Now the problem seems to be one of how to make them useful and practical without creating nuisances or hazards. 

Bike Shares: The "Monster Revealing Mirror"?

I've head and read more than a few anti-bicycle (or, more precisely, anti-cyclist) rants.  Almost invariably, they say we are scofflaws who run red lights, thumb our noses at everyone in sight and run over puppies, kittens and people's grandmothers.

I'll admit that in my younger years, I was bolder and perhaps more reckless than I am now.  But I have never run over anyone's grandmother, or a puppy or kitten.  In fact, I've actually rescued a couple of little furry ones and stopped to help senior citizens with one thing and another.

And I'll also admit that however inaccurate the rants may be, I don't recall anyone--at least, not in this country or this time--blaming us moral decay.  I've been fingered as one of the agents in the breakedown of civil society and Christian values, and as a potential bad influence on young people--but not because I'm a cyclist.  Of course, I might not be the best example one can find for his or her children, but not for the reasons the blamers usually cite.

Anyway, I at least feel fortunate in that most of the time, I can cycle in relative peace, alone or with whomever I choose.  And I can make a case against the haters of cyclists by being law-abiding and well-behaved (mostly).  And I've listened to more than a few rants that ended with the ranter turning to me and catching him or her self:  "I didn't mean you.  It's those others--you know who I mean."

Now, you might think--correctly--that the ranters haven't been on bikes since they were kids, or at all, and they still can't wrap their heads around the idea that someone who's old enough to drive would continue to cycle by choice.  But cyclists--and bicycles--are getting the blame for "moral breakdown" and all manner of bad behavior in one of the first countries that comes to mind when one thinks about everyday adult cyclists.

I am talking about China.  There, bicycles--actually, a specific kind of bike and rider--are seen as the worm in the apple of their country's order.  

As I have mentioned in earlier posts, Chinese bike-share companies have pioneered systems that don't require ports and, instead, depend upon telephone apps and codes.  Borrowers can, therefore, leave their bikes anywhere when they are finished, and anyone who has the share company's app can find it, or any other available bike, wherever it may be.

Well, people are complaining that bikes are left literally anywhere, including in the middle of busy intersections, where they block traffic.  They've also been left on people's doorsteps or in their yards, and in any place where grandmothers can trip over them.

But some Chinese people aren't upset only because users of bike share programs are being inconsiderate of others.  Turns out, those share programs are taking business away from taxi and rickshaw drivers.  They, like those whose properties are blighted or paths are blocked by piles of abandoned bikes, are angry. It's believed that they are behind much of the vandalism and outright destruction of bikes, which includes setting them on fire or tossing them into dumps and rivers.  And bike vandalism isn't limited to the "strip and dump" variety:  individual parts are hacked and shredded, and the pieces are conspicuously displayed. 

(I am reminded of those hate crimes in which the victim is shot, slashed and burned.)

The Chinese response to the bike share menace, if you will, might reveal something about the difference between their culture--or, perhaps the way people see their roles and responsibilities in it--and what we see in the West.  When I hear an anti-bike or anti-cyclist rant here, it always goes in one direction:  against bikes and cyclists.  It is not in any way self-reflective, or even self-referential:  It begins and ends with blame of the bikes or cyclists.

On the other hand, some in China have described bike-share programs as the "monster-revealing mirror."  They believe bikes that are vandalized or block intersections expose the true nature of Chinese people.  Then again, no one seems to be saying that the phenomena I've described are indicators of anything new:  Nearly a century ago, writer Lu Xun assailed Chinese culture as boastful, cruel, selfish and servile.

Well...at least nobody in this country says such things about cyclists.  At least, not in the anti-bike rants I've heard.

Are Bike Share Programs Cutting Giant Down?

For most Americans, a "traffic jam" consists of throngs of cars and other motorized vehicles crawling or standing still on major streets or highways.  In many places, they are a regular feature of what is called--without irony--"rush hour": the times of day when most people are going to, or coming from, work or school.

Until two decades ago, Chinese cities also had traffic jams.  Instead of cars, though, their streets were lined with bicycles.  About the only way an American cyclist could experience anything like it without going to China was to participate in a large organized ride like the Five Borough Bike Tours, where there are sometimes "bottlenecks".

Then, as China became more prosperous, people who used to ride their bikes to work started to drive--to work, and just about everywhere else they could.  Now China was experiencing American-style traffic jams its their cities.

So, a few years ago, some Chinese went back to commuting and getting around by bicycle, as it is faster, especially in the central areas of many cities, than driving.  Once again, there are bikes all over Chinese streets.

It sounds like things should be really good for bicycle manufacturers, doesn't it?  I mean, can't you see Giant, which now makes most of its bicycles in China, just raking in the dough?  

Believe it or not, Giant's stock has more or less flatlined this year.  Its price is now just about the same as it was in December.  Two other major manufacturers, Zhonglou and Shanghai Phoenix, both experienced surges in late 2016 but are now worth less than they were at the beginning of this year.

Giant's listlessness, and the tumble the other two companies have taken, can be blamed to some extent on the China's economic slowdown, which is part of the reason why the Chinese are buying fewer bikes than they did in 2015 or 2014.  More to the point, though, is something that is causing bike sales to shrink in other parts of the world.

In China, as in much of the West, more and more people are riding bikes.  Yet fewer and fewer are buying them.  That doesn't make sense (I am really, really trying not to use the word "counterintutitve"!) until you realize that many new bike commuters and even recreational riders in Shanghai and Hangzhou, like their peers in Paris and London and New York, are riding bikes from share programs.  

Is this cutting Giant down to size?

According to industry analysts, one of the reasons manufacturers like Giant aren't benefiting from the growth of bike share programs is that their production and marketing have been oriented toward bike shop sales, which have been falling--in part because of share programs, and because the ones who have traditionally spent the most money in shops, namely bike enthusiasts, are doing much of their shopping on-line.  

What that means is that companies like Giant didn't, until recently, produce bikes with the apps and other accessories demanded by bike share programs.  Other, smaller manufacturers--including a few start-up companies--have stepped in to fill the gap.  For example, the bikes in New York's, Toronto's and Montreal's share programs are made by Quebec-based Devinci.  While the brand has a following, mainly for its mountain bikes, it is not nearly as well-known as Giant, whose website lists 25 dealers in the five boroughs of New York City, and as many in the surrounding metropolitan area.  Devinci's website, on the other hand, shows only one dealer in New York City (Brooklyn) and one other across the Hudson, in Bergen County, New Jersey.

One of the reasons why smaller companies can fill those voids is that they don't have as much invested in manufacturing facilities as the big companies.  As a result, they don't have to spend as much time or money re-tooling in order to meet changing demands.  As I have mentioned in earlier posts, one of the reasons Schwinn is now a shadow of its former self is that it was slow to adapt to the changing demands of cyclists.  One of the reasons for that was that Schwinn had so much invested in an aging factory and equipment that couldn't produce the lighter bikes adult cyclists wanted.  Paramounts were nice, but most people who took up cycling during the '70's Bike Boom were looking for something that was agile and functional, but wouldn't break the bank:  In other words, something like the Fuji S-10S or Nishiki International.

Could it be that bike-share programs will turn Giant, Specialized and other "giants" (pun intended) of the bike industry into dinosaurs--or Schwinns of the future?

This Bike Sucks. And That's A Good Thing.

How many times have we heard, or said, that the more people we get to ride bicycles, the cleaner our air will be.

But, you know, that's just one step.  Some of us--especially those of us who live in the major cities--are sucking up the very smog we're trying to combat.  We're not trees:  We can't just inhale the stuff tailpipes and smokestacks belch and exhale air that's as pure as the driven snow.

So what can we do?  Well, since people have used pedal power to sharpen knives, grind grain and generate power for everything from hair dryers to computers, Dan Roosegaarde figured that he could use a bicycle to clean the air.  

Yes, you read that right.  This bike has a mechanism that sucks in dirty air, filters it and lets out fresh air as the cyclist pedals down traffic-clogged streets.  Roosegaarde, a Dutch (what else?) artist and inventor, has designed a series of innovation to help curb air pollution, including a series of 23-foot high towers that essentially act as a massive air purifier.  

The Chinese government is supporting the development of the Smog Free Bicycle.  That makes sense when you realize China has both the largest and fastest-growing urban areas and bike-share programs in the world.  Two decades ago, the bicycle was practically a symbol of China; two-wheelers clogged the streets as impenetrably as cars and trucks clot those same thoroughfares, and those of large metropoli in other countries, today.

Roosegaarde says he wants to "bring back the bicycle, not only as a cultural icon of China, but also as the next step towards smog-free cities".

Keeping Kids Off Bike-Share Bikes

I haven't been to China.  At one time in my life, it was at the top of my "bucket list" of places to go.  That was after someone I knew spent a couple of months there about a quarter of a century ago.  She, like other visitors of the time, described it as a "land of bikes", where pedaled two-wheeled conveyances far outnumbered any other kind of vehicle "by about five hundred to one".  And she is an old-school New Englander who isn't given to exaggeration!

From what I heard, that started to change a few years later, as more Chinese people could afford automobiles.  I read accounts of bicycle-thronged streets that had become choked with cars ten or fifteen years later.  It seemed sad, but, really, no different from what happened decades earlier in the US and other places:  Once people had the means to drive, their bicycles were left to collect dust, or dropped in the dustbin.

These days, from what I've been reading, the bicycle has been making a "comeback".  A few years ago, Beijing's bike-share program seemed like a "bust", as automobiles came to be seen as not only symbols of prosperity, but as prerequisites to marriage, at least for some families.  But in cities like the Chinese capital, streets--particularly those in older neighborhoods--are narrow and in other ways ill-suited to automotive traffic.  Plus, thickening smog led to illness and in other ways degraded people's quality of life, and people found that their commutes were taking longer and longer due to snarled traffic.  

So the bicycle seems to be experiencing a renaissance in The Land of Dragons.  Beijing's bike share program is booming, as are those in other Chinese cities. (Of the world's 15 largest bike share programs, only two--those of Paris and London--aren't in China.)  And start-up companies like Mobike are eliminating the ports or docks other share programs use by offering an app that locates bikes that can be unlocked with a code that's sent to a user's phone.

Making bikes easier to access sounds great, at least for some people.  It has, however, led to some unintended consequences.  As someone who teaches and who didn't touch a computer until age 41, I know firsthand that kids are often more tech-savvy than their elders--in part because they have had access to the same devices, but at much earlier ages.

Using the Ofo bike-sharing app in Shanghai

Thus, a kid can access a bike-share or "Uber" bike as easily as anyone else can.  One problem is that Chinese law forbids children under the age of 12 from riding bikes on public roads.  But the consequences for a kid can be even worse than merely becoming a scofflaw:  Although bicycles are once again becoming a common sight, there is still a lot of motorized traffic on major thoroughfares, and even on side roads.  Adult Chinese cyclists, like their counterparts in other countries, have to exercise caution.  Even doing that, though, may not be enough to ensure a child's safety.

That point was driven home with the death of an 11-year-old boy in Shanghai.   While details of the tragedy haven't been revealed, we know that he was riding a bike from Ofo, one of the two main share companies in that city, on a busy road in the downtown area.  

Ofo is cooperating with the investigation and says it working on a way of deterring under-12s from using their bikes.  Some have suggested that the bright yellow color of its  machines (and the bright orange of Mobike, its rival) might entice young riders .  Others have said that Ofo, Mobike and anyone else who might enter the bike-sharing business should restrict access to their wheels in and around schools and other places frequented by children.

"Uber For Bicycles" Coming To Your Town?

As happy as I am to see bike-sharing programs, I have to admit that I haven't used one myself.  When I'm home in New York, I have my own bikes.  The Florida city where my parents live doesn't have a program and I have a bike (such as it is) there.  And, when I've traveled during the past few years I've rented bikes, even in cities (Paris and Montreal) that have share programs.

I rent bikes mainly for a few reasons.  One is that rental bikes are generally better than share bikes. Also, I figure that renting a bike is actually less expensive, given how much I ride, than using a share bike.  Finally, I would rather use my credit or debit card just once, when I pay the rental shop or agent, than to insert or swipe my card in a docking station every time I use a share bike. I'm no expert on cyber-security, but I reckon that the less often I have to use my card, the less vulnerable I am to theft.

But the main reason why I prefer to rent than to use a share system is that I like having the freedom to ride where I want, for as long as I want, without having to worry about finding a docking station.

Cyclists ride bike-share machines around Hangzhou's West Lake. 

During the past year a number of Chinese start-up companies, led by Mobike, have tried to solve the problem. Users of their services download an app that tells them where to find a bicycle, which they unlock by scanning the bike's code into their phones or using a combination they are sent. Then they can ride wherever they want or need to go, and leave their bikes wherever their trip ends.

Three years ago, Beijing's bike share program was deemed a bust.  Increasing affluence brought more cars, seen as symbols of prosperity, into the city and people started to see bicycles as primitive.  Now business is booming for the "Uber of bicycles", as the dockless bike program is called, in the capital as well as in other Chinese cities.

Share bikes piled up near entrance of Xiashan Park in Shenzhen.

In fact, some residents as well as officials complain that they can't park their own bikes when they ride to work, school or wherever because bikes from the dockless share program are parked, often haphazardly, in spaces designated for residents' bikes as well as in other areas--including, at times, the streets.  

Still, the proprietors of those startup companies want to export their service and expand the prosperity they have enjoyed.  They are looking at other Chinese cities, as well as municipalities in Europe and the US.  (Interestingly, of the world's fifteen largest bike share programs, thirteen are in China.  The other two are the ones in Paris, which comes in at number five, and London, which is twelfth.

While some would welcome an "Uber for bicycles", as the service is often called, others fear that they will suffer from the same problems of parking and congestion that are now seen in Chinese cities--especially since some of those places, like Hangzhou and Shanghai, have compact centers that contain historic districts with narrow streets.

N.B.:  Photos are from The Guardian.

Bike Share Bikes Seized In Shanghai

Drivers here in NYC all complain about parking, or the lack thereof.  

Some, it seems, simply don't drive their cars for that very reason.  Or, at least, I came to believe that after seeing cars parked in the same spot for months at a time.  I still recall the Cadillac Seville (the model with the slanted rear end) I saw parked on a Washington Heights street when I moved into the neighborhood. It was still in the exact same spot seven years later!

I've often heard that you "don't have to worry about parking" if you ride your bike to work or school, or for errands.  That's somewhat true:  It's certainly easier to park two motorless wheels than four turbo-powered ones.  Still, there have been times I wasn't able to park my bike:  I arrived at an office, store or other place, only to find that other cyclists had already locked their steeds the signposts, parking meters and other structures to which bicycles could be secured.

Apparently, in China, cyclists have an even harder time parking their bikes.  Residents of Shanghai have complained about that:  They say they can't find places to leave their own bicycles or electric bicycles because parking spaces designated for them are taken by...other cyclists.  

So far, that doesn't sound like much of an emergency.  At least, most people wouldn't see it that way.  The bikes parked in designated spots, however, are taken up with bicycles from bike-sharing programs.  

In Shanghai, there are hundreds of thousands of such bikes. People who use them leave them, not only in the designated spaces for residents' bikes and electric bikes, but also on the streets.  Sometimes they block traffic, especially in older areas of the city, where streets are as narrow as three meters.

So, city authorities have picked up about 4000 illegally-parked bikes--most of them owned by bike-share operator Mobike--and penned up in a public parking area.

Mobike, for its part, says it will cooperate with authorities, in part by paying a management fee to help with the problem.

A Way I Never Graduated

Today I managed to escape from grading papers for a couple of hours.  I pedaled hard even though, thankfully, I don't have to ride very fast to escape from papers, even the good ones.  It's nice to know that at my age, and after a winter of inactivity, I can still outrun something.

Exams are this week.  Some students will beg and cajole me to accept long-overdue work.  Their stories will get longer and more pitiful by the day.  Then, after I finish reading them and the exams--and dealing with the shock expressed by those students upon seeing the grades they earned for their late work--there will be graduations, where I teach and at other schools.  Some have had them already.

I didn't attend my graduation for my master's degree.  I don't think anybody in my class did.  I walked up to the podium, absurdly overdressed considering how hot it was and the fact that the gown covered what I was wearing, to get my bachelor's degree and high school diploma mainly because my family attended those ceremonies.   

While riding today, I wondered what it would have been like to pedal up to the podium.  Do schools have official policies against such things?  If they do, it's probably because they know people like me would snatch their sheepskins (or whatever those degrees and diplomas are printed on) and ride like hell, as fast and as far away as possible, from the ceremony, the commencement speakers who didn't say anything anyone would remember and all of the people I never wanted to see again. (I've never been to any of my class reunions.  Are you surprised?)

Or maybe I would've had more fun if I could have gotten my degree from the saddle (or ex cathedra).  Maybe if others did the same, we could have made a game of tossing our caps in the air: We could catch our own caps, or someone else's. Or we could dodge them.  Hmm...If you catch someone else's cap, will you end up marrying that person?

All right.  I'm sure that some school has a bike procession up to the podium, but I'm not aware of it.  It wouldn't surprise me to learn that in some college, everyone rode to his or her graduation ceremony and rode out of it.  Now that would make for some interesting group photos.

Turns out, my musings aren't so far-fetched after all.  Last year, some graduates of Liaocheng University in China posed for this:

From China Daily

They were lying on the lawn for this photo, taken in Shandong Province.  Maybe it was their final project for a degree in performing or visual arts.

Will The New Dissidents Be Cyclists?

I have not been to China.  It's one place on my "bucket list".

Not long ago, visitors to the Land of the Red Dragon marveled a the sheer number of people on bicycles.  One old acquaintance of mine showed me photos of a traffic jam in the center of Beijing.  There wasn't a car or truck in sights:  The streets were a serpentine wall of people on their bikes, most of which seemed to be imitations of English three-speeds or Dutch-style city bikes.  On some were attached, to the sides of the rear racks, baskets that seemed almost as large as the riders themselves.

From what I've read and heard, such sights were not unusual not very long ago.  I couldn't help but to wonder what the Long Island Expressway--often called "the world's longest parking lot"--would look like if rush-hour (Isn't that an odd name for a time when nobody's moving?) traffic consisted of Bianchis, Bromptons, Motobecanes and Treks rather than Buicks, BMWs, Mercedes and Toyotas.

While millions of Chinese people still ride bicycles to their jobs and schools, and to shop and run errands, four-wheeled vehicles with motors are replacing the two-wheeled variety that are propelled by their riders' feet.  (At least, that's what I've been told.)  To me, that begs the question of whether China will become a society dominated by the automobile, as the US has been for much of the past century, and what the country will be like if it ever come to that.

I recall a time when, at least in the US,  choosing to ride your bike when you could drive or be driven--or even if you were merely old enough to have a driver's license--was something of an act of rebellion.  I remember being seen as a cross between a geek and an outlaw because, during my senior year of high school, I rode my bike when just about everyone else drove to school.  I was also seen that way, I believe, by co-workers on the first couple of jobs I worked:  They did not pedal to the job, but I did.

Could the day come when riding a bicycle in China is similarly seen as an act of rebellion, or dissidence?  Of course, being someone who defies the established order has even greater consequences for someone who does it in China than for an American who protests anything.  

One such dissident is the artist Ai Weiwei, who created this installation: