Real Cities Have....

 Earlier this week, New York City Mayoral candidates Eric Adams and Curtis Sliwa debated.  The latter, best known as the founder of the Guardian Angels, expressed one position I wholeheartedly agree with:  his stance on animal welfare.  He said that, if elected, all of the city's animal shelters would become "no kill" shelters.  He deemed it "barbaric" that there are still horse-drawn carriages on city streets.

The only purpose those animals and carts serve is the amusement of tourists around Central Park. Thus, his wish to ban them is, I believe, well-founded.  The same cannot be said for his stance on bike lanes and traffic.  He believes there's a "war on cars" on this city, and has vowed to remove bike lanes in neighborhoods where they're less-used.

I think, like any good politician--which is what Sliwa has always been--Sliwa is echoing his supporters, many of whom believe that "their" streets and parking spaces are being stolen, "invasion of the body snatchers-style" by terrible, evil cyclists.  

Apparently, that sentiment echoes in other cities:

  You can't even go to South Water Street in Providence anymore, at least not without wearing a bulletproof vest and duct taping AirPods to your ears.  Nothing screams "thug" like a skinny person in bicycle shorts.

Dan McGowan obviously doesn't think that way.  He followed that paragraph in his Boston Globe editorial with this:  Said absolutely no one ever.  He used his platform to praise outgoing Providence Mayor Jorge Elorza for building bike lanes and in general planning with the recognition that the future of his city, and others, cannot be car-centric.  Those efforts, and similar work by other officials, led McGowan to this conclusion:  Real Cities Have Bike Lanes.

Bike lane on South Water Street in Providence.  Photo by Barry Chin, for the Boston Globe.

He is partially right.  Bike lanes can be an integral part of a city's infrastructure and thus encourage cycling if those lanes are well-conceived, -designed and -constructed.  They need to make cycling safer by taking into account the actual experience of cycling on urban streets or county roads. (As an example, the lane has to be built and traffic signals coordinated so that cyclists can proceed through an intersection, or make a left turn, ahead of right-turning motorists.)  And those lanes should be practical:  They should enable cyclists to pedal from their homes to schools, workplaces, shopping areas and other common destinations.  I've seen too many bike lanes that begin in seemingly arbitrarily locations and end abruptly.  

So, I would amend Dan McGowan's conclusion with one word:  Real cities have practical bike lanes.

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.

Happy 100th Birthday, Jane Jacobs!

In general, what is good for pedestrians is good for cyclists--in urban areas, anyway.

Or, to put it another way, cities that are good for cycling are also usually good for walking.  Such cities usually have stores, services and other amenities that most people can reach without having to drive:  food stores, theatres, doctors' offices, floral shops, schools and book stores are accessible by bike, foot or mass transportation. 

While said retail establishments might include large supermarkets or department stores, they aren't the only options.  Stores in the kind of neighborhood I have just described often specialize in some thing or another, whether it's fruits and vegetables (possibly organic), hardware or housewares, biographies or practical bicycles:  the sorts of things that still often aren't available from big-box stores or online retailers.

Such communities also foster diversity, whether in gender identity and expression, race, ethnicity, income levels, cultural practices or education--in theory, anyway.


By "in theory", I mean in the world Jane Jacobs described in The Death and Life of Great American Cities.  When it was published in 1961, New York's Penn Station was about to fall to the wrecking ball, only to be replaced with a grim, cramped public space that shares only the name and ostensible function of its predecessor.  And, at that time, American metropolises, as well as some cities in other parts of the world, were doing everything they could to follow the vision of planner Robert Moses-- who envisioned cities that were vehicles, if you will, for the automobile (If he'd had his way, downtown neighborhoods like Greenwich Village, Soho and Little Italy would have been bulldozed for an expressway that would have torn through lower Manhattan from the Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridges in the east to the Holland Tunnel in the west)--and of Le Corbusier, the Swiss-French architect who called for bulldozing downtowns to build skyscrapers interspersed with parks.




Both Moses and Le Corbusier saw traditional neighborhoods as vestiges of the past that impeded progress.  A street, in the words of Corbusier, was  a "relic of the centuries, a dislocated organ that can no longer function".  While people-watching could be fun, it could not compare, he said, with "the joy that architecture provokes".

Now, I like architecture as much as anybody does, if I say so myself.  But a necropolis of towers directs the eye away from the street, and a monochromatic cityscape can only deaden the senses.  I can't help but to think that adding more drivers to such a scenario wouldn't make a city safer, let alone more pleasant, for pedestrians--or cyclists.

While Ms. Jacobs' work has had unintended consequences--She saved the Village and Soho, but who can afford to live in them anymore?--there is little doubt that she has made life better for those of us who ride in large cities.  For that, we owe her a debt of gratitude.

She, who would have been 100 years old today, died in 2006.  Needless to say, her legacy lives.

I should mention that she was a cyclist:  She was often seen pedaling the streets of the Village and, later, Toronto.  Are you surprised?

 

The Bike Czar In A Black Dress

In the past decade or so, cities all over North America and Europe have tried--sometimes in misguided ways--to encourage more people to ride bikes to work and school, for shopping and for fun.  Lanes have been built, share programs started and commissions and committees organized or appointed--and organizations consulted--for insights into what would lure people out of four-wheeled vehicles and onto two-wheelers.  In some cities, these efforts have been followed by (if not resulted in) rapidly-increasing numbers of cyclists.

Atlanta, it seems, has not been one of those cities.  Nearly three years ago, Mayor Kasim Reed set a goal of making  his city one of the most "bike friendly" in the US by this year.  Much to his credit, he has worked hard toward that goal in a city with some of the worst traffic and longest commutes in the nation.  But,  a torrent of anti-bike backlash caused the Georgia Department of Transportation to remove bike lanes from its plans to re-stripe Peachtree Road, one of the busiest thoroughfares in the city.  And the bike share program, scheduled to begin before the end of 2015, now won't launch until this coming summer.

On the other hand, Dogwood City has just made a bold move that no other community--no, not even Portland or Minneapolis--has ventured.  One of the problems in most cities is that bicycle lanes and other infrastructure come under the purview of the local Department of Transportation or its equivalent.  Because there are many more motorists than cyclists (yes, even in the Rosebud and Mill Cities) and because bicycle infrastructure commands relatively small sums of money, bicycling is usually not a high priority in most DoTs.  In most places, there is not a full-time planner, engineer, organizer or lawyer who deals exclusively or even mainly with cycling-related issues.  Thus, there is neither an advocate nor an ombudsman for cycling in most places.

It looks as if "The Big Peach" might have solved that problem.  Last month,  the city hired Becky Katz as its first Chief Bicycle Officer.  The Atlanta Bicycle Coalition made the position possible, in large part, and received a five-year grant from the Atlanta Falcons Youth Foundation to help fund it.  The city has promised to add additional money.

Becky Katz

I knew nothing about Ms. Katz until I read about her appointment today.  If nothing else, she has firsthand knowledge of what cyclists in "The Big A" face:  She is a cyclist who, last year, was rear-ended by a motorist while she was riding on a wide street with low traffic.  The impact tossed her onto the windshield, where her helmet shattered the glass and she broke a shoulder socket  and wrist.  Her bike was totaled. 

Within two months, she'd bought another bike and was on it, even more determined to make cycling safer and more accessible in her city.  "Within moments [of being struck], I was thinking, 'this has got to be better.'"  She also realized that making streets safer for cyclists would also mean making them safer for motorists.

Since becoming the city's bike czar in October, Katz has been focusing on gathering data about cyclists--where and when they ride, where there are crashes and which roads are most stressful to cyclists and pedestrians.  "Data builds a strong case for why bike infrastructure can help all users of the road," she explains.

It may also--I hope--Atlanta avoid some of the mistakes other cities have made.  If it does, the delay in starting the bike share program or cancellation of bike lanes on Peachtree Road may turn out to benefit the community of cyclists in the Empire City of the South.

The Dangers We Face In Cities

A common misperception about cycling, especially in cities, is that the hazards cyclists face are self-inflicted.  Some media outlets, such as Faux, I mean Fox, News and the New York Post depict us as surly scofflaws who had it "coming to us" when one of us is injured or killed by a driver who was texting.

According this infographic from Chicago Bicycle Injury Lawyers, the truth is quite a bit different:

 

You, Too, Can Ride An Air Donkey

A week and a half ago, I gave some examples of oxymorons.  As I mentioned in that post, some people would argue that "carbon fiber Brooks saddle" is one.

How about "Air Donkey"?

No, it's not a no-frills airline.  (Please click the link:  the clip is precious!)  Nor is it a cheaper version of a sneaker teenaged boys of all ages (and genders!) wait hours on line and spend whole paychecks to get.  And it's not a game in which people deemed to unstable for military service or the police department work out their aggressions.

Rather, Air Donkey might be described if you created a bike rental service by crossing Uber with Airbnb.



An bicycle outfitted for Air Donkey

At least, that seems to be the vision of Erdem Ovacik, who recently co-founded the Copenhagen (where else?)-based startup which has just opened a Kickstarter appeal to fund their project. 

Essentially, Air Donkey would involve people renting out their bicycles by the day or week to tourists, commuters or whoever else is looking to get around the city on two wheels.  The firm behind Air Donkey--Donkey Republic--says the system has been tested around Copenhagen and is ready to go.



The Air Donkey starter kit.

Members will purchase a starter kit that includes a special rear-wheel lock that can be released with a phone app (and can go 500 days between charges), stickers to mark the bike and a listing on the company's website, which keeps track of available bikes via the locks. 


Users simply have to find a bike, pay the rental fee and use the app to unlock the bike.  Air Donkey recommends a rental fee of 10 Euros a day; it's estimated that the one-time cost of the starter kit will be 80 Euros.  Thus, it shouldn't take long for a member to recoup his or her outlay.



The Air Donkey lock

It all sounds good. However, being the cynical (!) New Yorker I am, I found a problem: the lock. It only allows the bike to be locked to itself or tethered to an immobile object with the attached cable.  The "leash" on the lock is flimsy, especially for a bike that's supposed to be parked on the street so that would-be renters can easily access it. Crooks who aren't particularly enterprising have broken much thicker and stronger cables, chains and locks. Also, I have to think that if thieves found ways to steal Citibikes from their ports, they wouldn't have much difficulty in stealing an Air Donkey bike without cutting the "leash" or even breaking the lock.

On the other hand, as Ovacik points out, the system is intended for everyday, utilitarian machines--the kind people typically have in their basements and storage rooms--not fancy racing bikes.  The bikes people would rent are more likely to have baskets or child seats than heart rate monitors.  Hence the "Donkey" in the name.

Even so, Air Donkey would make a greater variety of bikes available than any municipal bike-sharing system like Citibike could.  A bike shop could rent out, say, a Dutch-style city bike, a three-speed, a low-level mountain bike and other kinds of machines in the Air Donkey system.  And, many riders could find and return bikes in and to more convenient locations, particularly areas of cities where bike-share ports are difficult or impossible to find. 

Whatever its flaws or drawbacks, I hope that the program succeeds and, as Ovacik plans, it's expanded to other cities in Europe and beyond.  Anything that can get more bikes on, and more cars off, city streets is a good thing!




 

Cycles In The Sky

I took a walk on the High Line (Is that the title of a Lou Reed song?) shortly after it opened.  I enjoyed its green space and overall attractiveness.  But I also had a sinking feeling in my stomach.  About two years later, I realized why:  Upon returning about two years later, it had become, essentially, an elevated version of Times Square with more trees and more expensive lattes. It became an "it" destination for tourists to the Big Apple in a way that the Viaduc des Arts, after which it was modeled, never did in Paris. 

Now, that all might be unrelated to what I am about to discuss, save for the fact that a proposed bicycle highway made me think about the High Line.

No less than Sir Norman Foster, Britain's most prolific architect (and a passionate cyclist) backs a "Skycycle" thoroughfare that would allow two-wheeled commuters and tourists to whisk into, out of and through Central London.  The elevated lanes would be built above existing railroad tracks so that buildings and other structures would not have to be demolished.

On one hand, I like the idea.  One thing I actually liked about riding in the Five Borough Bike Tour, as well as other organized rides, was the opportunity to ride on elevated expressways (and the lower deck of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge) that were closed to automobile traffic.  Although I missed the street-level contact I'd normally experience in riding through some Brooklyn neighborhoods I know well, I enjoyed the views of the harbor and waterfront.

Some might argue that building an elevated bicycle highway might entice people who are intimidated by traffic into riding to work.  That may well be true, if the increase in the number of cyclists following the construction (or, in some cases, segregation) of bike lanes on New York City streets is any indication.  However, as Mark Ames points out in the Sustainable Cities Collective blog, a bicycle highway is probably unnecessary.  He argues that there is plenty of room for cyclists and pedestrians on London Streets, but not for cars.  Therefore, he says, the solution is to limit the number of cars in the central city, which London does through a "congestion surcharge."

Mike Bloomberg floated the idea of such a levy for Manhattan below 60th Street.  It was about as popular as the notion of banning bagels.  The loudest objections came from family-owned construction companies and the like that are based in the far reaches of the outer boroughs but do much of their business in Midtown and Downtown. 

I hope that our current Mayor, Bill de Blasio revisits the idea.  Perhaps he will if he's elected to a second term.  From what I've seen, he is smart enough to realize that if it's simply not possible to squeeze more cars and trucks into Manhattan right now, we might be near that point.  I don't think he'd want to be remembered as the mayor who was in office when Manhattan froze in a state of permanent gridlock.

Then, about all anyone will be able to do is to sip those $15 lattes on the High Line.