Is It The Most Unsafe Bike Lane?

 In this blog, I have written about poorly-conceived, designed, constructed and maintained cycle lanes.  There are “bike lanes to nowhere” (which can be sung to a certain Led Zeppelin tune), those that begin seemingly out of nowhere and ones that put cyclists —and pedestrians and wheelchair users—in more danger than they would face among motorized traffic. Oh, and there was one that ran smack into a supporting column for elevated train tracks.

But there is another hazard that, according to some planners and even path users, can’t be designed away:  Lanes that are safe, useful and even scenic by day become alleys of potential terror, especially for those of us who don’t present as male.

Such is the case for a popular 24km (15 mile) ribbon that connects Bristol and Bath in the UK. Because it passes through other fairly-major cities along the way, it’s popular with commuters as well as recreational cyclists—by day.

When darkness falls, however, so does the path’s safety. “It’s like walking down a dark alley on a night out,” said Bristol-based cyclist Rosalie Hoskins.  She and other cyclists have described their experiences, or recounted those of others, who have been jumped or ambushed and had their bikes or e-bikes stolen by masked moped riders. There are also other reports of anti-social behavior, such as drunkenness and drug use, along the lane.

While the B2B, as it’s commonly called, has been declared the “most unsafe” bike lane in Britain, the problems described are hardly unique. Indeed, on various bike lanes here in New York, I have nearly hit, or been hit by, people hanging out in the path, not to mention drivers—especially those of for-hire car services—pulling in and out or double-parking.

And while I haven’t heard as much about crime against cyclists, runners or pedestrians in Central Park as I did during the ‘70’s, ‘80’s and early ‘90’s, I was aware of the possibility when, on Monday, I rode the length of it uptown about an hour after it got dark. As I descended the curves to the exit at 7th Avenue (Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard) in Harlem, I thought about the possibility of someone—or some group—hiding in the bushes, ready to spring on an unsuspecting rider or runner:  a common occurrence in the bad old days. One reason why such attacks may be less common is that many more people pedal, run, jog, walk or simply hang out in the park than in times past.  And while more lighting may or may not improve safety, I think some would oppose it because they believe it would detract from the park’s ambience—which may be a reason why some other path aren’t better-lit or more surveilled.

I concur, however, with Bristol cyclist and PhD student George Rowland when he  says more emphasis should be placed on making roads safer for cyclists.  They already have lighting and open space, and making them more cyclist-friendly and -usable will do more to encourage people to pedal to work, school, shop or have fun than segregating us.

Turning What You Ride Into What You Ride On

Bicycling is commonly seen as an environmentally-friendly form of transportation, recreation and exercise.  Some people ride their bikes for exactly that reason.  And, for the most part, bicycles are less damaging to the planet than many other things, including motorized vehicles.  But there are two bike parts that, too often, end up in landfills.

I am talking about bicycle tires and tubes.  Some of us re-use tubes that have been patched one too many times:  as tie-downs, for example, or underneath clamps to prevent them from slipping and marring a finish.  And, for a time, Pedro's made "Blowout bags" partially from re-cycled inner tubes.  Those bags strapped underneath a rider's saddle and were used to--you guessed it--carry a spare inner tube, patch kit, tire levers and maybe a small multi-tool.

The problem with old tires and tubes is that although they crack from drying out (which is how many Blowout bags, including two I used, met their endings), they don't decompose quickly in the way of some other materials. 

Since 2002, England and Wales have had a law forbidding the disposal of automotive and agricultural tires in landfills. But, interestingly, bicycle tires and tubes were exempt from the law although, according to chemical engineers, they are nearly identical in composition to car tires.

Five years ago, Russ Taylor founded Velorim to bridge this inequity.  He comes from Staffordshire, known for its bull terriers, so it is perhaps not a surprise that he is forward-thinking and ambitious.  He realized that all of those tires and tubes that were being sent to landfills--or overseas--for disposal could be put to better use, not only for consumer products, but in public works.  

As an example, Velorim has developed a process that is now being used to turn pellets from reclaimed rubber goods into a porous material that can be used to lay cycle paths in urban or rural landscapes.  This not only re-uses those old tires and tubes, but also lessens the need to make new asphalt or concrete, both of which involve processes that are harmful to the environment--to say nothing of the fact that asphalt is made from petrochemicals.

So, the tires you now ride could be rolling over...the tires you used to ride.  Somehow that's fitting in more ways than one.

A Pub In His Path

When I was young and thought myself invincible, I would depart for a ride with a full water bottle (or CamelBack, in my mountain biking days) and return home with--a full water bottle.  And, no, I hadn't refilled it along the way.  Sometimes people, including "tough guy" riding partners, either wondered how I didn't, or implored me to, take at least a few sips.  In those days, I just didn't get thirsty very often and didn't realize that even when I wasn't, my body still needed water.

Once, on a ride in Pennsylvania, one of those riding buddies quipped, "This road could be blocked by a fountain and you wouldn't take a drink!"

Perhaps that was true.  But what if the bike lane were blocked by a cafe--or a pub?

A few months into the pandemic, New York City allowed restaurant and bar owners to construct kiosks outside their establishments in order to limit crowding inside.  Some of those kiosks block bike lanes which, ironically, were built not long before the kiosks.  Sometimes I wonder whether those places are trying to drum up business with folks like me--or whether their owners and patrons simply hate us.

The bike lanes in question were all carved out of city streets.  There are a few off-road lanes in the city's parks and other areas.  A few offer snack, drink and lunch stands along the way but none, to my knowledge, feature a full-on restaurant, cafe, bar--or pub.  On the other hand, in at least one part of England, the off-road bike lanes aren't immune to encroachment by eating and drinking establishments. 

Roadcc reader "IanMK" encountered this during his Easter Sunday ride in Buckinghamshire.  He grumbled but, in the end, he stopped for a pint.  I mean, what else could he do, right? 

British Cycling Told Them To Stop For The Queen

If a US President were to die in office and your club told you not to ride during his/her/their funeral, would you?

When William Henry Harrison and Zachary Taylor succumbed to illness (Harrison just a month after taking the oath of office) and Abraham Lincoln was shot, bicycles weren't, well, bicycles as we know them.  

At the time James Garfield was shot (only four months after he assumed his role), the US and Europe were on the eve of their first bike booms.  A few years later, "safety" bicycles (with two wheels of more or less equal size and chain-driven gearing) would displace high-wheelers and fuel the fin de siecle bike craze.  A few years after that, at the dawn of the new century, William McKinley would suffer the same fate as Lincoln and Garfield.  Bicycling was still a major part of American, European and other economies and cultures. But I could find no records of any club or public official's recommendation that people not ride their bikes during those Presidents' funerals or other memorials.

By the time Warren G. Harding died of a sudden heart attack, in the 1920s, the automobile had mostly displaced the bicycle as a primary means of transportation and recreation in the US.  There were still, however, a significant number of adult cyclists and six-day races would develop an enthusiastic following.  But, as with the deaths of Garrison and McKinley, I could find no calls not to ride.

That I could find no such pleas following the deaths of Franklin D. Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy is not surprising:  When FDR died, the US was entering what Sheldon Brown called its "Dark Ages" of cycling; when JFK was assassinated, the nation was a few years away from emerging out of that benighted era.  

When Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme tried to kill Gerald Ford, the 1970s Bike Boom had recently crested; when John Hinckley tried to end Ronald Reagan's presidency, the Boom had ended but millions of American adults were still cycling.  Had Ford and Reagan not survived those attempts, would any clubs (which were numerous by then) have told their members not to pedal to work or school, or for training or fun?

Now, you might be wondering why I am asking such questions.  It's not because today is a "slow news day" or I'm not riding.  Rather, I read that British Cycling called on its country's citizens not to ride their bicycles during Queen Elizabeth II's funeral scheduled for Monday.  

Photo by Stephen Fleming

Of course, cyclists of all kinds did not take kindly to this recommendation:  One cyclist said it was "worthy of the Stasi."  A bike commuter pointed out that ceremonies "coincide with my working hours." Others called it a "joke" or "farce" or referred to it in even less flatering terms.

British Cycling later admitted that it erred and apologized for any harm or inconvenience it caused to cyclists, especially those who rely on their bikes for transportation or their livings. The organization then amended its recommendation to say that official events should be cancelled, but individuals should be free to ride.

Paint Is Not Infrastructure

 I don't know whether Robert "Bicycle Bob" Silverman, about whom I wrote yesterday, uttered the title of this post.  It's not hard to imagine that he did--le peinture n'est pas une infrastructure--when he was campaigning for the safe, practical lanes Montreal's cyclists enjoy.

Someone who did say that--in English--was a fellow identified only as "John" in Hertfordshire.  He documented a "near miss" in which a driver squeezed him over to the curb.  

"John" blames, in part the driver:  "Whilst this was telegraphed right from the point when the van signals to turn right, there was a weary inevitability of at least one of the drivers not being able to see beyond the end of their bonnet and creating an easily preventable situation"  

While the carelessness or cluelessness of drivers is not news to cyclists in the UK or US, "John" also blames what an editor of road.cc sarcastically calls "a great piece of cycle superhighway."  His all-too-close encounter, he says, "demonstrates that poor cycle infrastructure, in this case a narrow lane that disappears just when you need it, can cause more problems than it solves."

He said what I've said--and, what I don't doubt "Bicycle Bob" said:  Poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained bicycle infrastructure is not only less convenient, but more dangerous, for cyclists and motorists alike, than no infrastructure at all.  I have seen too many examples of that here in New York, but too many planners persist in believing that simply painting a few lines on a street will lead to a safer co-existence, or at least a truce, between cyclists and motorists.