Danger In My Backyard

As I've mentioned in other posts, for several years running, Florida is the US state where a cyclist is in the most danger of being killed by a motorist.  No other state comes close in that category.

Of course, that doesn't mean the Sunshine State has a monopoly on intoxicated or distracted drivers, supersized diesel-powered pickup trucks with bodies customized to take up an entire roadway, drag racers (though the state is home to Daytona) or inherently dangerous roads.

As for the last item on that list:  The single most dangerous road (excluding Interstates and other highways where bicycles are prohibited) for cyclists in the United States is in my home state of New York.  In fact, it's in my backyard.

All right, since I'm an apartment dweller, I don't have a backyard.  What I mean is that said thoroughfare is near me.  In fact, I've crossed, though not ridden, on it a number of times.

According to the Nassau County and Hempstead Police Departments, drivers struck 320 cyclists and pedestrians on the 16 mile-long Hempstead Turnpike (a.k.a. New York State Route 24) between 2011 and 2021. Mind you, that is only the number of such incidents the constables know about through 911 calls.  Of said victims, 13 died.  Another six were killed just during the past year.  The road is so dangerous for cyclists and pedestrians, in fact, that most of the fatalities were cyclists or pedestrians trying to cross the road so they could continue along one of the many streets that intersect with it.  

The most impatient and hot-tempered drivers I've ever encountered, anywhere were along that road.  When the light turns green, it's like a dam opening: a torrent of vehicles rushes through.  Woe be to a cyclist or pedestrian, even one in a wheelchair, who happens to be in the path of that storm surge.

OK, so I mixed my metaphors a bit. But I think you have at least a partial picture of what I'm talking about.  The drivers are indeed in a hurry to get to the store or through the next red light, but if someone wanted to design a traffic conduit that would bring out the worst in such drivers, he or she could hardly come up something that better fits the purpose than the Hempstead Turnpike.

Photo by Levi Mandel

One problem is that, in some stretches, it's even wider than an Interstate (like an Autobahn or Autoroute).  Through most of its length, it has eight lanes of traffic, with dividers that are low to the ground or nothing more than lines painted on the asphalt.  Also in keeping with the worst in highway design, it has no bike or pedestrian lane or, for most of its length, sidewalks.  

But unlike superhighways, it's not elevated or in a trench:  It's at the same level as other streets.  And, as it passes through residential and suburban residential neighborhoods, many two-lane and one-way streets cross it.  That means many people must cross in order to get to work or school or go home.

What exacerbates all of these deficiencies is that the Hempstead Turnpike begins in an area of southeastern Queens that has one of the highest population densities in the United States but almost no mass transportation.  That means people are car-dependent.  That part of Queens is also relatively low-income and has few stores besides bodegas and small grocery stores.  Thus, residents of that area frequently drive to the Nassau section of the highway, with its abundant stores (including supermarkets and chain stores), which offer more variety and lower prices.  

Also, many residents work in those stores and in other area businesses.  Meanwhile, the fact that on its Queens end, the highway connects with the Grand Central Parkway--a major artery to western Queens and Manhattan--also guarantees that many Nassau County residents drive their daily commutes on it.

When the Hempstead Turnpike isn't clogged with traffic--on most days, only from about 2 to 4 in the morning--it becomes our local version of Daytona.  Sometimes the wannabe racers even test the limits of their machines, in speed and maneuverability, when there's traffic.  The worst part is that they're not the only ones exceeding the 30- to- 40 mph speed limit.  In fact, according to a grim joke or local folk wisdom (depending on whom you believe), police officers give tickets to drivers who don't speed because they're the ones the cops can catch .

Having crossed the Hempstead Turnpike many times, I'm not surprised to learn that it's officially the most dangerous road in this region, and probably the nation.  Ironically, when I was "doored" nearly two years ago, I had just crossed the Hempstead Turnpike.  It wouldn't surprise me if the driver who opened her door into my path--or the drivers who honked their horns out of frustration over having to stop for a cyclist lying in their path--had just turned off the Turnpike.

A Bike Bay In The Steel City

Possibly the most difficult part of cycling in traffic is navigating intersections.

In jurisdictions that don't have some form of the "Idaho stop," cyclists are expected to follow the traffic signals as either vehicles or pedestrians.  One problem with that is that a cyclist proceeding straight through an intersection is in danger of getting hit by turning vehicles--especially right-turning trucks and buses, as their drivers often do not see cyclists who are far to the right of them. Another problem is that in very large intersections, it is all but impossible to turn left without running into danger from oncoming traffic.

Of course, the "Idaho stop" is meant to remedy the first problem:  Treating a red light as a "stop" sign or a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign (which is what the Idaho stop is, in essence) allows the cyclist to get out ahead of drivers who are making right turns.  As for the second problem, a new solution is being tried out in Pittsburgh.

In the city's Oakland neighborhood, boxes--"bays"--are being carved out in intersections.  Cyclists proceed to them and wait for their signal--which is activated by radar designed to detect their presence--before continuing through the intersection. 


I, for one, will be very interested to see how this idea works out.  In principle, it sounds good, though I must admit that I'm skeptical about a "bay" in the middle of an intersection that is separated from traffic only by lines of paint.

More Than Green Paint In Beantown

In which American city do motorists spend the most time in bumper-to-bumper traffic?

Hint:  It's not New York.  Or Los Angeles.  Or any other city in California.  And it's not Chicago or Detroit, either.

That distinction goes to Boston.  Residents of Beantown wouldn't be surprised:  After all, their city has long had a reputation for having some of the worst traffic in the United States.

It's such that fellow New Yorkers are amazed when I tell them I've cycled in Boston.  More than one Big Apple cyclist has told me he or she would never, ever ride in the New England hub. "Those drivers are crazy!," they exclaim.

My response is usually along the lines of, "Well, yes, you do have to exercise caution, just like you would in any other city."

One thing I have to say about Boston cyclists, though:  They have grown very sophisticated about cycling infrastructure.  No longer are they satisfied with the "green paint on the side of the road" approach to bike lanes.

Now Causeway Street, a major connection between the North and West Ends (and, until 2004, the site of one of the city's main elevated train lines), has a bike lane running down its center, separated from the east- and west-bound traffic lanes by concrete barriers.  This could be very important to commuters and recreational cyclists alike, as it links to the Connect Historic Boston bike path and ends with the New England Aquarium.

Also, the upcoming redesign of Commonwealth Avenue near Boston University will include bike lanes built into wide sidewalks and separated from cars:  an arrangement common in Europe.  The redesign will also eliminate a flaw such lanes have in other American locales:  At intersections, concrete platforms will be built between the bike path and auto lanes.  This is intended to force drivers to take slower, wider right turns.

Speaking of turns: The city's first bike rotary is under construction at a point (near the MBTA Forest Hills station) where new bike paths intersect with the city's Southwest Corridor path.  As Boston Globe reporter Adam Vaccaro wryly notes, it remains to be seen whether cyclists behave better in their rotaries than motorists do in theirs.  (That sounds like something a Bostonian would say.)

And, for traffic management, traffic signals for cyclists are also under construction.  I've seen a few here in New York.  In theory, they are a good idea, especially where bike lanes intersect with major roadways.  One problem I've seen is on the lane I often use when commuting to work:  It's a two-way lane for cyclists, but the street that runs alongside it is a one-way.  This creates problems when you are cycling in the opposite direction from the traffic:  The bike signal isn't always in sync with the cars, many of which are coming off the nearby expressway.  I hope the Boston planners are mindful of such things.

So far, it all sounds pretty ambitious and forward-thinking.  I am very interested to see how the new lanes, barriers and signals work.

Colorado To Allow Cities To Choose The Idaho Stop

As I've mentioned in previous posts, Idaho enacted a law that allows cyclists to treat red lights as "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs like "Yield" signs--all the way back in 1982.  Since then, other jurisdictions have passed similar ordinances.  But nearly all such regulation in the ensuing three and a half decades has been at the local level.

Lawmakers in Colorado, where a few municipalities already have such legislation, seem to have noted this reality.  They also seem to have noticed that other places haven't passed such laws because of hurdles they faced in doing so.

At least, I hope that is the reason why the Colorado House of Representative passed SB18-144 last week and the state's Senate voted for it this week.  Governor John Hickenlooper is expected to sign it into law.

SB18-144 makes it easier for cities, towns and other localities to adopt "safety stop" (a.k.a. "Idaho Stop") rules by creating a standard ordinance.  One hurdle local politicians faced in enacting such rules is that they might not align with the laws in other--sometimes neighboring--municipalities.  In other words, the bill, if signed, would give them a template they can adopt. 

So why doesn't the Centennial State (or any other state) simply mandate the "safety stop" statewide?  Well, in some places--particularly in spread-out rural areas found in states like Colorado--people just don't like to be told what to do by remote bureaucrats, whether in Denver or Washington.  But more important, the ordinance contains language stating that it shall not apply to any part of the state highway system.  That seems to have been a technicality that kept a different version of the bill from passing last year.

Those jurisdictions, such as Aspen and Summit County, that already have similar regulations will be allowed to keep them if the law is passed.

Saul Lopez Probably Never Saw It Coming

When a cyclist ends up under a motor vehicle, do you assume--if only for a moment--that it was some careless driver who was texting, drunk or simply not paying attention?

I admit: I do.  Perhaps it's because I've heard and  read too many of those stories.  

Do you also assume that a single motor vehicle, and driver, was involved?  Again, I admit that I do.  Reason:  See above.

Now, when you hear that two motor vehicles collide, do you picture both of them stopped as a result of the impact?  If you answered "yes", welcome to a club that includes me.  

Also, if you are like me, you probably don't expect a cyclist to be run down by one of those two vehicles that collided. In fact, I'd never heard of such a case--until today.

The crash site in Pacoima.

The other day, in the Pacoima neighborhood of Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley, a 2016 Dodge Ram pickup truck was headed south on Glenoaks Boulevard.  It collided with a 2006 Chevrolet pickup truck running eastward on Vaughn Street. 

The impact sent both trucks careening southward to an intersection where the Dodge struck a 15-year-old boy who was riding his bike westbound, to school, in the south crosswalk at around 7 am.  He was pinned under the truck and after police arrived, Saul Lopez was declared dead at the scene.

Saul Lopez, from the GoFundMe page for his funeral costs.

The good news--if there could be said to be any--is that both drivers stopped at the scene and cooperated with police.  Neither was arrested.  It's not clear which of them had the right of way.

A GoFundMe page created to cover the costs of his funeral has already raised nearly $28,000: about $13,000 more than the goal.  If only it weren't necessary!

From Brazil To Florida: Fragmentos do Cotidiano

Today I'm going to plug another blog I enjoy:  Fragmentos do Cotidiano.  It's a cyclists' blog, but it's also interesting for the photographs and stories of daily life in Brazil.  It's in Portuguese, which I can more or less understand because I can read Spanish and French.  But even if you can't do that, the photos are worth looking at.

Here's one that reminded me of cycling in Florida:

From Fragmentos do Cotidiano

I couldn't get over how much the layout of that bike lane, and that intersection, reminds me of the ones nearest my parents' house.  The trees and sky also look like what I often see when I'm in the Sunshine State.

And the light is very much like what I'd see on a partly cloudy-to-overcast day when I rode down Palm Coast Parkway to the bridge for US A-1A.  Some things are universal, I guess.