Will The Idaho Stop Come To Oregon?

Until recently, I was a disciple of John Forester's "bicycle as vehicle" philosophy.  It's explicated in his "Effective Cycling" book, which--along with the C.O.N.I. manual (which has, possibly, the most beautiful cover illustration of any cycling book)--were my touchstones for cycling.

I haven't looked at the C.O.N.I. manual in a long time.  I'm sure it's still valuable, though some of its specifics might be dated. (To my knowledge, no new edition of the book, at least in English, was published after 1972.)  But I still check out Forester's book on occasion.  Some of its information is dated. That is inevitable, of course:  The book came out about 40 years ago, and, for example, much of the equipment he mentions is no longer made.  But I think his notions about how to cycle in traffic are just as dated.

But they were needed at the time.  As I've related in other posts, many was my commute or training ride in which I would not encounter another cyclist.  Most motorists--which is almost the same thing as saying most adults, as defined by law--didn't ride and regarded the bicycle as a kid's toy.  And if they saw an adult riding, they thought it must be for a bad reason, such as loss of driver's license or inability to afford a car.  The "car is king" attitude was, I believe, even more prevalent than it was now.  Forester was, I think, trying to establish the bicycle as a viable and valid means of transportation for grown-ups in the US.  Four decades ago, that meant cyclists asserting themselves themselves on the road and behaving exactly like drivers in the ways we took lanes, made turns and such.

The conditions at the time also meant that almost no policy-makers were cyclists.  So, whatever laws and policies were created in the name of "safety" were wrongheaded, if not flat-out malicious.  Thus, while folks like Forester advocated for more enlightened rules, they knew that they would be a long time a'coming, if they ever came at all.  Cyclists asserting their rights as operators of vehicles therefore seemed like the best way to "establish" cycling, if you will, in the US.

Now, I'm not sure that drivers' attitudes toward cyclists have changed much.  If anything, I think some have grown more hostile becuase they feel bike lanes are taking away "their" traffic lanes, and because they have the misinformed notion that we use roadways and other infrastructure without paying for it. In fact, a driver parking in Brooklyn (at the formoer site of the library I frequented in my childhood, no less!) made that accusation as he shouted other fallacies and epithets at me.  I waited for him; he probably expected me to punch him in the nose.  But I calmly informed him that the only tax he pays that I don't pay is on gasoline.  I don't know whether he was more surprised by what I said or my demeanor.

Anyway, while drivers might be hostile for different reasons than they were four decades ago, there are some changes in the wind.  There are, at least in a few places, a few policymakers who cycle to their offices, and perhaps elsewhere.  And at least a few of the drivers I encounter have ridden a bike, say, within the last month.  So there is a small, but growing recognition, that while bicycles aren't the lawless hooligans some believe us to be, we also can't behave exactly like motor vehicles and live to tell about it.

That bikes aren't the same as cars is a point made by Jonathan Maus, the editor/publisher of Bike Portland.  In an excelllent article he published the other day, he uses that point to advocate for something that has become one of my pet causes, if you will, as a cyclist:  the Idaho Stop.

As I've mentioned in other posts, the Idaho Stop is when you treat a red signal as a "stop" sign and a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign.  In essence, it means that you don't have to come to a complete stop at an intersection unless traffic is crossing. That improves our safety immensely because if we can cross before the light turns green, we get out in front of whatever traffic might approach from behind us, as well as oncoming traffic--which keeps us from being hit by a turning vehicle.

Maus wrote his article because a similar law is up for vote in the Oregon state senate.  Governor Asa Hutchinson recently signed a similar law in Arkansas, and Utah is considering something like it.  A few municipalities in the US as well as the city of Paris have enacted similar policies during the past decade.  But it's called "The Idaho Stop" because the Gem State has had it on the books since 1982, and for about a quarter-century, it was the only such law in the United States.

Let's hope that Jonathan Maus's words move the legislators of Oregon.  Let's also hope that as Oregon goes, so go New York, Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida and...well, you get the idea.

The Wrong Way

Be on your best behavior when you're on the lam.

Is that the moral of the story I'm about to relate?



Jeff Basil Chandler was riding a bicycle on Richmond Road in Williamsburg, Virginia at 3:02 on Sunday morning.  The 24-year-old from Yemassee, South Carolina was weaving in the eastbound lane.  The problem was, he was headed westbound.

The advantage to riding at that hour is that, in most places, you won't encounter much traffic.  Hence, there tends to be less of a police presence.  On the other hand, if constables are in the area, they're bored (unless they're chasing drunk drivers) and looking for something to do.

So it's not surprising that a Williamsburg police officer would notice--and stop--a cyclist weaving in the wrong lane.  Perhaps that officer thought Chandler was drunk; in any event, said officer identified Chandler through his South Carolina driver's license.

These days, nearly all patrol cars (at least here in the US) are equipped with computers that allow officers to run a check on whomever they stop. The Williamsburg cop did just that and found that South Carolina had issued warrants for Chandler's arrest.

Turns out, he was wanted for kidnapping, robbery with a deadly weapon and being an accessory to a felony.  He was brought to a local jail and booked two hours after he was stopped.  Now he has to decide whether to waive his extradition hearing or follow a process that will allow him to appeal extradition in local court and with state prosecutors.

Just remember:  If you're going to run (ride) from the law, make sure you're running the right way, and in a straight line!

Three Feet: Better Than Nothing?

Two years ago, one of the most horrific car-bike collisions I've ever heard of occurred near Kalamazoo, Michigan.

Debbie Bradley, Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Tony Nelson, Larry Paulik and Suzanne Sippel were out for the ride they took together every week for more than a decade.  Sheila Jeske, Paul Runnels, Jennifer Johnson and Paul Gobble joined them.

As they pedaled, a blue Chevy pickup truck was barreling along the road in the same direction--"erratically", according to three people who called it in to the police.  

Moments later, that truck plowed into the cyclists.  Jeske, Runnels, Johnson and Gobble would spend months in recuperation and therapy.  They are riding again today, though with more difficulty.

Still, they are more fortunate than their riding buddies:  Bradley, Fevig-Hughes, Nelson, Paulik and Sippel were killed almost instantly.  

In response to that tragedy, and others, a law was proposed earlier this year.  It would have mandated that motorists give cyclists a five-foot berth when passing them.  The law in the Wolverine State, like that in many others, said only that vehicles had to pass "at a safe distance."

In fairness, it should be pointed out that, as I have mentioned in earlier posts, studies have reached conflicting conclusions about the efficacy of such laws in preventing car-bike collisions. For one thing, on narrow roads, it is difficult, if not impossible, to give such a wide berth, especially if there is traffic coming from the opposite direction.  Also, such laws, like the ones against texting or using a cell phone while driving, are difficult to enforce.

Still, such a law is probably better than nothing for protecting cyclists. (Also, as some have pointed out, when it's enforced, it makes driving too close to cyclists a ticketable offense.)  I think that is what Michigan legislators were thinking when they passed a law, which takes effect today, requiring drivers to give cyclists a three-foot berth when passing.  

It's too late for Debbie Bradley, Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Tony Nelson, Larry Paulik and Suzanne Sippel.  But, one can hope that it will save other lives.

Is Five Feet Enough?

He survived a slaughter or a massacre, depending on how you view it.

Paul Gobble, a photographer and rider, was out for a weekly Tuesday-evening ride with fellow cyclists of "The Chain Gang."  

At that moment, police were searching for a blue Chevy pickup truck after, within minutes, three separate callers reported that it was being driven "erratically" along roads near Kalamazoo, Michigan.  

One of those roads was the one on which Gobble and his friends had been riding.  But the police couldn't get to that truck before it plowed into "The Chain Gang."

Gobble is still recovering from the brain injury and broken bones he suffered that day, in June of 2016.  But Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Suzanne Sippel, Debbie Bradley, Tony Nelson and Larry Paulik have no such opportunity:  They were killed almost instantly as that truck plowed into them.

Like many of us who haven't (yet) been as unfortunate as he was on that day, he says there is "a great deal of ignorance" about cyclists' right to use the road.  Moreover, he says too many drivers are "just angry that we're out there." So, "they yell at us" and "drive aggressively toward us," he points out.

The implication of his remarks, and those of other Michigan cyclists, is that the Wolverine State has been slow to protect cyclists.  Perhaps that is not surprising in a state that is home to Motor City, a.k.a. Detroit, where many workers' jobs have been lost or threatened in recent years.  Since I am not an economist, I will not get into all of the reasons for the decline of the auto industry in Michigan and other parts of the United States.  But I think it's fair to say that some whose livelihoods have been sustained by the internal combustion engine might see--inaccurately--cyclists as "The Enemy", or at least a manifestation of all of the changes that, in their minds, endanger their way of life.

Of course, such thoughts may not have been in the mind of Charles E. Pickett, the driver of that truck.  His vision may well have been impaired by substances rather than a faulty socio-economic analysis that day.  No matter:  He drove into a group of cyclists, killing five and injuring four others, including Gobble.

Other than stopping someone like Pickett from driving in the first place, what can prevent motorists from running down cyclists--particularly those like Gobble and The Chain Gang, who had more than a century of cycling experience between them?

Most planning and lawmaking related to this question seems to be predicated on the notion that bikes and cars must be separated as much as possible.  That, I believe, is the thinking behind most bike lane construction.  It also seems to be the philosophy behind laws like the one that has been proposed in Michigan.  It would require motorists to give cyclists a five-foot berth when passing them.  Current Michigan law stipulates only that vehicles pass at "a safe distance."  Furthermore, that regulation has been interpreted to apply only to motor vehicles, not bicycles.



Eight other states have laws with language much like that of Michigan's.  Thirty other states, and the District of Columbia, mandate a three-foot berth.  One of those states, South Dakota, requires 6 feet when the motor vehicle is traveling at 35 or more MPH.  North Carolina specifies a two-foot berth, except in no-passing zones, where four feet are required.  Pennsylvania stipulates a four-foot buffer zone in all situations.

While some laud members of the Michigan Legislature for giving long-overdue attention to the safety of cyclists--whose numbers are growing--others wonder just how effective such laws actually are.  Studies have reached conflicting conclusions about whether three-foot laws, as they're often called, actually keep cyclists from being struck by motorists.  For one thing, such laws--like the ones prohibiting cell phone use while driving--are difficult to enforce.  For another, it may be close to impossible for a driver to give such a berth on narrow roads, especially if there is oncoming traffic.  

Most important, though, I think that such laws are most useful after the fact because they provide "something you can ticket," in the words of Becky Callender, whose son was riding in a single file of cyclists on a rural road near Lansing  when he was struck by an SUV.  They are not a substitute for driver awareness of, and courtesy toward, cyclists.  But, I suppose, having such laws is better than not having them--or a poorly-designed bike lane.

A Day In Court---For....?

Which is worse:

• laws, policies and regulations that govern cyclists but are conceived and enacted by people who don't ride bikes, or
• enforcement of said laws, policies and regulations by people who don't cycle?

A few months ago, I was caught in a "perfect storm", if you will, between the two.

It was around noon on a warm, late-summer day.  The sun shone brightly in a clear sky.  That meant something unusual for that time of the year in this part of the world:  very little humidity, which is probably the reason why I felt the light wind wasn't slowing me down, even though I was pedaling into it.  

At that moment, I was about two thirds of the way from my apartment to Greenwich, Connecticut.  So, unless that wind changed direction (it wouldn't), I could look forward to it giving me a "boost" on my way home.  Most important, though--at least at that moment--I was feeling really, really good:  I was astride Arielle, my Mercian Audax, and each pedal stroke seemed to invigorate me.  

Somewhere along  Halstead Avenue, one of the major thoroughfares in the Westchester County town of Harrison, I noticed a police officer perched on a motorcycle.  Alfred Hitchcock once said that if you are going to show a gun on a mantel, it has to be used to shoot somebody at some point during the movie.  I actually remember thinking about that--why, I didn't know--when I saw that officer.  

A couple of minutes later, I came to the town's major intersection: where Halstead crosses Harrison Avenue, next to the railroad station.  I saw trucks and construction crews on the other side of Harrison; as I approached the intersection, I could hear more trucks rumbling behind me.  

(Here is a Google image of the intersection, without the construction crews.)

Focusing on the construction work and trucks ahead of me, and seeing that no traffic was crossing Halstead from either side of Harrison Avenue, I increased my speed through the intersection so I could stay ahead of the trucks I'd heard rumbling behind me. I figured that I would be safer if they saw me ahead of them:  Truck drivers, in my experience, tend to be more careful than most drivers and give the right of way as long as they see you.  Also, I thought that if I crossed the intersection ahead of those trucks and whatever other traffic might be approaching behind me, I could more safely navigate the construction zone.

You can probably guess what happened next:  The cop on the motorcycle zoomed up alongside me.  At first, I didn't think anything of it.  Then he yelled, "You, on the bike.  Pull over!"  

I did. In front of a funeral home.  

"Let me see your license."

"What's the problem, officer?"

"You went through that red light."

"I did?"

He then lectured me about how New York State law says that bicycles are, in effect, vehicles and are governed in the same way.  That meant I had to stop for the red light at an intersection.  "You know, if there had been cross traffic, it could have ended really badly."

"But, officer, there wasn't any."

"You're still supposed to obey traffic signals."

I tried to explain to him that doing so could've landed me underneath one of those trucks.  He was hearing none of it.  Instead, he ran my license through his computer.  He ordered me to step back as he read the screen and printed out the summons.

"Have you ever dealt with the police before?"

"No, sir."   

Then, sotto voce, he told me to mail in the summons with a not guilty plea and the pre-trial date would be set.

Well, that day was the other day.  I went to the Harrison court house and stood on a line with about three dozen other people who had traffic summonses of one kind or another.  A man at a desk called each of us by name.  He called mine, and said that he was going to do me a "favor" and, as a result, I wouldn't have points on my license or a record of any kind.  

I then realized he was the officer who pulled me over and wrote the summons.  "Go to the line on your right, Miss Valinotti," he ordered. "Have a good day."

While waiting on line, a few of us got to talking.  It seems that Harrison has a reputation for issuing lots of traffic tickets.  One person remarked that it's the town's second-biggest source of revenue, after property taxes.  He might not have been kidding.

(Maybe I'm not the first one to think the town should be re-named "Harassment" or "Harrass-son".)

Anyway...I should mention that the day I was pulled over was the last Saturday in August.  Although the officer who stopped me--or, for that matter, any other officer--would probably deny that there was a "quota" system in place, it's hard not to believe that I was stopped for any other reason.  

It was probably the easiest way for the town of Harrison, New York to get 175 dollars from someone who doesn't live there--and who might not ever pass through again.  

The Limit: Whether Or Not You're Detected

In your travels, you have no doubt seen something like this:

Such speed limit detectors usually show your speed in amber lights, unless it is over the limit, in which case the number flashes in red.

Have you ever noticed that these devices sometimes register your speed when you are riding a bicycle--but sometimes they don't?

Those of you who are engineers (or simply more tech-savvy than I am) may be able to provide an explanation of why.  I have always surmised that it had something to do with the position of the speed detector:  The ones placed above the traffic lanes don't register bikes riding on the shoulder or even the far right side of the traffic lane.   Then again, I've seen detectors on the side of the street or road--and, in a couple of cases, right in the middle of a bike lane!--that did not track me.

An article in the IEEE Spectrum--the journal of the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers--may shed some light on why this is so.  

In it, Spectrum contributing editor Peter Fairley describes the advances made in detection systems used in robotic (self-driving) cars.  The best such systems could spot only 70 percent of cars just a few years ago.  Now that figure is nearly 90 percent.  Similar improvements in noticing pedestrians, and even birds and squirrels, have come.

In contrast, those same systems can detect a bicycle from 59 to 74 percent of the time.  While that is an improvement from a few years ago, the advancement doesn't come close to what has been accomplished in tracking other beings and objects.  

According to University of California-Berkeley research engineer Steven Shladover, "Bicycles are probably the most difficult detection problems autonomous vehicle systems face".  Down the coast, in UC's San Diego campus, visual computing expert Nuno Vasconcelos offers a possible explanation as to why:  "A car is basically a big block of stuff.  A bicycle has much less mass" and, he says, "there can be much more variation in appearance--there are more shapes and colors and people hang stuff on them."

Vasconcelos' explanation makes sense, as far as it goes.  In the article, however, Fairley posits that part of the problem is how those systems are "trained".  Actually, they "train themselves", if you will, by studying thousands of images in which known objects are labeled.  Most of the training, Fairley says, has concentrated on cars, with very little on bicycles.  

I will not address the question of whether robotic technology can or will replace human drivers:  Folks like the ones Fairley cites (or, for that matter, Fairley himself) can say far more about it than I can.  From what I've read, however, I believe I can surmise that self-driving technologies have a better chance of working on Interstates, Autobahns, Autoroutes or other high-speed, multi-lane highways where bicycles are seldom seen, or are banned outright. 

Likewise, detection technologies have a better chance of detecting speeders on such highways than they have of catching me riding my bike over the speed limit on city streets!

We Can Use The Jump, And The NY Post Needs To Get A Grip

The other day, I chastised the Mayor of Montreal for his plan to paint lanes that would be shared by bikes and buses on some of his city's main thoroughfares.  An editorial in the Montreal Gazette  lambasted the idea--rightly, in my opinion.

Today the script is flipped, if you will, in my hometown:  a sensible piece of bicycle policy is proposed, but an idiotic newspaper editorial denounces it.

You probably wouldn't be surprised to find out that said editorial is in the New York Post: you know, the rag that became famous for headlines like Headless Body In Topless Bar and has lately become the print media's biggest cheerleader for Donald Trump's candidacy.  They've published a lot of diatribes against cyclists and this city's attempts to be more "bike friendly".  Some of the latter, to be fair, were on the mark, if for the wrong reasons,  such as their early criticisms of bike lanes.

Today their editorial begins thusly:

It seems it's not enough to ease up on anti-social behavior, from urinating on the street to public pot-smoking:  Next, the City Council may let cyclists legally jump red lights.

Here in New York, many intersections have traffic signals with four-way red lights and "walk" signals that precede the green light by 20 seconds.  In principle, I think it's a good idea, because it allows pedestrians to enter the intersection before, and thus be seen by, motorists who might make turns.  If anything, I think the interval should be longer along some of the city's wider streets such as Queens Boulevard, along which many senior citizens and disabled people live.

The City Council proposal would allow cyclists to follow the pedestrian signal in crossing an intersection.  Frankly, I think a 20-second interval for "jumping" red lights makes even more sense for cyclists than it does for pedestrians, especially for cyclists crossing intersections from bike lanes.  Twenty seconds is plenty of time for cyclists to cross just about any intersection, and even the slowest cyclists at the widest boulevards will have enough time to get through the immediate traffic lanes and avoid motorists making right turns.

The Post does have one thing right:  Many cyclists already do that because we know that it's much safer to cross that way than according to motorists' signals.  But I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a paper of their caliber compares legalizing the practice to tolerating public pot-smoking and urination.

If you follow the logic, if it can be called that, of some of the Post's other editorials and articles, allowing public urination unfairly privileges 49 percent of the population (of which I am not a part:  boo hoo).  So, perhaps, it's not surprising that the esteemed editors would follow the passage I italicized above with this:  It's not as bad as it sounds.  Then, they use even more tortured, to put it kindly, logic to dismiss the City Council proposal.

Usually, when folks like Denis Cordierre propose wrongheaded policies about cycling and pundits endorse them (or oppose good ideas), I can attribute it to a lack of knowledge about-- usually because of a lack of experience in-- cycling.  The Post, however, has magnified that lack of knowledge with an apparent inability to construct a cogent argument. Had any of my students submitted anything like it, he or she would see lots of red ink upon getting it back!

I wonder what Alexander Hamilton would think of that editorial--or the Post?

Now Drivers Can Cross The Line, And Cyclists Are Happy About It

Whenever I visit my parents in Florida, I get out and ride at least once.

Some rides--such as those along Route A1A, which rims the Atlantic Ocean--are beautiful and peaceful.  The calm is occasionally interrupted by traffic in popular beach towns like Flagler and Ormond Beaches, but for the most part, it's pretty orderly and no driver has done anything hostile or dangerous toward me.  Some, I suspect, may be cyclists, but the others just seemed like people who are relaxed and enjoying themselves, or simply courteous.

When I head inland from my parents' house, though, things change.  There, I find myself riding through wooded areas and swamps, or along rivers and creeks.  Those rides are also pleasant and enjoyable, but riding the one-, two- or even four-lane roads toward the Sunshine State's interior is a different experiences.  Although one encounters less traffic--on some roads, you can go for an hour or more without encountering a motor vehicle--the way drivers interact with me is very different.

On such roads, drivers leave less room when passing.  To be fair, many of those roads are very narrow.  But some drivers, it seems, just don't want to deviate even in the slightest from their path.  Or, perhaps, they are not cyclists and are therefore unaccustomed to us.  Indeed, I might be the only cyclist they see that day.  

I've also had drivers tail me even though they could easily pass me.  Then they would bang their horns in frustration and make a sudden swerve around me, affording me only a berth thinner than Benotto handlebar tape.

Then there were those who simply roar down the road as fast as the laws of physics will allow, stirring up whirlwinds of pebbles and dirt and wakes of rustling reeds and mussed-up hair.  They, perhaps, are the most disconcerting drivers of all.

From CBS North Carolina

I have never cycled in North Carolina, but I imagine that all of the scenarios I've described are pretty common.  Cyclists there have long  complained about cars and trucks passing close enough to "take the skin off the back of your hand", as more than one cyclist put it. Another cyclist, Randall Bennett, recalls his arm being clipped by the mirror of a passing car.

Apparently, a section of North Carolina traffic code all but mandated such behavior.  Until the beginning of this month, it was illegal for a driver in the Tar Heel State to cross over the center line to pass a cyclist.  Also, a driver was required to give a berth of only two feet to a cyclist he or she passed.

On the first of this month, changes that were made to House Bill 959 of the State Legislature went into effect.  As a result, it's now legal for a driver to cross over the center line to pass a cyclist, as long as there's an assured clear distance ahead and no oncoming traffic.  Also, drivers have to give cyclists more room--four feet instead of two--when passing.

From what I've read, it seems that both cyclists and drivers are happy with the change:  Cyclists say that it makes conditions safer for them; drivers say the same thing and that it makes them less worried about incurring fines.

Let's hope that, down the road (pun intended), both sides see the results of the new law as a win-win situation.

Edward Adkins: A Victim of Phantom Law Syndrome

During one of my many rides to Point Lookout, I was riding between a traffic jam and the shoulder of Lido Boulevard, just west of the Meadowbrook Parkway entrance.  As I recall, it was a weekday, so I wondered why there so many cars along the Boulevard headed away from Point Lookout. 

I soon had my answer.  Just past the high school, a truck crashed--apparently, from swerving.  The light turned red; I stopped.

"Ma'am.  Get over here!"  I didn't think the burly man in a suit was yelling to me--until he scuttled in front of me.

"I'm talking to you!  When I say come, come!"

"Why?  You're not my father!"

"Don't get cute with me!"

"As if I could..."

"Listen, I don't wanna arrest you..."

"For what..."

"Never mind.  See that truck over there."

I nodded.

"Well, there's a guy on a bike under it, with his skull crushed.  Doesn't look like he's gonna make it."

"Oh, dear..."

"Listen, that coulda been you!"

"Well, I'm careful."

"Well, you were riding carelessly."

"How so?"

"You were riding between cars..."

I wasn't, but I didn't argue.  Then he lectured me about bicycle safety, pointing out that he was a "bicycle safety officer" for the local police department.  I had the impression that everything he knew about bicycle safety, he learned from one of those movies they used to show kids back in the days of "air raid drills".

"That's against the lore (translation:  law), ya' no'."

Then he ordered me to take off my sunglasses.  "Doesn't look like yer under the influence."  Squinting, I slid them back onto my face.

"Where do ya live?" he demanded.

"Astoria."

"You rode all the way from Queens?"  Again, I nodded.

"Well, at least you're wearing a helmet.   The guy under the truck wasn't."

Silence.  Then, "Listen, be careful. I really don't want you getting hurt.  And remember...don't ride between cars.  If I see you doin' that again, I'll hafta write you up."

Later, I looked up the traffic and bicycle codes for the town where I encountered that officer.  I couldn't find any prohibition against riding between cars.  Nor could I find any such regulation in county codes or New York State law. An attorney I contacted called that officer's assertion "nonsense".

Now, the officer I encountered that day may have been upset after dealing with a cyclist who got his head crushed under a truck. Or he may have been having a bad day for some other reason, or had some sort of unspecified rage--or a more specific animus against cyclists, or me as an "uppity" (at least, in the eyes of someone like him) female.  

Or he may have just been suffering from what I call "Phantom Law Syndrome".  

To be fair, police officers aren't the only ones prone to PLS. Lots of people think there are, or aren't, laws against one thing or another in their jurisdiction.  So, they might break a law without realizing it, or keep themselves from doing something because they believe, incorrectly, that there's a law against it. Or they might accuse someone of breaking a law that doesn't exist.

Also--again, to be fair--laws change.  Sometimes they're struck down, aren't renewed or replaced with other laws. Or  they're passed with little or no fanfare.  So, it's not inconceivable that some officer or detective wouldn't be aware of such changes.

I was reminded of those things, and the encounter I've described, when I came across the sad saga of Edward Adkins.

Edward Adkins

Nearly two years ago, a police officer saw the Dallas native riding his bicycle, sans helmet, in his hometown. Apparently, the constable didn't realized that the city's ordinance mandating helmets had been struck down, at least for adults, a few months earlier.  Adkins, 46 years old, lives off odd jobs and didn't have $10 to pay the fine.  

Now there is a warrant for his arrest, which he can pay off--for $259.30.  

Now, I am not a lawyer, and I certainly am not familiar with the police or courts in Dallas.  Still, I can't help but to think that there must be a way to lift the warrant--and to void the ticket because it shouldn't have been issued in the first place.

Even if he has such recourse, though, I imagine it would be very difficult for Adkins to pursue.  After all, doing so would take time and money that he, apparently, doesn't have. 

It also doesn't help Adkins that, in addition to being poor, he is black and lives in a neighborhood comprised mainly of people like him.  Living under such circumstances leaves you even more vulnerable to police officers and other authorities with PLS.  For that matter, laws that actually do exist for such things as wearing helmets and against such things as riding on the sidewalk are more often, and more strictly, enforced in poor minority neighborhoods than in other areas.   I have witnessed it myself:  Not long ago, while riding through the East New York section of Brooklyn, I saw three officers grab one young black man who rode his bike on the sidewalk while a young white couple pedaled through a red light.

Now that I think back to that encounter with the "bicycle safety officer" on Lido Boulevard, I can't help but to wonder how it might've turned out if I'd been darker and poorer (or, at least, riding a bike that wasn't as nice as the one I was riding)--or if I hadn't been wearing a helmet, whether or not one was mandated.