The Future In A Milk Crate?

Perhaps it has to do with having gone from living as a guy named Nick to a woman named Justine. Or maybe it's just a result of aging.

Although I still like long rides--and, sometimes, to pedal as long, fast and hard as I can--my attitudes about cycling have been changing.  Now I can see how arrogant and, frankly, elitist--at least when it came to cycling--I was not so long ago.  Sometimes I still find remnants of those old notions within me: I still get annoyed with riders (these days, many of them on Citibikes) who twiddle along and take up just enough of the lane or road to keep me from passing.  Those dilettantes!  But now I understand how such snobbishness--whether against riders who aren't kitted out in the latest lycra uniforms or bikes that aren't what riders in the Tour would ride--has kept bicycles from becoming the vehicles for change (pardon the pun) they can be.

To be more precise:  Such attitudes have kept people (like yours truly) from allowing the bicycle to transform our cities and our lives in, well, ways that would make our cycling more pleasant as well as practical.  Too many planners see planning only in terms of painting lines on a streets and calling them "bike lanes"; in turn, too many people see those lanes--as well as bike share programs as entitlements for privileged young people.  

As much as I love my nice bikes and rides, I know that if cycling has a future, it lies with the unemployed and minimum-wage workers who ride so they don't have to spend large portions of their incomes (or savings) to buy, maintain, fuel, park and repair cars.   It lies with people pedaling to their schools, offices and shops, and those who go for a spin with their kids or parents or neighbors at the end of the day--as well as those who want to have schools, offices and shops to ride to, and people to ride with.

Last year, I wrote about how city planners and non-profit groups came to recognize these facts, and re-thought what makes a city "bike friendly". They came to see that in Reading, Pennsylvania, where they were working, it meant creating a network of bike lanes that actually allowed people to pedal quickly and safely all over to the city.  They also realized that, in a poor post-indstrial city that has little mass transportation, they had to make bicycling more affordable and convenient for residents.  So, bike racks were installed on city buses, and when Reading's first bike shop opened, it concentrated on selling used bikes and affordable parts, conducting safety and repair workshops--and loaning tools.

Now, I don't know whether planners in Stockton, California have been paying attention to what the folks in Reading have done.  It seems as if they have been:  The city's latest plan calls for a series of bike lanes that will allow cyclists to pedal out of their neighborhoods and ride all over town.  But these lanes won't be just lines on the street:  They will be separated from motor vehicle traffic by barriers or raised medians.  In some areas, traffic lanes will be removed in order to make room for cyclists.

Whether or not the planners in Stockton followed the work of their peers in Reading, they at least seemed to be listening to the concerns of everyday cyclists like Alfonso Macias.  He is a 56-year-old farm worker who doesn't own a car.  Bungee cords hold a grocery crate to the rear rack of a bike he pedals to the store, where he buys the food he carts to his house.  Along the way, he has to share streets that don't have bike lanes, or even shoulders, with drivers who weave around him, or around whom he has to weave.  "Thank god I've never been hit," he says.

Now, he is cycling out of necessity.  Others, who could choose to leave their cars home and ride for errands and such, are deterred from doing so because of the hazards Macias faces.  Here in New York, people have expressed similar concerns, and even wondered how I could ride in this city's traffic. "Aren't you scared?," they wonder.

Even if people perceive cycling as more dangerous than it actually is, their fears need to be heard.  So must the concerns of folks who tie grocery crates to their bikes so they can go shopping.  They, not the wannabe racers encased in lycra, are the future of cycling.

A Wrong Path To Bike Safety

I am generally not a fan of bike lanes.  While data from Antwerp, Belgium indicate that they cut the accident rate in half on high-speed (75KPH/45MPH or more) roads, that same study shows that a cyclist riding in either a separated or painted lane along a medium-speed (50KPH, or 30 MPH) has roughly the same accident risk as one riding on the road itself.  

The same research shows, most tellingly, that along low-speed roads (30KPH/20MPH)--meaning most urban streets--a cyclist in a painted lane is nearly five times as likely to get in an accident.  And, if he or she is riding in a separated lane, the risk increases to more than six times what it would be if the road had no lane.

Studies from other locales corroborate the main lesson of Antwerp's experience:  that bike lanes make cyclists safer only in comparison to riding on a highway.  On most suburban streets, the safety level is about the same as it is for lanes.  And on city streets, using bike lanes actually puts cyclists at greater risk for accidents than if they rode on sidewalks, which have long been considered--by planners and everyday cyclists alike--to be the most dangerous places to ride.

Yet transportation planners and "experts" insist that the best way to make urban cycling safer is to paint or install more lanes.  When confronted with findings like the ones I've mentioned, their response usually goes along the lines of "Well, bike lanes make people feel safer.  And if people feel cycling is safer, more of them will do it."

Some people feel safer if they sleep with a gun under their pillow. I wonder how well that logic works.

Anyway, it seems that in transportation planning--especially as it pertains to bicycles--there isn't an idea that's so bad that nobody can come up with something worse.  And, sadly, those worse ideas are just as likely to come from "bike friendly" burgs as they are to emanate from those places where one is not considered fully human without an internal combustion engine.

For the past decade or so, Montreal has been done as much as any city to encourage cycling.  Like other municipalities with "bike friendly" reputations, it established a bike-share program (Bixi) and turned disused byways like the path along the Lachine Canal into bike lanes.  To be sure, it made some mistakes, but on the whole, Montreal has probably done more than most cities (at least in the Americas) to consider cyclists in its transportation planning.

From CBC News

But now it seems that Denis Corderre, the Mayor the City of a Hundred Steeples, plans to take one of the most unsafe practices of contemporary urban planning and make it even more hazardous for cyclists--and just about everyone else.

La Rue St. Denis and Le Boulevard St. Laurent are the two main north-south thoroughfares on the island of Montreal, while Sherbrooke Street is one of its major east-west conduits.  Monsieur Corderrre wants to paint lanes on them that will be shared by bikes and buses.

Let that one sink in.  Bikes and buses in the same lane.  I don't see how anyone can feel, let alone be, safer.  Buses have a lot of blind spots, so it's easier for a bus driver to simply not see a cyclist in the lane.  Also, buses pulling over to pick up and discharge passengers, and pulling away from those bus stops are at least as much of a hazard as motorists making turns into intersections into which bike lanes feed.  

Oh, but it gets worse.  You see, Corderre's plan also calls for turning Avenues Papineau and de Lorimier--two other important north-south routes--into one-way streets simply to accomodate the bus/bike lanes.  

When I visited the City of Saints last year, I spent a fair amount of time riding all of those streets.  They are heavily trafficked, but one can ride them by exercising the same sort of caution one would employ on a major street in almost any western city.  Even a separate bike-only lanes would probably do nothing to make cycling safer.  In fact, they would most likely make riding more dangerous for the same reasons they put pedalers in greater peril in other cities.  On those streets, as well as on streets in other cities in which I've cycled, it's easier and safer to negotiate with buses when they, and cyclists, are part of the regular traffic flow.  I know:  I do it nearly every day!

Denis Corderre, reconsiderez s'il vous plait!

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?

 

Why Most Americans Don't--Or Can't--Pedal, Walk Or Take The Train To Work

Ever since I took my first bike tour in Europe, I've dreamt of the day when Americans had the sort of freedom of choice in transportation that many Europeans have.

(Of course, I was dreaming, at least for a time, of living in Europe for the rest of my life.  Sometimes I still have that dream.)

Is the United States any closer to being a country where you can decide whether you want to drive, take a train or bus, pedal or walk to work, school or shop than it was in 1980?  I'd say that in most of the country, that answer is "no".

I'm well aware that the number of bicycle commuters has increased exponentially over the past decade or so in my home town, New York City.  Such a scenario has also unfolded in a few other large American cities, such as Boston, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Washington DC and, from what I hear, Chicago.  Perhaps even more to the point, in those cities, and perhaps a few other places in the States, there are more than a few people who ride to the office or classroom or store by choice, not because they can't afford a car.

However, in large swaths of this nation, cycling and walking--or even mass transit--is less feasible than driving for most people.  That is the situation even in some of our largest cities, such as Los Angeles, Denver, Phoenix and pretty much any major metro area in Florida or Texas.  And, for a variety of reasons, it doesn't seem that things will change much in the near future.

What I've said in the previous two paragraphs basically sums up a recent post in a blog I've just discovered:  Rebuilding Place in the Urban Space.  The blog's author, Richard Layman, is "an urban/commercial district revitalization and transportation/mobility advocate" based in Washington DC.  He's also a principal in BicyclePASS, a bicycle facilities integration firm.

Mr. Layman succinctly gives the most basic reason why getting to work in any way besides a car isn't really an option for most Americans:  Patterns of development outside the older cities made the private automobile the fastest and most efficient way of getting around.  And, where anything resembling a mass transit system was developed, it wasn't made to facilitate everyday life.  An example of too many transit systems' lack of efficacy can be seen in that in places like the Tampa Bay area, even pro-transit public officials don't use the local bus system. 

Even in the cities where, as I've mentioned, the number of commuters who pedal, walk or take the train or bus is growing, there are still many who choose to drive.  Some simply enjoy driving or don't want to give up the sense of privacy they have in their cars.  And, to be fair, some people--such as self-employed contractors--have to haul around lots of equipment or have to travel between work sites that aren't close to mass transit lines.  But there are still many people who would simply prefer not to give up the freedom or privacy they believe they have in their own automobiles.  Also there are still people in New York and other cities who believe that bicycles and mass transit are "for other people".

Corner of Delancey and Essex Streets, Lower East Side, New York

Cities like New York, Boston, Chicago and San Francisco all have transportation infrastructures--and even a few bike lanes--that have survived, mostly intact, the century or so of the automotive age.  (The San Francisco Bay Area's BART system was built in the 1970's, but San Francisco, at least, had a decent transit system and something like a bicycling infrastructure before that.)  They also have business and residential areas that are close to each other.  In contrast, places like Tampa Bay, much of which was undeveloped during the time the older cities were building their transit systems, developed in a more horizontal way than the older cities and didn't build mass transit systems or even facilities amenable to cyclists or pedestrians.

There are some other older cities, like Detroit, Pittsburgh, St. Louis and Cleveland, had decent transit systems--or at least,  housing and employment centers relatively close to each other.  But, according to Layman, they "lost their ability to support sustainable transportation" as "metropolitan areas sprawled and businesses left the city", trends accelerated by de-industrialization.

I am not familiar with the transportation systems of those cities. But, if they're anything like the ones I've used in the US, they are designed to get people in and out of a central business area of the city--or, at least, some place that was a central business area at the time the system was built.  Such systems aren't made to get people between destinations in the outer boroughs or suburbs. 

(Given these facts, it will be interesting to see how cities like Portland, Seattle and Los Angeles-- all of which are more spread-out than New York, Boston or San Francisco--re-develop their transit systems.)

In suburban and exurban areas, it's considered a "given" that people will have cars.  In fact, we now have at least a generation of people who know, basically, no other means of transportation:  They have no experience with mass transit and the bicycle--if it's ridden in adulthood--is seen as a recreational, rather than a transportation, vehicle.  Moreover, homeowners don't want sidewalks built across their front lawns.

From the ranks of such people come many elected representatives, who don't see the need for mass transportation or amenities that would facilitate and encourage cycling and walking.  Thus, they don't vote to fund such things or even Amtrak. 


Seeing the things I've described, Layman says--and he makes a lot of sense to me--it's unlikely that most transportation systems will be repatterned to make walking, cycling or public transportation practical alternatives for getting to work or wherever else people need to be.  At least, it doesn't seem likely for a few more decades. 



 

A Matter Of Condiitoning?

In response to the post I wrote yesterday, Steve A made some really good points.

For one, the US states with the lowest rates of cycling and walking to work were, for the most part, developed later than the ones with the highest rates.   Those states have sprawling metropoli—As Steve points out, Dallas-Fort Worth is half the size of the Netherlands!—in stark contrast to more concentrated cities like New York.

Newer conurbations, for the most part, were surrounded by open land:  Think of Las Vegas, for example.  They were not constrained by water, as New York, Boston and San Francisco are, or by established communities or other natural or artificial boundaries.  And the sprawl of cities like Las Vegas and Jacksonville, FL was enabled, in large part, by the multilane highways that were carved through them.

Moreover, most of the newly-developed cities in the Sunbelt did not build meaningful—or any—mass-transit systems.  As cities and suburbs sprawled, the lack of trains, buses, trolleys and other public vehicles essentially forced dependency on the automobile that would have been merely enabled by the highways.

(In stark contrast, the bike-friendly cities of Europe have expanded their boundaries little, if at all, since the Middle Ages. And they are not divided by expressways in the way American cities are.)

 

Another point Steve makes is that much Sun Belt development has been spurred or aided by air conditioners.  I recall now the times I’ve gone to Florida and Texas during the summer:  People spend most of their days indoors, in their homes or in movie theatres and shopping malls.  If they walk, cycle, run or engage in any outdoor activities, they’re out early in the morning or evening.  I usually did the same:  If I was outdoors in the middle of the day, I was in a body of water!

And, interestingly, the states with the lowest rates of cycling and walking to work are, mainly, the ones that depend on air conditioning.  Cities like Phoenix and Las Vegas would be all but nonexistent without it; they are also not cities known for cycling or pedestrian advocacy.

Hmm…Steve’s Law of the inverse relationship between cycling and the use of air conditioners.  Interesting.  That flies in the face of what most people (most non-cyclists, anyway) believe about the relationship between weather or climate and cycling.  It makes sense to me.  Good work, Steve.  Now, if you don’t want to take credit for it…;-)

Detroit: The Next Portland--Or Amsterdam?

Henry Ford with his bicycle in the early 1890's. 

David Byrne has said that one of the most memorable bike rides he ever took was in Detroit.  He described the backdrop to his Motor City randonnee as a "postapocalyptic landscape at its finest" and rates that trip with his spin along the Bosprous and Sea of Mamara in Istanbul.

Somehow I'm not surprised that he was so taken with the devastation of Detroit.  He is, after all, David Byrne.  But, if you've been following this blog, you know that some of my favorite rides here in New York take me through industrial areas of the Bronx, Brooklyn and Long Island City, which are so free of traffic on weekends that they're weirdly bucolic.  I feel the same way about the Wall Street area; the only problem with it is that there isn't nearly as much of it as there are of those old industrial areas.

The thing about Detroit is that he's not the only one who thinks it's an excellent cycling city.  Many riders, who live within the city limits as well as in the suburbs, appreciate the fact that the city is flat, save for the area around Dorais Park. They also like the extensive networks of paths and greenways that line the Detroit River, which separates the city from Windsor, Ontario in Canada. ("Detroit" means "strait" in French.)  In fact, some people cross the border to ride in the home of the Big Three.  

Interestingly (and, I'm sure for the people involved, exasperatingly), there is no way to cycle between Detroit and Windsor.  In fact, the buses from Windsor will allow bicycles only if they're disassembled and in a box or bag.    Even then, the driver has the authority to deny access if he or she feels the bus is too crowded.  On the other hand, there is work on developing a water taxi between the two cities, and it's believed that bicycles will be allowed on them.

Another interesting aspect to Motor City Cycling is that it has a velodrome--in Dorais Park.  If you know about the city's history, it may not be such a surprise:  After all, it was a center for bicycle manufacturing and riding before the auto industry developed.  (In fact, Henry Ford and others associated with the auto industry began as bicycle makers and mechanics.) Even after Chevys and Fords started rolling off the assembly lines, Detroit kept the flame of bicycle racing alive during the Dark Ages (at least for American racing) that followed World War II.

But, in another layer of irony, the Dorais Park Velodrome doesn't go that far back.  In fact, construction on it began during the riots of 1967, and it opened on the day Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon in 1969.  It lay unused and all but abandoned until it was discovered by suburban cyclists who were using the hill for training.

I am not an urban planner or an expert on Detroit.  But I, like almost everyone else in the USA, have some ideas about what Detroit's future could be like.  Denizens of Pittsburgh realized that the steel industry would never be as significant as it was until the 1970's.  So, they took advantage of the fact that the city had some first-class academic institutions like the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie-Mellon, and turned the erstwhile Steel City into a center for biomedical research and technology, much as Boston did earlier.  

Detroit doesn't have the sort of academic institutions that Boston and Pittsburgh have.  But what a lot of people don't realize is that not very far from Detroit are vast stretches of farms.  Michigan has always been a leading agricultural state; perhaps Detroit could become a center of agronomy and other "green"technology.

But even more important (for the purposes of this blog, anyway), the city might be able to take advantage of the shrinkage even its Mayor, David Bing, has advocated.  A more compact Detroit could be ideal for the development of a cycling infrastructure.  Perhaps, in a smaller city, the residential and business areas would be closer together, which would make bicycle commuting--and cycling in general--more feasible and enjoyable for more people.  

Who knows?  Perhaps Detroit could be the next Portland--or Amsterdam.