When It Was A Gravel Rider's Dream

Following the trail further, the hardy voyager wandered over 'hills and valleys, dales and fields' through a countryside where trout, mink, otter, and muskrat swam in the brooks and pools; brant, black duck, and yellow-leg splashed in the marshes and fox, rabbit, woodcock, and partridge found covert in the thicket.

The preceding passage isn't an account of my latest ride, though it could have described other rides I've taken.

I have, however, pedaled down the route followed by the author of that passage.  My latest trek along that thoroughfare--one of many--took me past stores, restaurants, condo and co-op buildings and offices.

Also, I rode in the opposite direction from that of the scribe who penned that passage.  Today, it's the only way one can travel for most of the roadway's length.

I am talking about one of the world's most famous urban byways:  Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

The section Arthur Bartlett Maurice described ran from about 21st to 28th Streets:  about a mile and a half from the Avenue's southern terminus at Washington Square Park.  He was also narrating a northward ("uptown" in New York parlance) trek; since 1966, all of the Avenue, save for a few blocks at its northern end, has allowed only southbound ("downtown") traffic.

Can you believe this was once a sight along Fifth Avenue?

This month marks 200 years since the Avenue--which was mainly a dirt path--opened.  It had been planned thirteen years earlier; its opening ushered an unprecedented building boom that, decades later, would lead to the stretch abutting Central Park to become "Millionaire's Row" and, later, "Museum Mile."

Or this?

Mind you, I don't make a point of cycling Fifth Avenue.  But there are times when it's an efficient and, given that it doesn't have a protected bike lane, relatively safe way to go.   Because the stretch from 110th to 59th marks the Park boundary, most side-streets dead-end into it, so there are few intersections to navigate.  Also, I find that its traffic patterns and flows are fairly predictable, even along the Midtown sector.

Oh, and I always make sure I wave to Patience and Fortitude when I pass the main New Yave to ork Public Library building.  If they could talk.... 

(Thanks to Esther Crain, the author of one of my favorite blogs--Ephemeral New York--for the tribute to Fifth Avenue's bicentennial.)

We're Giving You A Reason That Conflicts With The One We Gave You

When I lived in Manhattan, I often cycled across the George Washington Bridge:  I could set out for Bear Mountain around sunrise on a late spring or summer morning and be back before noon.  Even at such an early hour, I'd see other cyclists crossing the bridge in both directions.  Some were riding into the city for work or pleasure, but a few were returning from midnight rides:  something I did at least a few times.  Such trips were possible because, in those days (ca. 1983-1991), the Bridge's walkway/cycle paths didn't close.

Some in the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey management will deny the lanes were ever available 24 hours.  Pardon my cynicism, but I don't find it surprising that the bi-state agency that owns the Bridge (and JFK International Airport, among other facilities) would try to gaslight those of us who have been using the Bridge for decades.  

Photo by Charles Pedola

I don't know exactly when the PANYNJ began overnight closure of the bike lanes.  Nor does the agency itself--or, if it does, it's employing "selective memory."  Like Ed Ravin of the Five Borough Bike Club, I remember the nocturnal lane closure starting some time after the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001. That is when the Authority installed gates.   "I remember seeing that gate and saying, 'They want to be able to close this path,'"  he recalls.  "I didn't like that at all."

Whatever the case, the path had been closed from midnight through 6 am until earlier this month.  Then, the lanes'  availability was extended by one hour:  It now opens at 5 am.  While that is a partial victory, the PANYNJ's reasoning is murky at best and specious at worst.  A spokesman claimed that the closures began in 2016 for cleaning, maintenance and restoration.  That contrasts with  another statement attributing the closure to a "standard practice" that began in 1995. Both of those claims contradict a 2004 press release stating the lanes would be closed overnight due to "enhanced security measures" for that year's Republican National Convention.

Now, to most people, that difference of one hour doesn't sound like much.  But there are people who ride to and from jobs at that hour--or overnight--who can't afford to, or simply don't, drive or take buses.  Even those of us who pedal across the bridge to train or simply for pleasure feel something in common with those workers:  that the Port Authority doesn't care about us.  About 4 million vehicles drive across the bridge every month; the tolls they pay make the Bridge the Port Authority's second most-profitable asset (after JFK Airport).  On the other hand, in a warm-weather month, about 90,000 of us pedal across the bridge--and we don't pay tolls.

A Tour Of My New Home

 The other day I rode in the Tour de Bronx.  The ride, which isn’t a race, is offered in three lengths:  10, 25 and the “epic” “40+” mile route.  If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that I took the longest trek which, for me, still isn’t particularly long. According to a few other riders, we actually did about 45 miles.

I must say, though, that it’s interesting. We pedaled through some neighborhoods my neighbor Sam and I have explored. He has lived most of his life in the Bronx, but he—like other riders in the Tour—was surprised to see that the borough is full of such varying communities, architectural styles and topography. For example, people were as surprised to see a sign reading “Welcome to Country Club” (Yes, there is a Bronx neighborhood by that name!) as they were to encounter the climb from Van Cortlandt Park to the Fieldston enclave of private streets and the prep school JFK attended.

The ride’s’ volunteers were helpful and almost preternaturally cheerful.  In addition to directing us, they handed out snacks, water and energy drinks and served up pizza and other goodies in the Botanical Garden, where the ride ended.

That they had so much food and drink was amazing when you consider one of the ways the Tour differs from the Five Boro Bike Tour (which is roughly the same length):  the Bronx ride is free, while last year’s Five Boro set back each participant $100. I think the difference might be due in part to how many sponsors the Bronx ride has. But it may also have to do with another major difference in the ride itself.

Streets and highways that comprise the 5B route are completely closed to traffic. I imagine that the city spends a fair amount for police patrols along the way—and, as I understand, accounts for part of the entry fee.  On the other hand, most of the streets—some of which included bike lanes—weren’t cordoned off for the TdB. 

While that wasn’t a problem for me—except for two incidents I’ll mention—for some riders, who were treating the ride as a race, stopping for a red light was an affront to their egos. So they rolled through and the riders behind them—including, at times, yours truly, felt drivers’ wrath.

One of those riders, who probably was young enough to be my grandchild, squeezed past me on City Island Avenue, which has one traffic lane in each direction and, for some reason, was as heavily trafficked as it would be on a summer Sunday. So there was no choice but to ride between the traffic and parked vehicles—which is where that young rider passed and almost bumped into me.

The other incident came near the end of the ride, where we turned on to University Avenue. There is a marked, but not protected, bike lane which I don’t use because, frankly, it’s more dangerous than riding in the traffic lane. Other riders were either familiar with it or saw that the turn to the bike lane was awkward. But one guy who looked like he’s lived on beer and bacon cheeseburgers since his days as a linebacker ended and was riding an electric bike (pedal-assisted, which was allowed) decided he had to ride in the bike lane and cut in front of me. “Why don’t you use the bike lane?” he yelled.

Even after his and the passer’s lack of consideration—and the fact that I had ridden everywhere (except Woodlawn Cemetery, which doesn’t allow bikes to enter at any other time) along the route on other rides, I am glad I did the Tour and probably will do it again. To me, it feels more like a ride than 5B, which feels more and more like an event. Oh, and I think the TdB offers more surprises—and rewards.

From A City That Almost Became A Cycling Utopia To One That Claims To Be One

 Before Portland became, well, Portland, there was a moment—say, about 30 years ago—when it seemed that Seattle would become what the “Rose City” has become in America’s —and the world’s—consciousness. (Sorry to sound like a grad student trying to imitate their favorite professor!) 

San Francisco’s countercultural spirit and much of its sheer charm was being ground down (some would say it had already been ground down) by tech- and finance-industry wealth; other cities’ creative communities and bohemian enclaves—if they ever had them in the first place—were similarly destroyed or co-opted by corporatization and gentrification. While “indie” culture, which was largely defined by its music (think Kurt Cobain, Pearl Jam et al.) was Seattle’s trademark and gave  “The Emerald City” a reputation as a haven for people who did things their way, it is very different from what “keeps Portland weird.”

But, because I am writing about cycling and not a cultural history of the United States, I am thinking of a particular way in which Seattle almost became, in essence, Portland before there was Portland—or the notion of Portland, anyway.  That is to say, Seattle seemed destined to become America’s “Bicycle City.”

I tried to find, in vain, reports I read during that time saying that Seattle had more bicycle shops, per capita, than any other US city and that it was building what we now call “bicycle infrastructure” decades before most other cities’ and other jurisdictions’—including Portland’s—planners had even thought of it. If indeed my memory of such things is correct, I could attribute that interest in cycling and cycling infrastructure to traits shared by many who moved to Seattle during the ‘80’s and ‘90’s and who moved to Portland a decade later: They loved outdoor activities, including cycling. Perhaps more important, at least a few fled car-centric cities and suburbs and wanted their newly-adopted hometowns to be more bike- and pedestrian-friendly.

Given this history, it’s understandable that Seattle Bike Blog author Tom Fucoloro would expect to find a cycling utopia during his recent visit to Portland—and surprising that he didn’t. Lest you think that his judgment was a matter of envy or civic pride, he offers some very specific criticisms of cycling in the city which, he says, he enjoyed. 

Tom Fucoloro and his son cycling in Portland.

His most trenchant observations are of downtown bike lanes. One is the lanes’ lack of connectedness: Some begin out of nowhere and take you nowhere, much less to another lane. (That is also one of my pet peeves about New York’s bike lanes.) Another is that there aren’t protected lanes in high-traffic downtown areas.

I share his consternation that a city that touts itself as a cyclists’ haven, and claims to encourage transportation as well as recreational cycling, doesn’t do something that might entice more people to abandon their cars, at least for short trips. Then again, I’m not surprised, as I live in New York, where the situation isn’t much better—but at least we have more extensive, if overburdened, mass transit systems .

Why Are Bike Lanes Seen As Conduits Of Gentrification?

When the bike lane came to Crescent Street, people didn't wonder whether they'd be priced out of the neighborhood.  It didn't price me out:  My rent was the same on the day I moved as it was three and a half years earlier, when the bike lane opened.  I moved mainly because a senior apartment (don't tell anybody!) became available.

But others see those green strips of asphalt with white borders (or, in some cases, bollards or other separators) as conduits of class warfare.  While they might own their homes, they worry about the face and faces of their communities changing.  

Such anxieties are felt and expressed (sometimes overtly) mainly in older white working-class enclaves and communities of color.  From Hasidic Jews and other religious conservatives who don't want "scantily clad" cyclists (and "sexy-ass hipster girls") rolling past their abodes to working parents who ferry themselves to work and their kids to school in cars and minivans and complain they "can't park" and they're "always stuck in traffic" to poor Blacks and Hispanics who feel abandoned by their cities and country, people in communities where few adults ride bikes for recreation (and certainly aren't riding the latest carbon-fiber technowonder) see cyclists--especially cycling activists and advocates--as younger, whiter, richer or more libertine than themselves.  Oh, and many of us are childless or have only one child, in contrast to the large families many poor, religious and other people support.

So in a way, I can understand why some people sigh "There goes my neighborhood!" when a bike lane comes to their doorstep. To put it in pedantic, schoolmarmish terms, they are equating correlation with causation.  That is also understandable:  When people don't know the underlying reasons for a phenomenon, they tend to link any two events they see simultaneously.  And it's true that in my hometown of New York, you are more likely to ride in a bike lane if you're on the Upper East Side of Manhattan than if you're living and riding in the decidedly non-gentrified, non-hipster Brooklyn neighborhood of East New York.  

In my observation, if there is any cause-and-effect relationship between bike lanes and gentrification, it's actually the reverse of what many people believe:  If anything, gentrification leads to the building of bike lanes in one neighborhood.  Those paths are usually constructed along long corridors that lead from one neighborhood into another. So a lane like the one along Kent Avenue in Brooklyn began in the gentrified/hipster areas of Greenpoint and North Williamsburg and was extended down to the ungentrified areas of South Williamsburg, where most residents are members of large Hasidic families.  And another Brooklyn bike lane, along Fourth Avenue, extends from the mostly White and Middle Eastern enclaves of Bay Ridge through the mainly immigrant Chinese and Mexican communities in Sunset Park and, from there, into working-class neighborhoods near Greenwood Cemetery and on to uber-gentrified Park Slope.

If anything, such lanes should be equalizers:  People from poor as well as affluent communities can use them to bike (or ride their scooters) to work, school, shop or just for fun. I think, perhaps, more people would see them that way if more bike activists and advocates looked and talked (ahem) less like me!

Our Mistakes Migrating North?

 In one way, hostility drivers direct at cyclists is like racism, sexism and homo- and transphobia: It’s based on stereotypes and other misconceptions.

One of the stereotypes about cyclists is that we’re Lycra-clad antisocial scofflaws (or “sexy-ass hipster girls”). I stopped wearing Lycra years ago and I obey the law to the degree that I can without endangering myself or anyone else.

As for misconceptions:  One that drivers have shouted at me when they cut me off is that cyclists and bike lanes are the reason why drivers spend so much time sitting in traffic.

I can understand why they, however misguidedly, link bike lanes with traffic jams. On Crescent Street, where I lived until a few months ago, a bike lane was installed a few years ago. From day one, I thought it was a terrible idea because Crescent, a southbound thoroughfare with two traffic and parking lanes, was the only direct connection between the RFK Memorial Bridge/Grand Central Parkway and the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge/Long Island Expressway. For that reason, it has always had more traffic than the other north-south streets (except 21st) in Astoria and Long Island City. The situation was exacerbated by Mount Sinai-Queens hospital on Crescent and 30th Avenue, two blocks from where I lived.

So as poor a decision as it was to turn a Crescent traffic lane into a bike route, it was not the cause of traffic tie-ups or drivers’ inability to find parking: Vehicular logjams and the paucity of parking spaces plagued the street long before the bike lane arrived.

Unfortunately, similar mistakes in bike infrastructure planning have been made, and motorists’ misconceptions and frustrations have resulted, all over New York and other US cities. They have led grandstanding politicians and candidates to pledge that no more bike lanes will be built and existing ones will be “ripped out.”

Even more worrisome, at least to me, is that lawmakers in a place that seems to have more enlightened policies than ours are talking about such knee-jerk “solutions” to traffic “problems.” In the Canadian province of Ontario, the government is considering legislation that would prohibit the installation of bike lanes if motor vehicle lanes have to be removed.

Bike lane on Eglinton Avenue. Toronto. Photo by Paul Smith for CBC.

The “reasoning” behind it is the population—and traffic—growth around cities like Toronto, Ottawa and Hamilton which has led to longer commute times.

What such policy makers fail to realize is that growth, especially in the suburbs, is largely a result of building roads that provide direct access to cities’ business districts, or between suburban locations.  Research has shown this pattern to repeat itself in metropolitan areas all over the world:  One planner describes it as a “build it and they will come” phenomenon.

Moreover, the legislation Ontario lawmakers are proposing posits a false choice between motor vehicle and bike lanes and pits cyclists against motorists. It’s difficult to see how inciting such a conflict will make commuting—or cycling or driving for any other kind of transportation or recreation—safer or more efficient.

I hope that Ontario’s legislature will stop and listen to research and evidence rather than loud, angry voices. My hope is not unfounded: our neighbors to the north seem to do such things more often and earlier, whether it comes to transportation, marriage equality or any number of other issues.

Struck—Not By A Car Or SUV—While Cycling To School

People's concerns about cycling safety most commonly are centered around motor vehicles: We all hope that two tons of metal approaching is from behind isn’t steered by someone who’s intoxicated, enraged or simply careless.

The next-most common safety concerns probably are about road or bike lane hazards like potholes, sewer drains with grates that run parallel to the curb or lanes that send us directly into the path of right-turning vehicles.

Depending on where we ride, we may also need to take weather or other natural elements into account. For example, in mountainous areas, I’ve ridden directly from sunshine and summery heat into snow and sleet, and  vice versa.  

And while lightning can flash just about anywhere in the world, Florida seems to be a particular target for those bolts of electricity. But even in the so-called Sunshine State, I don’t think that most cyclists think about their rides—and their days of riding—coming to an end because they were struck by lightning while riding.

That, apparently is what happened to an eleventh-grader in Pembroke Pines, just north of Miami.  He was rushed to a hospital where he was pronounced dead, and there’s a hole where his body was recovered. A home security video picked up the apparent strike, and a resident of the home where the camera was positioned said that she heard the loudest “boom” she’d ever heard right about the time that video captured the unfortunate encounter.

I’ll bet that she didn’t envision, any more than the poor young man did, being struck by lightning while cycling home from school. And I’ll bet that if she thought about cycling safely before that incident, she probably thought more about vehicles crashing into cyclists—which kills more cyclists in Florida than in any other US state.

Paying Attention to Cyclists in the City of Brotherly Love

Two months ago, Barbara Friedes was riding her bike on Philadelphia’s Spruce Street bike lane. An alleged drunk driver swerved into the lane and hit her from behind.

The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia was left with one fewer doctor than it had before the crash.

To its credit, the local affiliate of CBS News has been following bicycle safety in the City of Brotherly Love. The station’s investigation has not only followed crashes caused by drunk, careless or entitled drivers. It has also pursued such issues as city-issued permits—which the investigators called “questionable”—allowing churches to park in bike lanes on Sundays.

(That reminds me of something that might be touchy in this time of the Israel-Gaza conflict: The ultra-orthodox Jewish communities in my hometown of New York have a history of opposing nearly all bike-favorable policies and infrastructure on the grounds of “religious freedom.”)

Turns out, Philadelphia City Council President Kenyatta Johnson has also been paying attention. He has introduced a bill nicknamed the “Get Out of the Bike Lane” legislation. If passed, it would increase fines from $75 to $125 for parking or stopping in bike lanes in Center City or University City. Fines for similar infractions in other parts of the city would increase from $50 to $75.

Sometimes They’re Righr

 A letter to the Baltimore Banner’s editor illustrated, for me, a problem in the planning and public perception of bicycle infrastructure.

I am not familiar with Baltimore. From reading Dr. Mark Braun’s letter, however, I get the impression that the city’s bike lanes are as sporadic and episodic as they are in other American locales.

Dr. Braun, who describes himself as a new resident and avid cyclist, says that he cannot understand why residents object to one proposed bike lane, but completely understands why they object to another. 

Photo by Daniel Zawodny

About the latter, he says two roads that would connect parts of other bike trails are “overbuilt” and would be “incredibly unsafe for children or inexperienced riders. He says the former is a much better choice, as it is a four-lane road where traffic is light but fast, which encourages drivers to speed. A bike lane along that road, he argues, would result in “decreased vehicle speeds” and provide “direct access” to two parks.

In other words, he is saying that on the road where a proposed lane has raised objections he can’t understand, the lane would actually make the road safer for traffic as well as cyclists. And, he understands the objections to the other proposed route for essentially the same reason.

Such considerations never seem to factor into decisions about where and how to build bike lanes in American cities. That, I believe is one factor that causes planners to create bad bike lanes and for non-cyclists to object to good lanes for the wrong reasons.

Silly Goose!

 While riding down the Hudson River Greenway, “Sam” and I had to dodge a flock of geese that strolled into the path.

I say that if you’re going to take up space in a bike lane you should, at least, be on a bike!

First Times, Again

 I’ve never been here before—on a bike.

So exclaimed “Sam,” my new neighbor and riding buddy when we stopped at City Island during our first ride together. I heard it a few more times the other day, after we pedaled the length of Manhattan on the Hudson River bike lane and looped past the Staten Island Ferry terminal and South Street Seaport to the Williamsburg Bridge.

“I’ve never crossed this on bike!”

He also rode “Hipster Hook”—the waterfront of Williamsburg and Greenpoint for the first time. In fact, our ride was his first into Brooklyn and Queens.

He apologizes for riding a pace slower than mind. I don’t mind, I assure him. He, who has asthma, is riding, and that is good. So what if we need to stop so he can use his inhaler? 

More than anything, I enjoy his company: Let’s say that he’s lived a life vastly different from mine and therefore sees things in a way I never could. Plus, I love seeing him experience those “firsts” on a bike. 

I suspect that if we do some of the same rides again, that sense of discovery won’t disappear: He will change as a rider as, I believe, we all do. Besides, I can take a ride I’ve done dozens, or even hundreds, of times and experience something new or anew, whether in my surroundings or my body, or the bike itself—whether I’m by myself or pedaling with a new riding buddy.

Even In A Cyclist's Paradise, Not All Is Heavenly

The Netherlands is often seen as a cyclists' paradise.  Indeed, the country's ratio of bicycles to people is roughly the same as, ahem, of that of guns to people in the United States. (That is to say, humans are outnumbered.) And comprehensive networks of bike lanes that you can actually use to get from home to school or work, or to go shopping or simply on a "fun" ride, crisscross many Dutch cities and towns.  Moreover, bicycle "infrastructure" includes facilities like parking garages that drivers take for granted.

However, even in such a velocipedic utopia, not all places are "bike friendly," according to Mark Wagenbuur, the "Bicycle Dutch" blog author.  Recently, he was asked to speak in Wageningen, a small city with a university renowned for its work in agricultural technology and engineering.  As he had never before been in the city, he spent some time pedaling in it before offering his perspective on its cycling conditions.

There, he reports, he found "a mishmash of various types of infrastructure that have developed over time." Not only did he find paths with different kinds of surfaces that weren't connected, he also found bike lanes where they "didn't need to be," like the one alongside a residential street with a 30 kph (19 mph) speed limit.  To be fair, he points out, the street was once a major road, so the bike lane may have made more sense.  But, as with any kind of infrastructure, it needs to be updated. 

Also, he found "car parking lots galore" in a city that is "warmly welcoming car drivers" and noticed that, like other cities that aren't particularly welcoming to cyclists, it's also difficult to reach and navigate via mass transit. (Though there is a bus terminal, the nearest rail station is 8 km--about 5 miles--from the center of the city.) Furthermore, the pedestrian route from the bus station to the center of town includes crossing a busy Provincial Road with no crosswalk or traffic lights. From there, pedestrians traverse a dark underpass and a car parking lot.

Americans (and people in some other countries) might dismiss Wagenbuur as "spoiled." After all, he is comparing conditions in Wageningen to those of his home city and others in the Netherlands.  But he has made a valid point:  Wageningen can, and should do better, even if its cycling conditions are better than those of most locales in the United States.

A Newspaper Calls Out Its City's Drivers

"In a city plagued with reckless driving..."

Would you expect an article about your city (or town), published in a local newspaper, to begin with that phrase?

Well, a piece in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel began that way.  In many other American locales, even those that are supposedly "bike-friendly," drivers would howl in protest, and cancel subscriptions and, if they're business owners, advertisements.  I've never been to Milwaukee, so I won't speculate on whether motorists have more or less sway than they have in other places.  Even if they have less influence, it's still surprising to see an article (not an editorial) begin with such a phrase.

The focus of the article is how reckless and simply entitled drivers are undermining the city's efforts to build a network of bike lanes.  In particular, it described the ways in which drivers have made pedaling  along North Avenue, in the words of longtime cyclist Lydia Ravenwood,  "worse with the bike lane."

I would echo a similar complaint about some streets in my hometown, New York City, that have bike lanes.  Sam Mattson, another longtime cyclist, gives a reason that any New York cyclist could give about too many of our lanes:  Drivers treat them like parking lanes. (He doesn't mention something I would add:  Taxi and ride share drivers pick up and discharge passengers in the bike lanes.)  But he also adds a detail that relates to the article's headline:  Drivers deliberately smash into the concrete planters that separate the bike from the traffic lane. 

A cyclist on East North Avenue, Milwaukee.  Photo by Mike De Sisti for the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.

If you ask me, even if those motorists are skilled enough to effect a "controlled" crash, they are as reckless--with the lives of cyclists and pedestrians as well as themselves--as drug- or alcohol-addled hooligans who plow along the street at twice the speed limit and just "happen" to knock over the barriers.

Cyclists in The City Of Light

 During the Olympic Games, not all cyclists are on the track or trails, or on streets set aside for the road races and time trials. And they’re not all commuters: After all, Paris (and France) has a reputation for being “closed” in August, when residents leave for vacations in the countryside or abroad.

Rather, many of the cyclists along the Quai d’Orsay and other popular venues are visitors. Velib (the city’s bike share network) use is up 11 percent from last year in spite of bad weather. Much of that increase can be attributed to a 44 percent rise in temporary passes.

It’s difficult not to think that visitors are encouraged by the network of bike lanes that laces the City of Light and the auto-free zones created in other parts of the city.  Also, Velib has installed additional docking stations at the entrances to Olympic venues and other key locations.

Illustration by Logan Guo

The campaign to make Paris less car-congested and more bik-friendly began shortly after current mayor Anne Hidalgo was first elected ten years ago and was no doubt accelerated by planning for the Olympics. In contrast to American cities—like my hometown of New York—that have made efforts that are more sporadic and less organized—visitors and residents alike seem to enjoy the car-free spaces. I wonder whether the visitors be motivated by their memories of cycling the city—or simply enjoying coffee by the Champ de Mars or Rue de Rivoli—and help to make their hometowns more bike-friendly or simply more pleasant and sustainable. I just hope they won’t blame a new bike lane for “taking “ “their” parking spaces, as happens so often here in New York. 

A Ride With A Real Cyclist

 So…What’s it like to ride with the guy next door?

I found out, sort of this past Sunday: I took a spin with a man who lives a few floors below my “penthouse.”

That I have been riding nearly every day hasn’t gone unnoticed by other residents of my senior (don’t tell anybody!) residence. One, whom I’ll call Sam* asked whether we could “just go out and ride, to no place in particular.” Not knowing him, I wasn’t sure of what to make of his proposal. Not knowing any other cyclists—or anyone else—very well, I thought “Why not?”

So, our journey—me, on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike and him, on a Roadmaster ATB he bought on Amazon, began around 9 am. I took him up to Mosholu Parkway, where a bike-pedestrian lane splits the shoestring park that splits the north from the south side of the road. Riding west takes you to Van Cortlandt Park. We went east—not very far—to Southern Boulevard and the Botanical Garden gate. It allowed us to bypass two very busy intersections where traffic enters and exits a highway, and enter the Bronx Park path to Pelham Parkway. 

I took him along what has become one of my early morning rides to City Island. He’d been there before, he said, but not on a bike.

From there, we pedaled back over  the bridge to Pelham Bay Park,which is three times the size of Manhattan’s Central Park. From there, I took him through neighborhoods that line the Hutchinson and Bronx Rivers and Long Island Sound. (One of those neighborhoods is, believe it or not, called “Country Club.”) 

The day grew hotter and the sun bore down on us. He seemed to take the weather better than I did, but he said he was impressed with my riding “on a bike you can’t coast.” 

I must say that I had all the more reason to be impressed:  He simply wanted to keep on riding. Whatever his bike or strength, that told me he is certainly a cyclist at heart.

When we reached SUNY Maritime College, he confessed that he, a lifelong Bronx resident, had never seen it—or, more important, the rather scenic waterfront—before. He also had never been in Country Club, with its huge houses, some of which wouldn’t look out of place in “The Great Gatsby.” After our ride, I realized that while he is a Bronx “lifer,” he rarely, if ever, had seen anything east of the Bruckner Expressway. That made me think of my experience of living in Brooklyn until I was 13: I really didn’t know anything beyond my immediate neighborhood until I returned as an adult. As I once told somebody, I’d crossed the ocean before I’d crossed Ocean Parkway.

A journey takes you to some place where you’ve never been, where it’s on the other side of the world or a part of your home—or yourself—you’ve never seen before. For me, that—and not the number of miles or kilometers or how much time —is cycling. And, I feel that is what I experienced on a ride with a new neighbor.

*—I have given him a pseudonym because I’m not sure of how much he would want me to reveal about him.

Will Donuts Destroy This Shop?

 Some cyclists—racers, mainly—would never, ever touch a donut. Others see them as a quick and tasty source of energy.

I’ll admit that I’ve had a donut or two before or during rides. So I won’t judge you if you have.

If bikes and donuts are beside each other, I suppose they could be mutually beneficial for business. At least, a bike shop or lane might bring business to a donut shop. On the other hand, there are instances in which donuts aren’t good for a bike shop.

The kinds of donuts I’m talking about aren’t Dunkin’ or Krispy Kreme, cinnamon or Boston Cream. Rather, I am referring to an automotive stunt that involves rotating the rear or front wheels in a continuous motion around the opposite set of wheels. The goal seems to be to leave a circular skid mark of rubber and leave smoke from friction.

Of course, anyone engaging in such stupidity probably will feel the need to do it at as high a rate of speed as possible. That increases the chances of the driver losing control, sometimes with tragic consequences.

A donut “sideshow” didn’t cost John McDonell his life. But it may have cost him his life’s work—or the last 13 years of it, anyway.

During that time, he has owned and operated Market Street Cycles in San Francisco. For a few years, business was very good: The shop stands at the intersection of Market, Page and Valencia Streets, all of which have bike lanes. Thus, the establishment profited from being along one of the city’s busiest bicycles commuting routes.

That is, until the COVID-19 pandemic struck.  San Francisco was under one of the hardest lockdowns in the US. Even after it was lifted, bicycle—and vehicular—traffic never resumed. According to McDonell, there’s “less than one-third of the traffic” that passed the shop pre-pandemic. “There’s no downtown, there’s no commute anymore,” he lamented.

Since then, his shop and other businesses in the area have been plagued with robberies.  But the coup de grâce may have come early yesterday morning, when a driver doing “donuts” smashed into his shop. The 57-year-old shop owner says he’ll probably close permanently. “I’m too old for this shit,” he said.

An Unexpected Stop On Mu My Ride

Every day except one (Monday) during the past week we’ve had daytime high temperatures in the mid-90s (around 35C). And our days have been, ahem, graced with our (in)famous East Coast humidity.

So I have been taking early morning rides, mainly to and near bodies of water, and getting back to my apartment or the Garden before the midday heat.

Today didn’t exactly go according to plan, but I’m not complaining. I started riding later than I intended, but an unexpected encounter added a couple of hours to my ride.

I had just done a “loop” around Randall’s Island and crossed the Connector (which runs under the viaduct for the Amtrak and Metro North trains) back into the Bronx. While pedaling along the Willow Avenue lane to 138th Street, I saw three people—a young man and woman and someone who looked about 15 or 20 years older—gathered around someone who sat leaning against a railing. As I approached, I also saw a bicycle—specifically a red and black BMC road bike. 

As I got even closer, I saw blood streaked on his face. He lifted a towel to reveal its source:  a gash on his head.

He’d struck something in the path, he said, and held out his arm as he fell. It hurt, he said, but he could still move it, so he didn’t think it was broken. We were more worried about his head.

The young woman—his sister —had already called an ambulance. The older woman, his mother, talked to him (in Spanish) and rubbed him. The other young man, his brother, had brought a bottle of water and the towel. Turns out, they live only a couple of blocks away and could come quickly when he called. 

I couldn’t see what else, exactly, I could do. I offered my help nonetheless. Truth was, I didn’t want to leave the young man or his family until they got the help they needed: Having been in a couple of crashes myself, I was empathizing, if nothing else.

I made another call for an ambulance. Part of me thought simply that multiple calls would hasten its arrival; the cynic in me thought we might get a quicker response if the operator heard a Caucasian-sounding voice speaking English without a foreign accent.

I think the sister articulated one of the reasons why we waited so long—more than an hour. “Hay mucha gente mayor aqui”—there are many old people in the neighborhood. And the day’s heat was no doubt triggering or exacerbating their medical conditions.

Each of us made another call for an ambulance. Finally, in frustration, she called for an Uber. A driver arrived within five minutes. But, looking at the injured young man, he refused, saying he could be fined for taking him to a hospital.*

Finally, an ambulance showed up and took him and his sister to Metropolitan Hospital. A few minutes ago, his mother called to thank me and let me know that her son will be OK, although the prognosis was the opposite of what any of us expected: In spite of the blood that ran down his face, his head wound wasn’t as bad as anyone thought and he doesn’t have a concussion. He actually hurt his arm worse:  There’s a fracture just above his elbow.

His mother told me that when he rides again “aseguare de que use su casco”: I will make sure that he wears his helmet.

*—None of us knew, until then, that such a law existed. But it makes sense: EMTs and firefighters are trained to move victims’ bodies. An untrained Uber driver (or anyone else) could cause further harm. 

What Kinds Of Bike Lanes—And Where?

 When cities build bike lanes, they need to ask themselves what kind of cycling they are trying to promote. Answering that question should, at least in theory, help to determine what kind of lane will be built and where it will be placed.

It would seem that if a city really wants cycling to be á transportation option people would consider in lieu of driving or mass transportation—or in conjunction with the latter (e.g., riding a bike to a train station)—lanes that parallel main road would be the answer. 

Then the question arises as to whether the bike lane can be physically separated from the roadway. On some streets, that may not be an option.  Then one has to wonder whether a “bike lane” that is separated from traffic only by lines of paint would incentivize people to ride.

Also, bike infrastructure planning increasingly includes eBikes: Sales of them have quadrupled during the past five years. So…Should eBikes (and motorized scooters) share lanes with traditional human-powered bikes?  Can a lane be so designed—or would eBikes and other motorized “micromobility” vehicles be prioritized as automobiles have been over pedestrians and cyclists for more than a century?

(Or would there be a situation like we have in New York, where prohibitions against motorized vehicles in bike lanes simply aren’t enforced?)

Photo by Scott G. Winterton for Deseret News

I got to thinking about these questions after coming across this article. Apparently, planners in South Jordan, Utah are grappling with them, and others, as they decide on what kinds of bike lanes, and where, to build. It will be interesting to see what they decide.

The Worst Bike Lanes In America?

 What makes for bad bike lane?

Poor conception, planning and execution.  Oh, and shoddy or non-existent maintenance.

Too many “bike lanes” are nothing more than strips of asphalt or concrete delineated by stripes or arrows from the main roadway.  Some are even worse:  You wonder whether whoever designed or built them has ridden a bicycle since childhood—and whether they rode beyond their family’s yard or the local playground—or whether they’re conspiring with vehicle manufacturers and fossil fuel extractors (and other Trump campaign donors) to kill off cyclists.

I lean toward the latter after seeing Momentum Mag’s “These Could Be The Worst Bike Lanes In America.” There are the kinds of lanes I’ve ranted about in previous posts:  the ones that begin or end seemingly out of nowhere, the ones that go nowhere and those that are all but impossible to enter or exit.  Oh, but there’s worse:  lanes that merge into, or emerge out of, highway traffic and one that is sandwiched between 70 mph (115 mph) lanes of traffic, separated only by lines of white paint.

Although I’ve ridden on some doozies here in New York, none from my hometown made Momentum’s “worst” list. That lanes in Texas and Florida (which has, by far, the highest cyclist death rate in the US) are in the article is no surprise, at least to me, as I have ridden in both states. But I find it astonishing that Seattle and some supposedly bike-friendly communities in California would also have such egregiously dangerous lanes that, in some instances, are even more hazardous for cyclists than the traffic lanes.

A Quick Break: A Ride

Yesterday I rode—on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear— for the first time since my move.  It was a short trip, past the Garden and Zoo, but it felt good to do something not move- or work-related.

Although I’d previously done some cycling in this area, as Anniebikes says in her comment, there’s more to explore.  Even after 21 years of living in Astoria, I found new rides and variations on familiar ones.

My new apartment has nice views and is much lighter and airier than my old place.  I wonder:  Will the sun steaming in my window energize me to ride more?Will the fog creeping by lure me into winding down the bike lane by the gardens?