What Would John Think Of James?

He and John Forester would hate each other.

Or would they?

John Forester in the 1970s.

Forester, who died nearly five years ago, was best known as the author of Effective Cycling and for his advocacy of vehicular cycling.  He accused bike lane advocates of promoting what he called the "cyclist inferiority hypothesis" which, he said, was the product of motordom's propaganda campaign to frighten cyclists off the road.  

On the other hand, former "Top Gear" presenter James May  says "People on bicycles are really just pedestrians" and that the bicycle is "an elaborate piece of footwear."  He decries "vehicle levels of traffic controls for bicycles" he sees in his native Britain.

James May near his home.

Another point of contrast:  May, so far, has been praised for his point of view.  Forester was often vilified though, to be fair, many of his critics reacted to his "shrill, nasty" tone rather than to the substance of his arguments.

But, as with so many whose views seem, on the surface, to be polar opposites, they actually share an important commonality:  Forester was, and May is, opposed to much of the "bicycle infrastructure" that's been built. 

And their criticisms might look oppositional, but they share a same root concern:  that too many bike lanes, signals and such constructed, ostensibly, out of concern for cyclists' safety actually puts us in more danger.

Forester's criticisms of bike lanes mirror my own:  that because of their poor design, they make it all but impossible to turn safely and also put cyclists in the line of opening car doors and other hazards.  May takes issue with "extremist" measures like bicycle traffic lights.  One near his home should instead be a "give way" (or, to us Americans, "yield") sign and allow cyclists to make their judgments.  "As long as people cycle in a sympathetic way, and pedestrians are still at the top of the hierarchy--the world belongs to people, not machines--then it ought to work."

James May, after a charity ride.

Ah, there's another point  of commonality: the notion that motor vehicles don't reign supreme. One could say, however, that Forester advocated for equality between cyclists and motorists while saying nothing about pedestrians, while May, as quoted above, believes that pedestrians (who, in his view, include cyclists) are at the top of the food chain, so to speak.

So, how would James May and John Forester see each other?  Of course, we'll never know about Forester and, to my knowledge, May--who is a lifelong cyclist--either doesn't know or doesn't think about him.  But I could see both of them pulling up the bollards from a bike lane.

From The City To The Island

 Yesterday I pedaled out to City Island. It’s not a long ride (about 25 kilometers round-trip) and it’s mostly flat.  So I thought about taking Tosca, my Mercian fixie, but instead went with La-Vande, my King of Mercia.

I was glad I made that choice: I pedaled into the wind most of the way back. Also, La-Vande has fenders, which shielded the bike—and me—from salt and sand the Department of Sanitation spread over the streets during recent snowfalls. And parts of the Bronx River and Pelham Parkway Greenways were mud puddles. 

While most of the bike—and I—were protected, the chain and cassette are a little worse for the experience. I don’t mind; I’m going to replace them in a few weeks.

I regret not photographing is some streets and both Greenways.  Road conditions are usually at their worst around this time of year: The salt and sand, along with temperature changes, result in fissures that make some of those concrete and asphalt ribbons look—and ride—more like broken stairway. Interestingly, it was worst along the stretch of Pelham Greenway from Williamsbridge Road to the I-95 underpass: Its surface was more uneven, and muddier, than along the path through the wooded area just before the bridge to City Island.

Only City Island Avenue traverses the island; the other streets, only a block or two long, are bookended by the Avenue and the water. And the Avenue has only one traffic lane in each direction. So it doesn’t take much to create a jam, which I encountered. The good news, for me anyway, was that I could move along easily.  Perhaps surprisingly, given that it was a mild day (about 12C or 54F) for this time of year, I didn’t see any other cyclists—or pedestrians or scooters.

So, when I reached the end of the island, I felt it was all mine—or, perhaps, that everyone else had forgotten it.

I must say, though, that there’s something I very much like about the light and water at this time of year: The austere, steely clouds and tides of winter are showing the first hints of turning into a more vivid, if still stark, shades of blue that will, eventually, brighten in the sun.

By then, the days, and my rides, will be longer, I hope.

Backlash Against Bike Lanes

 One hard lesson I learned in my gender affirmation journey is that the euphoria of a victory, whether personal or for a community, is all but inevitably followed by a backlash.  Such a reaction could come from the same individuals or groups who initially supported the positive and necessary changes you and your community made.

In my own life, I think of how relatives, co-workers and (former) friends—and, yes, a lover—turned on me after voicing support when I started living under my current name and gender identity and, later, when I had my surgery.

Since its Civil War, the US has witnessed two major vocal, and often violent reactions against efforts to create a more just society. The first followed Reconstruction, when newly-freed African Americans were doing everything from running their own farms to running for office.  In response, White supremacist groups like the Ku Klux Klan formed and Jim Crow laws were passed. The second reactionary movement is one we’ve witnessed during the past few decades:  the current far-right movement, which includes, again, White Supremacists, allied with Christian nationalists and other reactionaries. It is the counter-current against the Civil Rights, feminist and LGBTQ+ movements of the past six decades or so.  Far-right members often talk about “taking back” “their” country.  Some were once part of the very movements they’re reacting against.

A similar phenomenon is brewing against bike lanes. San Francisco is removing the Valencia Street bike lane 18 months after the city installed it. (To be fair, the lane was supposed to be a 12-month pilot project.) Meanwhile, Ontario’s provincial government is taking actions to remove bike lanes in Toronto.  Other jurisdictions are making similar moves or stalling or canceling plans to build new bike infrastructure.

(In a related move, the self-coronated Fake Tan Fūhrer has ordered the end of congestion pricing in my hometown of New York. It’s not clear, however, that he has such authority.)

So why all of the hate for bike lanes?  If what I hear in the Big Apple echoes in other ‘burgs, much of the opposition comes from drivers and small businesses owners. The former believe that cyclists are taking “their” lanes and parking spaces, while the latter complain about lost sales.

Shop owners may have a point.  Malls (most of which are moribund) and big-box stores are inherently auto-centric. So are the business and commercial districts of most American municipalities:  They are designed so that customers can drive into, and park, in them.  While that characteristic doesn’t cause Wal-Mart to lose customers—such stores are usually surrounded by large parking lots—the downtown stores and cafes rely, in large part, on curbside access.

As for lost traffic lanes and parking spaces:  As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, studies show that it isn’t the case.  Bike lanes don’t “cause” traffic jams:  In most cases, the road was already congested.  As more than one planner has observed, streets and highways are “build it and they will come” projects.

The real reasons for the backlash against bike infrastructure, as Ron Johnson writes in Momentum, include the following:  a.) even in large cities, transportation planning is made in an “imaginary world” in which there are only “suburban drivers “ and its corollary, b.) the lack of a true infrastructure that allows cyclists to pedal safely from Point A to Point B.  Too often, the bike lanes are just “tokens,” poorly-conceived, constructed and maintained ribbons that make no one safer.

Two examples are the Grand Concourse lane near my current residence and the Queens Boulevard lane near my former home. Both are center lanes along the divider. One problem is that every few blocks, traffic crosses the lane to enter or leave the service lane.  Another is that because those lanes are not physically separated, drivers use them as passing lanes. (Some seem to take out their aggression by passing as close and as fast as they can to cyclists.) Moreover, trucks park or idle in the lanes when drivers deliver to the businesses that line the Concourse and Boulevard.  Oh, and I’ve seen cops sipping coffee and munching their donuts (OK, accuse me of stereotyping!) in patrol cars parked in the bike lane.

In other words, such lanes benefit no one. Nobody is safer and, perhaps, shop owners are indeed losing business.  A better-planned bike network would take cyclists where they want and need to go and allow traffic to flow more efficiently.

But would it stop the backlash?  Well, maybe not.  As Johnson points out, it’s one of the “culture wars” in which cyclists and their allies are seen as “woke” granola-crunching gender-variant (whoops, I meant non-male- or -female conforming) “enemies.”  In other words, people like me.  So the backlash against bike lanes doesn’t surprise me.

Wondering About Their Winter Wonderland

 According to reports, here in New York City we’ve had more snow during the past week than we’ve had during the past two winters. I can believe it.  That said, the white stuff didn’t come all at once:  Snowfalls were punctuated by spells of rain and above-freezing temperatures.  Therefore, most un-plowed or -shoveled surfaces have only a shallow coating.

Still, I and other New York cyclists have encountered a problem Cathleen Cronin reported in ecoRI news:  bike lanes covered with snow or, worse, ice.

The latter aborted (Can I use that word in the current political climate?) my commute the other day.  I was about to cross the Macombs Dam Bridge from Yankee Stadium to Harlem when my front wheel slid from under me.  The glacial stream covered the entire width—and, as far as I could see, length—of the bridge’s bike/pedestrian path. In years past, I rode in the traffic lane. But I didn’t want to take the risk of encountering an ice patch on it. Also, traffic seems to be heavier—and the vehicles bigger (with more aggressive drivers) than when I crossed thirty, or even ten years ago.

So, I did an about-face. I could’ve picked up one of the other routes I take, but that would’ve required some back-tracking. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go very far to the Yankee Stadium subway station. 

I haven’t cycled in East Providence, Rhode Island. But I reckon that it doesn’t have anything like New York’s transit system. I wonder how commuters (and other cyclists) deal with impassable lanes or streets and few, or no, alternative routes.

What Are These?

 

Arizona Bike Law includes a page titled with what seems like a rhetorical question: “Is This A Bike Lane?”

The question becomes not-so-rhetorical because they answer:  No, according to the Manual of Uniform Traffic Control Devices, the transportation engineers’ “Bible.” But the city of Phoenix, where the pictured “bike lanes” are located, insist that shoulder strips just wide enough for a bicycle tire “separated” from lanes where buses, trucks and SUVs roam by a line of paint is safer than riding in the roadway.

Driver And Lane Blamed For Crash

 I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more frequently.

I’m not talking about the crash that resulted when someone drove a Tesla SUV across a Seattle bike lane to access a parking lot. Unfortunately, I’m also not referring to the life-altering brain injury Aviv Litov suffered when his bike hit the car. 

What I am about to mention is the lawsuit that’s followed. Not surprisingly, the Tesla driver is a defendant, as the suit cites her negligence. But the other defendant is one not often named in such cases:  the city itself.  

The lawsuit, filed by the Strittmatter firm in Seattle, alleges that the lane’s faulty design was a factor in the crash that landed Litov in a hospital for two months and has led to a long, arduous road to heal. 

The lane on Green Lake Drive appears to be like many here in New York (including the one along Astoria’s Crescent Street, where I lived until last March) and other American cities:  It’s separated from the traffic lane by a line of parked cars.

Those cars certainly are an effective barrier.  But in some spots—particularly driveways and intersections that cross those lanes—those parked vehicles also obstruct visibility for both cyclists and drivers. Too often, frustrated motorists make risky maneuvers to turn—or cyclists simply can’t see them until it’s too late.

I hope Litov has a full—or as full as possible—recovery. And it will be interesting, to say the least, to see whether more municipalities or their contractors are held to account for poor bike lane conception, design, construction or maintenance—of which I’ve seen plenty or, should I say, too much.

The Driver Who Thought A Paceline Was A Slamom

 A driver weaves through a group of cyclists, narrowly missing them.  At one point, he is actually driving in the wrong direction for the traffic lane.

On a video of the incident, someone can be heard yelling for the cyclists to watch out.

Shortly afterwards, a group of people smash the car in a parking garage about a mile from where the driver used the cyclists as a slalom course.

That incident was also captured on video.

Guess what the police have done.

They “believe” the incidents are “related.” But they didn’t arrest the driver. They are, however, pursuing vandalism charges against the people who smashed his car.

Call me a cynic, but I wonder whether the response to one incident and lack thereof to the other has something to do with the fact that the car in question is a late-model white Mercedes.

Whatever the constables’ motives and reasoning, it’s an example of what made Mimi Holt, whom I mentioned in yesterday’s post, give up cycling for nearly two decades when she moved to Los Angeles. She resumed riding after her doctor diagnosed her as a pre-diabetic, but says she’d feel a lot safer if there was a comprehensive network of bike lanes.

If she’s heard about the incident I mentioned today (it happened on Saturday), I am sure it reminded her of why she gave up cycling—and what police need to do in order to ensure that she and others can ride in (relative) safety.

She Doesn’t Think We’re “The Enemy”

We believe love is love, science is real…but keep your government paws off my vehicular patterns.

You’ve seen the two phrases preceding the ellipsis on signs outside houses in “blue” neighborhoods and on bumper stickers affixed to Priuses. (Is the plural of Prius “Prii?”) But the seemingly-contradictory exhortation that follows is, according to Maggie Cassidy, an expression of how otherwise sane people think, and what they sometimes voice, when a bike lane is propsed.

Ms. Cassidy admits that she loves driving and is “too weak and clumsy” to ride a bicycle. But she adds that she has felt safer during one of her daily drives since bicycle lanes have been installed and given cyclists “a prudent amount of space” along a busy stretch of road.

While I have spoken and written against bike lanes, I am not against lanes in principle. Rather, I criticize particular green ribbons of asphalt or concrete because they’re poorly-conceived, designed, constructed or maintained. Though not a cyclist, Ms. Cassidy seems to understand as much.

The most perceptive comments in her Valley News (Vermont) editorial, however, refute the objections of drivers. She mentions one who complains that he’ll have to drive with his “head on a swivel.” As Ms. Cassidy points out, that’s what drivers have to do anyway:  Drivers, and people in general, need to be aware of their surroundings, not only what’s immediately in front of them.

She doesn’t only blame drivers’ misconceptions, which she attributes to “anecdotal” evidence and flat-out misconceptions. She gets at something that causes motorists to see not only cyclists, but planners who conceive and engineers who plan and design bike lanes and other infrastructure. As she says, they are, too often, poor communicators: They too often lapse into professional and technical jargon or show other misunderstandings of their audiences.

I must say that Maggie Cassidy’s editorial is notable because she writes from a perspective I rarely, if ever, see: A motorist who isn’t a cyclist but doesn’t see us as “the enemy.”

A Record—For Whom?

 According to the latest statistics from New York City’s Development of Transportation, the number of cyclists in my hometown set a record for the fourth straight year.

Some may criticize their methodology:  They counted only the cyclists using the East River crossings, which connect Manhattan with Brooklyn and Queens.  While I wonder what, exactly, can be extrapolated from it, I also understand that those crossings are among the few places where à accurate counts can be made consistently.

Photo by Frank Franklin for the NY Daily News

From my observations, however, such a methodology skews the findings and conclusions drawn.  Cyclists using those East River crossings tend to be commuters—usually, going to Manhattan—and younger than other cyclists.  I think the DOT’s way of counting also misses riders who commute within their own borough or, say, from Queens to Brooklyn, and misses the Bronx entirely.

One interesting finding that squares with my observations is that even after the new bike lane opened on the Brooklyn Bridge, the Williamsburg Bridge is still the preferred East River crossing. It’s easy to see why.  For one thing, many of the young commuting cyclists I’ve mentioned live and/or work in the neighborhoods on either side of the bridge.  Also, at least in my experience, it offers easier access than the other bridges, and the Manhattan entrance is at the end of a protected bike lane along Delancey Street. 

Oh, and if you’re a tourist (or simply not a commuter or regular NYC cyclist), I’ll let you in on a secret:  the Williamsburg offers the best views—including those of the Brooklyn Bridge!

The Real Battle

 Last week I wrote about the passage of Bill 212 in Ontario, Canada.  Among other things, it authorizes that province’s government the authority to order Toronto—its largest city and capital—to remove bike lanes and to block the metropolis from installing a new bike lane if it results in the loss of a traffic or parking lane.

Interestingly, Philadelphia has gone in an almost-opposite direction.  Yesterday Mayor Cherelle Parker signed a bill that prohibits drivers from stopping, standing or parking in bike lanes—and increases fines for those who break the law.

Reactions to both events has been predictable and echoes the ways in which cyclists (and pedestrians) have been pitted against drivers. The debate, fueled at least in part by misconceptions, can also be seen on the editorial pages of the Washington Post.  The first salvo of the latest fight came from Mark Fisher’s article, “The truth about bike lanes:  They’re not about the bikes.” Yesterday the newspaper published reactions from anti-bike lane (and, in some cases, anti-cyclist) motorists. It has announced its intention to devote a page to pro-bike lane arguments.

Among the misconceptions expressed in the editorials, perhaps the most egregious is this:  We are getting our lanes for free.

Some years ago, I found myself arguing about that with a driver whom I cursed out after he cut me off.  I became his emotional punching bag because, at that moment, I was the embodiment of all cyclists, just as any given Black person can become a proxy for an entire race.

I didn’t raise my voice or lose my temper. Instead, when he shouted the “free ride” canard, I pointed out that I paid for that street and its parking spaces just as he had:  Here in New York, as in most places, street and road construction and maintenance is paid from the general pool of taxes. He was not, as he believed, paying for something I wasn’t. In fact, I said, the only tax he pays that I don’t is on gasoline.

He actually calmed down. I probably could’ve mentioned other ways his and other ways his and other motorists’ driving is subsidized—including our foreign policy—but I left him while we were at least civil toward each other.

Some would call it a “win.” In today’s political climate, it would be a step forward. On the other hand, to amend Mr. Fisher’s thesis, the debate about bike lanes isn’t really about the lanes.  I believe it is, rather, a proxy for the culture wars, which in turn are about economics: Will they serve the interests of those who have brought the planet (whether through their financial, political, cultural or ostensibly-religious activities) to its current crisis—and their often-unwitting pawns? Or will we leave those coming after us a world in which they can live, let alone thrive?

Is It The Most Unsafe Bike Lane?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rip ‘Em Out”=“Drill, Baby, Drill”?

 Here in New York City, we don’t need anyone to tell us that life isn’t always fair. One reason is that here, in one of the world’s major cities—with a population of around 8.3 million—some decisions that affect our everyday lives are made in Albany, about 250 kilometers (160 miles) up the Hudson River. Though its population of 101,000 is less than a quarter of Staten Island, New York City’s least populous borough, “Smallbany” is the capital of New York State.

Now, one might expect that Toronto, Canada’s largest city, has more self-rule since it also happens to be the capital of Ontario. But the province’s government has just passed Bill 212. This controversial new piece of legislation gives the province sweeping control over Toronto’s bike lanes.  

That means, for one thing, that Toronto and other cities would have to ask the province for permission before installing a bike lane if doing so would involve removing á traffic lane.  Moreover, it gives the province authority to order a city to rip out a bike lane if a traffic lane was removed in the process.  So, for example, Ontario’s government could order Toronto to take our the bike lanes on three major thoroughfares—Bloor and Yonge Streets and University Avenue—though it’s not clear as to whether the province will exercise that power.

Oh, and Bill 212 allows the construction of Highway 413 to begin before consulting indigenous groups or conducting environmental assessment.

Bill 212 sounds like part of a “backlash” against the progressive policies for which Toronto has come to be known.  Somehow I can hear echoes of “Drill, baby, drill!”

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.