It Hasn't Been Easy

 It’s been nearly a week since I last posted.  I haven't felt well, physically or emotionally.  The latter is, at least in part, an effect of not riding much; the former is one reason why I haven't.

Even when the sky is bright and sunny, clouds seem to envelop everything.  The political and social climate contributes to the gloom:  Even though most of the people I encounter regularly treat me well, there just doesn't seem to be any escape from the hate and manufactured anger that fills the air.  Perhaps I'm noticing it more because of the time I spent in Japan, where it never seemed that bumping into a stranger might result in violence. 

Charlie Kirk's murder certainly didn't help to bring down the metaphorical temperature.  I know I'm running the risk of threats, whether on this blog or anywhere, simply for mentioning his name.  And as a transgender woman, I worry that I, because of my identity, will be seen as part of some problem or another that led to his assassination, simply because one--just one, mind you--of the hundreds of mass shootings this country has borne during the past few years was committed by someone born male who identifies as female. (Thank Faux News' Jesse Watters for claiming there was a "pattern" of trans people committing violence.)  I think now of Sam, my neighbor and sometime riding buddy, and his partner:  Because they are Black, people blame, shun and gossip about them because of something or another done by another Black person.

And then there is the hate, or simply disdain, shown to cyclists.  I can't recall another time when bike lanes, or even the line between parked cars and traffic, or between traffic lanes, was so often deliberately obstructed by debris, abandoned Lime eBikes or scooters, or by folks who saw me or other cyclists coming and decided to step into the lane and chat, embrace or, worse, lead their young children.  

Other cyclists, especially the young, aren't immune to not being mindful of other cyclists.  While crossing the Queens span of the RFK Bridge on Friday, an eBiker who was taking a selfie as he rode almost knocked me over; a couple of minutes later, I came as close as I have in ages to a fight when I almost became part of the guardrail when a cyclist coming from the opposite direction zoomed into a narrow turn.  When I yelled at him, the young punk claimed, "I'm a professional.  You don't know how to ride."

In other words, he--like the guy taking a selfie--thought that it was his bikeway and I happened to be on it.  When the pandemic struck, it seemed that people were becoming more mindful because, well, you and they survived. There was that same sense in the days after 9/11, the anniversary of which came last week.  But over time, that sense of community died:  It turned into icy disdain a couple of years after 9/11, and now pandemic empathy has turned into rage at everybody and everything.

My mood wasn't helped on Friday when, during the ride, I paid a "for old time's sake" visit to Tony's Bicycle Shop in Astoria.  Its founder died a few years ago; his son is raising his kids, so the head mechanic is now running the place.  He pointed to a wall:

"Look at this.  It's not what it used to be:"

Gianna Aguilar took the above photo about three years ago.   "We're not filling that wall again," Jose said.   "We can't get stuff or it costs twice as much as it used to," he explained.  "And there's no business--look!"

As if he were reading my mind, he continued, "Lots of stores are going out of business.  We might, too."

What Is A Bicycle? Who Is A Cyclist?

 

What is a bicycle? Who is a cyclist?

If I were to teach a class in law or philosophy, I would want to deal with those questions. They’re not merely exercises in semantics. The possible answers have ramifications in any number of areas, including urban planning, law enforcement and insurance.

If I wanted to be pedantic (or what Google-educated “scholars” of the US Constitution call “originalist” or what might be known as “fundamentalist “ in religion) I would define a “bicycle” as two wheels propelled by two pedals. But such a definition could include any contraption with a motor or anything else that amplifies or assists the person pushing or spinning the pedals.

Also, such a fundamentalist or originalist, if you will, delineation would exclude the Draisienne or pretty much anything preceding Pierre Michaux’s creation.  On the other hand, it would also exclude scooters and other two-wheeled devices not propelled by pedals. But it also wouldn’t include tricycles, whether they’re made for adults or children.

Until this month the state of Illinois defines a bicycle thusly: “every device propelled by human power upon which any person may ride, having two tandem wheels except scooters and similar devices.” 

Such a definition might have been adequate a decade or so ago, before the proliferation of e-bikes and electric scooters, even if it didn’t include adult tricycles which, I imagine, are relatively few in number in Illinois. But now people who haven’t cycled much, or at all, since they got their driver’s licenses conflate anything with two wheels with bicycles.

That is part of the weakness in the state’s new legal definition of bicycles, which took effect on 1 August:

every human-powered or low-speed electric vehicle with two or more wheels not less than 12 inches in diameter, designed for the transportation of one or more persons.

So what, exactly, is meant by “low-speed?” (At my age, that could mean any speed at which I ride!😟) Or “human-powered?” Could a hand operating a throttle fit into that category?

While I complain about the lack of enforcement—at least here in NYC—of the prohibition against motorized bikes and scooters on bike lanes, I can almost understand it: In the absence of clear legal definitions, most cops think that anything with two wheels—even if it’s effectively an electric motorcycle—is a bicycle, and anyone who rides them is a cyclist.

Maybe It Isn’t Abour Infrastructure Or Education

 The other day, I rode La-Vande, my King of Mercia, to Point Lookout. My ride started under a veil of clouds that didn’t entirely block the sun. So the day was bright enough to be cheerful without the sun bearing down on me. 

Later on, though, as the temperature rose,  clouds dissipated and the sea acted like a tanning mirror. That, or my skin is more sensitive than it was in my youth.

The ride was pleasant, except for a stretch of Cross Bay Boulevard near the Gateway National Recreation Area. The bike lane that parallels the Boulevard—really just the shoulder of the road with some green paint—gets turned into a passing lane by impatient motorists, of whom there are many:  The Boulevard is a long, flat road through residential and semi-rural areas that brings out the wannabe NASCAR champions in too many drivers.

Again, I got to thinking about Japan. There are extensive networks of well-marked and -maintained bike lanes. Many streets in Kyoto and Tokyo also have shared lanes for motor vehicles and cyclists. While riding in both cities (I didn’t get to ride in Osaka) I never was “nudged” out of a shared lane, let alone menaced in a lane set aside for cyclists.

I had long thought that the courtesy I experienced from drivers in France, Italy and other European countries had something to do with the fact that many of those motorists are also, or have recently been, cyclists. Such “dual citizens,” if you will, probably make up a larger portion of the population in those countries than in the US. That is one reason why, in earlier posts, I expressed my belief that educating American drivers, and the general public, about cycling —for example, why it’s safer for us to cross an intersection against a red light than to wait for a green if there’s no cross-traffic—would do as much as, or more than, “infrastructure” to make cycling safer and thus encourage more people to see it as a viable transportation option.

But the kind of courtesy, which at times bordered on deference, I experienced in the Land of the Rising Sun went beyond even what I experienced in Europe. It occurs to me that it has much to do with some basic cultural attitudes that, perhaps, can’t be taught in a country where one of the founding principles is individualism. I mean, how else can I account for the fact that the kind of motorist behavior to which I was subjected on Cross Bay Boulevard seems not to even occur to anyone driving along Higashikujo.

I Want To Go Back To Japan—Because Of My Best Ride In New York

 Lighter and fluffier than cotton candy, thin high clouds wisped over beaches not yet crowded with weekend throngs. Those clouds didn’t obscure the sun or sky; rather, they highlighted the almost preternaturally refulgent expanse crowning the unusually calm and blue waters.

If that sounds like a perfect day for a bike ride, your hearing (so to speak, pun intended) is true. And ride I did, on Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special. What better ride than the beautiful bespoke bike I gave myself as a gift on my most recent round-number birthday?

Oh, and the ride could not have gone better. I pedaled into wind (from the southeast, apparently) that at times “gusted” to 20 KPH  (12 MPH) to Point Lookout and let that same wind assist my ride along the ocean to Coney Island and along the Verrazano Narrows, passing under the eponymous bridge, into the Brooklyn neighborhoods of Bay Ridge, Sunset Park and Park Slope to Barclays Center, where I hopped on the D train home after a ride of about 145 kilometers (90 miles).

Even with my best planning (which may not be saying much) I could hardly have had a better ride. Yet…

Nothing could have done more than that ride to make me wish I were still in Japan, particularly in Kyoto. Although the weather was great, I felt good and Dee-Lilah practically sang under me, there is so much I miss already about cycling, and simply being, in the Land of the Rising Sun.

What I am feeling is not the same sort of yearning to be somewhere else I felt through my childhood and early adult life: When I was in high school, I dreamed of going to college, getting a job or doing almost anything else to get out of that school, that town, that state. Then I went to Rutgers where, I can say without exaggeration, everybody—students, faculty, staff—wanted to be somewhere else.(Some years back, someone did a survey to determine which college or university had the most unhappy students. Supposedly, Rutgers came in second, behind Brandeis.) And I had a series of jobs where I wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else.

But my current longing has nothing to do with youthful wanderlust or unresolved psychological issues. Rather, it has to do with having experienced a place where order doesn’t seem like an imposition. Instead, it’s what makes the place beautiful and vibrant—and safe to ride. Drivers aren’t using bike lanes for passing or parking (or, worse, picking up and discharging passengers); I never felt that any driver could kill me if they lost their patience.

For that matter, I never worried that the person standing on line in Family Mart or Lawson would pull out a gun if they were having a bad day.  Or that bumping into someone could lead to a fight. (I was amazed how infrequently people bumped into each other, even on crowded streets in the Ginza district.) Of course, that has to do with being in a country with real firearms regulation. I believe, however, it also has to do with something woven through the culture. 

It was remarkable, to me, that I sensed so little aggression, even among Tokyo business and tech people,who are in just as much of a hurry as their New York counterparts. Whether I rode or walked, I never had the sense that anyone was trying to push me out of the way. Whenever I crossed an intersection, turning cars stopped, even if they had the same green light I had.

Speaking of public spaces: The dirtiest I saw—a stretch near Doutonbori in Osaka—wasn’t as grimy or smelly as most public spaces in New York. People don’t use bike lanes or streets or train stations as trash receptacles or toilets. 

Even though I still have, I believe, a bit of my youthful rebellious streak, I found myself loving the order I saw in public spaces and the consideration people give each other. I am reminded of my first trip to Europe, just after I graduated Rutgers: For all that I professed to hating rules and formality, I really liked entering shops, bakeries, museums or any other public venue, and being greeted with, and greeting whoever worked there, with a light, almost sing-songy “bonjour” and that French, Italian and other European meals had their own protocols and rituals, from what is consumed when (and with what). Part of my love, of course, came simply from being truly away from home (I traveled by myself, on my bike). But I also sensed people’s appreciation for the things, however small, that made them who they are, as individuals and a society. 

I felt that sense on an even deeper level in Japan. Of course, because my stay wasn’t very long, I might be mis-perceiving it. Whatever the case, the general ease I felt in a culture completely unlike any other I’ve known, where I don’t speak the language (I at least knew some some school French and Spanish, and some very situational Italian, when I first went to Europe) made some sense to me after enjoying the gardens and visiting the temples, shrines, castles and other monuments.

The Gion district.

In an earlier post, I mentioned the Nijo Castle in Kyoto, where I learned about the Samurai codes of honor which, I believe, influence Japanese social morés. Interestingly, another experience in Kyoto revealed something about the ways people interact with each other and their surroundings: a visit to Gion, the “Geisha district “ of Kyoto, where I saw geishas on the street and saw a geisha show. There, I learned that, contrary to a common misperception, they are not prostitutes or concubines, but are rather like cultural ambassadors:  They are trained performance artists who dance, sing, have conversations and otherwise provide an elegant atmosphere for visiting dignitaries and guests at banquets and other events. The young women chosen for this profession undergo a process of training and acculturation as lengthy and rigorous as for just about any other profession you can think of. Oh, and while they are maikos—geishas in training—they basically have no contact with their families or anyone outside their okiya (Geisha house), which is strictly controlled by a kind of house mother. 

Oh, and they’re not allowed to have cell phones. Can you imagine any young American signing up for that? And, as long as they’re geishas, they’re not allowed to marry or have boyfriends. They’re “married to the profession.” Hmm…Maybe that has something to do with how diligent Japanese oil people seem to be about their work.

Another insight into what I experienced in Japan came during a visit to the Nonomiya Shrine. One of the exhibits mentioned that in ancient Japanese mythology, all things—even inanimate objects—have souls. I doubt any Japanese person believes that today. But knowing that such a belief was foundational to Japanese culture, I couldn’t help but to wonder whether that is a reason why the Japanese seem to take such good care of everything and keep public spaces so clean.

Or why none of their bike lanes are like the one on 4th Avenue in Sunset Park, Brooklyn—one of the worst in New York, if not all of the United States.

I want to go back to Japan—because of one of the best bike rides I’ve had in New York, not because of youthful wanderlust.

A Good Way To Be Tired

 I have been in Japan for ten days.  Every one of them has ended with my falling asleep moments after entering my hotel room,

I could blame some of that fatigue on the heat and humidity: Every one has felt like the steamiest one I experienced in New York, Florida or anywhere else I’ve lived or visited. I don’t recall Cambodia or Laos, which are well within the tropical zone, being so  resembling a sauna. Today I did the trek up Fushima Inari, where ten thousand orange gates frame the trail up the mountain. Every body—including those young enough to be my grandchildren and lithe enough to be ballerinas and marathoners—were sheathed in sweat.

 

 

Were my fatigue a result only of the sweltering conditions, I would feel resigned, perhaps dispirited: The weather just happens. But I am satisfied, even content. I am experiencing so much during my days here, not only from my bike rides and visits to shrines, temples and other sites, but simply from being here.

It’s as if I am “catching up” or “making up for lost time.” At the risk of sounding trite, I wish I’d come here sooner—as in, decades ago. I find myself wondering what I might be like had I immersed myself in a culture where people do their jobs and helpful not because they’re trying to be helpful, but rather because, really, what else can we do? Now I wonder how much I’ve come to see aggression and confrontation as normal as a result of living in New York and, increasingly, the United States.

When I ride the unprotected bike lanes that line some streets, I don’t hear a crescendo of car horns behind and beside me or feel the hostility of drivers who just might run me over if it meant nothing more than a fine and points on their licenses (if indeed they have licenses). And in the sidewalk bike lanes, I don’t get the sense that pedestrians see me as part of an invading hostile force.

Oh, and store clerks don’t stare and sigh when I confuse the two coins with holes in the middle—a 50 vs a 5 yen piece—and explain—or call someone can —when I ask what’s in a package or bottle with a label printed only in Japanese. They have better things to do—namely, their jobs—than to shame or patroniize you.

In short, I don’t think I have ever been in a more civilized place. I wonder what I might now, be like if I’d experienced it earlier in my life. For now, it’s an adjustment—and adjustments tire me out. But I don’t mind this kind of tired.

You Don’t Have To Be A Mischievous Turtle

Yesterday, and the day before, I explored Tokyo by bike. Now I am riding something much faster than I ever could be, or could have been, on two wheels: one of Japan’s fabled “bullet” trains, headed for Osaka.

Yesterday I met Ava, her brother Alex and their mother and grandmother in Shinjuku  Guyoen National Garden. Ava was trying to find a turtle she’d spotted in one of the Japanese formal garden’s pools. I pointed out two fish—giant carp, I believe—I saw. She had already seen them and was determined to find the turtle. “Maybe it’s playing hide-and-seek,” I said.

“He’s being mischievous!,” she exclaimed.

We watched and waited. “Do you like to draw pictures?”

She nodded. “And I like to write stories.”

“Maybe you could make a comic. “The Mischievous Turtle.That would be a great name!”

Her eyes lit up.

She’s eight years old. I think she has a great future. Forget that: I think she has a good present. 

I can’t help but to wonder whether her imagination is stoked by the trips she’s already taken, courtesy of a relative who travels for his job.  Her mother told me they were going to Osaka. “We’re flying,” she explained because of the relative whose business brought them here. I can’t imagine that it’s much faster—or any better—than this train.

For that matter, I don’t believe it beats cycling. While Tokyo is not Amsterdam or Copenhagen, I saw plenty of people pedaling to work, or wherever they were going.  In fact, this morning I saw families riding together—a Sunday morning ritual, perhaps?

One striking similarly I saw with the European havens of everyday cycling is in the bikes people ride: completely utilitarian, almost invariably equipped with fenders, lighting, racks and baskets. Some, mostly young, people were astride lightweight road bikes and I even saw a couple of randonneuses complete with canvas front and rear bags and hammered fenders. But I didn’t see (or perhaps I just didn’t notice) any high-end off-road bikes.

I can’t help but to think that there is so much transportation and recreational cycling in a city as bustling as Tokyo because there is real support for it. While a few bike parking facilities have opened in New York, they are only in “prime” locations. Tokyo, on the other hand, has placed them not only in such spots, but also in underused spaces like those under bridges and overpasses. Moreover, they are convenient for people who, say, want to shop or go to a cafe: Parking is free for one to three hours, depending on the location. 

When the bike is wheeled into the spot, the front wheel is locked in automatically: If you have ever returned a Citibike or other shared bike to its portal, you’ve seen something similar. Each slot is numbered, and to retrieve the bike, you tap in the number. If you have left your bike for more than the allotted time, you will have to pay,100 yen (about $1 at current exchange rates) per hour.

Even where such facilities aren’t available, you can leave a bike and be relatively certain it will be there when you return for it. At the entrances to the Meiji-jingu shrine and Shinjuku, there are designated bike parking areas. The bikes, except for a Cannondale racing machine at Shinjuku, were unlocked. And that bike had only a minimum-security cable wrapped around its top tube.

Perhaps most important of all, I haven’t sensed the same animosity toward cyclists I have experienced in New York and other American locales. Drivers don’t double-park in unprotected bike lanes and where pedestrians and cyclists share sidewalks, each is almost deferential to the other. Perhaps this attitude has to do with the fact that most cyclists are riding practical bikes and wearing their work or everyday clothes. There is also, I believe, simply more of a communal sense: People don’t feel as entitled to, and are therefore less likely to battle for, space.

You don’t have to be a mischievous turtle to cycle here. I have felt comfortable while riding from the moment I went out with Sho and the group on our tour. I only had to remind myself that drivers—and cyclists—travel on the left, like the British.

Taking Their Bike Lane—Or Making Another Possible

 Keith Kingbay did as much as anyone could have to keep the torch flickering during what Sheldon Brown has called “The Dark Ages” of American cycling. He was a racer who helped to develop what was, for a couple of decades, the only world-class racing or touring bike made, or even conceived, in the US: the Schwinn Paramount.

But perhaps more important, he was a strong advocate for cycling when there were still relatively few adult cyclists in the US. He helped to reorganize the all-but-moribund League of American Wheelmen into the League of American Cyclists. So, perhaps not surprisingly, he championed what we now call “bicycling infrastructure.”

I now recall reading his articles and a book he authored or co-authored in the early or mid-1970s, when I first became a dedicated cyclist. As I am remembering, he said something to the effect that getting community support for cycling events is not difficult because bicycles are “not controversial.”

He passed away three decades ago. I thought of him in light of an argument about a Brooklyn bike lane.

In recent years, bicycles have become, at least in the US, symbols of environmental awareness and sustainability or, if you are of a different social and political persuasion,  everything that threatens the top-down, fossil fuel-consuming world as you’ve known it. In other words, it’s become a symbol of evolution or destruction.

While some individual religious people cycle for transportation or recreation, their organizations —especially if they are fundamentalist or otherwise conservative —aren’t exactly advocates for cyclists or cycling . On the surface, their hostility has to do with their alliances with right-wing politics. But if you probe deeper, you realize that the marriage of religious fundamentalism and political conservatism that veers into facism has to do with a shared interest in preserving patriarchal economic and social structures and what they perceive as “traditional” gender roles.

So, while the Satmar Chasidic Jews of Brooklyn may not have, or want, much participation in the techno-financial complex, they don’t want “scantily-clad” “sexy-ass hipster girls” rolling through their neighborhoods. That is why they (or their leaders at any rate) opposed Citibike, New York’s bike share program, and bike lanes.

Their opposition to the latter would have, only a few years ago, explained their delight in Judge  Carolyn Walker-Diallo’s ruling to uphold Mayor Eric Adams’ decision to remove a protected bike lane on Bedford Avenue, one of the borough’s major thoroughfares, without community notification or the other normal processes required for a major transportation project. In essence, Judge Walker-Diallo said that bike lane removal or replacement is not a major transportation project.

But the Chasidic community’s—and the neighborhood’s —leaders were not pleased. Not because, as it turns out,  Walker-Diallo contributed financially to the political campaign of a local bike lane opponent. Nor did it matter that the Department of Transportation under Adams, who is widely disliked in the community*, installed the lane.

Rather, their umbrage has to do with the fact that children were using the lane to ride their bikes to school. In fact, the suit against the lane’s removal (which ended with the judge’s decision) was initiated on behalf of one of those children. Peter Beadle, the lawyer representing him used the DOT’s own data showing that protected bike lanes reduced injuries by nearly half—to no avail.

He did, however, see a glimmer of hope. If changing from one type of bike lane to another doesn’t require community notice, he said, “then we need to change all non-protected lanes to protected lanes immediately because we know they make all road users safer.”

So, if bicycles themselves aren’t controversial, as Keith Kingbay wrote half a century ago, could he—or anyone else—have foreseen the controversies they could engender, let alone how they could flip political alliances?

*—I, too, am not a fan of the mayor, if for different reasons.

How Mucb Good Will It Do?

New York City Mayor Eric Adams has just announced that he plans to implement a 15 MPH (25 KPH) speed limit for eBikes.

According to Citibike General Manager Patrick Knoth, the Adams administration hadn’t contacted the bike share program about the proposal. While eBikes comprise 37.5 percent of Citibike’s fleet, they constitute 65 percent of the trips taken.

Call me cynical, but I have to wonder how much a speed limit will affect Citibike rentals. For one thing, the shared eBikes have a top speed of 18 MPH (30 KPH), two MPH slower than the current speed limit. For another, if my own observations are indicative of conditions on the the street, most of the scofflaw eBikers aren’t on Citibikes.

Photo by Seth Wenig for AP

Perhaps more to the point, enforcement of the existing speed limit—or the prohibition of eBikes on most city bike lanes is non-existent. I, and other cyclists, have been “buzzed “ by riders—many of them delivery workers—on eBikes. And I have seen riders, mostly young, riding two-wheeled machines with no pedal assist—as one commenter calls them, “electric motorcycles.” I don’t think a speed limit—at least one without enforcement—will change the behavior of those at whom the proposed law is aimed.

Attacked, Left To Die On The Island

Right now, I am alternating between feeling guilt and rationalizing a choice I often make.

I have pedaled on and through Randall's Island many, many times.  It lies under the RFK Memorial (formerly Triborough) Bridge.  The misnamed Harlem and East Rivers separate it from Manhattan and Queens, respectively, and a deceptively inert ribbon of water--the Bronx Kill--runs between it and the borough for which the body of water is named.

Most days, it's either uneventful or relaxing:  Most of the island is parkland.  The firefighters' academy occupies part of it; another piece is taken up by a water treatment plant.  A small bridge connects the island to Ward's Island, the site of a mental hospital and homeless shelter. Bike lanes wind around Randall's from the Connector, a bike-pedestrian bridge spanning the Bronx Kill, down the main road and up the Harlem River side near Ward's.

That last stretch is one of the more remote parts of the island.  Diana Agudelo rode it to and from her job at the Museum of the City of New York, the northernmost museum of Manhattan's famed "Museum Mile." I would imagine that she took that route mainly for the same reasons I have:  It is both convenient and relaxing.

That last quality is also what leads some people let their guard down.  I am not saying that Ms. Agudelo was not mindful of her surroundings, but in that island of calm amidst the city's hustle and bustle, it's easy to let one's guard down.  

So she probably had no inkling of what was about to happen to her on Friday night:  About half an hour before midnight, someone attacked and brutally beat her, taking her eBike and cell phone and leaving her to die.  Someone out for a walk found her, unable to move or speak.  She still can't do either, which is making it difficult for police to identify her attacker.

The guilt I mentioned at the beginning of this post is over knowing that someone has suffered a tragedy in the course of doing something I have done many times.  I hope it doesn't become "survivor's guilt."  At the same time, I have been offering rationales to people who've heard Agudelo's story and are admonishing me to "be careful" or simply scare me out of riding on the Island.  I have long been aware of the risks of riding the particular stretch of bike lane where she met her fate, and I almost never ride on the Island after sunset.  

All I can do now is hope that she is a "miracle:"  The doctors have given her a very small chance of surviving.  Oh, and I hope that the thug(s) who attacked her is/are caught.

 

The Culture War’s Latest Casualty

 I am a non-Christian transgender female cyclist. That makes me a totem in the culture wars.

The MAGA crowd, White and Christians nationalists and all of the other far-right culture warriors (and their sympathizers), by definition, are opposed to anyone and anything that doesn’t fit their definitions of Christianity and womanhood (i.e. perpetual pregnancy and silent submission). Then, when the Fake Tan Führer (FTF)re-entered the White House, they were emboldened to turn their hate on transgenders and anyone else who doesn’t fit their notions of cisgender heterosexuality.

Now the title of Daniel Zawodny’s article in The Baltimore Banner tells us what the latest target of Faux News-addled is:  “What is the latest victim in Trump’s war on woke?  You guessed  it—bike lanes.”

Turns out, Mr. Zawodny is not being engaging in hyperbole or hysterics. Rather, he recounts how FTF’s Secretary of Transportation Sean Duffy—who claims he’s “not opposed to bike lanes” and that he “loves bikes”—confirmed a pause on all Federal funding for bike and pedestrian infrastructure pending a review considering the Trump Administration’s priorities. 

Given FTF’s hostility to cyclists—and environmentalists, anyone who wants social and economic justice and any energy source that isn’t nuclear or a fossil fuel—I have a difficult time imagining those priorities including us.

Rockaway Residents Reject Bike Ban

 If you have been following this blog, you know that I frequently ride the Rockaway Boardwalk along the South Shore of Queens.  Who can resist a seaside spin?

While I sometimes like to build up speed, I am careful and try to be respectful of beach goers, dog walkers and other pedestrians. I can, however, understand the impulse to engage in Grand Tour fantasies: I’ve done it myself. After all, the Boardwalk is a long flat stretch with no traffic lights and few, if any, other reasons to stop or detour.

Some folks in the local community board want to change, at least partially, what I described in my previous sentence.  Others, however, wanted to go even further.

At a recent Board meeting, a proposal to ban cyclists along thr Boardwalk’s most popular segment—from Beach 73rd to Beach 108th Streets—between Memorial and Labor Day. That area includes concession stands, bathrooms and changing areas and a surfing school, ans is closest to subway stations and the Veterans Memorial Bridge, which connects the Rockaways to the rest of Queens.

Accidents and altercations between riders and pedestrians have been reported. Some Board members—and media outlets like the New York Post—have used them to portray anyone on two wheels as a menace.  I’ll admit that I’ve seen a few reckless cyclists. But I think the greater problem is riders on mopeds and eBikes that don’t have a pedal assist.  I think they’re intoxicated by sea breezes rippling their hair (they’re almost never wearing helmets) and the power they feel. 

Fortunately, more than a few people can see, not only black and white, but all of the shades in the picture. Some just happen to be local residents who helped to vote down the proposal.

Some are calling, instead, for clearly-painted lanes and speed limits on the Boardwalk. They also believe that requiring cyclists to dismount around the major concession areas at 86th, 96th and 108th Streets. The Long Beach Boardwalk in Nassau County, where I have also ridden, has a similar policy for its main concession area during the peak season.

The Long Beach policy is enforced:  Police officers stand by barricades.  And a New York City Parks official says that would be needed—and that it would be the best way not to punish local residents who like to ride the Boardwalk for the actions of those who “come in and use it as their racetrack” (i.e., “outsiders”) however hysterical that claim might be. 

The Councils Are Going Broke. Blame Cyclists.

"Americans can be trusted to do the right thing once all other possibilities have been exhausted."

That remark has been attributed to Winston Churchill, though experts on him can't find any tape, transcript or other record of him saying it.

Whoever said it, I wish that it were true of today's right-wing politicians.  Coaches, trainers, athletic directors and boosters sexually abuse athletes, yet the Fake Tan Fuhrer and his allies blame transgender athletes on girls' and womens' teams--which number something like ten in the whole United States--for endangering innocent young female gymnasts, skaters, basketball players, cyclists and other performers.  I have yet to hear of any anti-LGBTQ politician who went after the real perpetrators. Perhaps some day....

Or maybe they never will.  It seems that these days, a strategy of the far- and even center-right around the world is to scapegoat people, organizations and movements that are very small in number or limited in scope, much as Hitler targeted Jews (who, even where they were the largest presence, still represented a small fraction of the population), Romani and other minorities including, yes, LGBT people.  I still recall how the Reagan Administration targeted the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts, ostensibly as defecit-reducing measures, even though they represented something like .005 percent of the Federal Budget and, as even the Wall Street Journal noted, contributed far more to the economy, not to mention the culture.

Now it seems that one of right wing's targets, in the UK as in the US, is bicycle infrastructure.  It's one thing to blame a bike lane for a loss of parking spaces or emergency vehicle access.  But it's simply ludicrous to attribute the sorry state of a local government's finances to the money it spent on a bike lane, mainly because it's almost invariably a tiny part of the budget but also because (at least in the US), those funds may have come from a state or the Federal government, usually as part of an allocation for transportation.

But that hasn't stopped politicians on either side of the Atlantic.  Among the most recent is Nigel Farage, the Reform Party leader and former member of the UK Independence Party--you know, the folks who campaigned for Brexit.  This morning he claimed that local councils are "on the verge of bankruptcy" because of "huge departments of people dealing with climate change" and the "tens of millions of pounds" those councils "wasted" on "cycle lanes nobody uses."

Image credit:  Simon MacMichael/Gage Skidmore via the BBC

Now, I can't argue against, or vouch for the last part of his assertion.  But a look at the charge that the councils are throwing money at bike infrastructure is, to say the least, exaggerated.  Some councils spend little or nothing on bicycle infrastructure or other "active travel."  But even for those that spent the most, like Kingston, spending for active transport (which includes walking and other non-motorized modes as well as cycling) is only around 4 to 5 percent of the total budget, with around a third of that coming from core funds and the rest from grants.  As a whole, the UK spends about two percent of its transportation budget on cycling infrastructure. 

All of this leads me to believe that if Nigel Farage were in Winston Churchill's place during the Blitz, he would have turned his ire toward Dame Myra Hess.

“Funeral” For A Bike Lane

 Jewish traditions include the levaya, a public burial ceremony for a Torah scroll or script that has been burned or otherwise damaged beyond repair. The Torah is often buried beside a Torah scholar as a sign of respect.

I thought of the levaya when I saw a news story out of Houston. That city’s cyclists didn’t bury a bike lane. They did, however, hold a “funeral” for the Austin Street lane the city abruptly removed from its Midtown district.

The penultimate word of the previous sentence describes what rankled Ursula Andreeff, who organized the event. “We wanted to mourn the loss of bike lanes, loss of critical infrastructure in this city and also to bring attention,” she explained. 

The city removed concrete barriers, often called “armadillos,” citing concerns from residents and first responders about reduced access for emergency vehicles, blocked trash collection and limited parking. Houston Public Works claims the move—and painting “sharrows” to indicate shared use of the road with motor vehicles.

Critics argue that the “sharrows” won’t offer the same level of protection and might deter some from cycling. They also lambasted the city for not giving advance warning about removing the Austin Street lane, or others. People went for their daily commute or fitness ride only to find that their familiar route, in which they felt safe, gone.

Some Houston cyclists held a “funeral” for a bike lane. I imagine that some were hoping the next funeral they attend won’t be for one of them.

Why Is A Cyclist More 100 Times More Likely To Be Killed In Florida Than In New Hampshire?

Once again, Florida has more cycling fatalities per million residents than any other US state. The Sunshine State has 23.3 million residents, so its rate of 10.4 translates to 242 fatalities per year.

Florida's rate is 11 percent higher than that of second-deadliest Louisiana. New Mexico, South Carolina and Arizona round out the "top" five states for cycling rate fatalities.  At the other end of the table, the five "safest" states for cyclists-- Wyoming, Vermont, Alaska, Rhode Island and New Hampshire--all have about the same rate (0.1 per million), or less than one percent of Florida's.

Do you notice some patterns?

The states with the lowest rates are in New England (Vermont, Rhode Island and New Hampshire) or are far-western (or northern) states (Wyoming and Alaska) where outdoor recreation is popular.  The deadliest states for cyclists are all car-centric and in the "Sunbelt."

To be fair, none of the "safest" states has a city comparable in size to, say, Miami, Phoenix or even New Orleans.  Then again, the New England states have small-to-medium-sized cities with significant populations of college students.  Those cities are also older cities , developed before the automobile.  

 So what, aside from geographical clustering and (to a lesser degree, demographics) do the least dangerous states have share?  And what traits do the most perilous states have in common?

From the website of Christopher G. Burns, Esq. 

According to an article in Legal Reader, the following are among the factors contribute to the relative calm or perilousness of cycling in a particular state:

--Infrastructure Deficiencies.  The authors of the article weren't talking about cycling infrastructure.  Rather, they refer to wide, high-speed roads that are common in the "deadly" states.  Perhaps more important, they also mention planning, in and out of urban areas, that is auto-centric. Thus--as I can attest from my experiences of cycling in Florida and South Carolina--it is all but impossible to go from one place to another without using a "stroad," which often have high-speed lanes connecting them to major highways.  Navigating one of those entry and exit points makes crossing Times Square seem like a stroll on a bridge over a theme-park "stream."

--Rural vs. Urban Risk Factors:  While urban areas account for 83 percent of total bike fatalities, rural areas actually have higher per-capita rates because of the factors I mentioned my previous paragraph.  One reason is that some large cities have at least a skeleton of bike infrastructure and--as I can attest from many years of cycling in New York--lower vehicle speeds make fatalities less likely:  A cyclist struck by a car traveling at 40 MPH (65 K/H) has an 85 percent chance of dying, but only 25 percent if the vehicle is going at 20 MPH (32.5 K/H). 

--Legal Frameworks:   States and other jurisdictions with lower fatality rates also tend to have laws that truly promote cycling safety, such as the Idaho Stop or its variants, and enforce other laws and policies such as those against distracted driving.  Also, some of the "safer" states have Vulnerable Road User laws, which impose stricter penalties for motorists who cause harm to cyclists and pedestrians.

In addition to better urban and suburban planning, bicycle infrastructure and better laws (and enforcement), the authors also call for, among other things, mandatory bicycle awareness education in drivers' licensing programs.  I think it's a good idea because one difference I notice between cycling in the US (even in "bicycle friendly" places) and Europe is that drivers are more conscious of, and courteous to, cyclists.  Some countries have the bicycle awareness training the authors call for, but even in the places that don't, motorists see us differently because many are also cyclists, or were in their recent pasts.

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.

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.

Matthew Cherry

 Today, most people believe tricycles are for toddlers or old people. But as the first “bike boom” took shape during the late 1880s, some saw “trikes” as a viable alternative to high-wheelers, a.k.a., “penny farthings”. 

The bikes most commonly associated with that period had front wheels much larger in diameter than the rear. Cranks were attached to the front axle. The bikes were therefore “direct drive,” which meant that the gearing was determined by the size of the front wheel. A larger wheel meant a higher gear and potentially more speed. (I can only imagine pedaling them uphill!) Racers and riders who simply wanted to go fast (or “prove” their manhood) often rode perched over front wheels taller than their bodies. And, aside from their inherent instability, “penny-farthings” posed another hazard: A cyclist’s foot could be caught in the wheel.

Variations of the “safety” bicycle—one with wheels of equal diameter and a chain connecting a sprocket on the rear wheel with a chainring on the crank—had been in the works well before that first “bike boom” began and mostly displaced “penny-farthings” by the middle of it. It’s what most of us have been riding ever since.

But around the same time British inventor and industrialist John Starley introduced the first commercially-successful “safety “ bicycle, another inventor on the other side of the Atlantic patented a new kind of human-powered wheeled transportation: the tricycle. It would look more or less familiar to us today: two rear wheels and a somewhat larger front attached to a metal frame. The first version was propelled (and stopped) by the rider’s feet on the ground; a later version had cranks and pedals attached to the front wheel: the drive system of “penny farthings.”

Among Matthew Cherry’s later inventions were a fender (what we might call a bumper) for streetcars.  Believe it or not, until he developed it, those transport conveyances lacked anything that could absorb shock from a front or rear impact and were thus frequently damaged.

Anyway, in spite of his accomplishments, little is known about Cherry’s life aside from having been born 5 February 1834 in Washington, DC. (Nobody is sure of when or where he died.) The nation’s capital has long been a racially segregated city: It didn’t outlaw slave auctions in its confines until 16 years after his birth.

That last sentence is a clue to what I’m about to say: Matthew Cherry was Black. It’s hard not to wonder whether that was an impediment to his further developing the tricycle. Had he been able to secure more investment and other support, might he have developed a way to create something like the adult tricycle we see today: one with the drivetrain system nearly all of us ride today, with its capacity for variable gears.

I haven’t ridden a tricycle since I was a toddler. I don’t recall seeing an adult trike here in New York, though some cargo bikes resemble them. Still, I wonder:  What if tricycles, and not “safety” bicycles, had displaced high-wheelers?

Certainly bike—or more precisely, trike—design would be different. Transportation and urban planning might also be different. I suspect that one reason why adult tricycles are so rarely seen in New York and other cities is that three-wheelers are more difficult to maneuver in traffic and even in bike lanes. (In fact, some “bike lanes” aren’t wide enough for them.) Would streets and other infrastructure have been designed differently—possibly in less auto-centric ways? And might our cities—and society—be less segregated?

If nothing else, tricycles might not be just for kids and folks in retirement communities.