Do They Think Pedaled Bikes Are For Midlife—Or Later?

 

This news item from Philadelphia echoes a lament I’ve heard from other parts of the US:  Fewer kids are riding bicycles.

That may seem counterintuitive (as much as I hate that term), given that Philly, like other cities, has been building bike lanes and investing in other forms of cycling infrastructure—and that cycling for transportation and recreation, especially among Generation X and Millennials, had been on the rise, at least through the pandemic. The report I’ve linked mentions several possible reasons: Kids are spending more time on screens and are riding e-bikes or scooters. Their parents are concerned about traffic and other dangers.

It also hinted at a socio-economic phenomenon: families and communities are “under-resourced.” That is a fancy way of saying some families can’t afford to buy their kids bikes and even the giveaway programs can’t provide nearly enough. Even if parents can afford bikes, they may not have the time to ride with their kids—which brings us back to their safety concerns.

It’s an unfortunate fact that while cycling can provide relatively inexpensive transportation and exercise, its benefits are far from equally shared. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my friend “Sam” observed that the cyclists we saw on traditional bikes were older than e-bike riders.  I would also add that on any given day, e-bike riders I see trend poorer—and darker—than those of us on pedaled bikes.

About the previous sentence: If my observations reflect broader realities, it may be because  a disproportionate number of e-bikers, at least here in New York City, are delivery workers, nearly all of whom are immigrants from Africa, the Caribbean and Central America. But even among those who aren’t bringing pizza or tacos -to people who just got home from work, most of the e-bike riders I see are people of color. Those who aren’t are usually tourists.

Could it be that kids who don’t have bikes see their parents, older siblings or other adults a generation older than themselves riding e-bikes and think “That’s what I want”? Kids, consciously or not, aspire to be like the adults in their lives.  They can envision themselves to be like them, and not the older adults—who are riding traditional bicycles.

It’s rather ironic that piloting e-bikes, and other motorized vehicles (including cars) is seen as a sign of “growing up” while pedaling is a symptom, if you will, of middle or old age!

Yellow Is The New…

When people get angry, they “see red.”

Not so long ago, however, a cyclist in New York City might’ve seen yellow: No driver drove more of us to fits of rage (not to mention alcohol and other drugs) than one behind the steering wheel of a taxi. He (almost all were male) was the “cowboy” of the urban canyons, darting in and out of lanes, pumping the accelerator and brake pedals seemingly split-seconds apart and screeching to stops a hair’s breadth from strollers in the crosswalk.

Today I took a ride across the High Bridge into Manhattan down to the Village. For the first time I can remember, I was happy to see yellow cabs on Seventh Avenue. In fact, they seemed tame and predictable—at least in comparison to some of the new menaces on the road. I’m talking about the kids on scooters and motorbikes, and people in SUVs whose driving skills didn’t improve with the size of their vehicles.

But the worst of all are some ride-share (Uber, Lyft, et al). Since people don’t hail them—they’re summoned via apps—they pull in and out of bike lanes, or whichever lane is nearest the curb, without warning. And nearly every one I’ve seen is looking at a screen rather than their surroundings. Basically, they’re taxi drivers without the regulations or accountability of drivers in yellow cabs—who today seemed like  model citizens on the road.

I didn’t see yellow when I got mad today.

Stopping DEI In Its Tracks (Or Lanes)

 I am almost everything the Trump Administration hates.

The reason I say “almost” is that I’m White.  But I check the other boxes:  I am a woman. I am transgender.  I live in New York City. I’ve been voting for Democrats (though I do not identify as one; my values are mostly more progressive). Oh, and I am a cyclist.

Could I be the (or a) reason why the Administration has declared that bike lanes are “DEI tools?”

For those of you who haven’t had to live with the lunacy in the United States, DEI stands for diversity, equity and inclusion. It’s a shorthand for policies created to safeguard against discrimination in workplaces and other institutions.

So how did this Administration—In particular its Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy—come to the conclusion that those green strips of asphalt along your city’s main streets are conduits for people like me, people of color, immigrants and other “undesirables?” Well, Duffy’s predecessor, Pete Bootigieg (whom Duffy referred to as “Boot-edge-edge”) allocated much of the funding made available to municipalities, not only for bike lanes, but also for other projects to improve pedestrian and traffic safety.

You see; “Boot-edge-edge” has a husband and served under Trump’s predecessor, President Joe Biden, who extended and strengthened DEI policies initiated by President Barack Obama, under whom Biden served  as Vice President. “Boot-edge-edge,” said that among other things, building bike lanes and implementing other safety measures would “improve infrastructure, strengthen supply chains, make us safer, advance equity and combat climate change.”

“Advance equity and combat climate change.” Little did he know he was giving his successor ammunition.

Trump and Duffy have sent out messages in screaming capital letters on X (formerly known as Twitter) that their predecessors’ policies were “hostile to motor vehicles” and grants promised to various municipalities—including some that voted overwhelmingly for Trump all three times he ran for President—would be cancelled.

Gotta stop that DEI menace in its tracks, you know!

Photo by Kevin Dietsch, Getty Images 

We’re Not Bad For Business. Really!

 

In 1979, I rode in New York City’s Five Boro Bike Tour for the first time.  It was the third edition of what became an annual event and marked the first time the Triboro (now known as RFK Memorial) Bridge was closed to auto traffic.

I took the ride with two fellow students from Rutgers. We were among the few-thousand cyclists who participated; it had not yet become the sort of event that gets listed in TimeOut. It also didn’t have the $125 entry fee—a sum I never could have afforded as a university student—of this year’s Tour.

I would participate in 19 more 5BBTs—two as a marshal—before deciding that it had become something people “did” rather than rode. (Plus, I had long since decided I would not pay to ride in my hometown.) But a recent news story reminded me of something I experienced on that 1979 ride.

In preparation for being one the World Cup host cities, Mexico City built a 24 kilometer (15 mile) protected bike lane from the city center to the main World Cup stadium. As expected, there were complaints and protests. Were city officials concerned about snow removal? Did business owners worry about parking? Are drivers irate over losing one of “their” lanes to cyclists?

I am sure that those common objections—save, perhaps, for snow removal—were voiced in regards to the Gran Ciclovía Tenochtittlán. But GCT upset another group of people who, as far as I know, have never before been involved in a bike lane controversy:  sex workers.

GCT’s route includes part of Avenida Tlalpan, where sex work has flourished for decades. (I don’t know this information firsthand: I have my sources!☺️)  Before the bike lane came (no pun intended—really!) in, pleasure providers would stand by the outermost traffic lanes. This allowed potential clients to slow down, stop and negotiate.

GCT has “taken” that outermost lane. So the World Cup—which, one assumes, would have been good for business—has instead all but destroyed not only a potential bonanza, but also their future prospects.

Before I make the connection with my 5BBT experience, I have to mention something else that occurs to me:  I have heard of one instance in which someone solicited from a bicycle.  When I was living in Park Slope, Brooklyn during the 1990s, the area under the nearby Gowanus Expressway was known to be an active prostitution area at least since World War II. One raid—which took place around the time then-Mayor Rudolph Giuliani was “cleaning up” Times Square—resulted from a would-be “John” soliciting an undercover cop from his bicycle.  I heard that when he was arrested, his bike was impounded.

The route of the 1979 5BBT, like that of every edition since, included a long stretch along the Brooklyn waterfront. Not far from where that two-wheeled terror met his end years later, there was a checkpoint. Gentrification and hipsters were years into the future for Williamsburg and Red Hook; those then-largely-industrial areas were all but abandoned on weekends.

Note that I said “all but.” At the checkpoint, while we were getting our cards stamped, some of us were greeted, shall we say, by folks wanting to do business. Being a broke student was just one reason why I didn’t. (In case you were wondering:  I have never paid, at least monetarily or with goods or other services, for sex.) I wonder, though, whether any other 5BBT riders did—and, if so, whether it’s proof cyclists aren’t bad for business.

Bikes And Bombs?

 As bad as I am at math, my freshman year of university showed me that I could actually be worse in another subject: economics.  I took one course and have told people, only half-jokingly, that I passed it (with a “D”) only because I promised the professor I would never again disgrace his discipline by taking another course in it.

Although I understood nothing, I remember a couple of things about the class. One is that the professor would exclaim, “MR=MC Always,” while pounding the podium.  And I recall something about “guns and butter.” I think it was about choosing between the two.

Well, years later I saw a poster that read, Bikes Not Bombs.” I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment, not only because I love cycling:  I believe that the only htrue advance the human race can make is by ending war, now and forever.  But I am enough of a realist to see that it probably won’t happen, especially in the current political climate.

It seems, however, that more than one politician has flipped the “Bikes Not Bombs” slogan.   

Here in the US, we might expect a right-wing politician to make the argument that money spent on bike lanes and other cycling-related infrastructure and programs would come at the expense of the defense budget. (They have been making the same sort claim about arts and healthcare-for-all vs the military for decades.) But, interestingly, in the UK, Wes Streeting, a Labour politician who sought the party’s leadership made exactly that sort of false equivalence.  What’s even more astonishing is that as a former Health Secretary, he should know about the health benefits of cycling.

What made the parliamentary debate even more bizarre was not that Andrew Murrison, a Member of Parliament and a Navy veteran agreed, more or less.  It’s that another veteran and Member of Parliament, Al Pinkerton, shot down (no pun intended) their argument. “I am perfectly happy to spend money on both cycleways and defence,” he announced. 

Hmm..bikes and bombs? I guess that isn’t so far-fetched when you consider that one of earliest British bicycle manufacturers—and, for a long time, the most respected maker of bicycle components—was Birmingham Small Arms Ltd.

When Cycling (and Pedestrian) Safety Is Social Justice

 Yesterday I crossed the Rubicon.  All right, it was a Boulevard of Death.

Several New York City thoroughfare have earned that moniker over the years. I regularly crossed two of them—Queens and Northern Boulevards—when I lived in Astoria.  The, like the one I traversed yesterday, are what transportation planners call “stroads.” While classified as city streets because of their urban settings, they have four or more long, straight lanes with long stretches between traffic signals. This setup encourages motorists to drive well over the speed limit.

“Stroads” often  include merges with, and on- and-off-ramps for, major highways. They usually pass through commercial areas, which provide constant streams of cars pulling in and out of traffic. The stroad I crossed yesterday, however, cuts through residential areas.

Those residential areas include what have been, for decades, two of New York City’s poorest neighborhoods. In addition to the other difficulties of growing up and loving in poverty, residents have some of the worst health in the city and nation:  Heavy traffic contributes to high rates of asthma and other respiratory illnesses and its un-walkability and lack of green spaces means that people don’t exercise much. (There also isn’t a gym, which most residents couldn’t afford anyway,) And because there aren’t supermarkets or even bodegas along the way, fresh fruits and vegetables, and other healthy foods, are difficult to come by.

And, in contrast with Queens Boulevard, under which a city subway line runs, and Northern, which includes stops for other lines and the Long Island Rail Road (yes, they spell it as two words), the “stroad” I’m talking about is miles from any train station. Local buses run along parts of it and on some streets that cross it, but it’s difficult to piece together a route from where people live to where they work, go to school or shop, let alone visit family and friends in other areas.

Oh, and many people who live along and near Linden share a trait shared by others, rich and poor, in the Big Apple:  they don’t have cars, or even access to them. Thus, they are not the ones contributing to the nightmarish traffic situation.

The “stroad” in question is Linden Boulevard. It begins in Brooklyn, at Flatbush Avenue, and runs south and east for 20 kilometers (with an interruption at Aqueduct Race Track) to the Queens-Nassau County border, passing near JFK International Airport along the way. .In Brooklyn, Linden cuts through Brownsville and East New York, home to the greatest concentrations of public housing and percentages of residents—including children—living in poverty. Many of those kids must cross eight lanes of traffic—on some stretches, with no pedestrian islands or other barriers in the middle—to get to their often-overcrowded and under- funded schools. Some, and some adults going to work or to catch the bus, didn’t make it.

Linden Boulevard, like otner “stroads,” cries out for, in addition to pedestrian islands, dedicated bus and bike lanes and other improvements to mass transit and safety for anyone who is getting around without a car. Our new mayor, Zohran Mamdani, has announced plans for a redesign of the most dangerous stretch of Linden, which includes the intersection I crossed during yesterday’s ride.  While nothing is mentioned about bike lanes, the other improvements I mentioned, including more points where pedestrians can cross, should at least help to cut down on the reckless driving that plagues it.

Redesigning “stroads” like Linden Boulevard, therefore, isn’t just a matter of convenience: It’s imperative for safety—and social justice.

Why They Don’t Ride To Work

 

In earlier posts, I have written “lines of paint does not a bike lane make,” or words to that effect.  Ron Johnson’s article in Momentum magazine concurs with that—with caveats.

Johnson reports that, according to a study published in The Journal of Cycling and Micromobility Research, some 61 percent of paint-only bike lanes—that is, those that are not delineated by a physical barrier, or separated altogether, from the roadway—are on “high stress” roads which, Johnson explains, are “fast multi-lane corridors where traffic speed and volume make riding uncomfortable for most people.” That, in itself, is problematic, but what makes the situation particularly vexing is that about 77 percent of all US bike lanes.According to my trusty iPad calculator (You don’t want to rely on my math skills!), 46.97 percent—nearly half—of all American bike lanes are paint-only and on “high stress” roads.”

With all due to respect to John Forrester and his crusading for “vehicular cycling,” people who haven’t ridden since they were kids, or recreational riders who want to commute or otherwise use their bicycles as vehicles, aren’t going to cycle in or near traffic if they don’t feel safe. And those are the very people—in addition to brand- new cyclists—we need if cycling and other forms of “micromobility” are to be seen as viable alternatives to automobiles.

Of course, some of the offending “lanes,” particularly those in large cities with extensive networks of streets, are the result of planners who aren’t cyclists. In such environments, there may be alternatives, such as quieter side-streets, to a poorly-conceived of -constructed bike lanes, But in many rural areas, particularly in the South and non-coastal West, the “high-stress” road is the only one connecting one village or county to another. There is also little or no mass transportation, which all but forces people to rely on that “high-stress” road, whether they’re on two, three, four—or no (i.e., pedestrians) wheels.

People in such environments will eschew cycling or other non-motorized transportation as long as there’s nothing but a line of white paint between them and SUVs and semis doing 70 MPH, whatever Mr. Forrester might’ve said.

The Other Ice

 Yesterday I wrote about my participation in a memorial ride for Alex Pretti, the intensive care unit nurse—and cyclist—murdered by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in Minneapolis.

Say what you will about my mental state, but I have a difficult time using the word “ice,” even in reference to a frozen liquid: the way it’s been used for its entire history in the English language.

But today I will break the ice (pun intended) and talk about what I’ve seeing during the (admittedly little) cycling I’ve done during the past two weeks: the longest spell of below-freezing temperatures we’ve had in a long time. I don’t mind the cold so much, but the freeze also included a snowstorm last week and plowing of streets has been, shall we say, episodic. And snow has turned to ice, especially in the bike lanes.

Anyway, on Monday I noticed something I hadn’t seen in years:

Technically, the Hudson River isn’t a river where it separates Manhattan from New Jersey:  the water is brackish, in contrast to the fresh flow further upstream. So the Hudson’s New York City stretch, like the misnamed East River, which is really an inlet of the ocean, rarely glazes over (unlike many of my students’ eyes).

On the other hand, I suspect this body of water freezes more frequently:

Paine Lake stands next to the Paine House, where the author of “Common Sense,” an inspirational for American Revolutionaries, lived.  How we need him now, when the political climate is even more inhospitable than this winter’s weather!

Which City Is The Worst For Cyclists?

  I feel more or less the same way about bicycling in New York City as I did more than four decades ago:  It could be better, it could be worse.

Perhaps that is normal, given that the Big Apple has been my hometown for all of that time (and perhaps even when I lived away from it.) I have encountered better-designed and -executed bike lanes—and, more important drivers and other non-cyclists who don’t treat us as “the enemy”—in other places, mainly in Europe and Japan.  On the other hand, I have seen even worse bike infrastructure, or none at all, along with chaps who believe that their Jimmy Dean breakfast links will become chorizos if they intimidate, harass or even endanger cyclists—mainly in other parts of the US.

So, I suppose it’s no surprise that New York sometimes comes up in lists of the best US cities for cycling but not the worst, at least in recent years.  Possibly the worst place for cycling in the New York City Metro area is Jersey City, and it’s not even as bad as some places that made the National Highway Traffic Safety “worst” list for pedestrians and cyclists.

Interestingly, one city often cited as the worst, according to Momentum magazine, didn’t make the list:  Houston.  I was there for a few days, decades ago and, to this day, I can hardly imagine a more hostile or dangerous place.  Momentum readers reported streets that were all but impossible to cross—one visitor to H-town reported wanting to go to a restaurant across the street from their hotel but couldn’t find a legal, safe crossing after half an hour of searching. Finally, that vexed visitor gave up and drove!

That story, and others, remind us of a point the Momentum article made:  While most of the cities on the NHTS list are indeed inhospitable to cyclists and pedestrians, there is a flaw in the way it ranks those cities: mainly according to the number of fatalities per capita. While those cities indeed had unenviable (unless you believe someone isn’t fully human if they don’t drive) statistics, in cities like Houston, the numbers are spread out among a larger population (Houston is #4 in the US) and geographic area.  So while a city like Houston appears to have a lower death rate, its lack of cycling and pedestrian infrastructure (and relatively poor mass transit system) along with hostile drivers on seemingly endless highways and “stroads” makes it a non-favorite.

Pity The Poor, Downtrodden Automobile

 Some time during my childhood, I saw a cartoon in which the automobile was on trial for its life. (Ironically, it was released the same year—1957–as “Twelve Angry Men,” perhaps, to this day, the best argument against capital punishment.) The point of the story—the reason why countless American kids have seen it in drivers’ ed classes—is the automobile is blamed for the dangers caused by its driver.

Another kid, who probably saw the cartoon a decade or so before I did, seems to have taken a different message from it. Instead of seeing reckless drivers as true villains, he saw the automobile as the poor, aggrieved victim, much as he sees white cisgender heterosexual men 

By now, you’ve probably figured out that I am referring to the Fake Tan Fũhrer, a.k.a., El Cheeto Grande, the Mango Menace or Golfin’ Golem.

His apparent belief that transgender leftist environmentalist cyclists like me have it in for his self-beloved self, I mean automobiles is expressed in his rationale for rescinding Federal funding for bike lanes, pedestrian malls or anything else that can make it safer to pedal or walk through American cities. In notices (which, one wonders, whether FTF himself dictated) to local officials, the US Department of Transportation declared such projects as “hostile” to automobiles and claimed they run counter to the DoT’s priority of “increasing roadway capacity for motor vehicles.” I have to wonder whether such a statement is written anywhere in DoT’s policies or simply another impromptu fiction from our “Dear Leader.”

So, boys and girls (I am trying not to run afoul of FTF’s decrees about the language of gender!), just remember that all those poor, picked-on SUVs and pimped-out pickup trucks are simply getting the room they need to breathe—just like those dudes you see on the subway who sit with their legs spread across the width of two seats. Overcompensation, anyone?

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.