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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom Fucoloro and his son cycling in Portland.

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

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

Ride Here. Just Don’t Go Bare

 I have cycled many times in Palm Coast, Florida. It never occurred to me, however, to ride in the nude.

That’s probably a good thing. According to a survey from Lawnstarter.com, Palm Coast ranked fourth-worst among 500 US cities surveyed for naked bike riding. Each city was ranked in five categories:  Naked Biking Popularity, Cyclist-Friendliness, Nudist-Friendliness, Climate and Safety.

Although I could ride on lanes that paralleled some of the main roads, they sometimes began seemingly out of nowhere and ended abruptly. (It’s been nearly two years since I’ve been to PC; perhaps things have improved.) Also, for all of its bike lanes, the city and state are auto-centric. So while there is some semblance of a cycling infrastructure, and I wasn’t the only cyclist using it, I wouldn’t say Palm Coast is particularly cyclist-friendly.

I would love to know how the surveyors gauged the nudist-friendliness of Palm Coast (or any place else). Jacksonville, about 100 miles to the north, is often seen as the port of entry, if you will, to the Bible Belt. I don’t know whether PC qualifies as BB territory, but it’s definitely conservative in a Southern way. So someone who decides to unbuckle might suffer the fate of two Dutch racers who changed from their cycling kit between two car doors in a Kansas parking lot.

The Worst Bike Lanes In America?

 What makes for bad bike lane?

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

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

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

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

Oxymoron Enforcement

 Even after half a century as a dedicated cyclist, I still don’t understand what goes on in the minds of traffic and transit planners.

There are the bike lanes to nowhere that seem to begin out of nowhere—not to mention the ones that are ill-placed, -constructed and -maintained.  Oh, and then there are lanes and turns that seem to be designed to put cyclists and pedestrians in the most possible danger.

Sometimes, though, I wonder whether those planners—those who enforce policies or the law—have any idea of what they’re trying to tell us or a working knowledge of the language in which they’re communicating.

In earlier posts I have given examples of signs that seem to contradict the intended message, or are simply confusing, because of poor logic, grammar or syntax—or seemingly-unintended oxymorons. To wit:

Now, perhaps I’m missing something but I don’t understand how something can be “loud” and a “muffler” at the same time.  And even if such a thing could exist, how could it be “enforced,” strictly or otherwise?  Is that sign warning people that if they enter New Rochelle without a “loud muffler,” they could be penalized?  If so, what does the city deem an appropriate punishment for something that, by definition, cannot exist?

For the record, I cycled into New Rochelle without a loud muffler. I wonder whether there will be a peacekeeping force of violent pacifists stationed at the border the next time I enter the city from Eastchester.

Hardened About Bike Lanes?

The Department of Transportation in New York City, my hometown, has announced that we can expect to see ten miles of new "hardened" bike lanes this year, in addition to other ("soft"?) lanes.

So what does the city mean by a "hardened" lane?  Apparently, it's one separated from traffic by a concrete or other immovable barrier, in contrast to most lanes, which "protect" cyclists from traffic with flexible bollards or lines of paint.

If a sound like a cynical curmudgeon, well, I won't deny that I am one, at least somewhat.  You see, a DOT spokesperson says that building the lanes is, in part, a response to the increasing accident and death rate for cyclists.  Now, if I weren't (snark alert) one of those mean, nasty, entitled lycra sausages, I would simper "Oh, how thoughtful of them!"

Now, I am not against "hardened" lanes or even the "soft" ones, at least in principle.  What bothers me is planners' misconceptions that are almost inevitably built into bike infrastructure in this city and country. 

Crescent Street bike lane:  the one that runs right in front of my apartment.  Photo by Edwin de Jesus.

For one thing, when motorists maim or kill cyclists, sometimes deliberately, they usually get away with little more than a "slap on the wrist."  The Police Department seems to give attacks on cyclists the same priority as bike theft--which is to say, no priority, or even less.  

To be fair, some motor vehicle-bicycle crashes are caused by miscalculations rather than malfeasance on the part of drivers.  If they haven't cycled for transportation rather than just in leisurely social spins in the park, they aren't likely to understand what are truly the safest practices--for cyclists and motorists alike--for proceeding through intersections and other situations in which drivers and cyclists meet.

But what really drives me crazy is how planners seem to give little or no thought to where they place the lanes.  Too often, they begin seemingly out of nowhere or end without warning.  That is not a mere inconvenience.  For one thing, it renders lanes impractical:  The only way cycling will ever become a respected part of this city's traffic landscape will be if it becomes a practical means of transportation for people who don't live within a few blocks of their schools or workplaces.  For another, bike lanes that don't have clear beginnings and endings, and aren't integrated with each other, put cyclists and motorists alike--and pedestrians--in more danger.

So, while hoping that the new lanes will reflect a more evolved philosophy than previous lanes did, I remain a skeptic.

Sans Casque?

In the sweep of history, four years isn't even the blink of an eye. But, even at my age--when you start to think of people within fifteen years or so of your own age as your peers--four years, especially if they're anything like the ones that have just passed, can seem like a geological age.

I'll spare you the cliche that "we are living in a different world" from that of 2019. (OK, since I've mentioned it, I didn't spare you from it, did I?) I have seen changes in my Astoria, New York neighborhood and in the city as a whole.  The passage of time, however, seems all the more sweeping when you return to a place you haven't seen in a while, especially if that place doesn't change as much or as quickly as your own environs.

While Paris is a modern city in terms of technology and infrastructure, its overall appearance doesn't change nearly as dramatically as that of New York in any given period of time.  You can count on returning to a building you saw in the City of Light four, fourteen or forty years ago.  Even some of the stores, restaurants and cafes you remember will be there if you return.  So, perhaps, that quality makes any change  all the more striking.

In my case, I couldn't help but to notice how many more people were on bikes than I saw during previous visits.  I'd heard and read that many people took to riding--for transportation, recreation and fitness--during the pandemic.  Apparently, they stayed in the saddle.  Of course that makes me happy.  I also noticed, on the other hand, e-bikes and scooters, which were nowhere to be seen the year before the pandemic.  I saw the proliferation of those vehicles in New York as the first weeks and months of the pandemic turned into years, but in Paris, it seemed as if they were all superimposed on the image I had of the city from the last time I saw it. 

One thing hasn't changed, though:  Almost no scooter-rider or cyclist, whether of the completely human-powered or electric variety, was wearing a helmet.  I admit that I didn't wear one, either:  It's not the easiest thing to pack, especially if you're traveling only with a carry-on bag.  But somehow I didn't feel as vulnerable or exposed as I do when I leave my apartment avec velo, sans casque.

I got to thinking about that when I came across this article. It points out, correctly, that the obsession with helmet-wearing is mainly an American one.  As the article's author, Marion Renault, points out, few cyclists in the Netherlands don the plastic and foam shells.  One reason, according to Renault, is that the Dutch feel safer while riding:  Their infrastructure lends itself to safe cycling to a much greater degree than what we have in the 'States.  Also, Dutch drivers' awareness and attitudes towards cyclists are very different from those of their American counterparts.

Something similar could be said, I think, for Paris and France, if to a lesser degree. Certainly, I felt safer, whether I was riding on a protected lane or in traffic.  About the latter:  Even though Paris streets are narrower than those in New York, I felt as if I had more room to maneuver.  Most likely, that had something to do with the fact that vehicles are smaller and lower to the street:  You don't often see anything like America's best-selling vehicle class: the Ford F-Series, which weighs 7500 pounds and has a hood that stands four and a half feet tall--about the height of an adult's chin.

That brings me to another point Renault makes:  most helmet testing does not, and cannot, measure the impact of a collision between such a vehicle and a cyclist.  For one thing, it's all but impossible to replicate such conditions in a laboratory.  There are more variables in such collisions than there are in, say, a clash between (American) football players.  

One of those variables, as I implied earlier, is the driver him or her self.  When I was doored two years ago, a nurse in the emergency room declared, "Good thing you were wearing your helmet."  While that was probably true, I would have been safer had the driver glanced out her window and seen me on the other side before she opened her door. I think a lot of French and Dutch riders would agree.  They also know that having good bike lanes, room to maneuver and traffic regulations that makes sense do at least as much as any piece of protective gear to promote their safety:  Their cyclists' rates of injury and death are much lower than those of their American counterparts.

So, if and when I return to Paris or Amsterdam, or anyplace else in France or the Netherlands, will I see as few cyclists wearing helmets as I saw during the trip I just took?

Connections In (And To) The CIty Of Brotherly Love

 If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that some of my pet peeves include New York's, and other US cities', follies in creating "bicycle infrastructure."  Often, it seems that those who conceive, plan, design and build bike lanes and other facilities haven't been on a bicycle since they got their driver's licenses, or at all.  

Evidence that I am not engaging in conspiracy theories or am simply a chronic complainer can be seen in the routing of bike lanes.  Too often, they put cyclists in more danger than they'd face while riding in traffic. They force cyclists to cross intersections where drivers--sometimes of buses and trucks--are making right turns in front of them.  Or they are simply poorly marked and maintained.

One of the hazards, which seems like a mere inconvenience to anybody who doesn't cycle, is the way some lanes begin or end seemingly out of the blue:  what I call the bike lanes from nowhere to nowhere.  When such a lane begins or ends abruptly--in some cases, in mid-block--motorists and cyclists alike are caught unawares, which probably does more than anything else to increase chances of a tragic encounter.

Those lanes from "nowhere to nowhere" also help to foster the attitude among non-cyclists that we're a bunch of entitled whiners engaging in a frivolous recreational activity.  While I do ride for recreation (or, more precisely, physical and mental health), I also ride for transportation.  So do many other riders in this city, and others:  They go to work or school,  visit friends and family members as well as museums and other venues, or the store, on their bikes.  Some might go a few blocks, but others--like me--venture beyond our neighborhoods and even our cities.

It must be said that I have been cycling for most of my life and in this city for about four decades.  I rode to school and work when none of my peers did; I pedaled through neighborhoods and towns when I was the only adult cyclist most residents had seen.  So, for me, the absence or presence of cycling "infrastructure" won't affect my decisions to ride or not.  

But, for a prospective, new or less-experienced cyclist, it might.  They might decide to pedal to their classrooms, workplaces or any other place they want or need to frequent if they felt there was a coherent system of bike lanes or other routes that could take them safely for all or much of their trip.  Not only would such a system allow them to ride with fewer worries about traffic, it would make navigating a route easier.

The Schuylkill River Trail

The Bicycle Coalition of Greater Philadelphia seems to understand as much.  That is why they have been working with the city's Circuit Trails network to fill in the "gaps" between some of the lanes within the City of Brotherly Love--and the communities surrounding it.  The stated goals of the program are 500 miles of trails by 2025 that will be--and this, to me, is the more important goal--that will be part of an integrated system.

Such a network, I believe, might entice some people who live in nearby suburbs--including a few, like Cherry Hill, across the Delaware river in New Jersey--to commute or take pleasure trips into the city by bicycle.  

Channeling Their Aggression Into Fraud

It’s bad enough that most bike lanes in this city are poorly-conceived, -designed, -built and -maintained—and that too many go from nowhere to nowhere.  On top of all that, the placement and routing seems designed to spark the aggression of motorists and anyone who’s not using four wheels and a motor.

I have had close calls with drivers who park, pass or stop to drop off or pick up passengers in the bike lane.  I’ve also seen other drivers toss their trash—including bottles that shattered on impact—onto the lanes.

Oh, and as I was pedaling down the Crescent Street path from my apartment, a group of people planted themselves in the lane -and stood, smoking and talking to each other, as I and other cyclists tried to pass.  The sidewalk to the left of the lane was clear.

Perhaps I should be grateful that nobody here has—at least to my knowledge—expressed their hatred for cyclists in the same way as some folks in Toronto have. 

They’ve posted notices saying that certain vehicles are allowed to park in the lane on Bloor Street. That might not be a problem if those posters didn’t look like they came from the city of Toronto—which, along with the Bloor-Annex Business Improvement Area, is using social media to make people aware of the fraud.

Connecting Ithaca

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know thar one of my pet peeves is “bike lanes to nowhere “:  ribbons of dirt, concrete or asphalt that begin or end abruptly and do not connect common destinations in any meaningful way.  They are a reason for motorists’ animosity towards cyclists;  As long as bike paths are seen merely as “nice places to ride” rather than transportation conduits, drivers will see us as over-privileged pleasure- or thrill-seekers who are “taking “ their lanes and parking spaces. 

So, I am glad to hear news that Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, secured a Federal grant to connect the Black Diamond and Gateway Trails, two bike lanes on opposite ends of Ithaca, an upstate New York town best known for its gorges and Cornell University.

A Bike Lane To His Death

In earlier posts, I have lamented "bike lanes to nowhere."  They start or end without warning or don't provide safe or convenient routes to any place a cyclist--whether he or she is pedaling for transportation, recreation or training--might actually want or need to go.  Such lanes, I have argued, will do nothing to encourage people to trade four wheels and one pedal for two wheels and two pedals, even for short trips.

The worst such "lanes to nowhere" are not mere inconveniences; they are veritable deathtraps.  Such ribbons of illusory safety end by merging into traffic. The most perilous paths of all lead cyclists onto multiple lanes of cars, SUVs, trucks and other motorized vehicles traveling at high speed.  In the most dire of scenarios, there is no way for cyclists to avoid such a merge and no other way to anywhere else but the road onto which the path merges.

Although I have never seen it, I feel confident that my description fits the Longview Lake loop in Kansas City.  Longtime cyclist Athol Barnes' delight at the Loop's construction was muted because he noticed exactly the flaw I've described. As cyclists approach the intersection of SW Longview Road from the north, along View High Drive, the bike lane runs out past the intersection of East 109th Street, forcing cyclists to merge onto the road with drivers.

Charles Criniere (in cap) with his wife Megan and nine of his ten children.

He became especially worried about that merge after he encouraged his friend, Charles Criniere to start riding.  The middle-school teacher and father of 10 started by accompanying Barnes on early-morning rides during which they talked about the things that mattered to them:  family, faith, youth and eighth-grade math students. 

Criniere quickly gained cycling savvy, but Barnes' worst fears came true the Saturday before last.  Around 6:15 am, police were called to the intersection I mentioned earlier in this post.  A vehicle, which police believe to be a white Acura MDX, fled the scene.

Criniere was declared dead.  Police are looking for the driver.

In this photo, the photographer, Jeremy Van Deventer rides past a memorial for Charles Criniere.

Although he is glad the city is creating more bike lanes, Barnes also knows--and this incident confirms--what I've long known:  All else being equal, cyclists are safer on the road, and the real hazards are drivers, who aren't cognizant of, or are hostile to, cyclists and are driving bigger vehicles faster and distractedly.

A Bike Lane Network: The Community Wants It. Can The City Get It Right?

Sometimes, when I don't have all day, or even morning or afternoon, to ride, I'll take a spin out to the eastern Queens, the New York City borough where I live (in its western end).  The routes between my Astoria apartment and Fort Totten or Alley Pond include some charming residential streets, cute shops and some lovely parks.  

But as the urban-but-not-claustrophobic character of my neighborhood also gives way to more spacious yards, the neighborhoods also become more suburban--and auto-centric.  While some residents of those areas ride for fitness or simply fun, they ride to and in parks and cycling isn't seen as a means of transportation.  Also, the city's mass transit lines don't reach into those neighborhoods.  So, for most people, going to work, school or shop means driving or being driven.

That is why on at least some of the area's streets, cycling can be just as hazardous as it is in more densely-populated neighborhoods.  Too often, drivers simply aren't accustomed to seeing cyclists on the streets.  Or, they have been inculcated with the notion that the drivers rule and cyclists, pedestrians and everyone else are supposed to get out of their way. Thus, so-called "shared" roadways--which consist of nothing more than lines and bike symbols painted on pavement--do nothing to promote safety.

Also, eastern Queens is laced and ringed with major highways.  The off-ramps from those by-ways merge into the neighborhood's main streets like Northern Boulevard.  One problem with the bike lane on the Boulevard is the difficulty in crossing one of those exit ramps, where there is no traffic light or even a "stop," "slow" or "yield" sign.

The problems I mentioned were cited by members of Community Board 11 when they sent back a proposal the City's Department of Transportation presented to them.  The proposal called for a series of bike lanes in a five square-mile area.  While the Board is in favor of establishing a network of lanes, the DoT's initial proposal called for fewer miles of them, none of which would have been protected.  Worst of all, at least in my view, this "network" would have the same problem I've encountered in too many bike lane "networks":  It's not a network.  Lanes weren't connected to each other; they are the "bike lanes to nowhere" I've complained about in other posts.  One board member pointed out that the lack of connection between segments actually puts cyclists in more danger than simply riding on the road.

As I often ride out that way, I am interested to see what the DoT does in response.  I am just happy that in an auto-centric area, community board members see the value in having a network of protected bike lanes. I hope the DoT gets it right. 

Build It And...They Won't Park?

Anti-bike folks like few things more than an "I told you so!" moment.  

An example is when some piece of bicycle "infrastructure" is built and cyclists don't use it because it's useless or unsafe.  Last month, I wrote about a bike lane in Chicago that raised motorists' ire because nobody was pedaling on it.  Like too many other lanes, it begins and ends in seemingly random places--what I call a bike lane from "nowhere to nowhere" and riding it is less safe, especially when entering, exiting or making turns, than riding in traffic.

Something similar could be said for bicycle parking "facilities."  Usually, they are racks of some sort or another by a curb or building.  During the past few years, some workmanlike but useful racks have been installed on New York City sidewalks.  They don't allow for more than a bike or two at a time (five or six, perhaps, in the bike shelters), but they do the job.

They are better than too many other bike parking facilities I've seen.  An old workplace of mine had an old-school grid rack on its grounds.  It was removed because only one person was using it. (Guess who?)  Granted, fewer people were cycling to work in those days.  But I had to wonder whether some thought about riding their bikes to our workplace but were deterred by the pitiful parking provision.

Well, even today, there are racks as bad, or even worse, the one at my old job.  

It's been a while since I've heard "Up Against The Wall!"  I hope not to hear it again.  But I just might, if I ever have to park my bike in Melbourne, Australia:

Of course, the Aussies have an excuse:  The Brits sent their prisoners there.  But, it seems, their former colonizers still know a thing or two about confinement:

Maybe this Macclesfield contraption is an example of that dry British humor we don't get on this side of the pond. 

Speaking of dry, this rack in Atlanta looks more suited to making toast than parking bikes:

If nobody uses those racks, will they be removed?  Or will they be kept just so cyclists won't use them--and give drivers one more reason to be pissed off.

 

 

What Do We Know? We Just Ride Bikes!

I am going to rant.  You have been forewarned.

Nothing angers me more than someone in a position of authority who schedules a meeting or gives you a few minutes to "state your case" when they've already made up their mind. Someone who is deemed an "experts," has a fancy title and is given unilateral decision-making power seems to be particularly prone to such behavior.  

What bothers me about such a person is not that they make the wrong decisions or simply ones that I disagree with.  Rather, it's their pretense of considering what  you have to say, when, deep down, they have no interest in learning anything more than they already know and are convinced that they can't learn it from you--a mere prole or rube, in their eyes.

I've seen many such people in the academic world. Because they have advanced degrees to go with their fancy titles, they know more or better than you, or so they think.  They're even worse after they've taken a workshop or seminar on something like race or gender identity or discrimination:  They are absolutely convinced that they already know what they need to know and would never consider hearing from somene who has actually experienced what those workshops and seminars supposedly taught them.

There is, of course, a parallel in the world of urban and transportation planning, especially when it comes to bicycling.  The planners may not have ridden bikes since they were kids--or, possibly worse, they ride on a path in a park while on vacation and think of themselves as "bike riders."  They plan and develop bike lanes that go from nowhere to nowhere and have turns, stops and signals that actually endanger cyclists more than riding in a traffic lane ever would.  And they hold hearings in which they invite representatives of bike advocacy groups to "get input" about the "bicycle infrastructure" they want to build.

I thought about my experiences in the academic world and bicycle and transportation advocacy when I came across an article about the Reno's pilot program that seeks to make "infrastructure improvements"  for bicycles, scooters and other "micromobility solutions." In a typically clueless statement, the Nevada city's assistant director of public works, Kerri Koski, said "We'll take and collect the data that we get, we'll analyze that and take a look at what makes the most sense."

Truckee Meadows Bicycle Alliance President Ky Plakson said that while area cyclists may welcome whatever the city ultimately does, they were not apprised of the study or the pilot program.  "We're told at the last minute that something's happened; we're brought into the conversation after the decision has been made," he said.  That sounds unfortunately familiar.  And he echoed something I said before, and after, any number of "bicycle infrastructure" projects were initiated--including the bike lane that lines the street where I live:  "If you're going to build a bike path, talk to people who ride bikes."

Do they teach that in graduate programs for urban planning?

I Hope Good Things Grow In This Garden

A thing might be good.  Another thing might also be good.  Putting them together, though, is not always a good thing.

An example is chocolate chips in bagels.  It seemed to be everywhere about twenty years ago.  Thankfully, they seem to have disappeared, at least in this part of the world. Unfortunately, ridiculous pizza toppings like peanut butter, bologna, honey, barbecued chicken, pineapple and--yikes!--chocolate chips have not.  Now, I love fresh pineapple and barbecued chicken as much as anybody does, but they don't belong on pizza.  Roast chicken is OK, but I guess I'm an old-school New York pizza purist:  I prefer to eat my pizza uncluttered.  

(I will admit, though, that in Toulouse, France, I enjoyed a pizza made with locally-produced goat cheese and ham.  It is, to this day, the best pizza I've eaten outside of Italy or New York.)

So, when I heard the term "bicycle garden," I was skeptical.  Bicycles are wonderful. (Why else do I write the blog?)  So are gardens.  The only way, however,  I've ever conncected the two was to ride one to the other.  

Of course, "garden" in this context doesn't mean a park full of flowers and trees where people picnic or a plot for growing corn and tomatoes.  Rather, it refers to any sort of place where someone or something is grown or developed:  Think of the "garten" in "kindergarten."

The "garden" proposed in Antioch, a San Francisco Bay-area community, would look something like this:

or this:

The city council voted in favor of building it in Prewett Family Park.  If that location doesn't work out, they also voted in favor Gerrytown Park as an alternative.  Prewett, however, is favored for its proximity to schools:  the "garden" will be a place where young people will develop bike-riding skills and learn the rules of the road. 

The idea sounds like a good one, as long as kids are being trained for "real world" riding, i.e., on streets and roads, and not just on bike lanes that go from nowhere to nowhere and may not be any safer than the streets.

Death At An Intersection Of Choices

A few years ago, I taught a "capstone" course, required of graduating students, about the Bronx.  It seemed to make sense, as the college is located in the borough--in the heart of the poorest U.S. Congressional District, in the South Bronx--and most students live there.  As much as I tried to make it interesting and relevant, students were less than unenthusiastic:  They saw the course as one more thing standing between them and graduation.

If they've forgotten me, the projects they did (or didn't do), the class itself and the college, I hope they remember one lesson that, I believe, the course reinforced: Everything they lived with, good and bad, in the Bronx was the result of decisions made by human beings.  Sometimes their motives were nefarious, but at other times they were simply misguided.

Fahrad Manjoo makes that point today in a New York Times editorial, "Bike Riding In America Should Not Be This Dangerous."  In his essay, he briefly recounts how urban and transportation has prioritized the "speedy movement of vehicles over the safety of everyone else on our streets.  He doesn't get much into specifics--whole books have been written about that--but that governing principle took hold well before the high priest of auto-centricity, Robert Moses, started his work.

Manjoo's editorial was motivated by the death of 13-year-old Andre Retana at a Mountain View, California intersection that is an "asphalt-and-concrete love letter to cars."  On two corners stand gas stations; America's Tire occupies a third and the fourth is taken up with a BMW dealership.  "To keep traffic humming along," he writes, "motorists on all of its corners are allowed to turn right on red lights."

The intersectio of El Camino Real and Grant Road, Montain View, CA. The "ghost" bike commemorates Andre Retana, who died here.  Photo by Mark Da

As I have pointed out in other posts, such an arrangement endangers cyclists--when they follow the traffic signals as motorists are required to do.  A cyclist at the corner of an intersection is vulnerable to a right-turning vehicle, especially a truck--or an SUV (which I call "trucks for people who don't know how to drive them")--makes a turn. 

To be fair, most truck drivers, especially the long-distance variety, courteous and conscientious.  On the other hand, their vehicles are particurly hazardous for two reasons.  One is that because their vehicles are so large, they sometimes veer into pedestrian and cyclists' paths, or even onto sidewalks, especially on narrow streets in dense urban areas. The other is sight lines, or lack thereof: Drivers sit so far away from everything else on the street that they simply can't see someone crossing a street.

Those factors, and the right to turn right on red, contributed to Andre Retana's death.  The truck driver came to a complete stop at the instruction.  Andre pulled up alongside him.  In an unfortunate twist, he fell off his bike in the crosswalk near the front of the truck--at the very moment the driver, who didn't see him, decided it was safe turn.

The driver didn't realize he'd struck the boy until bystanders flagged him down. Andre suffered severe injuries and died a short time later in the hospital.

Manjoo points out that the intersection, not surprisingly, doesn't have a "box" or safe area where cyclists and pedestrians can wait, and neither of the streets leading to it--El Camino Real and Grant Road--has a protected bike lanes.  But, as much as I respect him for pointing out the dangers-by-design, he seems to share the same misguided thinking behind too many schemes to make cycling safer:  That more bike lanes and other "infrastructure" will do the job and that planning future roads with built-in bike lanes will help.

As I've pointed out in other posts, too many bike lanes are poorly conceived, planned and constructed:  They go from nowhere to nowhere and actually put cyclists in more danger.  Staggered signals, which Manjoo also recommends, could also help.   Moreover, he says that while transitioning from gasoline- to renewable energy-powered vehicles will help for health and environmental reasons, we really need to find ways to get people out of SUVs and into smaller cars.  And, while he doesn't say as much, it could also help to re-design trucks with better sight lines.

But, as I've pointed out in other posts, other changes, like legalizing some form of the "Idaho Stop," are also needed.  Most of all, though, I believe--as Manjoo seems to--that the way transportation is conceived has to change.   Not only are new street and vehicle designs and regulations needed, things like the tax structure, have to change.  Most people don't realize just how much driving is subsidized--yes, in the US to the point that the worst car choices and driving habits are rewarded.

None of the needed changes will bring back Andre Retana.  But they might prevent future tragedies like his--and make cities and societies more livable.  Such changes can only come about by choice--just as all of the mistakes that led to a 13-year-old boy's death were.

  

 

  

Going Nowhere, Unsafely

What's the easiest way to anger urban drivers?  Take a lane out of "their" street or roadway and turn it into a bike lane.

Here's something that will leave them more enraged (I can't blame them):  When we, cyclists, don't use the lane designated for us.

We eschew those pieces of "bicycle infrastructure" our cities and counties "provide" for us, not because we're ingrates.  Rather, we avoid them because they're unsafe or impractical.  As I've said in other posts, paint does not infrastructure make:  Simply painting lines on asphalt does nothing to improve the safety of motorists driving at 30MPH (a typical urban speed limit)  or cyclists pedaling at half that velocity.  And too many bike lanes simply go from nowhere to nowhere.

Both of those flaws, it seems, came together this winter, Chicago's Department of Transportation constructed a "protected" bike lane on the city's West Side, along Jackson Boulevard between Central Avenue and Austin Boulevard.  The lane is only ten blocks long (which, if those blocks are anything like those here in New York, means that the lane is only half a mile long).  The worst thing about it, for both motorists and cyclists, is that it took a lane in each direction from a busy if narrow thoroughfare that connects the northern part of Columbus Park with Oak Park, an adjacent suburb.

The Jackson Boulevard Bike Lane. Photo by Colin Boyle, Block Club Chicago

In doing so, the Chicago DOT made an often-congested route even more crowded.  One problem is that drivers often use Jackson to reach the Central Avenue onramp for the Eisenhower Expressway.  Drivers making a right turn on Central get backed up behind drivers going east on Jackson because they can't make the turn on a red light.

Things are even worse during rush hour, school dismissals and when the 126 bus makes one of its four stops along the route.  The result is "total chaos and confusion," according to Salone.  It might be a reason why "I have yet to see one bike there."  City and school buses may be picking up and discharging passengers in the lane, and having to cross an entrance to a freeway is, for me, a reason to avoid a lane or street. (That is one reason why, when cycling back from Point Lookout or the Rockaways, I detour off Cross Bay Boulevard a block or two after crossing the North Channel (a.k.a. Joseph Addabo Memorial) Bridge:  I want to avoid the Belt Parkway entrance and exit ramps.)

The result, according to resident Mildred Salone, is "total chaos and confusion."  That might be a reason why she has "yet to see one bike there."  An equally important reason was voiced by someone else, who called Jackson Boulevard a "bike lane to nowhere."  

That title was bestowed upon it by Oboi Reed, who founded Equicity, a mobility justice organization that seeks, among other things, to start a bicycling culture in the area.  "When the bike lanes drop out of nowhere, people are turned off," he explained.  "People have to feel ownership and excitement."  

He says that in addition to the lane's faulty planning and design, people were alienated because they see the bike lanes as vectors of gentrification.  The Jackson Boulevard neighborhood is full of longtime residents, some of whom live in multi-generational homes, and most of whom are black and working-class.  They cyclists they see are mainly younger and whiter than they are, and don't share their roots in the neighborhood.

So, it seems to me, Chicago's Jackson Boulevard bike lane encapsulates all of the faults of "bicycle infrastructure" in the U.S.:  It was poorly planned and designed, with little or no regard for whom it would serve or the neighborhood through which it was built.  The result is something that makes motorists and cyclists equally unhappy.  Unfortunately, unless planners and policy-makers pay more attention to cyclists as well as other people who might be affected, we will see more unsafe bike lanes to nowhere.

What's Worse: Paint Or Police Passing?

 If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I don't give a blanket endorsement to roadside bicycle lanes.  Too many, at least in the US, are poorly-conceived, constructed and maintained.  The worst sort of lanes are the ones that serve no pratical purpose-- the ones I call lanes from nowhere to nowhere--because they do nothing to encourage cycling as a practical alternative to driving for commuting, errands and other purpose-driven trips.  And the most dangerous ones are the ones that separate motor traffic from cyclists by nothing more than a line on the pavement.  As I've said on more than one occasion, "paint is not infrastructure."

Studies have shown that painted cycle lanes do nothing to reduce injuries and "advisory lanes"--one which motorists are allowed to enter--are worse than no lane at all:  they increase the odds of injury by 30 percent.

The only news, for me, in those studies is the number:  I know, from experience, that a painted is as much a margin of safety for cyclists as a swath of fishnet scotch-taped at the nose bridge offers against COVID-19 or any other contagious virus.  And too often, motorists use "advisory" and even painted "bike-only" lanes to pass or double-park; the latter is often done by drivers of delivery trucks. 

To be fair, drivers, until recently, have been inculcated with the notion that they are the "kings of the road":  that motor vehicles take priority over cyclists and pedestrians.  If they haven't cycled during their adult lives, it's hard for them to un-learn such an attitude.  Also, some lanes, especially the "advisory" ones, aren't marked in ways that motorists can easily see, especially if they are driving large vehicles.

But some of the worst offenders, in my experience, are police officers in their "cruisers."  I can't begin to tell you how many times I've seen them parked in the middle of lanes while munching on donuts and sipping coffee.  And I've had a couple of close encounters with constabulary cars that weren't responding to an emergency call.  At least, I don't think they were:  their lights weren't flashing and their sirens weren't blaring.

Some have debated whether what was captured in that image was indeed a "close call" with a police car. However, Andrew Frogley on the Road.cc blog, who didn't think it was such a "close call," nonetheless agreed that one blogger had a legitimate question:  "What's worse?  The painted cycle lane or the close pass?"

Geoff Hickman had, I believe, the best answer:  "One enables the other."

Will Bicycles To Bring Them Back To Buffalo?

For at least a couple of decades, young people, particularly the educated ones, have gravitated toward cities like San Francisco, New York, Boston and Washington, DC.  All of them--with the possible exception of Washington, government basically is the economy--are what might be called "post-industrial" cities, where the chips and digits have largely replaced furnaces and smokestacks.

Buffalo, in media depictions and the public imagination, is anything but such a city.  It might one of the "poster children," along with Detroit and smaller cities like Youngstown, Ohio and Gary, Indiana, for what is commonly known as a "Rust Belt" community.  Because they have--or are perceived to offer--few opportunities, the educated and ambitious young rarely move to them, in spite of other attractions and resources some offer, not the least of which is housing (and an overall cost of living) that are a fraction of that in the coastal metropoli.

That incentive could become more powerful if the trend toward working at home continues.  But most such cities and towns will need to offer even more, such as cultural events and lifestyle amenities.  In the latter category is something I'll mention in a minute and relates to one of the disincentives to move to some place like Rochester, New York.

The home of Kodak was the smallest city in America with a subway line until 1956, when the downtown track beds were used to construct sections of two Interstate highways.  Other "rust belt" cities suffered similar fates when the Interstate system was built and automobile companies bought subway and trolley systems to destroy them and eliminate competition. (Buses, or at least the parts for them, were made by the auto companies.)

Buffalo had a similar story.  Ironically, it has a subway system "from nowhere to nowhere" that was built during the 1980s.  But, in a similar way to Rochester and other cities, it had a system of streetcar (tram) lines that connected different parts of the city and the city itself to some surrounding communities from the 1830s until 1950.  

I mention this history because it points to a disadvantage many of many "Rust Belt" cities:  the lack of a transportation system, whether because, like Rochester and Buffalo, it was disbanded or because the city never had one in the first place.

So, some folks in Buffalo--specifically, the Buffalo News editorial board--understand that making their city more bicycle-friendly might help to lure some young residents.  They seem to understand that many of us (OK, I'm not as young as the folks they probably have in mind!) bike to work, school or shop simply because it's often the most convenient or even fastest, not to mention the least expensive (aside from walking) way to go.  

Go Bike Buffalo members painting arrows for the area's first protected bike lane--which lasted only a year due to protests from motorists.  Photo by John Hickey for the Buffalo News.

Perhaps even more to the point, they understand that there's more to  making their city more amenable to young cyclists than building bike lanes. They also mention that such efforts must include "re-educating resistant drivers and residents who think the roads are theirs, alone" (That's the first time I've seen a comma used in such a contenxt in a long time!) or people who "don't see the advantages of creating spaces that might attract new, younger residents."

The folks at the Buffalo News sum up their case thusly:  "Making the roads safer for cyclists makes it safe for everyone, improves the quality of life and atracts young people to the area."

They won't get any argument from me.  I just hope Buffalo doesn't become Williamsburg-on-the-Niagara, complete with $15 slices of avocado toast and $25 craft beers.

 

Where Are You Going? Does The Bike Lane Go There?

In one of my early posts, I recounted a distracted driver who made a dangerous turn in front of me.  She rolled down her window and castigated me for not riding in a bike lane.

I explained, as politely as I could, that the lane followed another street and wouldn't take me to where I was going.  She insisted that I should ride that lane anyway, not "her" street, where I was riding.  I then asked her whether, if she had to be someplace, she'd drive down a street that didn't take her there.

The memory of that incident has stuck with me because that woman echoed what seems to be a notion that (mis)guides planners, designers and builders of bicycle infrastructure.  They seem to think that cycling is only a recreational activity, not to be taken seriously.  So bike lanes are designed for, at best, aimless meandering (which I sometimes do) rather than as conduits of transportation. The lane that woman believed I "should" have taken is fine for riding from the neighborhood near LaGuardia Airport to Astoria Park, and useful for commuting if you work at the power generating plant or one of the metal fabrication shops (or the Halal slaughterhouse!) along the way.  

That driver didn't "get it;" perhaps she still doesn't.  But Alex Kent of Amherst, Massachusetts does. In a letter to the Daily Hampshire Gazzette, Kent makes the point that "bicycles are essential."  

The letter is a response to another letter writer who "claims not to understand why bike lanes are needed in Northampton when there is a rail trail nearby."  That person, Kent shows, does not understand that a bicycle is not simply a piece of exercise or recreational equipment; it is "an essential form of transportation."  The bicycle is "a way of getting from one place to another" and, as Kent points out, that place "may well be a business on Main Street and not on the rail trail."  Moreover, Kent explains, many cyclists--especially in places like Northampton and Amherst as well as cities like Boston and New York--don't even own cars:  The bicycle is their main form of transportation.

Alex Kent could have been me on that day when a driver cut me off and tried to tell me it was my fault because I wasn't riding in a bike lane that, at that moment, was of no use to me.  Unfortunately, I think there will be many more encounters like the one I had with that woman, letters like Kent's and "bike lanes to nowhere" before we have bike lanes or other infrastructure conceived as though the bicycle is a viable form of transportation.

Must More Riding Mean More Fatalities?

In a coincidence that, perhaps, isn't such a coincidence, I chanced upon an item about an increase in the number of cyclists killed on Texas roads at the same time a local radio news program mentioned that pedestrian fatalities here in New York City have increased during the past year.

I have also seen and heard reports of increases in the number of cyclists killed and injured on New York City streets.  So, hearing about pedestrian fatalities here and cyclists killed in the Lone Star State did not surprise me because cyclist and pedestrian casualties tend to rise or fall in tandem.

The reports point to a dramatic increase in the number of cyclists as a reason for more crashes and fatalities.  The same isn't said for pedestrians, though I have seen more people walking around as pandemic-induced restrictions are eased or lifted.  But I think that there is a related, and more relevant, reason for the increase in deaths and injuries among cyclists and pedestrians.

During the first few months of the pandemic, there was little traffic on the roads.  I can recall riding to Connecticut and back last spring and being able to count, on both hands, the number of motorized vehicles I saw along the way, not counting the ones that crossed the RFK Memorial Bridge.  Until last spring, I never could have imagined such an occurence on a 140 kilometer road ride that takes me through the Bronx and Westchester County before crossing the state line.

As spring turned into summer, traffic was still light, but I noticed faster and more aggressive driving, including some drag racing and other flouting of traffic laws.  Those things were annoying, but I didn't feel I was in danger because the still-light traffic afforded a wide berth between me and the drivers.

During the past few months, though, I've seen more traffic.  Some people, I guess, are returning to their workplaces and old routines, while others started driving and bought cars (for the first time, in some instances) because they didn't want to use mass transit.

But the folks who got used to driving fast and aggressively, or even carelessly, aren't adjusting to the new reality.  They still want to drive as if they have the streets to themselves.  And, in my own unscientific observation, it seems that police aren't enforcing traffic laws as much as they were before the pandemic--if, indeed, they were enforcing them against any but the lowest-hanging fruit (i.e., cyclists and pedestrians).

Having done a fair amount of cycling in other cities, states and countries, I can make this observation:  Building bike lanes and lecturing cyclists about safety--which most of us practice to the best degree we can--does little to prevent tragic encounters between motorists and cyclists and pedestrians.  

What will  make life better for everyone involved are sensible laws and policies (like the Idaho Stop) crafted by people who understand what it's like to ride a city's streets--and a culture rather than a mere lifestyle of cycling.  The culture of which I speak is one in which cycling is seen as a viable mode of transportation rather than just a form of recreation for privileged young people. Such a culture exists in some European countries; that is why there is more respect between drivers and cyclists and pedestrians.

Otherwise, cities and other jurisdictions can continue to build poorly-designed and constructed bike lanes that lead from nowhere to nowhere, and cyclists--or pedestrians or motorists--won't be any safer.