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.

Crossing From The Castle

 So what does Nijo Castle have to do with Japanese road etiquette, specifically between drivers and cyclists?

About the castle: Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, ordered its construction in 1601. Conceived as a testament to his, and his clan’s power, it served as a stage to many key events in Japanese history, including the transfer of power from the shogunate back to the emperor in 1867, and as an incubator for the codes of honor that governed, not only the samurai, but also Japanese society.

I wasn’t thinking about any of that—indeed, I knew, and still know little about any of it—as I rode my rental bike from the hotel to the castle. But I was still marveling at how drivers making the turn around Omiya Station stopped—and didn’t honk their horns or stare aggressively—as I, two other cyclists and three pedestrians crossed. 

Granted, I have seen such deference in France and other European countries. I have attributed it to the fact (or, at least, my theory) that many of those motorists are also cyclists, or at least have ridden in their recent pasts. The same is probably true for at least some Kyoto drivers:  Indeed, I saw people riding utilitarian bikes like the one I rented who were parking their cars—sometimes BMWs or other luxury or near-luxury vehicles—the day before. I suspect that they use their bikes for errands and other short trips and perhaps take rides with their kids in nearby parks. But the kind of courtesy I experienced there, and even in Tokyo, felt older and thus more ingrained than one conditioned by modes of transportation.

When I left the Castle and found my rental bike exactly where I left it—next to a shop across the street from the Castle’s main entrance—the proverbial light bulb went off in my head. And it grew brighter when I crossed the intersection—again, with drivers stopping to let me go by—it grew brighter.

I don’t know a thing about Kyoto statutes or Japanese laws, but I suspect they include the same prohibitions against stealing from and endangering other people. Such regulations, however, don’t stop people from theft, assault or murder in the United States. Now, some have said that it’s because the US is so diverse and Japan is so orderly because it’s 98 percent Japanese. Frankly, I find that explanation offensive because it’s essentially racist.

In learning about the arrangement of rooms within the Ninomaru Palace and the ceremonies and rituals involved in everything from negotiations between the shoguns and emperors to meals, I realized that there was an even greater degree of shame in violating those rules and morés than in transgressing the unwritten rules, or breaking the laws, of most other societies. It seems that the samurai codes of honor—and the fear of violating them—has become part of the DNA of people whose great-grandparents weren’t born when the last samauri died.

One thing I have learned—and that James Baldwin and others have expressed in ways I never could—is that every person, and every group of people, who has a language and culture that is their own has paid a price for it. (As Caliban tells Prospero in The Tempest: “You have given me language/ And the profit on’t is, I can curse.”) The shoguns were military rulers which means, of course, that their codes had the threat of violence behind them.  So, I believe, it’s fair to ask whether the fact that I could ride without the fear of being victimized by a driver’s “road rage” or that I could leave a bike secured by nothing more than the “Chinese” lock is hereditary, learned or a result of intergenerational trauma. (Nobody is better at inflicting trauma than any military.)

Whatever the answer, I’ll say that I enjoyed the peace of mind I felt while cycling in Japan, even on its busiest roads.

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.

Is This Any Way To Teach A Lesson?

 “Caution” tape blocks off a section of a parking garage. Kids on bikes take it down.

It’s annoying, to be sure. But kids do things like that all the time. So how, if at all, should those kids be disciplined?

I don’t think even a parent who’s a martinet would approve of how Melvin Anthony Kennedy handled the situation last week.

The California mall security guard shouted at the youngsters. Then he pursued them in the mall’s security vehicle.

He struck one of the children—deliberately, according to San Rafael police—and drove away.

Later, he returned to the scene and turned himself in to police. He’s faces charges of assault with a deadly weapon and child abuse.

All because some kids saw that two-story parking garage as a slalom course and couldn’t see why the area was cordoned off.

The youth he struck was treated for non-life-threatening injuries.

“They Took The Grips”

 Many years ago—before I knew better—someone took the rear wheel from a bike I’d parked.

I thought it was secure because I’d used the most expensive Kryptonite or Citadel lock—I forget which; they were the two “name brands” in U-locks. Anyway, the thief took my rear wheel but left the front which, like the front, had a quick-release lever. And the two wheels were a pair:  the same rims, and hubs that came out of the same box.

Part of the reason why that loss stung so much, apart from cost, was that those wheels were the first I’d built successfully. And I was angry and exasperated in the same way one is when losing one of a pair of something: say, the sock that the washing machine or dryer “ate” or the earring that fell off some time during a busy day.

For a moment, I thought the thief was someone who “had it in” for me or a CIA agent or someone engaging in psychological warfare—why? Because of a protest I attended?

Anyway, l learned to lock up my wheels. But on another occasion, years later, I locked up a bike I normally wouldn’t have left on the street. It cost me a Brooks saddle and seatpost. That was more expensive, I think, than any parking ticket issued on that block:  34th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, next to the Empire State Building.

Of course, now I know that a bike locked to a parking meter, streetlight pole, fence or any other outdoor structure in a large city is a buffet table for thieves, whether of the organized, professional variety or those who commit crimes of opportunity. I have seen many bikes stripped to their bare frames after a few days—or even hours—on a New York sidewalk.

Notice that I said such things happen in any large city. Some poor soul in London also learned about that the hard way. His brand-new Specialized Sirrus X 5.0–“the most expensive bike I ever bought”—lost its wheels and most of its drivetrain. “They even took the grips off my handlebars,” he lamented. Oddly enough, the perp(s) didn’t take the pedals, some of the most commonly stolen parts. According to the owner, the way the bike was parked may have made them difficult to remove.

But the hardest lesson our benighted cyclist learned may have been the insurance company’s denial of his claim. He used two Gold locks, but the insurer refused to reimburse him because the bike wasn’t behind a locked door. 

So…Even if you have the best locks, remember to read your insurance policy carefully. Oh, and don’t leave wheels and other expensive parts vulnerable.

The Councils Are Going Broke. Blame Cyclists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Image credit:  Simon MacMichael/Gage Skidmore via the BBC

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

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

“Funeral” For A Bike Lane

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

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

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

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

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

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

Backlash Against Bike Lanes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ya Still Gotta Park It Right

 How often do A-List celebrities ride bicycles down the red carpet?

I’ll admit I’m hardly an authority on who’s an A-List, B-List, Z-List or Whatever-List celebrity. But Timothée Chalamet is certainly in the spotlight these days.

One reason is his portrayal of Bob Dylan in the recently-released film “A Complete Unknown.”  For its London premiere, he rode down the red carpet on a Lime electric bike.

OK, so it was an electric bike from a share network. Still, I give the guy “props” for not arriving in a limousine—and for his stated intention. “It’s ecological,” he explained. He later admitted, however, that he was trying to beat traffic.

Whatever his motive, the London police were not amused. He was hit with a £65 (about $79 at current exchange rates) fine—for not parking the bike properly.

I’m sure that won’t break his bank, and fans of him, the movie and Bob Dylan won’t care much.

Driver And Lane Blamed For Crash

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Driver Who Thought A Paceline Was A Slamom

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

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

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

That incident was also captured on video.

Guess what the police have done.

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

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

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

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

Share, Don’t Impair

When I ride, I obey traffic laws as much as I can without endangering myself or others. So, for example, I’ll stop for a red light at a busy intersection and, if there is no cross-traffic, I’ll proceed through the intersection ahead of drivers traveling in the same direction in order to avoid drivers who are about to turn.

More importantly, I try to follow the rules of civilization as I understand them. Therefore, in an intersection that doesn’t have a traffic signal or “Stop” sign, I’ll stop if I see that someone with mobility issues is crossing. And on narrow or busy streets I pull aside for ambulances and fire trucks.

Oh, and I try not to park anywhere where it might impede the kinds of people for whom I stop.

I mention my habits, not because I want you to think I’m a wonderful person, but to make a point about some of the behaviors for which I, and other cyclists, are unfairly blamed.

A while back, a driver made a point of pulling into an intersection I was crossing—when she had a red light and I had the green.  She rolled down her window and screamed at me—not for anything I did, but to complain that “you bike riders” leave bikes on the sidewalk.

Fortunately, there was no other traffic in that intersection, so I could take a moment to “school’ her.  “Really? I don’t know any cyclists who do that.”

“I see those day-glo green bikes on the sidewalk by my house,” she lamented.

Then I realized she was talking about eBikes, probably from Lime.  Apparently, they and other dockless eBike share systems allow users to leave the bikes anywhere as long as the bikes aren’t obstructing pavements.

Now, I don’t want to tar all eBike share users with a broad brush. (It’s a good thing I didn’t make a New Year’s resolution not to use clichés!) But in my admittedly-unscientific observations, just about every bike I see abandoned on a sidewalk is an eBike from a share system.  The abandoned bicycles I see are almost always locked to parking meters, lamp posts, fences or other immobile structures.

An eBike lying on the sidewalk is an annoyance or, at worst an inconvenience, for somebody like me. On the other hand, it’s an obstacle, or even a danger, for a person with mobility issues.

That is something Lucy Edwards wants eBike share users to understand. The blind content creator navigates London with her guide dog Miss Molly—that is, when the sidewalks are clear. But if someone has left an eBike on its side, “I don’t know how to get past” if “I don’t have someone with me.”

So…if you use a dockless eBike (or, for that matter, regular bike), please leave it out of the way of someone I (and, I hope, you) would stop for in an intersection.

The Real Battle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is It The Most Unsafe Bike Lane?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Thanksgiving

 Happy Thanksgiving!

It’s raining here in New York.  I could go for a ride:  After all, I have bikes with fenders.  Maybe I will.  Or I could go to the Botanical Garden, where the air will be fresh, even sweet.

Later this afternoon, I’m going to have dinner with my new friend and riding buddy, “Sam,” and his girlfriend. I probably will take a ride, however brief, tomorrow. In years past, I’ve avoided cycling on the day after Thanksgiving, a.k.a. Black Friday because drivers lose their minds pulling in and out of parking lots and spaces by the stores and malls running “sales.” But during the past few years, I’ve noticed less motor traffic, as more people are shopping online.

Whatever you do, enjoy this day!

Could This Become The Father Of Better Bike Infrastructure?

 Here in New York City, it seems that every other non-cyclist hates the bike lanes. Drivers complain that “their” lanes and parking spaces are being taken from them. 

To be fair, many city streets—even some major ones—are narrow and were crowded even before the bike lanes came in. But, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, studies have found a “build it and they will come” phenomenon in road and other auto-related infrastructure: Creating more space for motorized traffic leads to more motorized traffic. In other words, car-clogged streets that have bike lanes would continue to experience traffic jams even if the bike lanes were given over to cars, trucks, buses and anything else that isn’t human-powered.

Apparently, some folks on Padre Island, off the Texas coast, have heard that message. If they haven’t, perhaps their latest plea to the Island’s Strategic Action Committee (which advises the Corpus Christi City Council) is motivated by two crashes involving cyclists and motorists within a month.

Those good folks (OK, I’m editorializing) are telling the Committee to build safe bicycle lanes and sidewalks. To me, it’s interesting that they’re asking to build something that many New Yorkers want to get rid of. More important, it’s heartening to know that if those lanes and sidewalks are built, they would be part of a larger mobility plan for the island, connecting different communities with buses, golf carts and other non-automotive transportation in addition to bike lanes and sidewalks. If nothing else, I hope that it prevents or defuses at least some of the animosity some drivers direct at cyclists. Oh, I also hope that such a plan might prevent some bad bike lanes—like a few I’ve ridden here in New York—from being built.

50 Kilometers--For Dumplings?

Bagel runs.  Pizza runs.  Taco runs.  Crepe runs.  Beer runs. 

I have made all of those "errands"--usually, at night--on my bicycle.  Some of those trips spanned only a few blocks; others were considerably longer, like the rides I took from Rutgers in New Brunswick, New Jersey to Brooklyn for bagels.  It's not that decent bagels couldn't be had in NB or, more precisely, neighboring Highland Park.  I simply believed that the bagels in Brooklyn--at one place in particular--were the best.

And, of course, those 50 or so kilometers (depending on which route I took) left a bagel (or two) sized hole in my stomach.  

I've probably taken rides of similar length within the bounds of New York City to taste a food that, while available in whichever neighborhood I resided, was better in some ethnic enclave or another:  knishes from Mrs. Stahl's in Brighton Beach, dim sum in Flushing, jerk chicken in Flatbush and, of course, soul food in pre-gentrified Harlem.  Oh, and few things can cap off a winter trek like pho in Sunset Park.

So I fully empathize with four students who made a 50 kilometer late-night run from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng--for soup dumplings. Of course, those young people claimed that they weren't riding only for a midnight snack:  They say they also took in some cultural attractions in Kaifeng, a city that has served as China's capital eight times during a history that stretches as far back as the Athenian Empire.  I believe them simply because I would do the same--while sampling the local cuisine, of course!

That all would have been fine with the local authorities if the ride was limited to those four students, maybe a few more.  But news of the trip went viral on social media. As a result, the quartet would be joined by 100,000 other cyclists, mostly young.

To put that into perspective, the Five Boro Bike Tour, one of the world's largest organized rides, attracted 32,000 riders this year.  Some people complain because they lose "their" lanes and parking spaces when streets are blocked off, but otherwise there is little public or private criticism because the ride is planned well in advance.  Thus, people are prepared for the street closures and police have an easy time patrolling and protecting. (Plus, one assumes, they don't mind the overtime pay.) 

The Dumpling Run, on the other hand, was a spontaneous event. Thus, no one else was prepared for the ensuing traffic jams and other interruptions it caused and local officials were, needless to say, not happy. Nor were bike share administrators:  They had to shut down their networks because most of the riders used share bikes and the networks simply couldn't keep up with the demand.  Also, the ride led to a glut of share bikes in Kaifeng and not enough in Zhengzhou.

Then again, some local papers, like People's Daily, have praised the event.  They cite the "energy" and "spirit" of the ride, not to mention the boost to restaurants and other hospitality businesses.  I can understand:  I've pedaled 50 kilometers, and more, for art, history, culture--and food!

The Latent Demand For Bike Lanes

I took one economics course as an undergraduate. What did I learn? Well, there is a subject at which I am worse than I am at math, which is saying something. Oh, and I learned a few terms that come up every now and again, including “induced demand” and “latent demand.”

The former term refers to, among other things, what happens when new roads are built. Contrary to what people expect—and, too often, planners and politicians promise—building new roads or adding traffic lanes doesn’t ease congestion. Instead, it induces people to drive for short trips and on occasions when they otherwise might not have, and to move further away from their workplaces, schools and other places they need and want to go to—and public transportation.

On the other hand—again, counter to common perception and the claims of grandstanding politicians—bike lanes bring out latent demand. That is to say, they encourage people who wanted to cycle to their jobs, schools or favorite stores and restaurants but were reluctant because they didn’t feel safe. I imagine there are more such people than there are folks who want to drive two hours each way to work, or to put up with the hassles of driving and parking to buy some cereal and milk.

Cyclist on path in front of Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto. Photo by John Rieti for CBC.

Recent research bears out what I have just said. Moreover, it shows that in many places—including my hometown of New York—bike lanes actually help to reduce the amount of time it takes to drive because bike lanes, which are often installed with left turn lanes, allow cyclists to proceed more quickly through intersections and keep cars from blocking other cars.

Research also refutes another misconception: that bike lanes are “bad for business.” They might be in the short term, which is how most small businesses owners operate because a bad month or two can ruin them (as the pandemic showed us). But loyal customers tend to return, whatever the circumstances, and stores and restaurants can gain new customers in cyclists (and pedestrians) who happen to pass by.

In other words, they benefit from latent demand. Hmm…If my economics course had included more examples like that…math would have remained my worst subject.

Are Cyclists Against Religious Freedom?

I most recently visited Montréal around this time of year in 2015. My visit spanned a holiday weekend in the US: Columbus/Indigenous People’s’ Day, which just happened to coincide with Canadian Thanksgiving. That weekend, foliage colors were at or near their peak, highlighting the city’s beauty.

Of course, one of the things that made my visit memorable was the cycling.  La ville aux deux cent clochers had a network of protected bike lanes that was not only more extensive, but also seemed to be more practical for transportation cycling, than anything I’d seen in the US up to that time. Best of all, there seemed to be a respect between cyclists, pedestrians and motorists that I rarely, if ever, see in my home country.

Now, however, the sort of fight I thought could happen only in the ‘States might be brewing. It could pit cyclists and the city against…churchgoers.

A few months ago, bike lanes were installed on both sides of rue Terrebonne in the Nôtre Dame de Grace borough, and the previously two-way street became a one-way thoroughfare. That has upset business owners who say that the lanes have taken parking spaces and thus led to a loss of revenue.

But one of the most vigorous complaints has come from Paul Wong, the warden of St. Monica’s church. He claims that church attendance—and donations—have decreased by nearly a third because, as he tells it, parishioners can’t find parking.

Had such a scenario unfolded in the United States, Wong or someone like him might’ve turned it into a “religious freedom” issue. It will be interesting to see whether he can or does that. Canada’s constitution does guarantee freedom of religious expression. I am no scholar of either the U.S. or Canadian Constitution, but I have to wonder whether Canada’s laws could be interpreted in similar ways to US policies. There have been cases in which employees—mainly Muslim—of municipal, provincial and national governments alleged discrimination against them for wearing symbols or sartorial accoutrements of their faith while on the job.

One thing I would never mention to a congregant of any house of worship is that I am an atheist. Can you imagine what visions of a “conspiracy” that might invoke? Oh yeah, that transgender atheist cyclist is trying to keep us from worshipping in the way God wants us to.

Our Mistakes Migrating North?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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