In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
Another heat wave has this city, and area, in its grip. That means, as in the previous stretch of serial "scorchers," I'm taking early morning rides. Also, I needed to get back in time for a lunchtime conference call.
Although my situation precluded a long ride, I was happy to be awake and on the road before the rush hour traffic. I rode early enough, in fact, that on my way back--which took me along the Malcolm X Promenade--I didn't see very much traffic entering or exiting LaGuardia Airport.
Also, I rode early enough to avoid an afternoon storm that was forecast, but never arrived. The seeming imminence of the storm was accented by two skeletal trees on the bay:
It's strange to see them in the middle of summer. I think they were just planted, along with other vegetation, to shore up a shoreline ravaged by Sandy and other storms. Or those trees might've been damaged during, and pruned after, one of those storms.
Those trees framed a grimly dreamlike skyline of tall buildings blotted by clouds behind masts of boats belying the seemingly-imminent storm.
That I can find, without even trying, a new view or other sensual experience on a ride I've done dozens, or even hundreds, of times is a reason why I take those rides time and time again. Some folks--friends--think it has to do with my innate "sensitivity." I say it's, if not the bike, then cycling.
Early yesterday morning I rode Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike, along the waterfronts of Astoria, Long Island City, Greenpoint and Williamsburg. Another heat wave, like the one we had last week, was on its way. But that was just one reason why I took an early ride.
After showering and a cup of coffee, I pedaled my "beater" to Court Square, near the much-missed (by me, anyway) Five Pointz building. Riding there allowed me to take a more direct subway ride to Montrose Avenue in Brooklyn.
There, I met two old (OK, longtime) friends:
On previous trips to France, I've spent time with Jay and Isabelle who, I now realize, are my longest-standing friends. They came to town because their son has just begun to live and work in New Jersey, for an American branch of a company for whom he'd been working in France.
Meeting in Bushwick was Jay's idea. This wasn't his or Isabelle's first time in New York--Jay actually lived here for a time--but he was looking through the Guide Routard (a sort of French counterpart of the Lonely Planet guide) for something "different." So, as per the guide's suggestion, we started at the Montrose Street subway station, crossed Bushwick Avenue (the bane of Brooklyn cyclists) and wended our way through the back streets of a Bushwick industrial zone.
I have cycled through those streets, sometimes as a destination, other times en route to or from other places. While I've seen buildings torn down and built up, spaces opened and closed, people and organizations coming and going, I don't think there's any neighborhood or district that shows me how much this city changes over time. For one thing, some of the murals themselves change. Also, I remember when the graffiti on the buildings wasn't of the kind that people like Jay and Isabelle would take a subway ride, or people like me would take a bike ride, to see. About twenty years ago, people--mostly men--worked in the warehouses and workshops during the day. Anyone who stayed after business hours was too poor to live anyplace else. Young people didn't move to the neighborhood; they looked for ways out of it. And whenever I rode through it, I was the only adult cyclist for blocks, or even miles, around.
Of course, people change, too. After a morning of wandering through one of the most expansive displays of truly public art in this city, we went to Christina's(Was our choice influenced by the mural? ;-)) in Greenpoint. It's a sort of cross between a New York/New Jersey diner--complete with Frank Sinatra and '70's pop tunes playing in the background--and a working-class eatery one might find in Cracow. I think we were the only non-Polish people in the place. Over pierogis and blintzes, we talked about their son, Jules, and how he wants to "voyager a travers le monde"--see the world--just as we did when we were young. Actually, there are still places I want to see, and to re-visit. But the pandemic has postponed travel plans for the past two years. And, although I am fully vaccinated and take precautions, Jay reminded me of why I want to wait. He and Isabelle didn't plan on coming here until a week or so before they arrived, which meant that their flights were expensive. But, more to the point, he said that if, by some chance, he or Isabelle were to test positive and had to quarantine, or new restrictions were imposed--or a flight were abruptly cancelled--it could cost thousands of euros or dollars.
I told them that, if everything works out, I hope to return to France in January. Seeing them gave me hope for that. If nothing else, I felt as if I'd reconnected with what and whom I have known and loved, in all of changes and the ways they haven't changed.
After I send this post, I will take another early ride and get home in time for brunch.
One of the reasons why underserved communities are underserved is that the folks who decide, for example, where to build schools or run bus lines don't know how many people are in those communities--or even that those communities exist. Some of that has to do with members of those communities not making themselves know--for example, by not filling out census forms, for whatever reasons. There is also a matter of the biases of the data-gatherers: Some don't want to recognize members of such communities, but more often, they simply don't know where to look for them or how to count them.
So it is with cyclists. While many American cities have found effective ways to gauge motor vehicle traffic, whether through "car counters" or other means, almost none have done even a rudimentary, let alone an accurate, count of bicyclists. Worse yet, when we are counted, those tallies don't reflect where, when or for what purposes we ride. As an example, counts taken on bike lanes in central areas of cities will find commuters, while tallies taken on bike lanes leading out of those neighborhoods will find more recreational cyclists. And if a bike census, if you will, depends on counts from bike share docking stations, yet another type of rider will be found.
The problem is that jurisdictions that bother to count cyclists tend to use only one method to record riders. The most common is volunteers stationed, with a clipboard and pen, in places where significant numbers of people ride. I once was such a volunteer, for a day, with Transportation Alternatives: I stood on the Manhattan side of the Queensborough-59th Street Bridge and counted the cyclists and pedestrians (this was before motor scooters became popular) descending from its ramp to First Avenue. As diligent as I was, I am sure I missed riders or pedestrians. Even if my count were completely accurate, I had to wonder how useful it would have been for anything but deciding whether to widen the bike lane--which would never happen.
As Kea Wilson points out in a recent Streetsblogarticle, cities need not only to start counting cyclists; they also need to employ a number of methods, including devices like the "car counters" many already employ and data from sources like Strava and even cell phone data. Although they, together, won't count 100 percent of riders --sometimes mechanical and electronic counters stop working or, if they're programmed to detect a certain level of speed, miss a cyclist who's riding faster than a bus-- they will do much to make us less under-countednand, more important, mis-counted, than we are now.
Perhaps even more important, though, is a thoughtful analysis of the data collected. Why are cyclists riding (or not) where they're riding (or not)? Are they riding on one street rather than another, or instead of a nearby bike lane? What are some of our common destinations? Also, if a "census" is to be useful in improving bike safety, it needs to help in determining where crashes and injuries are most likely to occur.
Until cities and other jurisdictions start to make accurate counts of cyclists and assesments of how, where and why people ride (or don't), they won't build bicycle infrastructure or will continue to build more of the poorly-designed, -constructed and -maintained bike lanes we too often see.
On Saturday, Michael Salhaney of Bloomfield Hills, a Detroit suburb, posted a Facebook Live video telling his viewers that he faced a "tough day in the saddle": 112 miles through the middle of the state. Ann Arbor resident Edward Erickson was participating in the annual Make-A-Wish ride for the ninth time and, according to his participant website page, exceeded his fundraising goal of $3500. He was riding on the team Salhaney captained.
"I hope we are able to ride together in 2022!" Erickson wrote. He added that he was committed to raising money for Make-A-Wish Michigan to grant the wishes of children with critical illnesses. "A wish replaces fear with confidence, sadness with joy and anxiety with hope. And hope is essential for these courageous children, more than ever," he added.
Salhaney was a partner at a litigation law firm and a former prosecuting attorney at the Oakland County Prosecutor's Office. It looks like his counterparts in Ionia County, where the ride ended for him and Erickson ended, are doing their job, so far: Local resident Mandy Marie Benn has been arraigned and charged with two counts of operating while intoxicated causing death, operating a vehicle under the influence of a controlled substance, and a second notice of operating a vehicle while intoxicated. She is being held on a $1 million bond in Ionia County jail.
I hope that Jersey City Council Member Amy De Gise is similarly held to account. Two weeks ago, around 8 o'clock in the morning, she struck cyclist Andrew Black. Although he caromed off the hood of her Nissan Rouge and his bike was trashed, he wasn't seriously hurt. Still, De Gise continued on her way as if a pigeon ricocheted off her roof.
A petition with around 5000 signatures calls for her resignation, which she resolutely refuses to do. So far, she hasn't even acknowledged the hit-and-run incident. It seems that she's been shielded, directly or indirectly, by her father: Tom De Gise, the powerful longtime Hudson County Executive.
I think that she should not only resign, she should also apologize and pay for any expenses Black has incurred (whether through medical costs, lost wages or his bike) from her own purse, not through some government insurance plan or slush fund.
In the Michigan charity ride tragedy, three other cyclists, all men from the eastern part of the state, were injured. One is in critical condition but expected to recover; the other two were treated at a local hospital and released.
When a plane crashes, the first thing investigators look for is "pilot error."
When a motor vehicle crashes, the authorities ask questions like, "Was the driver intoxicated? Was he or she texting?"
When a pedestrian is struck, the focus turns to matters like what the pedestrian was wearing. Could he or she not be seen in the dark?
And when I crashed, the first things the police wanted to know were: Was I wearing a helmet? Was I following all relevant traffic laws? Was I intoxicated? ("Yes" to the first two questions; "No" to the third.)
In other words, when what are commonly called "accidents" occur, the first inclination of investigators is to look for "human error." While some mishaps are indeed a result of drinking, texting or other distractions, or of carelessness, as often as not, the blame lies elsewhere.
Jessie Singer, the author of There Are No Accidents, offers this explanation: We focus on individual blame because it makes it easier to believe that it couldn't happen to us. As an example, I grew up in a place and time in which women and girls were blamed for getting raped: If she hadn't been wherever she was whenever she was, wearing whatever she was, it wouldn't have happened to her. Or so people believed. But, as we all know, there are all sorts of situation in which someone "did everything right" and still suffered an "accident" or is somehow victimized.
The problem with the focus on individual behavior, according to Singer, is that it prevents the structural changes necessary to prevent recurrences of crashes or other mishaps.
Charles Marohn would agree. He is an engineer who used to work on road design. The most dangerous roads for everyone--but especially cyclists, pedestrians and the disabled--are what he calls "stroads": thoroughfares that combine the worst traits of roads and streets. Roads, he said, are designed to move people and vehicles from one place to another. Well-designed roads, he explains, are usually wide, with lots of lanes and clear zones on either side to make driver errors less deadly. Streets, on the other hand, are places where people live, shop, eat and play. The deadliest roads in America, like a stretch of US-19 on Florida's Gulf Coast, are what he would call "stroads": several lanes of high-speed traffic lined with big-box stores and other businesses that provide a steady stream of cars and trucks pulling in and out of those lanes.
Of course, the design of such roads isn't the only reason why pedestrian and cyclist injuries and fatalities have increased: Vehicles have grown bigger and, thus, deadlier. But Singer and Marohn agree that re-designing roadways will do far more to improve safety for cyclists, pedestrians, people in wheelchairs--and drivers--than focusing solely on the behavior of people who use, or simply try to co-exist, with the road. As evidence, they point out that the "hot spots" for cyclist and pedestrian fatalities and deaths are found in places as diverse as Port Ritchey, Florida (one of the communities through which US-19 passes), Langley Park, Maryland; Albuquerque, New Mexico; Los Angeles and Manhattan. But nearly all of them have the kinds of "roads" or "stroads" Marohn warns against.
Six years after one of the most horrific incidents of a motorist mowing down cyclists I've ever heard of, another such incident--if on a smaller scale--has taken place in Michigan. Aside from taking place in the Wolverine State, the two tragedies have this in common: an intoxicated driver.
On Saturday morning, cyclists were in the middle of a Make-A-Wish charity ride that spanned the weekend and state. Around 11:15 am, the driver of an SUV crossed the highway center line to pass another vehicle. The driver, whose name has not been released, struck five cyclists. One was pronounced dead at the scene; another was airlifted to Grand Rapids hospital, where he died. The other three cyclists suffered critical injuries.
The driver was arrested. Authorities are seeking two felony counts of operating while intoxicated, causing death.
Saturday's crash recalls, sadly, the one that killed Debra Ann Bradley, Melissa Ann Fevig-Hughes, Tony Nelson, Larry Paulik and Suzanne Sippel when they were out for a late-day summer ride six years ago. The driver plowed into them, and other riders (some of whom were injured) while under the influence. Four years ago, the driver--Charles Pickett, then 52 years old, was sentenced to 40 to 75 years in prison.
As I've mentioned, I worked on and off in bike shops from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s. In one of those shops, I came across a bottom bracket lock ring tool from Hozan. Like other tools the Japanese company manufactured at the time, it looked sturdy and functional, if not as refined as its Campagnolo or even Park Tool counterparts.
But it wasn't the finish or design that I remember. Rather, it was the package.
It's easy to dismiss "Rock" as a simple typo. But there are still Americans who mock the Japanese for their difficulty in pronouncing the "L" sound which, as I understand, doesn't exist in Japanese. So I wondered whether the importer or whoever packaged the wrench was upset that some "Rittre Reague" kids from the Land of the Rising Son beat his son's baseball team in a tournament.
Six years ago, Paris drained its Canal Saint-Martin to clean it, as the city does every fifteen years or so. Although the canal now bisects fashionable streets with chic cafes and shops, it was once bisected a rather gritty working-class area. But, perhaps to no-one's surprise, the most commonly-found objects found in every canal-draining were wine bottles.
And the second-most common? Bicycles. The only difference is that in the most recent cleaning, many of the bikes came from Velib, the City of Light's share program.
Bicycle uncovered during most recent draining of the Canal Saint-Martin. Photo by Yoan Valat for EPA.
The company that ran Rome's bike-share program abruptly ended its contract because so many of the bikes ended up in the Tiber. Not exactly what Remus and Romulus had in mind, is it?
Amsterdam has had to resort to "fietsen vissen"--bicycle fishing--because bikes were piled so high in the city's canals that they scraped the flat-bottomed boats. At one time, freelance scavengers picked them up on poles and sold them for scrap. In the 1960's, the city's water agency assumed responsibility for the "harvest." Now a corps of municipal workers trawl for the submerged bikes on boats equipped with cranes attached to hydraulic claw grapples. The bikes are hauled to scrapyards for recycling where, according to urban legend, they become beer cans. (Think about that the next time you grab a Heineken or Amstel!)
The phenomenon of bikes "sleeping with the fishes" (I grew up in a Mafia neighborhood. Gotta problem widdat?) isn't limited to European cities. In Tokyo, officials decided to drain a large pond in the middle of Inokashira Park to rid it of a non-native species of fish that was causing environmental damage. Their work uncovered another species that wasn't native to the pond: bicycles. And, in February 2019, a Citibike appeared--covered with barnacles and blisters--appeared overnight in an Upper West Side docking station. A Hudson River conservancy group expert estimated that evidence--including "oysters on the handlebars" (Upper West Siders pay good money for such things!)--indicated that the machine met its fate in the Hudson the pervious August, or possibly June.
Jody Rosen has just written an article on this phenomenon for the Guardian. It speculates on some of the reasons why so many bikes end up in waterways. Some are dumped when by fleeing criminals--who are as likely as not to have stolen the bike they're drowning. Others are tossed or accidentally ridden into the water by drunken revelers. (Could recycling be contributing, if unintentionally, to bikes ending up in Amsterdam's canals?) And there are a few instances of folks who "ended it all" by riding into murky waters, as one woman did after handcuffing herself to her machine.
But, as Rosen points out, a bicycle--especially one whose owner is unknown or a corporate entity--is an easy target for people taking out their frustrations. I suspect that at least a few share bikes were tossed into canals, rivers, lakes and other bodies of water by folks--more than likely, young--who feel lost, alienated, abandoned or simply ignored by their societies, cultures or institutions that control their lives, and over which they feel they have no control.
As a lifelong cyclist, I cannot imagine myself tossing a bike that did nothing wrong to me into the water. And, as an environmentally-conscious person, I cannot condone throwing anything into a body of water that its native species can't eat. But, as we've seen, these days, where there are bikes, there are e-bikes. That, unfortunately, includes waterways, where e-bikes and mopeds are even more of a hazard because of the rare metals and chemicals used in batteries and other components.
So, if you have a bike, e-bike, moped or scooter you want to get rid of, sell it or donate it. But please don't follow the advice of a Talking Heads song!
Over the years, I have cycled through Jersey City many times. On other occasions, I've also ridden there for some purpose, like work or a show, concert or other event.
But I've never ridden to Jersey City "just because." I have long felt that it is one of the most bike-unfriendly places in the New York Metropolitan Area. For one thing, the few bike lanes are even less practical and safe than even the worst ones I've seen in New York City. One begins near Journal Square and winds up Bergen Avenue, one of the city's major north-south thoroughfares, before ending abruptly. Along the way, it goes from being a two-way to a one-way lane.
In most of New York City, if the bike lane is as useless or impractical as the one I've described, I'll just take regular streets. As I've ridden them for decades, I am familiar with traffic patterns and drivers' habits. Plus, even in the oldest and most remote sections of the city, the streets are usually wide enough to give me at least some room to maneuver through traffic or parked cars.
The option I've described is less available in Jersey City. The streets are narrower and, I believe, even more congested, as people depend more on motor vehicles, than in my hometown.
While I don't think the drivers are necessarily more hostile toward cyclists than they are anyplace else. Rather, I suspect that they are less bike-conscious as, for one thing, there are fewer cyclists and less of a bike culture than there is in some New York City neighborhoods or other locales in the Tri-State Area. Also, being a place where people drive more than they do in the Big Apple, drivers are still imbued with the old attitude that drivers have the primary right to the road: Pedestrians and cyclists are supposed to defer to them. If someone struck by a driver while walking or pedaling, someone is likely to ask what that cyclist or pedestrian was doing on that street.
But not even the least bike-conscious or bike-friendly person is ready to excuse what Amy De Gise did last Tuesday. Around 8 am, she was driving through an intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard--at first glance, over the speed limit--when she struck cyclist Andrew Black with her Nissan Rouge.
She had the green light. Black said he thought he had it. Whether he inadvertently or deliberately rode against the light, just about everyone agrees that what she did--or, more precisely, didn't do--next was inexcusable.
Nearly two years ago, a driver "doored" me near the Belmont race track. To her credit, the driver stayed with me as a passerby--an African American man who was probably around my age--ran to the nearby drugstore, picked up bandages and disinfectants--and treated me until the ambulance arrived. (I wish I could find out who that man was: I definitely owe him!) And she cooperated with law enforcement, which made it easy for me to deal with her insurer (Geico) in paying for the resulting costs.
Ms. De Gise did not extend similar courtesies to Mr. Black. She didn't slow down, let alone stop, to check up on him. Fortunately, he wasn't seriously injured: He got up and continued riding. Still, everyone who's commented on the situation agrees that even if he rode through a red light, there was no excuse for what Ms. De Gise what any interpretation of the law would describe as "leaving the scene of an accident."
Amy De Gise strikes Andrew Black at 1:01 of this video.
The cynic in me has two views of her. One is that she is a common-variety "Karen." The other, though, is that she was acting out of another kind of entitlement: She is a council member in a city and state long known for political corruption. Moreover, she is the daughter of a powerful local politician: longtime Hudson County Executive Tom De Gise.
Contrast her response to the situation to that of passerby. According to the Jersey Journal, after his shoes were knocked off his feet and his mangled bicycle skidded to the curb, he gathered himself enough to stand, put on one shoe and hobble to the sidewalk where,
One woman brought him his other shoe. People from a corner preschool set down a cooler so he could sit. Cellphones were whipped out and a small group of people gathered around him to see how he was. Several vehicles stopped, at least momentarily, and bystanders peered up the block to see what the SUV was doing.
Those folks should be, at the very least, commended. I am sure everyone agrees with that. I know that everyone, from public officials to everyday citizens, who have commented on the situation also agree with this: Amy De Gise must resign. Until she does, the driver who doored me will have taken more responsibility for what she did than Ms. De Gise has for her action and inaction.
Police barricade tapes are bright yellow. Construction-site cones are orange. The bollards used to separate bike lanes from the street are finished in similar hues, or white.
Those color choices are not just fashion statements: They are made for visibility. It's pretty difficult for most people to claim they didn't see those tapes, cones or bollards.
On the other hand, you don't have to be color-blind to miss chains--which are almost always dull gray-- drawn across roadways or bike lanes. This is especially true in low-light conditions, such as night, the beginning or end of day, inclement weather, and under aqueducts, railroad trestles and highway overpasses.
Such chains are used to temporarily block off streets or paths for events like street fairs or for construction. Unfortunately, cities and other jurisdictions that place them often forget to remove them when the event is done or construction work is finished. Worse, an unsuspecting cyclist or scooter-rider who is paying attention to other road hazards can easily miss them.
The chain that entangled a cyclist--and his bike after the crash. Photo sent by reader of Bike Portland.
That is what happened to one unfortunate cyclist in Portland, Oregon. He was riding along North Holladay Street when he passed under the Interstate-5 overpass when he was suddenly entangled in a chain and thrown over his handlebars. He suffered significant injuries to his arm and both wrists. He also incurred a minor impact to his head that, probably, could have been worse had he not been wearing his helmet.
The street where he had his mishap, while not as popular for cycling as another nearby street, is nonetheless part of a designated bicycle route. The intersection is adjacent to the Oregon Convention Center. So, according to Bike Portland editor Jonathan Maus, the chain may have been installed to cordon off the street for an event. But, as he points out, that event was long over by the time the unlucky cyclist crashed.
I think that the neglect that led to the cyclist's injuries may have been a result of the auto-centric mentality of city planners. A chain, debris or some other obstruction--like a sewer grate with wide slats that parallel the curb or divider-- might be mere inconveniences to cars, trucks or buses, but can snag bike tires--or cyclists themselves
I hope that cyclist has a swift and thorough recovery--and, as Maus recommends, city or other government agencies in charge of roadways, bike lanes and other infrastructure pay more attention to seemingly-small details--and basic maintenance.
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