A "Bridgegate" For Cyclists?

I lived through a time when the word "nuclear" was almost invariably followed by "holocaust".

Then again, I also experienced a few air raid drills when I was in elementary school.  One of the first stern glares a Carmelite nun directed at me was in response to my innocent (well, maybe not-so-inncocent) question:  "How is this going to protect us from an atom bomb?"

(Of course, now everybody knows that this is what you do in case of a nuclear attack:

• Duck under desk or table.
• Curl up in foetal position.
• Place head firmly between legs.
• Then, kiss your ass goodbye.)

Anyway...just as "nuclear" went with "holocaust", it seems that these days, "bridge" is followed by "gate".  And "Bridgegate" is the first thing people think of when you mention the George Washington Bridge.

Traffic jams have been as much a part of the bridge's 85-year history as corruption has been a part of the politics on both sides of the bridge.  Most of those tie-ups, unlike the ones caused by Governor Christie's acolytes, are not deliberate.  Nor will the ones that will  probably come soon and plague the bridge for the nest seven years.

Actually, the Port Authority's renovation project began last year, when lead paint was removed from the lower deck.  Removal of said paint will continue, and most important of all, the vertical cables will be replaced.  The PA says it will try to time the work to cause the least possible inconvenience to commuters.

Just as the term "human being" meant "white man with property*" to the Founding Fathers, "commuters" means, in PA parlance, folks who drive into the city and, well, maybe those who take the bus.  So, for that matter, does "traffic".

Now, to be fair, the PA plans to improve access to the bridge's bike and pedestrian lanes.  Then again, almost anything would be an improvement over what exists:  Hairpin turns on the New York side of the lane on the south side of the bridge, and steep stairs on both sides to access the lane on the north side.  Worse yet, the stairs on the New York side can only be entered by crossing a heavily-trafficked street that has become a de facto exit lane for the bridge an the Cross-Bronx expressway, and for buses entering and leaving the George Washington Bridge bus terminal.

It's like this on a good day.

But those entrances aren't the worst part of the lanes.  For one thing, in more than three decades of biking (and, occasionally, walking) across the bridge, I have never seen both lanes open at the same time.  Worst of all, though, is that each of those lanes is seven feet wide at its widest. At some pinch points--where, for example, towers are located--the lanes are considerably narrower.  And, of course, the structures that cause the "pinch" also make for very poor sight lines.  At times, I've wondered that collisions and conflicts between cyclists and pedestrians aren't more frequent than they are.

To give you some perspective:  The Federal Highway Administration recommends 14 feet for a two- way bike lane.  And the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials recommends 16 feet.  

In other words, the lanes are half as wide as is generally recommended.  And, just as the GWB is the nation's busiest commuter crossing for motorists, its bike and pedestrian lanes are also among the nation's busiest.

Now, are you ready for this?  The Port Authority's plans call for reconstructing the bike and pedestrian lanes.  The north lane will be designated for cyclists, and the south for pedestrians.  Sounds good so far, right?

New Jersey entrance to the bike/pedestrian lane on the south side of the George Washington B

And the bike lane will indeed be wider.  How much wider?  Check this out:  one foot.  So the new bike lane, according to the plan, will be 8 feet wide.  There is nothing to indicate that narrower "pinch points" won't be eliminated.  Perhaps they can't be.  But I have to wonder why, if the Port Authority is planning what is essentially a once-in-a-century project, it can't or won't build the bike and pedestrian lanes to modern standards. Instead, it plans to rebuild the lanes to the standards that existed in 1931, when the bridge opened.  

Now, I don't know much about the economics of major public works projects.  I can't help but to think, though, that in relative terms, it wouldn't cost much more to build a modern path than the one that's planned--and, better yet, to build  a bike path on a separate, lower lever from the pedestrian lane.  Certainly, doing so would cost less than building another lane as a stand-alone project at a later date.

Artist's rendering of a possible bike laneconstructed at a lower level alongside the current lane on the north side, which would be reserved for pedestrians.

Oh--one other thing is planned in the reconstruction:  a fence, a.k.a. a suicide barrier, along each lane.  I'm not going to argue that such a barrier shouldn't be installed:  It's likely that most of the suicides that have occurred from the bridge were preventable.  I can't help but to wonder, though, whether the barriers will make riding or walking across the bridge feel even more claustrophobic than it already is at times.

Exposing "What Have We Here"

Now I'm going to expose you to some real "bike porn."

I stripped a bike bare.  Yes, stripped it.  And photographed it when it was in a compromised position. 

I'm so heartless and exploitative, aren't I?

Well, I didn't strip the bike completely bare.  Three parts that came with the bike--and which I intend to use--are on it.

That thing clamped near the bottom bracket is a cable guide.  The only things brazed to this frame are a "stop" on the underside of the downtube for the shift-lever clamp and a cable guide on the chainstay.  When this Trek was made, such an arrangement was common.

Somewhat more significant is a part you can't see:  a Sakae Ringyo Laprade seatpost. In keeping with the time the bike was made, it's fluted.  

Sakae Ringyo (SR) Laprade

But most important, it's good.  In fact, some might say that it's the first modern seatpost.  That is wrong only because its design copied the French Laprade seatpost made by a small company called JPR.  Very few of those posts made it here to the 'States--or, from what I can tell, anywhere outside of France. 

JPR Laprade seatpost

SR's version is slightly heavier but, frankly, has a nicer finish (much as it pains me, as a Francophile, to say such a thing) and cost a fraction of the French version.  Moreover, SR was one of the major original-equipment suppliers to bike manufacturers of the 1970's and 1980's.  Finally, it seems that SR offered a greater variety of sizes than JPR did.  So guess what people bought when they upgraded their old bikes or built new ones?

The rest, as they say, is history:  Most modern seatposts adapted the Laprade design: one easily-accessible bolt on the underside of the clamp.  In fact, some companies even call their versions "Laprade-style" seatposts.  The Nitto seatposts on my Mercians all share the design.

The third part on the frame turned out to be one of the most pleasant surprises on this bike.  I took apart the headset to clean and grease it

Yes!  Roller bearings!  That means it's the legendary Stronglight A9 headset.  Best of all, it's alloy, not the plastic version that came on some bikes of that era.  

Stronglight A9:  the headset that came with this bike

That headset is almost as nice of a surprise as the Phil Wood rear hub that came with the bike.  One of my loyal readers asked about that hub, and we're working out a swap.  I would have kept it, except that it's 48 hole.  As I don't think I'll ever own a tandem, I really don't need that hub.

I sold the crankset that came with the bike.  It's an SR forged set, with a nice finish, but it has an obsolete bolt pattern (118 BCD).  I'm guessing the buyer (on eBay, where else?) is doing a period restoration. I could have gotten satisfactory gearing with that crankset, but I'm going to use another that will make it easier to get useful (for me) gearing.  Don't worry:  It has a classic five-bolt spider and doesn't look like a Christmas ornament left on a radiator and painted with anime graphics.

So far, I think I lucked out:  Remember, this bike came from an estate sale!

A Christmas Day Ride

The other night, I was talking to my brother.  He was in his car, across the street from his in-laws' house.  I heard some of the shouting and laughter (including one particularly loud cackle) from within.  He said that it was a typical holiday scene and that, even after so many years of going to such gatherings, he's unaccustomed to the noise level. "I don't remember it being like that when we were growing up."

"Nor do I."


I was thinking about that exchange yesterday, as I rode.  I knew that the gathering I would attend, with friends.  There would be laughter and music, but I could actually have a conversation with one or two people without having to read their lips.

Before that gathering, my ride was quiet.  Actually, tranquil is a more accurate word:  There were a few cyclists, and a few more people walking, alone or with partners, dogs or children. I think they were all enjoying, or more precisely, losing or immersing themselves, in the calm.

Of course, the ocean itself calms me and, I imagine, most of the people I saw along the Rockaway boardwalk and the South Shore of Nassau County.  Even the bright sunshine soothed my eyes, and much else, in the way the echo of the waves in my ears.

Funny that the weather reports said the wind was calm.  Can a wind be calm?  Or, if it's calm, is it wind?  I felt a slight breeze off the ocean, but I didn't have to pedal into, or with it.  And, because my ride was flat, I felt I could have pedaled all day.

Such conditions are, naturally, ideal for riding a fixed-gear bike, which is why I took Tosca, my Mercian fixie, out for the spin.  I started early, so I had enough time to ride to Point Lookout and back--105 kilometers in all--before joining my friends for the holiday dinner.

They weren't nearly as loud as my brother's in-laws.  And I had a few hours of the best kind of calm before our gathering.