Bikes Will Eat Cars

Bikes will eat cars.

No, I am not using, uh, herbal remedies for non-medicinal purposes.  I haven't done that or used any other illicit substances in so long that I'm covered by the statute of limitations. (That is one thing to look forward to as you get older!)  In fact, the four words that opened this post aren't even mine.

They were uttered by Horace Dediu.  Who is he?, you ask.

I confess:  I didn't know who he is until I came across an article in, of all places, CNN Money.  There, he is described as a "prominent analyst of disruptive technologies."  That title alone makes him sound like he has an IQ that's even higher than my weight (in pounds, which is saying something!)

The way he sees it, bikes have all sorts of advantages over cars.  We are already familiar with some of them:  They're a lot easier to park and store, they cost less both to buy and maintain, and in many large cities, it's possible to get from point A to point B in less time one a bike than in a car, bus or, sometimes, even by rail.  

He also sees other advantages, which have only become apparent with the growth of bike-share programs.  One is, of course, the fact that bike share programs are relatively easy for cities to implement.  But another has to do with the sensors found in the bikes of some share programs.  At the moment, they're used to track the location of bikes so that they can be retrieved, especially in the newer programs that don't use ports or docks.  They also, of course, make it more difficult to steal the bikes.

Horace Dediu:  "Bikes will eat cars."

But the way Dediu sees it, that technology could develop into cameras that are placed in the bikes.  They, and other kinds of sensors, could record potholes and other real-time information that could be transmitted to city authorities.  They could even provide data on traffic and other street activity that could make Google Street View seem as antiquated as maps inked on parchment.

If you were to tell your non-cycling acquaintances what I've recounted, they'd object that bikes won't displace, much less "eat", cars for the same reasons they don't ride:  They're afraid of traffic, road conditions are bad and, oh, what do you do when it rains or snows?

Dediu has thought about those objections.  To address them, he describes the way infrastructure evolved around the automobile.  When the first motorized cars were created, there were far fewer paved roads, even in the most developed areas, and even the best roads were pretty rough.  Also, early cars were open-air.  It only took a generation or so for the landscape to be transformed by the infrastructure created for automobiles--which, by that time, were enclosed.

He sees a similar "evolution" for bicycles.  He thinks shells or other enclosures will become widespread, and that cities and other jurisdictions will develop bike lanes and other thoroughfares specifically for cyclists.

Finally, I must point out that when he says "bicycle", he isn't talking only about the kinds we pedal. He believes that electric bikes will also be part of the change he envisions.  Evidence for that, he explains, can be seen not only in the "explosive" growth in sales of e-bikes, but also in the fact that a few cities are introducing e-bikes to their share programs.  Some people who would be hesitant about trading their cars for pedaled bicycles could be enticed to ride e-bikes.  Also, the advantage in speed the bicycle offers in cities like New York could spread to areas further from urban centers.

One other obstacle--which, according to Dediu, must and will be overcome--to bikes displacing cars is the lack of availability of share bikes.  New York and San Francisco have the largest bike share programs in the US, at 12,000 and 7,000 bikes, respectively.  On the other hand, Beijing has 650,000 share bikes, all of which have hit that city's streets within the past nine months.

Horace Dediu says "Bikes will eat cars."  Whatever wastes they emit after their repast can't be nearly as toxic as what vehicles with internal combustion engines belch into the air we breathe!

They Can Ride, They Can Shine

One day an elderly woman wheeled her husband into the shop.  Neither of them had been on a bicycle in decades, she explained, but she wanted to buy bicycles for him and herself. 

Turns out, he'd had a stroke and, at that moment, couldn't speak.  In fact, his facial movements were constricted.  But I could sense, in his eyes, that he was at least curious about the bicycles.  If I could notice that, I thought, she certainly must have known that he was interested in riding.  Then I wondered whether he had expressed interest before his stroke, or whether that interest was somehow communicated in one of those ways couples sometimes develop.

Whatever the case, she knew what she was doing when she brought him to the shop.  I saw them ride just about every day that spring and summer and fall, sometimes on my way to the shop, sometimes on my way home or out for a ride of my own.  I saw, almost immediately, in his facial expressions (limited as they were) and body language, that she wasn't "dragging" him; he was riding voluntarily, behind her.  Within a few weeks, he was leading her, and looked as if he'd initiated their rides--even though he still couldn't speak (though his grunts and groans became more intelligible).  And she was encouraging him.

They also came to the shop regularly.  First it was to adjust the things that normally need adjustment (cables and such) as a bike "breaks in", but as they rode more, we tweaked the handlebar and saddle positions, and changed things like the grips.  He was attracted to the bright, shiny things--reflectors, bells and other accessories with a bright finish. One day, though, he pointed to the Huret Multito cyclometer (Cyclo-computers were still new.) on another customer's bike and pointed to it.  He had his curious expression again.  Not quite sure of how to explain it to him, I explained it to his wife.  

"He understood you," she said.  "He can understand much more now that we've been riding," she explained.  "Sometimes it almost sounds as if he's making words, not just sounds."

That fall--just before I stopped working in the shop--he had, in fact, regained his power of speech and was reading the newspaper.    Later, I heard he'd progressed to books and was writing cute notes to his wife.

Today I thought about that couple for the first time in years when I learned about a cycling camp for disabled children.  It's going to be held in Oklahoma City during the last five days of June.

That camp is one of a series--called "iCan Bike"--that's been been held in various locales throughout the USA since 2007.  iCan Bike camps are run by the nonprofit organization iCan Shine, which began under the name "Lose Your Training Wheels" in 2007.  One of the stated goals of the program is for children with physical, intellectual and emotional disabilities to ride a bicycle independently, which iCan Bike defines as 75 feet with no assistance.   According to iCan, 80 percent of kids who participate in the program reach this goal, even though they attend training sessions for only 75 minutes on each day of the program. The remaining 20 percent of kids leave the program with parents, siblings or other people who are trained as "spotters" and can continue the work of the camp.

When I recall how cycling helped the recovery of the old man whose wife wheeled him into the shop where I worked, I am sure that it must be great for kids who don't have the kinds of skills that man had before his stroke!

Reserved For Birds And Angels

A bishop and a professor were discussing philosophy.  (I know, it sounds like the beginning of a really geeky joke!)  

The bishop averred that The Millennium was at hand.  Evidence of that, he said, was that everything about nature had been discovered and all useful inventions created. 

The professor politely told the bishop he was mistaken.  "Why, in a few years," he proclaimed, "we'll be able to fly through the air."

The bishop was having none of it.  "What a nonsensical idea!," he exclaimed.  "Flight," he tried to assure the professor, "is reserved for birds and angels."  Being the good bishop he was, he added, "To think otherwise is blasphemy!"

This story is rich with irony.  The encounter between the suffragan and the savant occurred late in the nineteenth century.  So, whether or not he intended it, the professor was as much a seer as a sage.  The diocesan, on the other hand, sounded more like a die-hard Luddite.

The name of the professor has been lost to history.  But the bishop achieved some degree of fame in his time, having attained a rather high office in the Church of the United Brethren in Christ, whose members included some rather influential Americans in a number of endeavors.

This bishop's sons were among them.  They first made something of a name for themselves in the bicycle business, which was would experience its first great boom not long after the bishop made his pronouncement. 

Today we know that bishop's name mainly because of his sons.  Even if you have never been anywhere near a bicycle, you've heard of them.  Since you already know their names, whether or not you know it, I will tell you who that esteemed ecclesiastical authority was:  someone named Milton Wright.

Yes, his two sons were those Wrights.  Of course, they achieved even greater fame--though not fortune--for doing what their father said couldn't be done.  Yes, Orville and Wilbur got to do what all kids, at some point in their lives, try (and, some would argue, need) to do:  They proved their father wrong.  He didn't deny it, but he never seemed terribly impressed.  

But, in one sense, he was right (pun intended):  Humans cannot fly--without some sort of device or other aid, anyway.  Even on a bicycle.

With that in mind, I have found the perfect headgear for him, his sons and everyone else, whether or not they've ever pedaled on the velodrome: