Trust me: I do!
25 June 2017
24 June 2017
Bike Share In "Dutch" Country
Yesterday, I wrote about two bike-share programs that went bust.
One of them, Pronto, was based in Seattle. Its demise came as a surprise to some, including yours truly, because Seattle has long had a reputation for all of the things one associates with cities that develop successful share programs. For one thing, it had an active, vibrant cycling community long before Portland or other cities developed their reputations as two-wheeled utopiae. For another, it also has a large population of young, educated and creative people: the very sorts of people who are most likely to be bike riders in urban areas.
In other words, it seemed to have a lot in common with other cities in Europe and North America where share programs have succeeded. Some blamed the failure of Pronto on Seattle's climate, which may have been somewhat of a factor, although other places where share programs are popular get as much rain (or as little sunshine, depending on your point of view) as the Emerald City.
When we think of the cities where bike share programs have succeeded, we think first of the US coastal cities and European capitals. But they have also worked well in "second" cities like Lyon, France (whose "Velo'v" is often cited as a model) and Hamilton, Ontario. Even a town like Chattanoga, Tennessee has managed to support a thriving program.
But most people, I think, wouldn't expect to find the ingredients of vibrant cycling communities or successful bike share programs--let alone attempts to develop other kinds of cycling infrastructure--in declining industrial cities like Reading, Pennsylvania (which I mentioned in an earlier post). Or nearby Lancaster.
I have to confess that when I think of Lancaster, I think of the Pennsylvania Amish Country or "Dutch Country". My family took a trip there every summer, where we would visit farms and the so-called "Dutch Wonderland". In those days mega-theme parks like Six Flags were either new or in development, the Dutch Wonderland and Hershey Park still could capture a kid's short attention span.
We would simply pass through the city itself which, even then, seemed to consist mainly of factories and old buildings that didn't seem to be used for anything but no one had gotten around to declaring as historic landmarks. I liked the train station--which served the Pennsylvania and Reading Railroads, and now is an Amtrak stop--mainly because I liked trains and the Reading still had some of the old steam locomotives.
But Lancaster, like Reading, has witnessed the loss of its old industries and a population that has grown poorer, darker and older--though, to be fair, not to the same degree as Reading. Interestingly, Lancaster has earned a new nickname: The City of Refugees. It's believed that refugees make up a higher percentage of the population in Lancaster than in any other US city.
This is not what one normally associates with cycling: Indeed, even today, when I ride through blue-collar and immigrant neighborhoods and suburbs of New York, I see no other cyclists. But, when you think about it, such places--like Lancaster and Reading--are exactly where cycling should thrive. After all, generations of working-class people all over Europe, Asia and other parts of the world were, until recently, the vast majority of the world's cyclists.
So, in a way, we shouldn't be surprised that Lancaster is launching a bike share program. What surprised me, in reading about it, is the degree to which the city is trying to develop a cycling infrastructure. While I am not always enthusiastic about bike lanes, it seems that planners are at least trying to make them practical: They lead to places like the train station and there seems to be some notion that a bike lane isn't just a few lines painted on asphalt or concrete.
Almost nobody believes that Donald Trump can actually deliver on his pledges to revive moribund industries. After all, even if some company decided to build a steel mill or open a coal mine in Pennsylvania or West Virginia, it would be more automated than the ones that closed. Thus, fewer workers would be employed--and few, if any, of them would be those men in their 50s and 60s who got laid off during the last economic downturn. Instead, almost anybody who's not a direct adviser to Trump says that such workers should be retrained in the new technologies of the "green" or "greener" industries.
It's not as much of a stretch as one might think: People in industrial and rural areas tend to have more mechanical, and other practical, skills than MBAs or lawyers. If we think of bicycles as part of the "green" economy, it's not hard to imagine employing workers from a variety of other industries--or simply folks who don't have the aptitude or desire for university--in them.
One might say that nearby Reading--which I described in an earlier post--is attempting to do that, if on a small scale, with its efforts to make cycling more accessible for the working-class, poor and unemployed of that city. Such efforts almost inevitably involve employing, directly or indirectly, the very people such programs try to put on bikes. Perhaps something similar will happen in Lancaster. If nothing else, as in Reading, Lancaster's new bike share program and infrastructure could make cycling affordable and practical for people who could benefit from it.
One of them, Pronto, was based in Seattle. Its demise came as a surprise to some, including yours truly, because Seattle has long had a reputation for all of the things one associates with cities that develop successful share programs. For one thing, it had an active, vibrant cycling community long before Portland or other cities developed their reputations as two-wheeled utopiae. For another, it also has a large population of young, educated and creative people: the very sorts of people who are most likely to be bike riders in urban areas.
In other words, it seemed to have a lot in common with other cities in Europe and North America where share programs have succeeded. Some blamed the failure of Pronto on Seattle's climate, which may have been somewhat of a factor, although other places where share programs are popular get as much rain (or as little sunshine, depending on your point of view) as the Emerald City.
When we think of the cities where bike share programs have succeeded, we think first of the US coastal cities and European capitals. But they have also worked well in "second" cities like Lyon, France (whose "Velo'v" is often cited as a model) and Hamilton, Ontario. Even a town like Chattanoga, Tennessee has managed to support a thriving program.
But most people, I think, wouldn't expect to find the ingredients of vibrant cycling communities or successful bike share programs--let alone attempts to develop other kinds of cycling infrastructure--in declining industrial cities like Reading, Pennsylvania (which I mentioned in an earlier post). Or nearby Lancaster.
I have to confess that when I think of Lancaster, I think of the Pennsylvania Amish Country or "Dutch Country". My family took a trip there every summer, where we would visit farms and the so-called "Dutch Wonderland". In those days mega-theme parks like Six Flags were either new or in development, the Dutch Wonderland and Hershey Park still could capture a kid's short attention span.
We would simply pass through the city itself which, even then, seemed to consist mainly of factories and old buildings that didn't seem to be used for anything but no one had gotten around to declaring as historic landmarks. I liked the train station--which served the Pennsylvania and Reading Railroads, and now is an Amtrak stop--mainly because I liked trains and the Reading still had some of the old steam locomotives.
But Lancaster, like Reading, has witnessed the loss of its old industries and a population that has grown poorer, darker and older--though, to be fair, not to the same degree as Reading. Interestingly, Lancaster has earned a new nickname: The City of Refugees. It's believed that refugees make up a higher percentage of the population in Lancaster than in any other US city.
This is not what one normally associates with cycling: Indeed, even today, when I ride through blue-collar and immigrant neighborhoods and suburbs of New York, I see no other cyclists. But, when you think about it, such places--like Lancaster and Reading--are exactly where cycling should thrive. After all, generations of working-class people all over Europe, Asia and other parts of the world were, until recently, the vast majority of the world's cyclists.
So, in a way, we shouldn't be surprised that Lancaster is launching a bike share program. What surprised me, in reading about it, is the degree to which the city is trying to develop a cycling infrastructure. While I am not always enthusiastic about bike lanes, it seems that planners are at least trying to make them practical: They lead to places like the train station and there seems to be some notion that a bike lane isn't just a few lines painted on asphalt or concrete.
Almost nobody believes that Donald Trump can actually deliver on his pledges to revive moribund industries. After all, even if some company decided to build a steel mill or open a coal mine in Pennsylvania or West Virginia, it would be more automated than the ones that closed. Thus, fewer workers would be employed--and few, if any, of them would be those men in their 50s and 60s who got laid off during the last economic downturn. Instead, almost anybody who's not a direct adviser to Trump says that such workers should be retrained in the new technologies of the "green" or "greener" industries.
It's not as much of a stretch as one might think: People in industrial and rural areas tend to have more mechanical, and other practical, skills than MBAs or lawyers. If we think of bicycles as part of the "green" economy, it's not hard to imagine employing workers from a variety of other industries--or simply folks who don't have the aptitude or desire for university--in them.
One might say that nearby Reading--which I described in an earlier post--is attempting to do that, if on a small scale, with its efforts to make cycling more accessible for the working-class, poor and unemployed of that city. Such efforts almost inevitably involve employing, directly or indirectly, the very people such programs try to put on bikes. Perhaps something similar will happen in Lancaster. If nothing else, as in Reading, Lancaster's new bike share program and infrastructure could make cycling affordable and practical for people who could benefit from it.
23 June 2017
A Lump Of Coal In The Emerald City And The Land Of Jade
A couple of years ago, bike-share programs seemed like "can't-miss" propositions.
Most municipalities with programs--whether they're funded by cities or corporations, or are not-for-profit organizations, have reported great success. Share programs have expanded steadily in just about every place they've been introduced, and other cites--some of which you might not connect with cycling--are clamoring to start their own share programs.
One rare exception has been Pronto, Seattle's bike-share program. It closed on 31 March, citing low ridership. Several reasons have been cited for the program's failure. One is that the Emerald City has a mandatory helmet law. Cyclists who ride without head armor can be fined $102. More important, getting on a share bike is, as often as not, a spur-of-the-moment decision, and few people carry helmets with them when they're not on bikes. Many bike-share users are tourists; even those who are active cyclists at home aren't likely to bring helmets with them because, especially if they don't normally wear them.
Three other cities with share programs also have mandatory-helmet laws: Vancouver and the Australian metropoli of Melbourne and Brisbane. Share programs in the latter two cities struggled until they followed Vancouver's lead in including helmets and disposable liners with the bikes. In 2015, Seattle installed helmet dispensers by the Pronto kiosks, but potential users seemed to find it an inconvenience.
Other factors cited in the Seattle program's failure are the city's terrain and climate. Now, I can understand why people wouldn't want to pedal a heavy share bike up a hill. I can even understand why someone wouldn't want to ride in the rain. But long before Portland became the iconic "bike friendly" city, Seattle had a vibrant cycling community. In fact, it once boasted more bike shops, per capita, than any other major US city. The weather didn't seem to put a damper (pun intended) on cycling then, or now.
Then again, I can also understand why a tourist might not want to ride in the rain--especially if he or she is accustomed to more sunshine at home. If you're used to, say, Florida, and you're only going to be in Seattle for a few days, you might decide to simply wait until you get home to start riding again.
While the causes of the Seattle share program's failures might be debatable, Lei Houyi knows exactly why his bike-share company is closing shop.
In contrast with its western counterparts, many Chinese bike-share programs can best be described as "Uber for bikes": Riders can pick up, or leave, bikes on the streets, without having to look for a port or dock. Wukong Bikes, based in Chongqin, also followed this model. But they didn't follow a practice common to other Chinese share companies: It didn't install GPS devices on their bikes.
The result was all too predictable: Most of Wukong's 1200 bikes were lost or stolen. By the time the company realized it needed tracking devices, Houyi said, it was too late: The bikes were gone and the money had run out.
But, he says, even before his bikes started to disappear, the company was struggling because the bikes were of inferior quality to, and more easily damaged than, those of Ofo and Mobike, the leading Chinese bike-share companies. The services of those companies are completely app-based. So, while bikes left in remote locations can still be difficult for customers to locate, they are rarely lost, and when they are damaged, they can be fixed relatively quickly.
So, while I think bike share programs will continue to grow in popularity, they are not "sure-fire bets", even in the most seemingly "bike-friendly" environments, unless technological as well as cultural and legal factors are considered.
Most municipalities with programs--whether they're funded by cities or corporations, or are not-for-profit organizations, have reported great success. Share programs have expanded steadily in just about every place they've been introduced, and other cites--some of which you might not connect with cycling--are clamoring to start their own share programs.
 |
| Bikes from Pronto, Seattle's late bike-sharing program |
One rare exception has been Pronto, Seattle's bike-share program. It closed on 31 March, citing low ridership. Several reasons have been cited for the program's failure. One is that the Emerald City has a mandatory helmet law. Cyclists who ride without head armor can be fined $102. More important, getting on a share bike is, as often as not, a spur-of-the-moment decision, and few people carry helmets with them when they're not on bikes. Many bike-share users are tourists; even those who are active cyclists at home aren't likely to bring helmets with them because, especially if they don't normally wear them.
Three other cities with share programs also have mandatory-helmet laws: Vancouver and the Australian metropoli of Melbourne and Brisbane. Share programs in the latter two cities struggled until they followed Vancouver's lead in including helmets and disposable liners with the bikes. In 2015, Seattle installed helmet dispensers by the Pronto kiosks, but potential users seemed to find it an inconvenience.
Other factors cited in the Seattle program's failure are the city's terrain and climate. Now, I can understand why people wouldn't want to pedal a heavy share bike up a hill. I can even understand why someone wouldn't want to ride in the rain. But long before Portland became the iconic "bike friendly" city, Seattle had a vibrant cycling community. In fact, it once boasted more bike shops, per capita, than any other major US city. The weather didn't seem to put a damper (pun intended) on cycling then, or now.
Then again, I can also understand why a tourist might not want to ride in the rain--especially if he or she is accustomed to more sunshine at home. If you're used to, say, Florida, and you're only going to be in Seattle for a few days, you might decide to simply wait until you get home to start riding again.
While the causes of the Seattle share program's failures might be debatable, Lei Houyi knows exactly why his bike-share company is closing shop.
 |
| These bikes belong to Oko, one of the apps-based Chinese ride-sharing systems. |
In contrast with its western counterparts, many Chinese bike-share programs can best be described as "Uber for bikes": Riders can pick up, or leave, bikes on the streets, without having to look for a port or dock. Wukong Bikes, based in Chongqin, also followed this model. But they didn't follow a practice common to other Chinese share companies: It didn't install GPS devices on their bikes.
The result was all too predictable: Most of Wukong's 1200 bikes were lost or stolen. By the time the company realized it needed tracking devices, Houyi said, it was too late: The bikes were gone and the money had run out.
But, he says, even before his bikes started to disappear, the company was struggling because the bikes were of inferior quality to, and more easily damaged than, those of Ofo and Mobike, the leading Chinese bike-share companies. The services of those companies are completely app-based. So, while bikes left in remote locations can still be difficult for customers to locate, they are rarely lost, and when they are damaged, they can be fixed relatively quickly.
So, while I think bike share programs will continue to grow in popularity, they are not "sure-fire bets", even in the most seemingly "bike-friendly" environments, unless technological as well as cultural and legal factors are considered.
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