07 March 2018

It's An Improvement, But...

I've come across an interesting The Atlantic blog article about bike lanes.

Its author, Steven Higashide, reports that when he first started working in New York City, in 2007, "bicycling seemed like an activity best left to the pros" like one of the city's "stock characters", a bike messenger with "a heavy chain lock around the waist" could be seen "whipping through traffic with supreme confidence."

Now, he says, he regularly uses Citi Bike for "short trips to and from the subway, after-work rides to friends' apartments and fun rides on sunny days."  He attributes his willingness to pedal to the 98 miles of protected bike lanes the city has constructed during the past decade.

He briefly describes the developments that made bike lane construction happen in New York, and other US cities.  Chief among them is something the National Association of City Transportation Officials (NACTO), a forum started in 1996 for big-city transportation planners to swap ideas, did around the time Mr. Higashide started cycling in the Big Apple.  Its members researched the standards set out in design guides traffic engineers and urban planners were consulting.  Not surprisingly, there was little mention of how to integrate bicycles into urban traffic and transportation systems, and what little was mentioned had mainly to do with painted on-street bike lanes and pleasant, if impractical, off-street paths along waterfronts and in parks. 


A "protected" bike lane in Washington, DC.


Then NACTO researched the protected bike lanes that had already been part of Northern European cities for three decades. NACTO adopted their designs--well, somewhat.  NACTO's recommendations fall into the "something is better than nothing" category:  The standards in the Netherlands, and other countries, were still more bike-friendly:  their lanes are wider (on narrower streets) and the Dutch lanes offer even more protection from traffic, especially at intersections, where for Americans it is still minimal to non-existent.  

But perhaps the worst aspects of NACTO's guidelines is that they still incorporate most of the principles (or mistakes, as I've come to think of them) espoused by American traffic engineers and planners over the past century:  the speed and flow of automobile traffic are valued over walkability (On roads with medians, traffic signals are timed so that pedestrians have only enough seconds to get to the median rather than to cross the entire road.), cyclability or livability.

And, worst of all, too many of those lanes--as I've pointed out in other posts--are poorly-designed, -constructed or -maintained.  Or they are simply impractical:  They start and end abruptly.  Even for a recreational cyclist, this is a disincentive to use them:  For transportation cyclists, it makes them simply useless.  Moreover, even the protected lanes are too often blocked by pedestrians, food vendors--and, at times, even the motor vehicles that supposedly aren't allowed on them.

What NACTO's guidelines do, mainly, is to provide legal and political cover.  When then-Mayor Ed Koch had bike lanes built along 5th, 6th and 7th Avenues, and Broadway in mid-town Manhattan, he was guided only by his memory of "a million cyclists in Beijing", not any guidelines or principles of transportation planning.  That is why taxi and trucking interests, among others, didn't need to do very much to pressure the Mayor to remove those lanes only a few months later.  A quarter-century later, when New York and other cities started to build bike lanes, they could at least say that they were following guidelines set forth by professionals in the field, however misguided they may be. NACTO guidelines were further legitimized in 2013, when the Federal Highway Administration endorsed them in a memo.  

To be fair, NACTO's guidelines were an improvement on previous standards for bicycle infrastructure in American cities, such as they existed.   And NACTO is furthering its research and issuing new, and in many cases improved, guidelines.  But the way planners see cyclists, pedestrians and vehicular traffic--and motorists' awareness of cyclists and pedestrians--still needs to evolve.  Otherwise, the construction of more bike lanes, however pretty or "protected", will not result in safer cycling or entice more people to get out of their cars and into the saddle.

06 March 2018

To Hell And Dawn

Yesterday I wrote about a ride that included a fallen tree and the sunset.  The latter, not surprisingly, made the ride glorious, while the tree made it more interesting.

Somehow it fits that I was riding at sunrise this morning.  Actually, I was making my commuter a little earlier than usual so I could get a bit of work done before my classes.  I am noticing, however, that day is dawning earlier and ending later.  Sunday, we move the clocks ahead an hour for "Daylight Savings Time," which means more daylight at the end of the day.  It also means that I might be making a pre-dawn commute or two before the end of the month.

Anyway, from the RFK Memorial Bridge I got to see the morning arise at Hell's Gate--actually, the Hell Gate Bridge:



"Dawn" and "hell":  They almost seem contradictory, don't they?

05 March 2018

From A Fallen Tree To Burning Towers And The Sunset



Friday's weather was practically the definition of "dreary":  at any given moment, we had any given combination of snow, rain and sleet combined with winds that gusted, at time, to 90 KPH.

While the stuff stopped falling out of the sky Saturday morning, a ceiling of thick clouds obscured the sun--at least, for most of the day.  And it was still pretty windy.  No matter:  Bill and I went for  a ride.

We were exulting in our good fortune when we encountered a "souvenir" of the previous day's weather:





I'd heard that trees fell and power lines snapped.  Still, it's a surprise when you find them right in the middle of your route.

It wasn't really a surprise that the tree fell:  We could see the decay near its base.  Also, it was pretty easy to see that the tree needed more room for its roots to spread and deepen.  I guess that when that tree was planted--100 years ago?--no one expected it to grow so tall--or for concrete to be poured over its base.

One car looked totaled.  The others struck by the trees looked repairable.  Fortunately, neither Bill nor I had bikes in the path of its fall!




I rode my Trek because I expected to encounter more debris, mud and other detritus of the storm than I did.  Bill rode the rattiest of the three (!) early '70's Schwinn Sports Tourers he owns.





We stared riding just after noon and made a longer-than-expected lunch stop.  So, by the time we got to the bridge from Far Rockaway to Atlantic Beach, on the south shore of Nassau County, it was already late in the day.




The South Shore of Long Island is one of the few places on the East Coast where you can look west and see the sun set on the ocean, the way you would in, say, Laguna Beach.  And we spent much of the rest of our ride headed into the sunset, from Atlantic Beach to Sheepshead Bay on Brooklyn's South Shore.




From the path between Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden, we saw the Manhattan skyline--about 30 kilometers away, as the crow flies--ablaze.  Of course, in New York it's hard not to associate blazing buildings with 9/11--especially since a number of firefighters who died that day lived in Rockaway Beach and Belle Harbor, two South Shore communities we traversed on our ride.  But I had to remind myself that those skyscrapers were glowing in the reflection of the sunset, not burning in the aftermath of a disaster.




The sun, hidden most of the day, ended the day by playing peek-a-boo with the clouds before disappearing into the sea.




As our ride ended, it had one thing in common with The French Connection:  a ride under the New Utrecht Avenue elevated subway.  Well, all right, our time under it wasn't nearly as long or dramatic.  





I certainly hope the household is "stationary."  I wouldn't want to live in something that didn't stay in place, at least while I'm inside it.  And I certainly wouldn't allow whoever painted that awning the use of my stationery until he or she learned how to spell.

Or maybe I wouldn't be so picky.  After all, I was still basking in the glow of that sunset we prolonged by riding into it.

N.B.:  Bill took all of the photos in this post.