Where Cycling Really Means "Power To The People"

A bit more than a week ago, I mentioned Nicolas Collignon's article, in which he wonders why bicycles aren't in planners' thoughts about sustainable transportation and other aspects of urban planning.

A bit more than a year ago, I described one of the rare examples in which transportation cycling has been made a part of sustainability planning:  a bike lane with solar panels in--where else?--the Netherlands.

Well, I have just learned of another bike lane with solar panels--in South Korea.  The Asian path, however, is not only much longer (about 32 km vs 330 meters), but also has a very different design from its European counterpart.

The Maartensdijk ribbon has solar cells embedded in its prefabricated concrete blocks.  The lane from Daejeon to Sejong--the country's administrative capital--sits in the middle of a major highway and is segregated, not only from that highway, but (at least in part) from the elements.  That lane is covered by a series of canopies of solar panels, which, its designers say, not only generates clean energy, but also encourages cycling in less-than-ideal weather conditions--and shields melanin-deficient folks like me from the rays that are being harnessed for power.

The Korean bike lane has been open and widely used since 2014.  Given all of the talk about sustainability, I wonder why so little attention has been paid to it.

I also wonder why there aren't more similarly integrative solutions to the problems of sustainability.  And, like Nicolas Collignon, I wonder (actually, I know some of the reasons why, but still...) why bicycles aren't included in the first place, especially here in the US.

A Concrete Example

During the many years I've cycled and worked in bike shops, I've seen plenty of "innovations" that made me wonder, "Why?"

Sometimes, of course, the answer is, "because we can!"  I'm sure would've been the answer from the creators of a concrete bicycle.  

Yes, you read that right:  a bicycle made from the same stuff that lines sidewalks and encases the enemies of organized crime bosses tossed into bodies of water.

Of course, there is no earthly reason for such a bike:  It's too heavy and inefficient to move faster than a crawl.  That's probably a good thing because the bike is too brittle to survive much more of a shock than a crack in one of the sidewalks that could have been made from its material.

At least they gave me a good subject for my weekly "Sunday funnies" series.

Riding Into Their Sunset

The other day, late in the afternoon, I rode to East Williamsburg for my monkeypox booster.  Something told me to be sure I had my lights with me.  Good thing.  On my way back, I made a couple of wrong turns then took a couple of deliberate detours through industrial areas that straddle Brooklyn and Queens.

At that time of day, factories and warehouses close and the evening exodus begins.  On some streets, I zigged and zagged among 18-wheelers, pickup trucks and hipsters on scooters--the latter on their way to clubs found, sometimes, on the same block as, or around the corner from, the workshops where workers--none on scooters--were leaving.

 My wanderings took me to an industrial area on the Queens side--in North Maspeth, to be exact--that I'm not sure any of the scooter crowd is even aware of.  A railroad track that looks like it hasn't been used in decades (but still marked by a sign warning people not to stop or loiter on it) winds  through it:  the factories and warehouses on one side, the worn, sometimes shabby, tenements and small houses occupied, it seems, by families who have been there longer than the factories and warehouses, on the other.  

Whatever outsiders see in a place is almost never seen by those who have always lived in it.  So I wonder what they might have made of me, an outsider--the fact that I was on a bicycle was almost enough, by itself, to mark me as one--taking photos of their sunset.  Or, more important, whether they see the unique light it casts on the tracks and everything it divides.