Why Did She Halt Congestion Pricing?

There are two benchmark prices in New York City: the subway or bus fare and a slice of pizza.  Those two prices are usually equal, or close to it. At this moment, the transit fare is $2.90 while in most pizzerias, a slice (without pepperoni or any other toppings) will set you back $3.00-$3.50.

If a mayor or New York State Governor does anything to cause an increase to the fare or the price of a slice, it can cost him or her votes—or an election altogether.

So, in that sense, when Kathy Hochul halted congestion pricing in New York, it could be seen as a shrewd political move—at least if her rationale for it is not specious.  

She is now saying that implementing congestion pricing—in other words, charging drivers $15 to enter Manhattan south of 60th Street—would make a slice of pizza more expensive.

There is, perhaps, a certain logic to her assertion.  After all, almost no Manhattan pizzeria owners or workers actually live in the borough. Also, nearly all of the supplies and ingredients for pizza-making come from factories and warehouses in Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, New Jersey or even further away. It will therefore cost more to transport those goods—and, in some cases, for owners and workers to transport themselves (many live in transit “deserts”). Hochul asserts—perhaps correctly—that those costs will be passed on to customers.

Image by James Andrews

Hochul had been, until recently, in favor of congestion pricing because the money would help to improve the city’s and region’s mass transit. (The Metropolitan Transit Authority, which includes regional commuter railroads in the immediate suburbs as well as New York City’s buses and subways, is a state agency that reports to the Governor.) But her support generated backlash in the outlying neighborhoods and suburbs, where she hasn’t been terribly popular.  

Much of that backlash has come from the kinds of commuters and suppliers I’ve mentioned. But I am sure that it also has come from people like contractors, who often have to bring large loads of supplies and tools from the outer boroughs and New Jersey into Manhattan. 

In other words, I think Hochul realized she’d stirred up, if unintentionally, a kind of class warfare between skilled blue-collar workers—who, probably, would be most affected by an increase in the price of a slice—and those they perceive as “the elites.”

In a way, it mirrors the hostility and resentment they feel toward cyclists, whom they perceive as “privileged “ or “entitled.” And I suspect that perception of cyclists—and bike lanes—has something to do with their opposition to congestion pricing.

It will be interesting, to say the least, to hear and see what, if anything, Kathy Hochul says and does next.

No Naked

 What kind of a world do we live in when….?

You’ve probably completed that interrogative sentence in any number of ways.  

Today I’ll finish with this:

…when they can’t get volunteers for a World Naked Bike Ride. In Portland.

You read it here. That’s the reason why this year’s edition of the ride has been cancelled.  Organizers say that the gap in volunteers isn’t due to a lack of interest. Rather, they say, it has to do with their late start in planning and preparation. They plan to correct that and hold the ride next year .

How High?

 One of my favorite non-cycling blogs is Ephemeral New York.  Its author, Esther Crain, conducts walking tours that really give you a sense of how New York City’s history shapes its current landscape.

Last Sunday, I participated in one of those tours in which she pointed out some still-standing mansions on Riverside Drive and the sites of other grand houses that no longer exist.  Those buildings—and the river views—are among the reasons why I used to enjoy cycling the Drive before the Hudson River Greenway opened.

One thing that makes Riverside unique among New York City streets is the series of serpentine service roads that wind alongside stretches of the Drive. That made it possible for the families who lived in those houses to enter and leave discreetly, in contrast to the Astors and other old-money families who walked through their doors directly into the bustle of Fifth Avenue.

What I also found interesting is that the Drive opened in 1880, just as America’s first bike boom was about to explode. Those service roads made it easier for people to enter and leave their homes on their bicycles.  Also, as Esther pointed out, “something called the safety bicycle “ made cycling more accessible, especially for women.

Esther is as smart and engaging in person as she is in her writing.  But she admits she is “not a cyclist.” So she asked me what a “safety bicycle” is.  I explained that it’s what most of us ride today:  a bike with two wheels of equal, or nearly equal, size. 

That innovation was made possible by the now-familiar drivetrain of front and rear sprockets connected by a chain.  That made variable gearing possible. In contrast, high-wheeled bicycles had cranks and pedals connected to the front wheel axle. So, whether your bike was easy to pedal or made for speed depended on the size of your front wheel. As you can imagine, it’s not easy to mount a wheel that’s as tall as you are—especially if you’re wearing a corset and hoop skirts!

Anyway, as the safety bicycle democratized cycling—and, one can argue, Riverside Drive helped to make cycling more popular—the high-wheeler became a cultural artifact trotted out for parades, fairs and the kinds of rides we might liken to today’s Eroica events.

Even with its seeming impracticality, there are still people who try to make the tallest rideable bicycle possible. They don’t, however, build on six-or seven-foot front wheels.  Rather, they are more likely to stack bicycle frames or build a steel-girded structure—sort of like a mini-Eiffel Tower—and line it with a series of gears and pulleys to conduct the chains that connect the chainwheel on the crank the rider (way up above the ground) is pedaling with the cog on the rear wheel.

I used the Eiffel Tower analogy because the newest Guinness Book of Records entry for “tallest rideable bicycle “ is the result of a collaboration between two young French men, Nicolas Barrioz and David Peyrou. It took five years—including two years of actual construction—to complete their 25’5” (7.75 meter) tall contraption. They beat the previous record by one foot and two inches (35.6 centimeters)—which, perhaps, is comparable in scope to Eddy Merckx breaking the hour record by 3/4 of a kilometer.

Barrioz and Peyrou said the idea came to them the way all of the crazy and world-changing ideas come: over drinks in a pub.