Which City Is The Worst For Cyclists?

  I feel more or less the same way about bicycling in New York City as I did more than four decades ago:  It could be better, it could be worse.

Perhaps that is normal, given that the Big Apple has been my hometown for all of that time (and perhaps even when I lived away from it.) I have encountered better-designed and -executed bike lanes—and, more important drivers and other non-cyclists who don’t treat us as “the enemy”—in other places, mainly in Europe and Japan.  On the other hand, I have seen even worse bike infrastructure, or none at all, along with chaps who believe that their Jimmy Dean breakfast links will become chorizos if they intimidate, harass or even endanger cyclists—mainly in other parts of the US.

So, I suppose it’s no surprise that New York sometimes comes up in lists of the best US cities for cycling but not the worst, at least in recent years.  Possibly the worst place for cycling in the New York City Metro area is Jersey City, and it’s not even as bad as some places that made the National Highway Traffic Safety “worst” list for pedestrians and cyclists.

Interestingly, one city often cited as the worst, according to Momentum magazine, didn’t make the list:  Houston.  I was there for a few days, decades ago and, to this day, I can hardly imagine a more hostile or dangerous place.  Momentum readers reported streets that were all but impossible to cross—one visitor to H-town reported wanting to go to a restaurant across the street from their hotel but couldn’t find a legal, safe crossing after half an hour of searching. Finally, that vexed visitor gave up and drove!

That story, and others, remind us of a point the Momentum article made:  While most of the cities on the NHTS list are indeed inhospitable to cyclists and pedestrians, there is a flaw in the way it ranks those cities: mainly according to the number of fatalities per capita. While those cities indeed had unenviable (unless you believe someone isn’t fully human if they don’t drive) statistics, in cities like Houston, the numbers are spread out among a larger population (Houston is #4 in the US) and geographic area.  So while a city like Houston appears to have a lower death rate, its lack of cycling and pedestrian infrastructure (and relatively poor mass transit system) along with hostile drivers on seemingly endless highways and “stroads” makes it a non-favorite.

Standing Against The Current

How did it get there?  

People have asked that question about Stonehenge, the Easter Island Moai and the Newport Tower for ages. The answer(s) seem as elusive as ever, even with the technology and research methods that have developed over the years.

Turns out, a structure or object doesn’t have to stay in one place for as long as the aforementioned monuments in order for its origins to be forgotten—or never known in the first place.

Such is the case with the “bicycle log” in the Missouri River near Great Falls, Montana.

KRTV reporter Quentin Shores (You can’t make this stuff up!) tried to unravel the mystery. First he went to the police.  Then he looked at Facebook and asked around town. After all of his sleuthing, he has no more an answers than I have.

A few people, naturally, suggested aliens. (Trained linguists and anthropologists have offered a similar explanation for Basque language and culture, which are completely unrelated to those around them.) Others have suggested it might be an art installation.  I could believe that, but I wonder why no one has taken credit (or blame) for it.

As he mentioned, it could simplify have been a prank. Perhaps someone put it there just to keep people guessing, just as James Joyce admitted that he filled Finnegan’s Wake with so many enigmas and puzzles to “keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant.”

Whatever the story behind the “bicycle log,” it’s fair to wonder how long it will be there. After all, the river’s current could erode or sweep it away. Or some official could deem it a hazard and order it removed. Personally, I hope it stays there a long time to confound and inspire generations.

 

In The Middle Of His Life

 Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

In honor of a hero who was killed in the middle of his life (he lives through his legacy), I am reposting what I wrote five years ago:

Today Martin Luther King Jr. Day is observed in the United States.  If I had Napoleon's prerogative of re-inventing the calendar, there are some holidays I'd do away with. But I'd keep this one.  Perhaps I'd restore it to his actual birthday, 15 January.  But I understand why it was moved to the third Monday in January:  It's easier to keep government offices, schools, banks and the like closed for three consecutive days than it is to close for a day in the middle of the week.  Also, who doesn't like a three-day weekend?

Seriously, though, there aren't many other people more deserving of their own holidays.  He truly was a martyr for a just cause.  But for all of his seriousness of purpose, he seemed to really enjoy himself sometimes.  At least, he looks that way in the photos I've seen of him on a bicycle--and there are more such photos than I ever expected to find.

Martin Luther King Jr rides bicycle with William Wachtel (the son of King's lawyer, Harry Wachtel) on Fire Island, NY, 3 September 1967,  Photo from Hofstra University collection.

I get the sense that riding a bike was, for him, a release from the rigors of touring, speaking and preaching--and the tension from FBI spies and CIA snipers lurking allies who became rivals when, among other things, he announced his opposition to the Vietnam War.

Also, from the photo, and others I've seen, riding a bicycle was a way for King to show that he was one of the common people.  When he was assassinated, in 1968, the dawn of the North American Bike Boom was just starting to flicker.  American adults  were, for the first time in half a century, mounting bikes and taking early-morning or after-work rides--or, in a few cases, riding to work or school.  Bicycles were still ridden mainly by those who were too young--or poor--to drive.  

I can't help but to think that those bike rides were at least one reason why he gave speeches that instructors (including yours truly) have used as models of good writing and effective communication for their students.  As lofty as his rhetoric could be, it reached all kinds of people:  Anyone could understand it.  In the above photo, he's on level with a young boy; when he rode a bicycle, he experienced the places where people lived in a way he wouldn't have if he were in a limousine.  And people saw him eye-to-eye--as, I suspected, he wanted to see them. 

Which, I believe, is a reason why he would call the the devastation wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic--or, more precisely, the President's inept or callous (depending on what you believe) response--as the racial, economic and social injustice that it is. He had an acute moral compass honed by, among other things, his bike rides.