Would You Live On A Street That's A Singletrack?

 Some neighborhoods' and towns' street names have themes.  For example, when I pedal to Point Lookout, after traversing the Atlantic Beach Bridge, I cross a series of streets named for New York State counties.  Other communities have streets named after flowers or trees--or the children of the developers.  Then there are the "gem" streets of "The Hole."

Well, in Colorado there's a town called Fruita.  You might expect the streets to be named after strawberries or blueberries or cherries or other delectables.  But, being near Grand Junction, it's adjacent to some of the most renowned mountain biking in the world.  So, the builders of a new development paid homage--by building their new homes on Singletrack Street, Pivot Street and Yeti Street.  

Photo by Mattias Fredericksson

Executives of Yeti and Pivot bicycles deny that they had anything to do with naming the streets, but are nonetheless delighted.  It's "better than a star on Hollywood Boulevard," said Chris Conroy, the president of Yeti, which is based in nearby Golden.  Chris Cocalis, the CEO of Pivot, called the naming "a complete and awesome surprise."  

The town sounds like a nice place to go if you get tired of city life.  But I have to ask:  If the developers refused to sell their houses to road bikers, would that be a violation of Federal fair housing regulations?

What It Is, Or What Is It?

Joe Biden may not have the oratorical flair of Obama or JFK.  On the other hand, he also doesn't have his predecessor's predilection for ignorance, mendacity and just plain meanness.  And he never could have, even if he wanted to, come up with this:  "It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is."

That last statement came from Bill Clinton when asked about his claim, "There is no improper relationship" with Monica Lewinsky.  Only a lawyer--which Clinton was--could ever come up with something like that.

With all due respect , I have to give him credit for understanding, even better than most other lawyers, just how much can hinge on the definition of a word.  A law can be interpreted in an entirely different way from how its framers intended because of the way even a single word, let alone phrase or passage, is understood.

(That, by the way, is why I think it's folly to try to live by literal readings of any text, whether it's a holy book, an epic poem, a country's founding document  or a novel.)

So I appreciate just how much effort it takes to write a law or policy that will have its intended effect.  When it comes to laws related to cycling, a question that needs to be answered is this:  What, exactly, is a bicycle?

Photo by Josie Norris, San Antonio Express-News

Claudia Ordaz Perez, a Democrat who represents El Paso in the Texas State Legislature has tried to come up with an answer.  She drafted HB3665, an attempt to clean up the Texas Transportation Code, in which a bicycle is seen as any two-wheeled contraption that can be ridden but isn't a moped. In her re-definition, a bicycle is any human-powered vehicle with two or more wheels, one of which is at least 14 inches in diameter. It also includes a clause that specifically includes mopeds.

The good news about that revision is that by saying "two or more" instead of just "two" wheels, adult tricycles are included.  And "human-powered" includes the hand-cranked bikes some disabled people ride.  

That definition, however, can also include bicycles that have gas or electric motors that assist with pedaling--or that run the bike after the rider pedals to start it! While I have nothing against such bikes, I think they should not be in the same bike lane--especially if it's as narrow as the one on the Ed Koch/Queensborough Bridge--as bikes propelled only by the rider's muscle power.

In yesterday's post, and others, I said that bike lanes and other infrastructure are useless and even dangerous--and laws related to cycling can cause more harm to everyone--if they're conceived and executed by people who don't understand cycling.  I also think that those who write the laws or design the bike lanes need to know what a bike is.

Must More Riding Mean More Fatalities?

In a coincidence that, perhaps, isn't such a coincidence, I chanced upon an item about an increase in the number of cyclists killed on Texas roads at the same time a local radio news program mentioned that pedestrian fatalities here in New York City have increased during the past year.

I have also seen and heard reports of increases in the number of cyclists killed and injured on New York City streets.  So, hearing about pedestrian fatalities here and cyclists killed in the Lone Star State did not surprise me because cyclist and pedestrian casualties tend to rise or fall in tandem.

The reports point to a dramatic increase in the number of cyclists as a reason for more crashes and fatalities.  The same isn't said for pedestrians, though I have seen more people walking around as pandemic-induced restrictions are eased or lifted.  But I think that there is a related, and more relevant, reason for the increase in deaths and injuries among cyclists and pedestrians.

During the first few months of the pandemic, there was little traffic on the roads.  I can recall riding to Connecticut and back last spring and being able to count, on both hands, the number of motorized vehicles I saw along the way, not counting the ones that crossed the RFK Memorial Bridge.  Until last spring, I never could have imagined such an occurence on a 140 kilometer road ride that takes me through the Bronx and Westchester County before crossing the state line.

As spring turned into summer, traffic was still light, but I noticed faster and more aggressive driving, including some drag racing and other flouting of traffic laws.  Those things were annoying, but I didn't feel I was in danger because the still-light traffic afforded a wide berth between me and the drivers.

During the past few months, though, I've seen more traffic.  Some people, I guess, are returning to their workplaces and old routines, while others started driving and bought cars (for the first time, in some instances) because they didn't want to use mass transit.

But the folks who got used to driving fast and aggressively, or even carelessly, aren't adjusting to the new reality.  They still want to drive as if they have the streets to themselves.  And, in my own unscientific observation, it seems that police aren't enforcing traffic laws as much as they were before the pandemic--if, indeed, they were enforcing them against any but the lowest-hanging fruit (i.e., cyclists and pedestrians).

Having done a fair amount of cycling in other cities, states and countries, I can make this observation:  Building bike lanes and lecturing cyclists about safety--which most of us practice to the best degree we can--does little to prevent tragic encounters between motorists and cyclists and pedestrians.  

What will  make life better for everyone involved are sensible laws and policies (like the Idaho Stop) crafted by people who understand what it's like to ride a city's streets--and a culture rather than a mere lifestyle of cycling.  The culture of which I speak is one in which cycling is seen as a viable mode of transportation rather than just a form of recreation for privileged young people. Such a culture exists in some European countries; that is why there is more respect between drivers and cyclists and pedestrians.

Otherwise, cities and other jurisdictions can continue to build poorly-designed and constructed bike lanes that lead from nowhere to nowhere, and cyclists--or pedestrians or motorists--won't be any safer.