Really Going Dutch

 Probably the first “normal” thing—besides cycling—I did during the COVID-19 pandemic was to visit the hospital Metropolitan Museum of Art just after it reopened.

Of course, there were restrictions: Visitors had to wear a mask and have their temperatures taken. And, of course, we had to follow social-distancing protocols.

But one thing I loved—along with the Japanese exhibit I went to see—was a service that was provided:  a bicycle valet.  That person parked your bike in a nice safe spot in the parking garage and gave you a ticket, just as if you had checked a coat or backpack.

Now another venerable institution—actually, annual event that’s been held since 1929–is offering a similar convenience. Cyclists can ride to the event, check their bicycles with a valet, and spend the day exploring, not only a museum, but a large part of a town.

The town in question is holding its festival—Tulip Time—from the 4th until the 19th of May.  And, since tulips and bicycles sound so very, very Dutch, you might think that town is in the Netherlands.

Well, it’s not. Rather that town is the Netherlands—or, more precisely, Holland. And it’s located, not among canals, but amidst lakes.

The Holland in question is in the Great Lakes State, i.e., Michigan. Not surprisingly, it was founded by immigrants from the eponymous nation and the Tulip Festival features, not only the colorful flowers, but all things Dutch.

What better way to get there than by bicycle—especially when a valet will park it safely?

Malcolm X

 On this date in 1965, Malcolm X was assassinated.

On this date in 2015, I wrote a post commemorating the 50th anniversary of that tragedy:

50 Years After Malcolm X

On this date fifty years ago, Malcolm X was assassinated in the Audubon Ballroom.  Today the site of the Audubon, in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan, is a laboratory for Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center.  I have ridden by it many times and, in fact, once went inside the Ballroom.  Every time I passed or visited the site I thought, however briefly, about his importance, not only to the history of the US and the world, but in my own life.

I first read Malcolm’s autobiography when I was about twenty.  It was around the same time I discovered African-American writers like Ralph Ellison, James Baldwin, Richard Wright and Zora Neale Hurston—and when I first heard Bob Marley.  In one way or another, they all not only expressed the burning desire to be free, but also made oppression—which is to say, the things that turn people into slaves of all kinds—clear and vivid.

I identified with their wishes and feelings for, as it turned out, reasons very different from theirs.  How could mine not be different?  After all, as difficult as my grandparents’ lives were, nobody brought them here in chains.  Even more to the point, I knew who my grandparents and their grandparents were, even though I had never met the latter.  So, even though I knew that so much of what I learned in school was a whitewashed (Yes, I am conscious of that word choice!) version of the truth, I wasn’t—couldn’t be—conscious of it in the profound way that Malcolm and all of those black writers and artists were. 

So, in my own clumsy way, I reacted to the injustices that persisted long after Malcolm’s murder and the deaths of the others I’ve mentioned though their polemics, rhetoric, rhythms, intuition and sense of irony.  What I did not understand was that they could use those tools or gifts or whatever you want to call them because they mastered them in ways that exact terrible, terrible costs.  (Baldwin has written that any people who has a language of their own has paid dearly for it.) What I could not understand was that I was paying my own dues, as it were, but I did not yet understand what I was paying for.  So I borrowed anger, grief, pain and a very dark kind of humor in my own feeble attempts to come to terms with why I could not live the kind of life for which I was being trained—or why anyone should want that kind of life.

So why am I mentioning such things on this blog?  Well, for one thing, being a cyclist has freed me from a lot of things.  I think of all of the time and money I didn’t have to spend on buying, fueling, maintaining and parking cars.  That is part of the reason why I have been able to live in New York and spend time with things I love:  I didn’t have to work in some job or in some business that would have destroyed my psyche or other people’s lives.  Being a cyclist when it wasn’t fashionable also, I think, has made me less vulnerable to propaganda and groupthink, if it hasn’t made me a better critical thinker or more creative person (though I think it’s done the latter for me). 

Of course, for me, freedom has meant living as the person I am.  Anyone who cannot live with integrity and with dignity is a slave or a prisoner or worse.  One way I identify with Malcolm is that it took him as long as he did to truly come into his own, even if he accomplished a lot else before doing so.  His descent into slavery, as it were, came when, in spite of his academic success and oratorical skills, his eighth-grade teacher mocked his dream of being a lawyer. When he, as an inmate in the Charlestown (MA) Penitentiary, became a disciple of Elijah Muhammad, he found a voice.  However, it took him much longer, I think, to find his voice.

Our voice, if you will, is how we express our authentic selves in the world.  For some, it is in their careers or vocations.  For others, it is in creative work or performing:  I think of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar as his voice.  Others express it through a passion or relationship.  Actually, I think that for most of us, our “voice” is a combination of the things we do and are.  Whatever it is, if it isn’t authentic, we’re still slaves or prisoners.  For me, that is the real importance of Malcolm X’s life and work. 

https://midlifecycling.blogspot.com/2015/02/50-years-after-malcolm-x.html?m=1

What Color Is Your Lane?

What do Amsterdam and Austin have in common?

Well, they both begin with the same letter.  And they're capitals:  one of a nation, the other of a US State that was once, albeit briefly, a nation and sometimes acts as if it still is one.

Otherwise, I'd guess that they don't share much.  Then again, I haven't been to the Dutch city in a while, and I've never been to the center of the Lone Star State.

I have just learned, however, that they do share a trait that most people wouldn't notice, unless they were cyclists.  It has to do with bike lanes.

In New York, San Francisco and other American cities, they're painted green. That color was chosen because it stands out against the rest of the pavement and isn't easily confused with, say, a parking or bus lane. While it's great for visibility, it makes a bike lane more expensive to build and maintain because it's a coat of paint over asphalt, which wears away even when it's covered with a clear sealant.  Also, the particular shade of green used on bike lanes is more expensive to make than other colors.  

And there is another problem: Depending on the paint used, the surface can become slippery in wet weather. That might be one reason why Amsterdam doesn't paint its lanes green--or any other color.  Instead, a red  pigment is mixed with asphalt to yield a rather lovely terra cota hue.

Photo from the City of Austin

I don't know whether Austin's planners were looking to their Dutch counterparts when they designed their city's bike lanes.  They did, however, adopt the same system--and color--for the bicycle byways.  One reason is the aforementioned cost.  But just as rain wears paint away, so does heat--which, from what I understand, Austin experiences for months on end. 

While the terra cota shade is not the kind of red used to denote Texas politics, it's still rather ironic that the color is used on bike lanes in one of the state's "blue" islands. 

To Prevent Another Invasion

 Nearly two weeks ago, an alien clad in green, white and red landed in the middle of Paris, bearing artifacts eagerly anticipated by a line of people 1.5 kilometers (almost 1 mile) long who came to greet it.

No, the alien wasn’t Italian and the artifacts weren’t vital links to a distant galaxy. They are, however, prized in the place from which the aliens came.  And the people who so anxiously awaited an encounter with them had seen them, until that moment, only on large, glowing screens in darkened halls.

The alien’s colors were not of a flag or spectrum. Rather, they represented the emblem of the alien’s homeland—something known in the galaxy as a “chain “ or “corporation.”

Those folks in the queue were waiting to try something they’d seen in images from a faraway land—one where Ford F-150s roam.

By now, you might have surmised that the customers in Les Halles were waiting to try something that doesn’t exist in the galaxy of Parisian pâtisseries—a Kree-spee Kréme beignet.

I guess I shouldn’t have been have been surprised. Owing largely to movies, television and music videos, American popular culture is, especially for the young, a kind of yang to the yin of haute culture, couture and cuisine. Les jeunes have grown up watching Americans dig into iconic Krispy Kreme boxes.

The company says it plans to open 500 “access points”—which will include vending machines and kiosks as well as actual stores—all over France in the next year.

I mention this development because I hope that Krispy Kreme isn’t a sign of more, and worse, trends crossing the pond, just as seeing the Shake Shack font is a harbinger of the worst things about gentrification coming to your neighborhood.

Guardian Europe columnist Alexander Hurst describes America as a “hellscape” in which folks go for their fix of glazed donuts—in their SUVs and amped-up pickup trucks.

To be sure, I have seen such vehicles in Europe.  They are, however, smaller than their US counterparts. Also, when I took bike tours in the countrysides of France and other European countries, such vehicles were used by farmers, carpenters and others engaged in work that requires hauling a lot of equipment and cargo.  Even the SUV-like vehicles I saw on recent trips in Paris, Athens and Rome were usually emblazoned with the name of a store or some other business.

Part of that has to do with the higher cost of gasoline in Europe. Another factor might be the narrower streets and roads. But Hurst believes that France and other European countries must do more to prevent this:

Ford F-150 through  the years,
 1970s-2020s.Graphic by Will Chase for Axios

The bloat in American vehicle sizes, he observes, is not only an “environmental disaster.” It’s also a hazard for pedestrians and anyone operating a smaller, less powerful vehicles—including bicycles.

As I have pointed out in earlier posts, SUVs and the pickup-trucks-on-steroids (driven by guys who could use Viagra) give us little or no room to maneuver if the driver turns, swerves or veers. Moreover, their increased height makes cyclists and pedestrians (especially small children) less visible and their higher grilles are more likely to strike someone in the upper body or even head, which is more likely to result in paralysis or death than a blow to the lower extremities.

Mayor Anne Hidalgo has proposed tripling the parking fees for SUVs in central Paris and doubling them in the rest of the city. If her proposal passes, it will be a good start. But more needs to be done—in her city and country, and the rest of Europe—in order to prevent an invasion of alien vehicles grown and fueled by Krispy Kreme’s.

Destroying What They “Didn’t See”

At the end of my block—where Crescent Street meets Broadway in Astoria, Queens—there is a row of on-street bike racks.

Like other such racks in New York and a few other cities, it’s at the end of a parking lane that’s supposed to serve as a “barrier” between the bike and traffic lane.  Too often, though, drivers turn it into a passing lane.  On one occasion, a ride-share driver barged into the Crescent Street lane a couple of SUV lengths behind me, blaring his horn and his mouth. I have seen other incidents like it.

That is the reason I don’t use those racks:

I don’t know whether the driver who “taco’ed” that rear wheel and frame did so deliberately. If they did and were caught, I can imagine their defense: “I didn’t see it!”

That is what a driver in Portland claimed after causing this:

That bike was its owner’s sole means of transportation. Worse yet, she—Cole—witnessed its destruction from across the street. In talking to the driver who made the claim she deemed “dubious,” she noticed  that his SUV, which took out a whole row of bikes in addition to hers, had no license plates. She got his name and contact information and contacted the police who, not surprisingly, didn’t seem interested.

She would appreciate monetary help in buying a new bike. I have to wonder whether the owner of the wrecked bike at the end of my block could replace it. I don’t have to wonder, however, about this: whether other bikes have met untimely ends in supposedly “safe” bike parking corrals.

If you want to contribute to Cole’s next bike, you could send to her CashApp account—$colesodcash—or to Jonathan Maus, the etditor and publisher of Bike Portland, who will forward it to her.

(The first two photos are mine. The others are from Bike Portland.)

Snark Alert: If You Can't Find An Apartment You Can Afford, Blame Bike Parking

Three years ago, the city of Portland, Oregon implemented bicycle parking requirements for new residential buildings.  Last week, the city's Planning Commission voted to recommend rolling back key provisions of the mandate.  

The campaign that led up to the vote included allegations by members of "community associations" that bike parking spaces come at the expense of low-income housing.  That, of course, is a classic "divide and conquer" strategy:  pitting two vulnerable groups of people (the cyclists because of their relatively small numbers, low-income people because of their lack of resources) against each other by creating a false equivalency.

As pointed out by more than one person who objected to the roll-back--which would include decreasing the number of bike parking spaces per housing unit--would increase the number of new apartments (or other housing units) by a tiny number, and the number of units available to low-income people by even less.  

Another objection to bike parking spaces is cost.  But, as Bike Portland's "Todd/Boulanger" explains, bike parking spaces and facilities end up costing more than they should because it's usually the last item on a project, which increases implementation costs not only because the cost of everything related to a project tends to increase over the lifespan of the project, but also because the installation of racks and other facilities, which should be simple, often has to be worked around other things, such as HVAC systems, that have already been done.  

To me, both arguments sound like variations of the " take "You take up too much space!" complaint drivers who are the sole occupants of their SUVs make when they have to share the road with a cyclist.

Bike In The Bus Lane

One valid criticism of bike lanes, and bicycle infrastructure generally, is that they’re constructed mainly in gentrified or gentrifying neighborhoods. Whenever someone suggests that the lanes, bike parking facilities and bike share programs into neighborhoods populated by people who are darker or poorer than those in Williamsburg or Chelsea, the excuse for not “sharing the wealth ,” if you will, is that “people don’t ride bikes” in areas like Jamaica, Queens.

That is a point Samuel Santella makes on Streetsblog.  He lives in Saint Albans, a southern Queens community that is a “transportation desert:” it is not served by the New York City subway system and only a couple of bus lines traverse it. So, its residents—nearly 90 percent of whom are Black—either drive or, like Santella, ride their bicycles, whether to their destinations or to the subway in nearby Jamaica.  

Sound on for commentary pls 🙏 pic.twitter.com/HHzMHZhQSI

— Samuel Santaella 🚎🤝🚲 (@TransitNinja205) November 11, 2021

Many New York City neighborhoods like Jamaica have a “downtown” that is a commercial district and transportation hub. Santella, as he recounts in his piece, rides to Jamaica to take the subway to Brooklyn.  He shows how it’s difficult to cycle safely on any of the thoroughfares that lead to the train stations. Hillside and Jamaica Avenues are essentially “stroads,” while Archer Avenue has a bus lane that are, technically, illegal for cycling. And all of those streets are chaotic messes of delivery vehicles and “dollar vans” that ferry people from neighborhoods like his to the subway and Long Island Rail Road (yes, it’s spelled as two words) stations.

I know what he’s talking about: I sometimes ride those streets. As a matter of fact, I cycled them almost daily for seven years, when I worked at York College, in the middle of Jamaica.  I experienced some of the pandemonium he describes, which is undoubtedly worse than it was when I was making the commute in pre-pandemic, pre-Uber days when SUVs, while growing in popularity, didn’t dominate the roads as they do now.

Bike Share Program Comes To The Valley

 In the 1960s, anarchists painted bicycles white (Witte Fietsen) and left them on Amsterdam streets for anyone to ride. Some see it as the first public bike-share system.  Others argue that the French city of La Rochelle, during the following decade, started the bike-share movement when it made 350 yellow bicycles available for anyone who wanted to use them.  The contention that the La Rochelle's program was "first" is based on the fact that it was offered by the city government and thus the first to be sanctioned by any organized official body.

Anyway, the movement to make bicycles available to everyone at a nominal fee really took hold from about 2005 to 2015, when cities like Paris, Barcelona, Mexico City and New York started their schemes.  Since then, it has come to be associated mainly with such large metropoli. Lately, however, smaller municipalities have seen the benefits of making bicycles (and scooters) available and have begun, or are exploring, share programs of their own. 

 As an example, the Westchester County city of New Rochelle (which is named for the La Rochelle natives who settled there after fleeing the French religious wars) has had such a program for several years. Although much smaller in size and population, it shares some of the problems of New York City, about 18 miles to the south:  Its narrow streets and compact (some would say claustrophobic) downtown simply can't accommodate any more cars or trucks than already use it.  

I am very familiar with this landscape, if you will, because I cycle through New Rochelle whenever I ride to Connecticut or any point north of NYC on the east side of the Hudson River.  I am also somewhat familiar with Passaic, a New Jersey city I have ridden a few times.  Located about 20 miles (32 kilometers) west of New York and about the same distance north of Newark, it has roughly the same population as La or New Rochelle and an old (for the US, anyway) downtown district and infrastructure first developed before automobiles. 

So, perhaps, it's not surprising that the city is also exploring a bike share program* which, they say, will be modeled at least in part on New York's Citibike (which has expanded into Jersey City and Hoboken). Passaic, named after the river that forms part of its valley, has been mainly a working-class industrial city:  It saw what was, at the time, one of the largest labor strikes in history when textile workers walked off their jobs in 1926.  The city--whose name means "valley"--also was the corporate headquarters and main manufacturing facility for Okonite, which made the some of the first telegraph cables and the wiring for Thomas Edison's first power generating plant (on Pearl Street in NYC).  And it has been called "the birthplace of television" as the experimental station W2XCD transmitted its first signal, in 1931, from the DeForest Radio Station in the city. Its chief engineer, Allen DuMont, left the station a few years later to start the pioneering television manufacturer and the first commercial television network:  DuMont Laboratories and the DuMont Television Network.

So, one might say that bike share programs are like the tech industry:  they're not just in the city (e.g., San Francisco); they're also in the valley.

*--I have tried to link an article about this, but it's behind a paywall: 

 https://www.northjersey.com/story/news/passaic/passaic-city/2023/10/25/passaic-explores-bike-sharing-system-to-help-ease-parking-shortage/71300087007/

Fighting A "Culture War" They Can't Win (I Hope)

There are moments that change history.  Everyone knows some of them; others, we think we know.  Then there are the ones that, while documented, are forgotten even though their significance is both deep and broad.

We've all heard the story of how Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the Castle Church door in Wittenberg, Germany five centuries ago.  While almost no one doubts he actually wrote the theses--and he sent copies of them to church and political officials--the story about him hanging them on a church door is in doubt.

On the other hand, there is a video of an unknown taxi driver who, perhaps unwittingly, launched the movements for sustainable transportation and economies--and the backlash against them that has launched a culture war between drivers and cyclists, among other people.

In 1972, the unnamed livery driver was incensed that his "right" to drive wherever he wanted was "taken" from him by city officials who had the temerity to close off a street.  Why would such overbearing functionaries arrogate unto themselves the authority to keep someone like him from driving down a thoroughfare paid for with his taxes?

Well, if the answer is that the driver in this story paid a larger share of his income in taxes than his counterparts in other places, it would be almost understandable.  Somehow, though, I don't think that he was preoccupied with that fact. Like many drivers, he simply wanted to take the shortest, most direct and convenient, route to wherever he was going.  If he were being paid per-trip rather than per-hour, his frustration would have been a bit more understandable, if not justifiable.

But I think he simply was impatient in the ways drivers often are:  I guess it can be frustrating to have something that can get you somewhere quickly and with minimal effort, only to be stalled by something, animate or not, that doesn't "belong" in the roadway.

That something, in the driver's way was a set of barricades.  Their purpose?  To designate a "children's only" street.

Perhaps it had something to do with having children--perhaps the ones who would have been on that street--that led citizens of that city to denounce the driver and push for safer streets for pedestrians, cyclists and other non-motorized travelers.

That city was Amsterdam which, in 1972, was as choked with auto traffic as many other European capitals.  Now, of course, it's known as one of the world's most bike- and pedestrian-friendly cities, and has led the way--along with cities like Copenhagen--in developing walkable, cycleable city centers.  

That taxi driver may never be as famous for pulling down barricades as Martin Luther was for (allegedly) hanging up what might have been the world's first viral message.  He did, however, ignite a culture war that has been largely won by those he fought against.  Such a story gives me hope because in more car-centric places, the reactionaries (who abound in, but are not limited to, conservative political factions) are riling up their constituents  against an imagined "war on cars" from the borough of Queens, NYC (where I live) to Queenborough, UK and Queensland, Australia.

We are a nation of drivers.

Most of us use a car every day and, for many, life would be difficult without their car.

But too often, drivers feel under attack.

That changes today with a long-term plan to improve drivers' experience on the road.

Here’s how 👇🧵 pic.twitter.com/yJvotPyyYy

— Rishi Sunak (@RishiSunak) September 30, 2023

  Those would-be defenders of the diesel tend to be older, while those who don't want to spend three hours of their day driving to work and parking tend to be younger, in chronology and, like yours truly, in spirit---even if I am in, ahem, midlife!  

Does He Understand Why People Don’t Cycle to Work?

 

Jalopnik is ostensibly about cars and “transportation.”  Quite a few of its articles, however, seem to be anti-bike rants in the guise of “reporting” about cyclists’ actual and perceived transgressions against motorists.

Then there is Owen Bellwood’s article, published yesterday.  The title—“0f Course People Don’t Want to Bike to Work”—is a clue to the tone, if not the content, of his article.

For a few paragraphs, Bellwood seems to be on the right track.  He cites poor infrastructure—including bike parking (or lack thereof), showers or other facilities for cleaning and changing clothes at workplaces (again, or lack thereof) and bike lanes—as a major reason why people in New York and other American cities won’t bike to work. He also mentions drivers who use bike lanes for passing, parking or picking up or discharging passengers or packages.

Bellwood also correctly identifies the poor design and pure-and-simple muddled thinking behind too many bike lanes.  As he wryly notes, “It’s not good enough to have a bike painted in the road to warn cars that a cyclist might come through.” And he echoes an observation I’ve made in previous posts: “[W]e can definitely do better than a few floppy plastic bollards separating a cyclist from a 4000 pound pickup truck.”

He sums up by saying that “space” is “all that cyclists are asking for.” We need “space on the road and space to park up,” he says.  I agree with him on those points. But he also falls into a common misperception that I once shared:  Educating drivers will help to improve cycling safety.  I know that many unfortunate encounters between drivers and cyclists result from motorists’ lack of awareness of what safe cycling actually entails, which doesn’t always align with motorists’ perceptions. On the other hand, many more cyclists are maimed or killed by road rage or drivers who simply don’t care about anyone but themselves.

That latter category of drivers won’t be changed through “education.” Though not uniquely American, such drivers are more common in the US because of our car-centered and individualistic culture. Bellwood can be forgiven, I believe, for not understanding as much—and that such motorists won’t be “cured” through “education”- because he is an Englishman.  But I also believe that at least his cultural background—and his familiarity with cycling culture in his home nation as well as countries like Denmark—gives him an awareness of how things could be better in my hometown and home country of New York and the USA.

No Bikes On The Right

Since the death of Generalissimo Franco in 1975, Spain has gone from being a conservative Catholic bastion to one of the most seemingly liberal and progressive countries in Europe and, indeed the world.  As an example, in 2005 it became the third nation on the planet--after the Netherlands and Belgium--to legalize same-sex marriage.

Note that I used the word "seemingly."  As in other countries, liberalism and tolerance of racial, ethnic, sexual and gender-expression minorities is found mainly in the large cities.  Rural areas and other places far removed from cities either remained conservative or were part of a "backlash" --which included animus against immigrants--that boosted right-wing politicians and parties into power.

In this sense, a recent development in Elche is not surprising.  A coalition of right- and far-right parties now rules the third-largest city in the Valencia region. They are un-doing what previous administrations did or started--including a bike lane in the center of town. 

Moreover, the city's new government wants to increase the amount of space allotted for cars on the city's streets because--tell me if you haven't heard this before--bike lanes "take away parking spaces" and "cause traffic jams."

It seems that right-wing politicians and their supporters see cyclists and bike lanes as easy targets.  Part of that, I believe, is that in a departure from times past, much of the native working class--who form much of the base of support, as they do for the Republican Party in the United States--either work in auto-related industries or are car-dependent in one way or another.  Cycling is therefore seen as attack on their way of life.

Also, in Elche the bike lane, like others in European cities, was funded in part by a European Union fund to develop "low emission zones"--of which the newly-dismantled bike lane.  Right-wing nationalists can therefore depict bike lanes and other sustainability projects as "overreach" by far-away bureaucrats, whether in Brussels (for the EU) or in Washington DC or state capitals (in the US).

It seems that everywhere a nation or group of people tries to make its country or community more sustainable and livable, the pushback comes from the political right--and bicycles and cyclists are among the first targets.

Their City Is Dying. Blame The Bike Lane.

Recently, another neighbor of mine lamented that the bike lane on our street--Crescent, in Astoria, Queens--is "ruining the neighborhood."

"How?" I asked.

"It used to be so easy to park here.  Now it's impossible," she complained.

I didn't express that I found her cri de coeur ironic given that she doesn't drive.  I believe, however, that she knew what I was thinking:  "When I did drive, one of the reasons I moved here from Manhattan was so that I could have a car.  So did a lot of other people."

To be fair, the reason she doesn't drive is an injury incurred in--you guessed it--a car crash.  So while I conceded that some folks--like the ones who pick her up for errands and outings--need to drive, I pointed out that others could do their chores by walking or biking and their commutes on buses or trains--or bikes.  "Didn't people find it harder to park as more cars came into the neighborhood."

"Yeah, but the bike lane made things worse."

In one sense, I agree with her:  the bike lane was poorly-conceived and -placed.  But blame for decades' worth of traffic and parking congestion on bike lanes that are only a few years old seems, to me, just a bit misplaced.

It seems that such mistaken vilification is not unique to my neighborhood or city--or to American locales in general.  In the UK city of Doncaster, "cycle paths, pedestrianisation and poor bus planning" are "slowly choking our wonderful city centre."  Nick Fletcher, a Tory MP, heaped on the hyperbole, begging planners to "reverse this trend" before "Doncaster becomes a ghost town."

What is the "trend" he's talking about?  The one he and others claim they saw unfold in nearby Sheffield:  a plan to turn downtowns into "15 minute cities," where all of the businesses and services a resident needs are within a 15 minute walk or bike ride. Fletcher and other conservative MPs see such plans the way much of today's Republican Party sees vaccination, mask-wearing during a pandemic, teaching actual history and science and shifting from fossil to sustainable fuels:  as "socialist conspiracies."

Doncha' no"?  They're part of a socialist conspiracy to destroy their city!

Where I live is, in effect, a 15 minute city:  Whatever one's needs, interests or preferences, they can be reached within that time frame, without a motorized vehicle.  Even midtown Manhattan is reachable in that time when the trains are running on time.  And in my humble judgment, Astoria is hardly a "ghost town."  Nor are neighboring Long Island City, Sunnyside or Woodside--or Greenpoint in Brooklyn-- all of which are, or nearly are, 15 minute cities. 

Oh, and from what I've heard and read, Sheffield and Doncaster are both "post industrial" cities in South Yorkshire.  Steel is no longer made in Sheffield, once the nation's center of that industry, just as coal and mining were once, but are no longer, synonymous with Doncaster's identity.  Both cities have endured losses of population that disproportionately include the young and the educated.  So it seems as ludicrous to blame bike lanes and bus routes, even "poorly planned" ones, for turning those cities into "ghost towns" as it does to blame a poorly-conceived bike lane for the lack of parking in a neighborhood to which people moved from Manhattan so they could have cars.

A Ride From Astoria To Denmark, Via Atlanta

I have a confession:  I rode a bike-share bike the other night.

No, I wasn't in some faraway place without one of my bikes.  I was in my home city--New York, where I live with almost as many bikes (and Marlee) as I lived with family members when I was growing up.

So what was I doing on a CitiBike?

Well, I went to some place where I wasn't sure I could park any of my bikes safely.  A phone call confirmed that there is no on-premises bike parking. And, while there are on-street bike racks-- in addition to sign posts, railings and such--I didn't want to lock up my bike for the three hours or more I expected to be at my destination.

This image will give you an idea of what the neighborhood is like:

All right, the whole neighborhood isn't like that.  It's actually one of the more affluent areas of the city.  The crime rate is lower than in most other neighborhoods but, as in similar neighborhoods, a fair amount of that crime consists of bike theft.

That semi-submerged house is, as you may have surmised, a prop on a stage--specifically, in the Delacorte Theatre, the home of Shakespeare In The Park.

There I saw a very interesting production of Hamlet.  All of the major soliloquies (speeches), and most of the original language, was intact. But it was set in suburban Atlanta, and some liberties were taken with the chronology.  

Whenever I've assigned the play, I've told students that there are really two Hamlets in the play. The one who delivers "To be or not to be" and those other immortal lines is really Hamlet Jr. or Hamlet II, and he is brooding the death of his father--Hamlet Sr, if you will.  In this production, he becomes the patriarch of a mixed-race family. The play opens with his funeral, which includes soul and gospel songs and dance. 

For me, the cast (Ato Blankson-Wood is one of my favorite Hamlets!) helped me to see something that has been in the play all along but what is seldom emphasized:  what we now call "intergenerational trauma."  It also conveys the effect of murder and other kinds of violence on families and communities.  And some of the "tweaks" to the original dialogue--such as "Denmark's a prison" becoming "this country is a prison" (so powerfully delivered by Blankson-Wood)--makes the play almost scarily relevant.

Those who insist traditional, period-correct productions may not like this one.  And I'll admit that some attempts to transpose a contemporary Black/mixed-race American milieu with medieval Denmark don't always work.  But this production "hit" far more often than it "missed" for me, and I recommend it. Oh, and if you need an excuse to ride a Citibike even if you have a few bikes of your own, here it is.

Don't Use This Bike Lane!

Lately, I've had to ask neighbors and friends not to wave or call me when I'm riding down the Crescent Street bike lane, which takes me directly to my door.  I've explained that for almost any ride I take--whether it's to run errands on Steinway Street or to Connecticut or Point Lookout--the Crescent Street lane is the most dangerous stretch.  It's less than three meters wide--for bicycles, e-bikes, mini-motorcycles, motorized scooters and pedestrians, sometimes accompanied by their dogs, who wander into it while looking at their phones.  

The thing is, unless I'm crossing Crescent Street from  31st Road, the lane is the only way I can get to my apartment.  There is simply no room between the traffic lane and parked cars on the west side of the street or the parked cars and traffic to the east side, where I live.  Before the lane was constructed, I could maneuver my way through traffic, which can be heavy as the street is one of the main conduits between the RFK/Triborough and 59th Street/Queensborough Bridges. Then again, I am a very experienced cyclist and didn't have to contend with the scooters, e bikes and other motorized forms of transportation.

In addition, and a couple of blocks up from me is Mount Sinai-Queens Hospital and the ambulances and other vehicles that embark and return.  Furthermore, there has been residential construction along Crescent, so trucks are all but continuously pulling in our out of, or parking in, the lane. Oh, and even when there's traffic, some drivers still seem to think Crescent Street is the local version of Daytona or Indy--whether they're young men who just want to drive fast and make noise or commuters or other drivers who want to beat the traffic jams on the 59th Street Bridge or the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.

So, I would tell anybody who doesn't need to use the lane--as I do--to stay away.  It was poorly conceived and constructed and, to be fair, when it opened--early in the COVID-19 pandemic--nobody could've anticipated the explosion of e-bikes, scooters and other motorized conveyances.

Mind you, the Crescent Street lane doesn't share some of the defects I've seen in other bike lanes in this city and country.  It is clearly marked and relatively easy to access from the RFK/Triborough Bridge.  The transition from the end of the lane to the 59th Street/Queensborough Bridge, or the local streets around Queensborough Plaza, could be better, but is still better than others I've ridden.

In light of everything I've said, I must say that I can't blame Bike Cleveland for advising local cyclists not to use the new Lorain Avenue bike lane.  According to BC. the lane, near the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge, "is short-lived, and quickly  disappears and drops riders into the sharrow (shared)lane that has existed there for years." The bridge BC notes, is "well known as a haven for speeding motorists on the move to make the highway connection at the other end."

I've never been to Cleveland, but that sounds very familiar to me.

A New Policy on Abandoned Bicycles

 They lose their seats and wheels. They rust, corrode and rot. Sometimes parking cars back into, and bend, them. 

I have seen many of them locked to signposts, trees and railings that line sidewalks of this city. Less frequently, I have seen them tethered to public bike parking racks and the ones on campuses and workplaces.

I am talking about abandoned bikes.  Most such bikes aren’t high-end and don’t seem to have been particularly well-cared-for before they were forgotten. You can almost tell they were purchased for not much money or were “inherited” or “rescued.”

 Once in a while, though, I’ll see a relatively high-quality bike still in pretty good condition that’s been left by its lonesome for a few weeks. I imagine that its owner had to move on short notice or had some other kind of emergency.

Whatever the circumstances, the City’s Department of Transportation is trying to cut down on the number of bikes abandoned along the city’s thoroughfares.  To that end, it is establishing a time limit for parking in public bike racks.

According to the new policy, an abandoned bike is “a usable bike that is locked in a public bike rack for more than seven consecutive days.”  Anyone can report such a bike and request removal in order to free up more space.

Once a bike is reported, the DOT will tag it.  If the bike is not removed after seven days, it can be confiscated by the DOT, NYPD or a designated representative and turned over to the nearest NYPD precinct for 30 days. If the bike isn’t claimed, it will be sent to the Property Clerk, which has a convoluted process for requesting return of property.

I have to wonder, though, how effective this policy will be.  For one thing, as I’ve mentioned, abandoned bikes are more likely to be found on lamp and sign posts and railings than on public bike rack—at least in my observation. Also, as Melissa Kravitz Hoeffner points out in her Time Out article, one can “technically “ cut off the tag and keep the bike in place.

A Bike Lane In Back Bay?

 The first time I went to Boston, I stayed in the Back Bay neighborhood. It was probably the best introduction I could've had to the city, as it's home to some of its loveliest and most historically significant buildings and spaces.  It reminded me of some parts of Manhattan's Upper West Side and Brooklyn's Park Slope, two neighborhoods in which I lived before they became colonies for the uber-rich.  But, of course, Back Bay's character was and, I suspect, is distinct from those New York neighborhoods.

Being accustomed to cycling in New York and having recently cycled in Paris, I didn't have any trepidation about riding in Boston.  When I rented a bike, however, an employee in the shop admonished me, "Don't ride on Boylston Street."

Boylston Street.  Photo by John Tlumacki, for the Boston Globe.

Of course, I rode there anyway--and understood his warning. With two traffic lanes in each direction and lined with popular stores, restaurants and cafes, the constant streams of traffic often had to snake around double-parked vehicles and trucks darting in and out with deliveries and for pickups.  I imagine there are even more of those today, what with Uber, Door Dash and the like.  

Now Mayor Michelle Wu's office has announced a plan to install a protected bike lane along a stretch of Boylston between Massachusetts Avenue and Arlington Street.  Predictably, business owners complain that a bike lane would take away parking spaces and further snarl traffic and therefore hurt business.  

While a poorly-planned bike lane can indeed exacerbate traffic conditions, as it has on Crescent Street (where I live), there is no evidence that stores, restaurants and the like lose business because of bike lanes.  If anything, I think that reducing traffic--a stated goal of bike lanes--would actually benefit business owners in a neighborhood like Back Bay that are popular with tourists and have a lot of foot traffic.

That is, if a bike lane is well-planned and constructed--and if regulations about who can use the lane are clearly defined and enforced.  As I have mentioned  in other posts, a narrow bike lane becomes a nightmare for everyone when it's used by riders of electric bikes that have only clutches and no pedal assist (which makes them, in essence, motorcycles) or scooters.  And it's hazardous for everyone involved when signals and merges aren't timed and created so that, for example, cyclists can cross an intersection ahead, rather than in the path, of turning cars, trucks and buses.

I hope for the sake of Boston's cyclists (and me, if and when I visit again) that any bike lane is what too many other bike lanes I've seen aren't:  safe and practical

Bike Parking on a Small, Picturesque Street”

Some people complain that spouses, kids and other loved ones were “never home” because of their busy schedules.

Then the COVID-19 pandemic struck.  Jobs and schools went virtual.  Within weeks, those same people were going crazy because those same spouses, kids and other loved ones were “always home.”

I think those families might include residents on a “small picturesque” street in North London.  Some have taken to Twitter and a local newspaper to complain about “unsightly and unnecessary” bike hangars that are “always empty.”

Then—you guessed it—someone ranted and railed against cyclists using those bike parking pods.

That led someone to quip, “I expect the residents of the small, picturesque street all to have small, picturesque cars that are wholly in keeping with the urban environment as it was originally built.”

To which yet another wag proposed making the bike parking docks more aesthetically compatible with the small, picturesque cars on the small, picturesque street.

Who Pays For Whom?

This argument has a foundation as weak as many St. Paul street beds, with even more (pot)holes than Shepherd Road.

So wrote Zack Mensinger in a Minn Post editorial. It’s the very point I’ve made to drivers who complain that I, and other cyclists, are taking “their” lanes and parking spaces.

So what is the flimsy logic Mr. Mensinger has exposed? It’s the faulty basis for a mistaken belief that too many non-cyclists hold: They, on four wheels, are paying for roads and other motor-related infrastructure and we, on two (or, sometimes, three) are freeloaders.

The reality, as he points out, is all but diametrically opposite.  In St.Paul, and most other places in the US, drivers don’t come close to paying the cost of streets. 

For one thing, contrary to common belief, most potholes are not caused by freeze-thaw cycles, even in a place with winters as brutal as those in the Minnesota capital. Rather, most of the damage is done by motorized vehicles, especially the bigger and heavier ones. 

Think of it this way:  Sidewalks are subject to the same weather conditions streets incur. Yet we don’t see potholes on sidewalks, which are used by pedestrians.  Even the heaviest cyclist with the heaviest bike is closer in weight to an average-sized pedestrian than to a car, let alone a truck or bus.

Another argument drivers make is that they pay gasoline taxes and vehicle registration fees.  That is true, but those revenues don’t come close to paying for streets and roads. And, if you own a car but use your bike more (admittedly a rare circumstance in the US), you’re still paying the same registration fee.

Someone is sure to bring up tolls for bridges, tunnels and highways—which cyclists don’t pay because we don’t use those facilities except for bridges.  But, as with gas taxes and registration fees, they represent a small part of roadway funding.

So, if those fees and taxes don’t pay for roads and streets, what does?  In Minnesota and most other places, the majority of street and road financing comes from general funds.  They usually include income and property taxes, which we pay whether or not we drive.  In other words, some of the money that’s deducted from my paycheck pays for things I, as a cyclist and non-driver, will never use. 

So, however and for whatever reasons drivers want to rant and rail ar us, they should thank us for subsidizing them.

Citibike at 10. What’s Its Future

Leonardo di Caprio with Polish model Ela Kawalec

 Citibike—the bike-share program in my hometown, New York—turns ten years old tomorrow.

When it started, journalists, policy-makers and casual observers predicted its rapid demise.  They cited problems, including vandalism, theft, software glitches, in other cities’ bike share programs.  Some complained about docking stations taking up “their” parking spots or detracting from the aesthetics of their buildings and blocks. Oh, and some drivers were simply hostile to the idea of more bikes and cyclists on the streets.

But, as the saying goes, rumors of the program’s death were wildly exaggerated.  Moreover, the blue bikes gained unexpected popularity among people and communities—like the Hasidim—not known for cycling. (An explanation why so many ultra-Orthodox Jews took to them is that many could not keep bikes in their apartments or houses because their large families gave them little space.) And the actual and perceived problems with mass transit—some of which preceded the pandemic—made the bikes and, as they were added to the program, eBikes, real alternatives for commuters.

But now there is a new threat: finances.  

Five years ago, Lyft—the ride-share company—bought Citibike operator Motivate. Like other tech companies, Lyft is experiencing changes in its leadership and has laid off a significant portion of its workforce.  Nobody knows what the company’s new direction might be. 

Even though Citibike is the largest share program, by ridership and revenue, in North America, it’s actually a small part of Lyft’s operations.  So it might be one of the first things to go when shareholders demand that the company become “meaner and leaner.”

One way Citibike differs from other share programs (except for those in China) is that it operates with almost no public funding.  Therefore, some—including Streetsblog contributor David Meyer—have proposed the city or state allocating money or, possibly, making Citibike part of the MTA, DOT or some other city or state agency.  In other words  they’re saying  Citibike should be a city or state service.

What Does Bike Parking Have To Do With LGBTQ, Gender and Racial Equality?

I, personally and cyclists, collectively have been accused of "taking too much space" on the road--by drivers of SUVs and gaudily painted pickup trucks that have never been besmudged by a tool box in the cargo area or a dirty hand on its steering wheel.

So I wouldn't have been surprised, though I would have been no less upset than Scottish cyclist Alan Gordon was to find this:

Lovely evening in Colinton at the volunteer start up session for the new SW tool library and a wee blether in the Spylaw afterwards. pic.twitter.com/ZxMhtLeP6T

— Alan Gordon (@agordonsalive) May 22, 2023

He locked his bike to a curbside railing in Colinton, an Edinburgh suburb, to attend a volunteer start-up session for the area's new free tool library.  I would assume that the library would benefit residents of the complex as well as people in the surrounding community.

Anyway, in the Twitter thread that followed, someone showed a motorcycle and a two garbage bin in another parking spot, taking up more space than two bikes like Alan's would have.  No one left a "polite notice" about them.

(As someone else noted, starting the note with "Polite Notice" was a tip-off that what followed would be the exact opposite, just as people who say "I'm not a racist" usually follow it with some stereotype or another.  Or the person who, a couple of days ago said, "I'm not a transphobe, but..."  to me.)

Oh, and someone made a comment about paying road tax.  I don't know about the laws over there, but I've gotten into that exact argument with drivers here. And I have very politely pointed out that I do, in fact, pay road tax.  The only tax I don't pay that motorists have to pay is for gasoline.

This may seem strange (of course it won't when I explain it), but recounting Alan's tale reminded me of another part of the conversation I had with the "I'm not a transphobe" dude and other people with similar mindsets. Any time a law is passed to give Blacks, immigrants, women, LBGBTQ+ people or anyone else who is in a "minority" the same rights as white, cisgender, heterosexual Christian men, such people whine that things have "gone too far" or that we're getting "special privileges." Complaints like the one Alan received in the "Polite Notice" have the same feel to them.  

As I have pointed out to such folks--including a few relatives of mine--if you have always enjoyed a right or a privilege, you don't notice it until someone else gets it--or you lose it.  The latter has happened to me in my affirmation of my female self:  I lost some of the assumption of competence, innocence and other things I once could take for granted.  Likewise, most drivers, especially if they're not regular cyclists, would never know how much of the landscape and economy are shaped by their driving--which, I grant, is a need for some.  Contrary to what some think, though, I am not trying to take anything away from them--or cisgender people.  I only want the same rights and protections they take for granted.