Getting To Where They Need To Go

I learned something interesting today:  Boise, Idaho has one of the largest refugee populations, per capita, of any US city.  Moreover, it has more Syrian refugees than Los Angeles and my hometown, New York, combined.

That Boise has so many Syrian refugees is particularly striking when you know that Los Angeles has the largest number of Middle Eastern immigrants of any US city. (Interestingly, Detroit is second.)  People familiar with the Idaho capital point to its relatively low cost of living and friendly climate as "draws" for people fleeing persecution and other forms of violence in other countries.

So why am I mentioning such things in this blog?  Well, like other refugees, the Syrians in Boise are, for the most part, poor.  They can't afford bikes for their kids, or even themselves.  What this means, of course, is not only are kids deprived of something that makes childhood more fun; the parents are deprived of an inexpensive ways to get exercise (which can help them deal with the trauma some suffer) and, even more important, to work or school:  Some can't get drivers' licenses because they lack documentation.

There is another group of people about whom I could say exactly the things I've just said about the Syrian refugees in Boise (or other refugees in other places).  Who are they?  Parolees.

This connection is what makes a program called "Shifting Gears" possible.  It grew out of the Boise Bicycle Project (BBP), a non-profit organization whose goal is to get everyone in the city, whatever his or her income, on a bike--and thus eliminate barriers to transportation.

The workshop at South Boise Women's Correctional Center

Jimmy Hallyburton co-founded BBP in 2007 in a former homeless shelter.    He opened a DIY bicycle shop much like Recycle-A-Bicycle and similar operations in other cities.  In BBP's facililty, a lycra-clad cyclist might be adjusting gears on a triathlon bike with a five-figure price tag alongside a Syrian refugee looking for a basic machine to ride to work.  

Some of the people BBP has taught to fix bikes became volunteers who helped clean, repair and adjust bikes that were distributed to poor city residents, children and adults alike.  

In the course of giving bikes to the needy, Hallyburton learned of the difficulties parolees face.   The biggest is, of course, employment:  Many would-be employers don't want to hire someone who's "done time."  But, even when a potential employer is willing to give a chance to someone who has "paid their debt to society," there is another problem:  getting to the job.  Recently-released prisoners find it difficult, or even impossible, to get a driver's license.  Even if they could get such a document, they might not be able to afford a car--or even a bicycle.

That is how he came up with the idea of Shifting Gears.  He pitched it to the Idaho Department of Correction, who loved it.  Different sites vied for it; eventually, South Boise Women's Correctional Center won out.  An officer volunteered to run the program and scheduled training days with a mechanic who volunteered to train inmates who would become mentors to others who joined the project.

So, for the past two years, some 200 incarcerated women have been stripping, cleaning, lubing and wrenching donated or salvaged bikes that are donated to people who couldn't otherwise afford them.

Finally, when participants are released, they are given a bike sized for their height, as well as a helmet, lock and light.  So they, like the folks who've received the bikes they fixed, will have at least one barrier to integrating with society removed.

The bikes that await them aren't the only benefits of the program.  Seeing how their work changed other people's lives have made some of them want to continue that work, or to help in other ways, when they're released.  For some, including one inmate whose release is scheduled for next month, being able to think that way is perhaps the most valuable thing she's gained from the program.

When Jessica Halbesleben, one of Shifting Gears' original participants and mentors, gets out in January, she will have a job waiting for her--with BBP.  And, of course, she'll have a bike she can ride to it.

Suspension Of Disbelief

I've never owned a full-suspension bike.  My Jamis Dakota and Bontrager Race Lite mountain bikes had telescoping front forks, but no suspension built into the frame.  Perhaps if I had kept with mountain biking longer than I did (I stopped about 15 years ago), I might have such a setup now.

These days, my suspension consists of the sprung saddle on my Fuji commuter/beater--and my joints.

Folks like Jan Heine will tell you that you don't need suspension if you ride the right tires.  He's right:

What Guidance Counselors Really Need To Know

So, what do you consider when choosing a college?

One of the top considerations, I'm sure, is whether it has a good program in whatever you plan to study.  (Never mind that there's about an 80 percent chance you'll switch your major to something else!)  Cost, of course, is another factor.  Then, of course, there are such things as geographic location and the appeal of the campus itself.

As for that last category, one thing that might figure into it (at least, it would for me) is bike-friendliness.  One part of that is safe, secure places to keep your wheels:  College campuses are hotbeds for bike theft.  Another might be whether the college has bike lanes or has other ways of making it easy to navigate the campus from your saddle.

There are also other ways in which a college can encourage its students to ride.  It can offer new students free bike-share memberships or vouchers to spend at a local bike shop--as well as free bike rentals or bike-share memberships to students (or faculty members) who don't bring cars to campus.

By now, you might be wondering whether I'm indulging in substances of questionable provenance. When I heard that there is indeed a college that offers such incentives, I thought I was dreaming.

Oh, but it gets better:  That school has hired a full-time coordinator to oversee its support for cycling.  Sandra Broadus, whose official title is Alternative Transportation Manager, says that this college will soon open its first indoor bike room, complete with shower stalls, lockers, a fix-it station and water bottle fillers.  There will also be a vending machine from which students can purchase parts like inner tubes and chains while on campus.

The school where such progress is taking place is not located in Portland or San Francisco or Seattle or Boston.  Instead, it's in a place known more for its scenic rides than for a hipster bike culture.

Of course she's smiling:  She's riding on the most bicycle-friendly campus in the US, according to a survey!

I'm talking about the University of Kentucky at Lexington.  The League of American Bicyclists has just named it the most bicycle-friendly college in the US.  

It was followed by the University of Maryland-College Park, Harvard University, Dickinson College, University of Utah, University of Vermont and University of Washington.

OK, so the Kennedy School of Government isn't the only reason to attend Harvard after all.   But tell me:  Do they have a full-time cycling coordinator?

A New Kind Of Scholarship

I must confess that I have never been to Indiana.  For me, hearing its name brings to mind a song that was extremely popular when I was about twelve years old:  "Indiana Wants Me."

(Of course, it's fair to ask why a Canadian wrote and sung a song about running from the law in the Hoosier State.  Then again, it's hard imagine the name of any Canadian province fitting into the meter of the lyrics, or the rhythm of the song, as well as "Indiana" does.)

Anyway, the fugitive in R. Dean Taylor's tune probably couldn't move as quickly as some students from one of the state's institutions of higher learning.

Marian University,  located in Indianapolis, is a non-profit school affiliated with the Catholic Church (via the Sisters of Saint Francis, who founded it) that is known for one of its athletic programs in a state whose citizens are as passionate as any about collegiate sports.  Although it competes in many of the sports one might expect, it's not known for its basketball team, as nearby Indiana University is, or football (the American version), which has been one of Notre Dame University's calling cards.

Rather, Marian is known far and wide for its cycling team, which has won 37 national titles:  19 on the track and the rest divided between road, mountain bike and cyclo-cross.  That they've won so often on the velodrome is, perhaps, not surprising when one considers that the riders train on the Major Taylor Velodrome, a part of the Indy Cycloplex--which the University has owned since 2011.

Charis Lott (center) with head coach Dean Peterson (right) and Michael Kubancsek (left), Marian University's director of cycling operations.

One particular need of every cycling team has led to the establishment, at Marian, of what might be a unique scholarship--one for a team mechanic.  The University has just announced that Charis Lott, a senior at Mount Vernon High School in nearby Fortville.  According to coach Dean Peterson, the team would be "hard pressed" to find someone more qualified than Charis:  She already has five years of mechanical experience with Freewheelin' Community Bikes and LoKe Bicycles.  That, Peterson says, has prepared her to "serve the diverse needs" in the "variety of settings" in which the team trains and competes.

But being the team mechanic, for Ms. Lott, will mean more than just wrenching racers' bikes. The scholarship is part of a program, first announced two years ago,  that aims to teach students that being a team mechanic also involves coordinating logistics, providing athlete care, service course management, sponsor relations, marketing and other things.  

Her work with the team should  tie in very nicely with her plans:  She wants to major in psychology, with a concentration in sports.  After all, as someone titled his book with unintended irony, it's not about the bike--or the body.

If We Were Them...

If the United States were the Netherlands....

There are all sorts of ways you could finish that sentence.  Here's one:  It would have four billion people.

Yes, you read that right.  The 'States would would have more than twelve times its actual population of 325.7 million folks.

That's because, on average, about 4000 Dutch people live on a square mile of their country's land.   In contrast, only about 85 Americans live on an average square mile of their nation.

What's really interesting, though, is that if you were to randomly pick 4000 Dutch citizens, it's likely that 840 of them would be living below sea level--and about 2000 would inhabit land one meter (just over three feet) or more above sea level.

When you know these facts, it's easy to understand why the Dutch are among the leading countries in the move away from fossil fuels:  Decades ago, their policy makers heeded the warning that El Cheeto Grande refuses to believe. They understood that rising sea levels--a result of climate change exacerbated, if not caused, by fossil fuel usage--would essentially wipe out much of their country.

That, in turn, also makes it easy to understand why the Dutch have invested, per capita, more than any other country on bicycle infrastructure.  Dutch policy makers realized that it not only made sense, it was a matter of survival, to get as many people out of cars, and as many cars off the road, as possible.  One way to do that is to make it relatively easy and safe to go to work, school or just about anywhere by bicycle.

It also helps that because Dutch people are packed in so tightly, so are their cities.  In the Randstad, the largest Dutch cities--Amsterdam, Rotterdam, the Hague and Utrecht--are all but joined at the hip in a way that makes the Northeastern US Megapolis seem like a stretch of the Mojave Desert.  Thus, cycling is feasible even for people who are not athletic.

So it should come as no surprise that there are about 23 million bicycles in a nation of 17 million people--1.3 bikes for every person.  

But even in a country where, it seems, everyone cycles everywhere, more than half of automobile trips are of less than 7.5 kilometers (about 5 miles).  To be fair, many of those trips are because, well, people just don't have to go as far to get wherever they're going.  On the other hand, transportation planners agree that the best way to reduce automotive traffic is to eliminate as many of those short car trips as possible.

That is why the Dutch government has just announced plans to spend an extra 245 million Euros on bicycle infrastructure Steintje van Veldhoven, the State Infrastructure Secretary, had already pledged last year.  The money is earmarked for such things as improved bicycle parking in public areas, and more city-to-city cycleways.

Ms. van Veldhoven says she hopes to get an additional 200,000 Dutch people on bikes--and, one assumes, out of their cars, at least for those short trips.

Now, if the US were the Netherlands, she would be trying to get about 4 million Americans on bikes--and spend about 10 billion dollars, in the effort.  That's cost is less than that of a couple dozen F35 fighter jets--or Trump buildings.

Yes, Airports Should Be More Bike-Friendly. But For Whom?

Can you ride to your flight?

I've done it, on a couple of occasions--most recently on a trip to Montreal three years ago. The flight left LaGuardia Airport, which is about 7 kilometers (4.25 miles) from my apartment.  Since I went only for a long weekend, I didn't need to bring much with me.  Also, the fact that I was gone for such a short trip meant that vandals and thieves would have a relatively short window of opportunity.  Still, I rode my "beater" bike.

It's not only the short distance from my apartment that makes LaGuardia an easy bike trip for me.  The route is flat and most of the route takes me along residential streets.  I have to navigate through traffic on the entrance ramps to the terminals, but even that is really not difficult in comparison to entering some other airports.

John F. Kennedy is further away: about 22 kilometers (14 miles). If I'm not carrying a lot, it's certainly not a difficult trip.  Like the route to LaGuardia, the way to JFK is flat and includes mostly typical Queens streets.  There is more traffic entering and leaving JFK, but I know a few ways to navigate it by bicycle.

I've taken a number of flights from JFK, but only once did I cycle there.  For one thing, when I go from JFK, I am usually gone for longer periods of time than I am on my LaGuardia flights. So, even if I use my "beater", my bike has a greater chance of being stolen or damaged.  Also, when I go to JFK, I am probably taking a flight very early in the morning or late at night.  If I have to be at the airport at 5 am, I really don't want to ride--or, more precisely, wake up early enough to ride--that early.  Also, if I'm returning from overseas, I'm probably jet-lagged and cycling on busy roads might not be such a good idea.

The other major New York airport is Newark-Liberty International, which is accessible only from major highways that prohibit or severely restrict bicycles and pedestrians.

I got to thinking about all of this because of an article in the New York Times.  It profiles Conor Semler, a Boston-area transportation planner whose job involves taking flights about twice a month.  He said something that resonated with me:  "I prefer not to be in a car."  Plus, he said, the bike can be better depended upon to get you to your flight on time:  If you drive or take a taxi or bus, you could get caught in traffic.  And most US airports don't have a direct rail link to, or even near, them.

Conor Semler converting his rolling luggage to a backpack. (Taken by Kayana Syzmczak for the New York Times.)

Logan Airport, Boston's terminal, is closer to the center of the city it serves than any other major US airport, which certainly makes things easier for Semler.  Also, he usually flies to Ronald Reagan International Airport, just outside Washington DC.  When he arrives, he walks ten minutes to a Capital Bikeshare station in Arlington, Virginia and rides 30 minutes to his company's office.  

In other words, he is aided by the relative proximity of the airports to his home and office, and his familiarity with the area around them.  It's not so simple when you don't know your way around--or when there isn't a bike share available when you arrive.

I don't know what bike parking is like at Logan, but in most US airports, there are few or no places where one can park a bike safely, especially for long periods of time. Big airports have long-term parking for cars. Why can't they have it for bikes?   

But having any sort of safe parking facilities for bikes would help a group of people mentioned in only one sentence of the 1200-word article:  airport employees.

I don't have empirical data, but I am sure that in many airports, a significant number of folks who work in the corridors and terminals ride their bikes to work. That is certainly the case at LaGuardia and JFK, in part because they are closer to the center of the city--and the neighborhoods where employees live--than most other airports are to theirs. 

That airport employees would ride to work makes sense when you understand cycling's "equity gap," which has been summed up thusly:  "The poor bike, the rich bike-share."  In other words, people in lower income brackets are more likely to ride (or walk) to work than people in higher income brackets.  But poor cyclists are as invisible to non-cyclists--and to bicycling advocates--as the poor generally are to the rest of society.  Most non-cyclists, particularly in urban areas, see cycling as a kind of privileged fashion statement by young people who wash down their $20 avocado toast with a $15 craft beer.  That, I believe, is the reason why they resent any effort--whether through building infrastructure or starting bike-share programs--to encourage more people out of cars and onto bikes.

One thing I know about most airport employees: They don't make a lot of money.  (I'm not talking about the people who work for the airlines and TSA:  I mean the ones who are directly by the airport or its operating agency.)  In fact, many don't make much, or anything, more than minimum wage.  They can't afford to lose their bikes!

So, while I am glad that the Times showed that making airports more bike-accessible and bike-friendly is a good idea, I wish that they didn't re-enforce the notion too many people have about cyclists:  that we all do it for leisure or by choice.  The real benefit in having bike lockers, let alone other facilities, will accrue to the person who's loading luggage onto the flight that someone like Conor Semler reached by bike.

The Original Sports Technology?

Last week, many of us gave thanks for one thing or another on the American holiday dedicated to expressing gratitude by engorging one's self with food.

Some of us were grateful for family and friends; others, simply to be alive. Then there are those who were grateful to stores for opening an hour earlier than they did last year.  You know what they say:  Early bird gets the bargains.

Well, all right, I don't know who said that.  But a fellow named Tom Taylor and I both gave thanks for...you guessed it...the bicycle.  Of course, we are both happy that a thing that gives us so much pleasure was ever invented.  He, however, gives another really good reason to be happy that the Draisienne, or whatever you consider the first bicycle, was invented.

You see, Taylor is, a mountain biker and involved in other outdoor sports.  At least, that's what I gather from what he says.  And he lives in Moab, after all.

In his article, he said the bicycle was "the original sports tech."  What he means is that, as far as we know, cycling was the first sport or leisuretime activity based on a product that required a certain amount of industrial capacity to produce.

As he explains, you don't need shoes to run and, "a branch falls from a tree, you find a pebble on the ground, and now you can play some form of cricket, or hockey, or baseball or golf.  Yes, you can make a better golf club and ball, but you can play regardless."  

He has a point:  Some of the most accomplished players in the "ball sports" learned how to play with nothing that resembles proper equipment.  They might've just rolled up whatever they could find to make a "ball" and, if sticks or clubs were necessary, twigs, branches or 2x4s from the junkyard stood in.  Naturally, some such athletes played barefoot until they signed their first professional contracts.

It also goes almost without saying that they played in the absence of any formal leagues, or any other kinds of structure or rules. For that matter, they sometimes didn't play on anything resembling a playing field or court.

I am talking about no less than Pele and Sammy Sosa.  Also, any number of hockey players used rocks or other things for "pucks" and anything that could be used to swat served as their hockey sticks.  I even read about one world-class player--I can't recall which, at the moment--who didn't even have skates until he joined a semi-professional league:  He and his friends would simply glide around on the ice on their most slippery shoes.

Now, we have often heard of champion cyclists who came from humble backgrounds, whether the family farm or a gritty indstrial town.  One could say that, for such reasons, a cyclist can't come from the same dire poverty as a football player from the favela because it takes more money to buy even the cheapest bicycle than it does to fashion a ball or stick.  Even if a budding young racer has to borrow a bike from a relative, friend or neighbor, simply having that kind of access signals less deprivation than not having a playing ball.

All of this might explain why no Grand Tour (or other major race) winner has come from an undeveloped country, while marathons and other running races are routinely won by competitors from places like Ethiopia and Jamaica.  This explanation makes sense, at least to me, when you realize that many European and American cyclists are also runners (and I'm not talking only about triathloners).  As Tom Taylor says, you can learn how to be a runner without shoes.  But it's pretty hard to learn how to ride a bike if, well, you don't have a bike.

The Real Bronx Zoo

Even though I've lived in New York for decades, I've been to the Bronx Zoo maybe a couple of times.  In fact, it's been  a while since I've been to any zoo at all:  The older I get, the less I like seeing animals in cages--especially if said animals are orange or striped!

Besides, why do I need to go to the Bronx Zoo when I can see this in the Bronx:

I was pedaling along the path to Pelham Bay Park when our friend in the photo stopped for a snack. 

As I inched closer, the hungry ungulate hardly even stirred.  I'm not sure of exactly how close I could have come, so I stood, bike in hand, and let the creature eat, turn and get a look at me before taking off.

Then I took off--for Connecticut.  I didn't see any deer the rest of the way.  Only in the Bronx!

For Transportation Deserts

Cycling advocates and urban planners sometimes talk about combining modes of transportation. Usually, they mean using a personal and a mass mode of transportation.  One example might be riding your bike to the train or bus station.

I'm sure that bicycles have been combined with other modes of transportation in ways I never imagined--or, perhaps,that I wouldn't have wanted to imagine:

I don't know whether to feel more sorry for the "camel" or the bike.

Cross With The App

What would you think of an app that signals your approach at an intersection?

Well, the city of Santa Clarita, California--in partnership with Sensys Networks Inc--is piloting such a system along the Chuck Pontius Commuter Rail Bike Trail (Say that three times fast!), which parallels Soledad Canyon Road.  

The system consists of a GiveMeGreen! smartphone app, which allows cyclists to be detected 300 feet in advance of an intersection.  Once detected, the app's signal applies the normal timing function for pedestrian crossing.  This lets pedestrians and cyclists use the same signal phase and "will not cause any delay for motorists," according to a Santa Clarita Gazette report.

While that stated purpose both intrigues and troubles me, I think there might actually be a benefit for cyclists:  Motorists are often confused when they see pedestrians and cyclists at intersections, especially if pedestrians are crossing by one signal and cyclists another--or are following the same signals and timing as motorists.  

It seems that half of the new system already exists on Soledad Canyon Road:  There are bicycle- and pedestrian- only signs to alert turning motorists that cyclists and pedestrians could be crossing the intersection.  This system has a bicycle-only light to tell the cyclist he or she has been detected.  From what I understand, however, these lights are not connected to an app:  Apparently, they rely on cameras or some other detection device at the intersection itself.

I would be interested to see whether this app and its system actually makes cyclists safer when crossing intersections--which, I believe, is the most perilous thing we do, especially if we are crossing a roadway intersection from a bike lane.  Then again, I am not sure of how detectable I want to be--or, more specifically, of who I want to detect me, and from where--while I'm riding!