I’m working on a new and exciting (non-blogging) project with a partner and need your help! Do you have a great bike story? Something you’d want to tell in your own voice? Something amazing, terrifying, wonderful, interesting, curious, strange, scary, funny, or some other adjective that you’d like to share? Then I want to talk to you.
Ideally, your story is something that sticks out in your brain as highly memorable, the kind of thing you’d want to tell to someone the minute you walked into a room. Some ideas:
- “A helmet saved my life!”
- “Not wearing a helmet saved my life!”
- A strange encounter with a driver, fellow cyclist, pedestrian, or police officer.
- “I was riding with my kid when suddenly…”
- “You’ll never believe what happened. This guy rolled down his window and said…”
- True tales of breaking the law.
The above is by no means a comprehensive list. Anything goes!
Contact me at brooklynspoke [at] gmail [dot] com. Include a brief summary of your story — a short paragraph is enough — as well as your name, neighborhood, and contact information. I’ll try to respond to everyone who sends me something.
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this blog over the last four years. My favorite part of doing this is interacting with so many smart and passionate people.
The default speed limit in New York City is set to drop to 25 miles per hour on November 7th, and because this is New York some people are not happy about it. Nick Paumgarten of the New Yorker, for example.
A week after Halloween, a new speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour will go into effect on every surface road in the five boroughs of New York City, except where stated otherwise. The idea is to make the streets safer for cyclists and pedestrians, a particular aim of Mayor Bill de Blasio.
Actually, the idea is to make the streets safer for cyclists, pedestrians, and drivers! (Please leave out that last part if you want to play up the “war on motorists” angle.)
Fourteen children were killed by drivers last year. You won’t find a citizen who didn’t wish that this number were zero.
Of course not. But what you will find are a lot of people who don’t want to do anything that could make that wish come true.
Smooth open road is so rare, at least in the denser parts of the city, that a lead foot can hardly resist the urge to hit the gas. In a city of lost time—there’s never enough, never enough—any chance to regain some is sweet.
You’re stuck in gridlock on your way to an appointment or event. Pot holes and winter-scarred roads make it nearly impossible to drive at a comfortable pace. Suddenly, a freshly paved, traffic-free stretch of pavement opens up before you. So, lead foot that you are, you hit the gas. I mean, who can resist, right? Then you hit a child in the crosswalk and that child dies a horrific and violent death, visiting immeasurable grief upon a shocked family and traumatizing dozens of witnesses, all because you had Mets tickets or an 8:05 curtain or something. If there is a philosophical opposite to Vision Zero, it can be found in the sentence, “In a city of lost time–there’s never enough, never enough–any chance to regain some is sweet.”
More cameras, more tickets, more squad cars lying in wait. Now we demonize speed.
Actually, we’re demonizing dangerous behavior. This is the result of greater understanding of the pathology of traffic deaths, as well as a growing cultural rejection of the notion that fourteen dead children per year — as well as dozens upon dozens of adults — are part of the cost of modern society. Take a time machine back to the early days of M.A.D.D. and imagine Nick Paumgarten’s 1980s counterpart writing, “More tickets, more squad cars lying in wait. Now we demonize drinking and driving.” That guy would look like an idiot now, right?
This feels funny: a city that has long identified itself as sleepless and fast, aspiring to everything lickety-split, is being asked to slow down. Slow food, slow money, now slow cars—the New York minute will henceforth be sixty seconds long.
This assumes a bizarro New York City where the taxi driver yells at Ratso Rizzo, “I’m drivin’ here!” As a service to Paumgarten, here are some things that are central to the city’s “sleepless and fast” identity that will remain unaffected by a 25 mph speed limit: Bars that never close. Mongolian food delivered to your door at midnight only ten minutes after you placed the order. Getting an egg and cheese sandwich from the coffee cart on one corner because the line at the coffee cart on the other corner is too long. Exiting the 2/3 just as the 1 arrives across the platform. Day trading. eBay Now. Buying a Crown Heights brownstone for $415,000 today and flipping it for $1.8 million tomorrow.
Manhattan is 13.4 miles in length. At twenty-five m.p.h., plus a grace tick or two, that’s a half hour, end to end. This seems about right, considering that to the Manhattanite the default timespan of a trip from any part of the borough to another, be it by car, bus, bike, long board, or train, is presumed (often incorrectly) to be thirty minutes. So maybe the new speed limit was devised with that in mind, the same way that the standard capacity of both the vinyl LP and the compact disk suited the length of Beethoven symphonies.
Or maybe the new speed limit was devised with science in mind. In fact, explaining such scientific theories might make a great New Yorker story. I hear that Malcolm Gladwell kid is good at explaining complicated subjects.
We’re all really heading somewhere. The Roosevelt Island tram goes eighteen m.p.h., which is a little faster than the elevators in the Empire State Building (15.9 m.p.h.). The Zamboni at the Garden does nine m.p.h.; the East River, at peak ebb or flood tide, hits half that.
The Cyclone goes sixty mph, which is a lot faster than a Rockette’s legs in the Radio City Christmas spectacular (31.8 mph). See how easy it is to pick to arbitrary “New York” things to illustrate a point? But only one of these stats is correct and neither of them are relevant to appropriate automobile speeds in a crowded urban environment.
In the revival of “On the Town” that’s just opened on Broadway, the number “Come Up to My Place,” in which Hildy the cabbie shows Chip the sailor the sights of the city, has Hildy driving a mile a minute—sixty an hour. That would now probably earn her six points (plus a fine for not wearing a seat belt).
In the musical “Guys and Dolls,” the number “Luck be a Lady,” in which Sky Masterson sings about betting his life on one roll of the dice, has Sky singing underground–in a sewer. That would now probably earn Sky Masterson a bite from a giant crocodile (plus a rare form of cancer for not wearing a wetsuit).
One day, we may all wistfully recall our own grim, turn-of-the-millennium on-the-town cab rides—hurtling home after a late night out, storefronts racing by in a blur, potholes rattling the hubcaps. No seat belt, either.
In 2001, there were 393 traffic fatalities in New York City. You could also smoke in bars!
The speed-limit change is another milestone in the ongoing struggle for control of the streets—our latter-day version of “The Pushcart War,” except that instead of venders with peashooters, aiming pins at the tires of big trucks, we have the Citi Bikers with Instagram accounts, tsk-tsking the cabbies and S.U.V.s.
POWER, THY NAME IS A WELL EXECUTED LOW-FI FILTER. #tsktsk
The most persistent objections come from the people for whom driving is part of the job. Delivery, plumbing, construction. You’re not going to use bicycles to build the Hudson Yards.
There are many New Yorkers, myself included, who rarely need to carry more than an iPhone. But when you need to make an argument for the preservation of unfettered motoring, suddenly everyone’s a delivery guy, plumber, or building Hudson Yards. Or they’re carrying watermelons everywhere.
“Nobody drives around the city more than me,” a master rigger (cranes) said on Monday. “It’s got worse with the people. It’s not the cars. The cars have been going the same friggin’ speed.
This might be a good time for to summarize “The Pushcart War” by Jean Merrill because I’ve never read it. Via, Peter C. Baker in, wait for it, the New Yorker:
Merrill’s main characters are pushcart peddlers in New York City. Their enemies are the big trucking companies, who want the roads cleared. Traffic is getting too heavy, and their trucks aren’t making deliveries as fast as they would like. For the trucking executives, the solution is obvious: get everything but trucks off the roads. The pushcarts are their first target, the opening salvo in a campaign to rule the streets of Manhattan. On orders from above, truck drivers start nudging pushcarts off the street, sometimes even smashing them. “The Pushcart War” is the story of the cart venders’ decision to fight back: they blow out truck tires with peashooters, lie to the police about it, stop traffic with marches, and generally do whatever it takes to stay in business.
According to one character, the trucking companies, collectively called The Three, believe that “the only way to get where you wanted to go was to be so big that you didn’t have to get out of the way of anybody.” This is known as the Large Object Theory of History.
Back to Paumgarten’s man on the street:
We have this diesel pickup, and it’s good to have a car with a big engine in the city, because when you come to a light the thing roars, and the people look up. And then they start to scatter.
This is also known as the Large Object Theory of History.
Speaking only from personal — and highly anecdotal — experience, few crosstown Manhattan routes are as pleasant to ride on as Prince Street on a weekday morning. Running west through Nolita and Soho from the Bowery to 6th Avenue (where it changes into Charlton Street), Prince is one of the best parts of my morning commute, second only to the Manhattan Bridge. Prince features a curbside-bike lane, relatively low volumes of automobile traffic, and huge numbers of cyclists. Squint and you could be forgiven for thinking you were on Elmegade, a hip side street filled with shops and cafes in Copenhagen’s Nørrebro district.
Of course, you’d have to squint very hard. This being New York, the pavement isn’t the smoothest, cyclists don’t always have the utmost respect for traffic signals or pedestrians, and the bike lane is frequently blocked by parked cars. But nevertheless, the street seems to work. With just a little more effort — such as a green wave, a restriction on the giant trucks that frequently get stuck making the tight turns in the neighborhood, and a periodic enforcement sweeps to keep drivers out of the bike lane — the street would work much better for everyone who depends on it, including motorists.
So that’s why it was very surprising and more than a little distressing this morning when I saw that the New York City Department of Transportation had devoted not just one or two, but at least five safety managers to instructing cyclists to stop for red lights and travel in the direction of traffic. Here are two at Mulberry and Prince:
Before you stop reading and scroll down to make a comment about cyclists needing to obey the law just like everyone else, please look closely at the picture above. You can see a grey car parked just a half a block away in the bike lane. Here’s a better shot, taken as I followed this cyclists across Prince:
To the best of my knowledge, these DOT safety managers did not ask drivers to get out of the bike lane.
Here are two more, stationed at Prince and Broadway:
This is actually an intersection few cyclists “run.” The southbound traffic on Broadway would make doing so nearly suicidal, and the pedestrian traffic is so thick that it’s actually quite rare to see someone try to snake through, although it does happen. I’m willing to be proven wrong, but I’d say this spot has some of the highest red-light compliance by cyclists on any stretch on Prince Street.
Here’s another DOT safety manager at Broadway and Greene, talking to someone regular readers may know, Robert Wright. That white object in the bike lane is some sort of newspaper kiosk, the kind of object that would probably win a face-off with a front wheel. Robert, who was coincidentally ahead of me this morning, asked the safety manager to move the obstruction from the bike lane. The metal box was not moved.
So what’s the purpose of assigning safety managers to Prince Street? Safety? Maybe. I have seen a number of cyclists going through intersections with pedestrians in the crosswalk. This is a behavior that drives me crazy, and I would never argue that we should wait until after someone is hurt to encourage safe cycling. Is it culture change? Perhaps. But it’s pretty damn hard to change the culture without the infrastructure changing ahead of it; the minute those DOT safety managers disappear is the minute everything else about the street remains exactly the same.
I’ve argued before that sometimes cyclists “break” the law for very rational reasons. Despite the rather low stakes on Prince Street, at least compared with other streets, some cyclists might go through red lights in order to safely get around a car that’s parked in the bike lane, rather than wait and have to make a merge with moving automobiles when approaching a pinch point. Another reason cyclists might “run” the lights on Prince is the timing of the lights themselves. After getting the green off the Bowery, the light at Elizabeth and Prince immediately turns red, subjecting people on bikes to a rather long wait at a generally empty intersection. The same thing happens when the light changes at Broadway; only the fastest cyclists can make it just one block to Mercer without hitting a red. It’s a pretty poor sequence for cyclists seeking an efficient crosstown journey. It’s also a pretty poor sequence for officials seeking red-light compliance among cyclists. A green wave that allowed reasonably-paced cyclists to turn off the Bowery and not hit another red until they made it to 6th Avenue — or even all the way to Greenwich Street — would go a long way toward making the street more predictable and safe for everyone. (One can wait for the light at Elizabeth Street to change back to green and actually hit a steady stream of changing greens almost all the way past Broadway, but it’s not something that is listed on any sign; I only found out about this recently from a friend and fellow advocate.)
Sadly, the biggest effect that the deployment of safety managers to a location such as Prince Street seems to have is cynicism, not just among experienced advocates such as myself or Robert, but among even casual riders. At least the few I spoke with while waiting for the light at Broadway were scratching their heads about this use of resources and were not too happy about it. “They try to encourage people to use bikes, but they don’t really make it safe,” said one. After surviving the gauntlet that is Chrystie Street and, after that, the Bowery — two streets where trucks barrel through red lights and speed limits are an oft-ignored suggestion — it’s insulting to get to a low-stress street such as Prince and be told, in not so many words, “Behave, cyclists!” That cynicism is certainly not diminished when so-called safety managers can’t be bothered to stop drivers from parking in bike lanes half a block from where they’re standing or when they can’t remove a metal obstruction to the sidewalk. And that cynicism is only enhanced when the police — who are supposed to be the actual safety managers of New York City — are among the worst rule breakers.
This photo was also taken on my trip across Prince Street this morning:
I’ve commented before that bicycles feel like the bastard stepchildren of Vision Zero — despite featuring an image of a car and a pedestrian, a bicycle is conspicuously absent from the official Vision Zero logo — and this morning’s action did nothing to dissuade me of that notion. Considering that an elderly woman was killed about two blocks from Prince Street just a few weeks ago, these kinds of actions won’t get us to Vision Zero. And they certainly don’t make people who ride bikes think that the city is on their side.
The DOT safety managers were back again this morning. Here are two stationed at at Prince and Mulberry:
And here’s one man stationed at Broadway:
Meanwhile, here’s the intersection with Crosby Street:
Perhaps you’ve noticed the huge amount of bike traffic streaming over the Manhattan Bridge every morning and wondered how many cyclists come over per hour. The above video, shot and edited by Clarence Eckerson, Jr. of Streetfilms fame, might satisfy your curiosity. It’s by no means scientific, but it does offer a nice picture of the huge amount of bikes being pedaled into Manhattan these days. Many thanks to Clarence for putting it together and to concerned citizen Steve O’Neill for serving as our traffic counter.
I’m presenting at the Cityworks (X)po in Roanoake, Virginia this weekend, speaking on the subject of Bikelash with Aaron Naparstek. With New York City’ experiencing a bad case of bikelash once again, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Our presentation will be updated to include some of the more recent examples of bikelash from across the country.
In case you missed our presentation at the National Bike Summit this year, Clarence Eckerson, Jr. put together this short video so you can get a taste. And, yes, Aaron and I are available to come to your city to help you treat bikelash. Contact me for more information.
Many thanks in advance to the X(po) organizers for including us at this event. It’s an honor to be among such a passionate group of speakers and presenters.
I have no interest in picking apart Samuel G. Freedman’s recent post at The New Yorker, “A Bicycle Crash Kills Another Pedestrian in Central Park,” point by point. If you want to do that on your own, please check it against Adam Sternbergh’s now-evergreen guide to writing anti-bike stories, which was originally posted in 2011. Trust me, Freedman hits all the notes.
Instead, I wanted to zero in on what seems to be an interesting psychology at play in Freedman’s piece, one that’s also happening across the city right now.
Freedman begins his piece by mentioning his own experience of being hit by a cyclist in the park:
One chilly morning in December, 2003, I was midway through my daily run in Central Park when I felt a powerful jolt from behind. The next thing I knew, I was splayed across the asphalt, certain that I had been hit by a car. But, as I gathered myself, groaning, and checked for blood and fractures, I saw the culprit sitting on the ground beside me: a bicyclist with his exercise gear and helmet still in place. I did the reasonable thing, hurling his bicycle over a low fence, cursing him profusely, and demanding his name and contact information. Then, because I had no money on me, I limped three anguished miles home.
In retrospect, I can appreciate how fortunate I was. I had fallen forward, staying within the running lane, rather than diagonally, into the path of trailing cars. I had managed to throw my arms down ahead of me so that my head did not crash onto the pavement. Because it was winter, I was wearing two layers of cold-weather gear, absorbing the worst of the impact.
My near-miss, though, left me with a heightened awareness of the dangers posed by bicyclists. Their numbers have grown dramatically in New York in the eleven years since my episode, with commuter biking more than doubling in that time.
Later in the piece he brings up his experience of being hit by a driver while riding his bike. So as to provide the full context, here’s the entire paragraph in which the account appears:
I have no animus toward bicycles in and of themselves. I have owned a bike for all of the thirty-one years I’ve lived or worked in New York. At points, I have commuted to and from my Columbia University office by bike. I’ve cycled along the Hudson with my children, and by myself for exercise when I was unable to run. And, yes, in my benighted past, I’ve known the guilty pleasure of rolling through a red light when no cars or pedestrians were in sight. I also have no illusions about the danger that autos and trucks pose—fifteen cyclists have died in traffic accidents in New York City so far this year. A few years ago, a livery cab making a sudden right turn cut me off as I was heading uptown on my bike along Amsterdam Avenue. I braced my fall with my right arm, and it took months before I could fully straighten it.
In Freedman’s first example, being hit by a person on a bike serves as the narrative framework for an essay in which he indicts all cyclists for the growing danger on New York City streets. In his second example, being hit by a person in a car serves merely to establish Freedman’s cycling bona fides.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a stark disconnect contained in a single piece of anti-bike writing. In Freedman’s own words, the recent tragedies in Central Park “lay bare two realities of what we might call bike culture in New York City.” But when fifteen cyclists die in traffic crashes in the span of nine months — not to mention upwards of 120 pedestrians, motorists and passengers so far this year — that apparently exposes nothing about what we might call car culture in New York City.
So why is that? It’s a fascinating psychological question, and one that I think we need to answer if we’re going to make our way to Vision Zero.
Let me be clear: I am in no way excusing reckless cycling just because reckless driving is more consequential. “But other people are worse!” is a terrible moral argument. Any death caused by a person’s negligence or recklessness, be it on a bike or in a car, ought to stoke our moral outrage as concerned citizens of New York. Please read that disclaimer again before you decide to comment.
By this point in my bike blogging career, I’m probably programmed to be wary of anything with the words “death” and “bike” or “bicycle” in the title that appears on a mainstream news organization’s website. One doesn’t get over the shock of seeing Dorothy Rabinowitz in her bikelash debut, “Death by Bicycle,” for a long, long time.
So it was with great skepticism that I read “Death on a Bike,” by the Times’ Timothy Egan. In fact, I was only able to get around to reading it a full 24-hours after it was posted because New York was in the midst of reacting to a very real and tragic death by bike, a case that — rightfully — caused a lot of soul-searching by advocates and — predictably — caused a lot of “Off with their heads!” stories from the tabloids.
In the space of that 24-hours a lot of my non-cycling friends posted Egan’s piece on Facebook, which is now more or less the place where I learn about how dangerous cycling is from people who rarely or never bike. So I’m probably also inclined to react to anything bike-related that first comes across my radar over Facebook the same way I might want to change the subject after a racist great-uncle says something about Barack Obama at Thanksgiving dinner.
When I finally did get around to clicking over to the Times to read the article, another red flag was raised immediately. As of this posting, Egan’s essay has 765 comments. And one of those comments — which received the coveted-by-the-petty “NYT Picks” status, by the way — is from Gary Taustine. Remember Gary? He once argued that bike parking portended his “worst fears about New York City,” ISIS not being a thing most people could have predicted in 2013. For this bit of histrionics he was awarded a “dialogue” with Times readers in the Sunday paper.
So forgive me if I went into Egan’s piece with more than a fair amount of certainty that it would not provide the most nuanced picture of the threat posed to cyclists and how to deal with it. Sadly – or thankfully, considering the material it provided me here – it did not disappoint.
Egan begins with the tragic story of Sher Kung, a young, promising lawyer and new mom who was killed while biking to work on 2nd Avenue in Seattle by a truck driver. Egan paints a vivid picture:
She was doing all the right things in the morning commute, traveling in the bike lane, wearing a helmet, following the rules of the road. In an instant, Sher Kung — new mother, brilliant attorney, avid cyclist — was struck and killed by a vehicle making a turn in downtown Seattle last month.
At the scene, the truck driver wept and swore he never saw her. Mourners placed a ghost bike, painted white, at the corner. In the local law office of Perkins Coie, where Ms. Kung worked, colleagues passed by the poster in her office — “It’s a girl!” — and couldn’t believe she was gone, dead at 31.
As a piece of writing, Egan’s prose is concise, chilling and heart-wrenching all at once. What happened to Kung is awful. But what happened to Kung does not in anyway support Egan’s thesis: that all those bike lanes cities across the country have been installing over the past number of years to “accommodate the new urban commuter” just don’t work. Egan essentially blames bike lanes for deaths like Kung’s since they lure people into a false sense of complacency:
But lanes for cyclists and signage for special routes might offer little more than the illusion of safety. The designated bike corridor on the street where Ms. Kung died, Second Avenue, is known as the Lane of Death for all the accidents. She was struck down just days before a new signal system was put in place.
To those not in the know, this suggests that all that happened on the “Lane of Death” after Kung’s death was the addition of just a few flashing lights or perhaps a lone traffic signal with a bike symbol on it. What actually happened was that Second Avenue was upgraded from a painted bike lane placed next to cars to a two-way protected bike lane along the curb. This fact, which is completely omitted from Egan’s piece, actually makes Kung’s death all the more tragic. Seattle Bike Blog has some good videos of Second Avenue before and after the upgrade, and while it still has a few weak spots, had this new design been installed earlier it might have prevented the collision that killed Sher Kung.
Yet Egan never mentions this, nor does he mention how bike traffic tripled in the week after the new Second Avenue bike lane was installed, adding something else to the street that might have helped Kung, which is safety in numbers. To do so in service of a larger point – Biking is dangerous! So just listen to me and stop it, people! – seems lazy at best and dishonest at worst. In fact, if the latter is true, I suspect it has something to do with Egan’s probable status as a former vehicular cyclist:
I love to daydream when I ride. I used to love to pretend I was Lance Armstrong in the Pyrenees, until he was proven a pathological liar and cheat. But I’m my own worst enemy, because every cyclist must assume that every car driver could kill them. And you should never daydream.
This sounds a lot like what I often read on vehicular cyclist forums: that if you just have your wits about you and do your best to pay attention and keep up, you can ride anywhere. Look, I always assume that every car driver could kill me. That’s why I breathe a sigh of relief every time I get to Prospect Park West or the Brooklyn Waterfront Greenway. Something about my entire body – my posture, my pace, the expression on my face – just becomes more relaxed. Even the protected lanes on 8th and 9th Avenue, while not quite places where daydreaming is a good idea, are still far more relaxing than a trip on 6th Avenue.
Egan then brings up the example set by the Netherlands, only to completely misunderstand the Netherlands’ example:
It’s better to learn from places with long biking traditions, and to change the way we think about the road when on the road. In the Netherlands, deaths per total number of miles cycled are much lower. This is attributed to educated bike riders, who stay in the lanes, signal properly and obey traffic signals. In turn, drivers learn to look for cyclists who may be just out of mirror range.
Yes, it is a good idea to learn from places with long biking traditions, especially if those traditions include people not being crushed by automobiles in significant numbers. But the lesson to be gleaned from these places isn’t “think differently” in the philosophical sense. It’s “Think Different®” in the Macintosh computer sense: design. Fatality rates in the Netherlands are significantly lower than in the U.S. not because of education, but because of infrastructure. Bike riders “stay in the lanes” because they have lanes that are easy to stay in; they’re either physically separated from automobile traffic or they’re located on streets where speed limits are kept low with narrow car lanes, chicanes, and other physical traffic-calming elements. I’m oversimplifying Dutch design by about a mile, but at least I’m not leaving it out of the discussion entirely, as Egan does.
As for the other behavioral examples Egan cites — signaling properly and obeying traffic signals — they too are influenced by design. In fact, Dutch infrastructure is so good relative to ours that the signals cyclists send each other on the road to signify their intent are so understated as to be almost invisible to the average American. They don’t bend their arms at right angles to announce a turn. They point with their hands held out just slightly and angled down, if they signal at all. Why? Because you don’t have to make giant, grand gestures when you’re communicating with people who are also moving at a human-powered pace. You also don’t often hear people calling out warnings like “on your left” largely because passing another cyclist probably won’t result in that person catching a door prize or being nudged into fast-moving car traffic. Dutch infrastructure not only lessens conflicts and confusion between motorists and cyclists but also minimizes conflicts between cyclists and other cyclists. (Or “people” as they’re called in the Netherlands.)
As for Egan’s other points about traffic signals and attentive drivers? Well, again, it’s the infrastructure, stupid. It’s easy and quite pleasant to obey a system that’s designed with you in mind. Egan makes the mistake that it’s this good behavior that earns Dutch cyclists the respect of drivers – “In turn, drivers learn…” — but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Drivers learn to be mindful of cyclists because the infrastructure is designed to make them mindful. Plus, most Dutch drivers are also Dutch cyclists.
Egan writes that “If each side could just think a little more like the other side, it would go a long way toward improved safety.” And while this sounds nice, it’s actually my biggest personal gripe with the Vision Zero conversation as it exists in New York City right now. Yes, mutual respect and empathy are important skills to have if one wants to build a civilized society, but depending on people to be respectful or to bike a mile in someone else’s saddle will only get society so far. Some people just can’t be convinced that giving space to cyclists is worth it. Like, for example, local TV news reporters.
Laws and stiff consequences for injuring and killing people are certainly one important part of changing the tone and making people safer, but in discussing how laws work Egan once again blows it:
In California, after 153 cyclists were killed in collisions in 2012, the state tried to do something about it. This week a new law took effect — the Three Feet for Safety Act. It mandates a yard-long cushion between autos and cyclists, with fines for violators. It’s a start, born of good intentions, but best of luck enforcing that.
No one thinks that three-feet-to-pass laws will suddenly create magic forcefields preventing drivers from hitting people, or that drivers will automatically know exactly how far away they are from a person on a bike at any given moment. And no one thinks that cops will be out there with measuring tape. “Sorry, sir, but we had you at just two feet, ten inches from your side mirror to Lance over there. He’s dead now, so that’ll be $500, please.” What will happen, however, is that when a person on a bike is hit by a driver from behind, for example, it will almost automatically be seen as evidence that the driver didn’t keep his car far enough away from the cyclist. As a result, a stiff fine may be levied against the driver. And as a result, a person who hears about a driver getting a stiff fine for not passing with enough clearance will be more likely to take it into consideration the next time he tries to do it. And he’ll tell two friends, and they’ll tell two friends, and so on. And in a time frame that’s probably longer than a day but definitely shorter than fifty years, people will eventually just know that you have to pass people on bikes safely when you’re behind the wheel of a car.
Egan then sounds a bit Cuozzo-ian, and conjures up images of bike zealots who want to take away Americans’ god-given right to drive by installing bike lanes — bad bike lanes — all over the place willy nilly.
Seattle has a bike master plan, and bike lanes all over the city. The last mayor was bike-crazed, prompting many to complain about a “war on cars.” None of that prevented the kind of collision that took the life of Sher Kung one bright summer morning.
I’m not hip to everything going on in Seattle, and I don’t know how deep their bikelash has been, but based on my experience here in New York, deriding a mayor as “bike-crazed” and complaining about a “war on cars” is a great way to prevent the kind of infrastructure that can prevent the kind of collisions that take lives. (And isn’t it funny how effective mayors are never written off as “education-crazed” or “balanced-budget-crazed.”)
Egan concludes by inadvertently making the case for protected bicycle infrastructure:
A bike rider is flesh, bones, tendons and skin against a two-ton S.U.V. What would be a fender-bender, scrap or brush between cars can be fatal to a cyclist.
Exactly! For some reason, Egan can not bring himself from this very obvious fact to its very logical conclusion: separate the squishy bike rider from the heavy S.U.V.s as much as possible or slow the two-ton trucks down to a crawl when it’s not.
But Egan is right about one thing. He writes, “Getting on a bike in the city is an act of faith in a flawed urban contract, and in beating the odds.” The urban contract is flawed because the wrong people – poll-minded politicians, NIMBYs, local TV news anchors, tabloid columnists, and parking-obsessed community leaders — are writing the terms of the contract.
As I’ve mentioned before, most arguments against bike lanes are actually arguments for bike lanes. Never has that been more true than with Timothy Egan’s widely shared opinion piece. Sometimes, the worst enemies of safe cycling are people who claim to be cyclists.