Bike Cities

Cities are mostly designed for cars and trucks these days, but some are trying to reincorporate the bike into their transportation equations, and some never abandoned the bike.

I was recently in Vancouver, BC, Canada, for a quick business meeting. I've ridden in Vancouver before, and loved it. Bike rental shops are plentiful, the bikes are excellent, and riding through the city is easy and rewarding. Seeing the bike signage, bike lanes, and bike racks again made it clear that Vancouver is still committed to remaking itself as a major biking city. It has to, because it is growing very rapidly, and even its mass transit system is bursting at the seams. Bikes provide space-efficient, zero-emissions, affordable transportation.

Vancouver also participates in the World Naked Bike Ride, an annual event held in a number of cities around the world on the same day in June to draw attention to a host of environmental and anti-war issues. On my recent trip, the ride was scheduled for the Saturday I was in town, but weather unfortunately forced them to delay it a week.

A few weeks later, I found myself in Amsterdam, arriving after an overnight flight and taking the train from the Schipol Airport to the center of town, and being greeted by a riverfront railing draped in bicycles, bikes speeding by in cobbled bike lanes, and people of all ages and types of dress pedaling around town, having full right-of-way.

Amsterdam is a city that became a bike city and never gave it up. It makes too much sense for them, and their city's design remains compact and approachable. Of course, Amsterdam has a canal system, another odd transportation option compared to most cities, but one that is mainly used by tour companies, tradesmen, and a few devoted boaters.

The cyclists in Amsterdam are nonplussed by biking, carrying umbrellas in the rain, chatting on cell phones as they ride, and riding with groceries. Cycling is completely practical and integrated into daily life.

As US cities like Boulder, Portland, Salt Lake, and others move to become cycling-friendly, other mayors and town planners should pay attention. It is a way to make a city more livable, more pleasant, more efficient, and more rewarding for its residents.

First and Last

When winter doesn't have New England in its chilling clutches, there are two dates we bike commuters anticipate -- the first day and last day of school. The school year changes everything on the road, and these dates are highly correlated with the number of drivers, their speed and determination, and the presence of school buses, all of which make commuting by bike a white-knuckle affair.

Every year, it is amazing how dramatically traffic volume falls after the school year ends. Cars vanish as soon as school closes, as parents shuttling children can stay at home, as traffic can redistribute itself throughout the day because deadlines around school hours have vanished, and as vacations draw off a percentage of automobiles each week.

Not only that, but drivers' attitudes shift noticeably. The less frantic pace of life when school is out helps with this, but also the greater awareness of outdoor activities, and the outdoors overall, probably contributes. More drivers have their windows open, are wearing lightweight clothing, and are on their way to hiking or biking themselves.

Roads when school is in session can be so crowded that we cyclists need the cops. This has happened a couple of times, when I've been hung up at a particularly bad intersection and a police car happening by turned on its lights and blocked the traffic long enough for me to get through. This would only happen during the school year.

School buses are another source of stress and traffic woes for commuting cyclists. Because they clog roads, they slow drivers down and clump cars together artificially. This has two effects -- one, cyclists encounter packs of cars; second, the drivers are trying to make up for lost time after getting a school bus out of their way. Combined, these two effects make cycling commuting a little more nerve-wracking.

This all confirms how the car culture occurred because of a threshold effect or "tipping point." We've all experienced this -- we drive somewhere nearby not because we couldn't bike or walk, but because there are too many cars, the roads are too busy, the streets are too dangerous because of the cars, so we add to the cars on the road by driving. Summers confirm that if we might ultimately be able to tip back into a more balanced transportation picture if we can get enough cars off the roads or redistributed throughout the day. With the end of the school year, cyclists see car volume edge down toward the threshold again, and can ride more comfortably during commutes. And that's the lesson. Have a nice summer.

The Bird Nest

Bikes that have fallen into disrepair appear regularly in our lives. Cyclists are particularly sensitized to notice them as they hide out along the sides of houses and relegated to the backs of sheds. We look for bikes, and when we see a clunker out at the curb with a "Free" sign hanging from it, we even contemplate our options. However, there are stages of disrepair that bikes fall through before becoming complete junkers, and these early stages can be particularly enlightening.

For a lot of kids, their bikes fall into disrepair when they hit their teenage years. It's no longer cool to be seen pedaling a bike, and raising a sweat has suddenly become a distinct disadvantage in social situations. So, the bike hangs in the garage, protected from the elements but slowly rusting and growing stiff and outdated.

Adults who flirt with cycling can have furtive relationships with their bikes, which means bouts of neglect and bursts of rehabilitation. The bike may have a long winter hanging or sitting, then be enthusiastically embraced with the first days of spring, only to fall back into the category of the forgotten once the swimming pools open. These bouts of repair may seem hopeful at times, but really just constitute a multi-stage descent into disrepair.

Even serious cyclists can let bikes fall into disrepair, as newer bikes are purchased and the old ones are ridden less often.

But I recently heard a great story of a new stage of bike disrepair -- the bird's nest. In this case, the person I talked with had a bike hanging on his garage wall, entering a state of disrepair and neglect, but reminding him that he used to ride and should ride again. His helmet still hung suspended from the handlebars, like a bowl. In the past few months, he had often left his garage open most of the day, working from home and enjoying the mild spring climate. Recently, he heard a strange noise in his garage one morning, and sure enough, noticed that a sparrow had built a nice nest in his bike helmet, and was carefully cultivating a couple of eggs.

Now, why I like this story is that it works on several levels. For the human involved, the bike has definitely fallen into disrepair, and the sparrow's nest represents a poignant reminder of empty promises to ride and months of procrastination. However, for the sparrow, the bike is now a home (or, at least, the helmet is), and the neglect has yielded a safe, warm, and useful home. The bike is so neglected it has entered the ecosystem, and its usefulness has crossed species. It is no longer useful to humans, but has gone to the birds.