Errandeuring and Errant Weather

Today were possibly some of the worst conditions I have ever cycled in - a situation made all the more dramatic by the fact that I wasn't merely cycling; I was erandeurring. But let me start from the beginning. You see, there is an entire culture out there that thrives on turning transportation cycling into a sport in its own right - reinventing commuting as series of challenges to make it more interesting. While this approach is pretty much the antithesis of my own, I am nonetheless intrigued by it. When the utilitaire and coffeeneuring crazes swept the nation last year, I followed along with interest. Loosely modeled on randonneuring, these games involved keeping track of one's coffee shop and utility rides, complete with control cards and minimum mileage requirements. The authors of the Chasing Mailboxes blog in Washington, DC hosted the challenge, diligently collecting entries from participants all over the US, posting updates and results.

This winter they announced their latest project: the errandonnee. Participants are challenged to "complete 12 errands in 12 days and ride a total of 30 miles by bike between February 9-20." A detailed list of rules was again provided, along with control cards. I read through it all and decided - what the heck - to give this thing a try. While riding a minimum of 30 miles in errands over the course of 12 days would not be out of the ordinary for me, I wondered what it would be like to keep track of this mileage, to categorise it according to the rules, and in general to reframe everyday cycling as taking part in a challenge.

The thing I did not foresee, was that the challenge aspect would become quite real. On February 9th we had our blizzard, and on the next day I still did not feel like braving the streets on two wheels. So as of this morning, I had only 10 days to complete the 30 miles of errands. Not only was there plenty of snow still on the roads, but it was now also raining badly.

I may lack the words to adequately describe today's road conditions. There wasn't just snow, there was deep water. Temperatures had risen sharply overnight, with snowbanks melting and additional rain coming down. By mid-day, some streets were downright flooded, and in many cases the water concealed slush underneath. On top of this, it was raining quite hard, with poor visibility and all the extra traffic chaos that comes with that. I now own a bright yellow raincoat for days like this, and that's what I wore. I also always have my lights on when it rains, despite it being daytime.

Even along stretches where the road itself was mostly clear, turns were treacherous, as that was where deep water and uncleared snow were gathered. Street corners were also where snowbanks were at their highest, which, as I soon figured out, meant that cars turning onto the main road from side streets had poor visibility. After a couple of close encounters, I decided the safest place to ride was smack in the middle of the travel lane.

Mid-day traffic was bad, and being on a bike did not put me at an advantage this time. Between the snowbanks and the trucks, there was not always a way to cycle past the standing traffic. My pictures were taken close to home, on a street where I felt it was safe to get off the bike and photograph the conditions of the roads. But for most of my route it didn't feel right to stop. Rain kept coming down, cars were honking at each other and executing all sorts of crazy maneuvers, roads were flooded and/or still covered with snow, and the whole thing was more than a little stressful.

In the course of all this, I completely forgot that I was errandeuring, remembering it only once I'd returned home. So far, the awareness of taking part in a challenge has not made me feel any differently about doing errands by bike. I had to go out today either way, and riding was still preferable to walking in ankle-deep water.

My impression of the utilitaire, coffeeneuring and errandonnee family of challenges, is that they are largely for athlete cyclists who might normally drive for transportation, but are looking to do it more by bike. The competitive paradigm appeals to them, so they've extended it to transportation cycling as a form of motivation. But I do know of cyclists who are purely commuters and have been enjoying the challenges too. Ultimately, I see errandeuring as a celebration of cycling, with its elaborate rule structure as largely tongue in cheek. Now to check whether bonus points are in store for the epic road conditions I've endured...

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Positively Biketastic

When I look back at 2012 (I know it's been a while, but I needed time to take it all in!) I remember it as the year when I started to notice a lot of positive changes in the cycling world around me. Positive changes not only in the widening selection of transport bikes available in local shops and not only in the public perception of bicycling, but also in the increasing amount of rapport, cooperation and even overlap between different "camps" of bicyclists. And I think this latter point is just as important as the others. We cyclists can be tribal and divisive; we can be each other's harshest, cruelest critics. But if we insist on identifying within rigid parameters and lashing out against each other's choice of bike, attire, and riding style, how can we hope for positive changes for cyclists as a group? 

When my cycling club, the Ride Studio Cafe, began to blur the lines between the randonneuring and racing cultures, I remember it felt as if a paradigm shift was taking place. They threw a big party, where cyclists of different stripes interacted with each other with a degree of enthusiasm that showed a genuine eagerness. Dynamo lighting, racks, and wool were discussed. Unexpected common interests were found. It was truly an exciting thing to be witnessing. 

At this same party, I finally met Maureen Bruno Roy, a Massachusetts-based professional cyclocross racer. In her off time Mo leads a regular life, and part of that regular life involves riding her pink mixte for transportation. For me, seeing Mo so happy and casual on her city bike was an encouraging moment: I had not encountered an athlete-cyclist outside of Europe before who saw value and usefulness in such bicycles. But to Mo the value is pretty clear, and she credits her attitude to her time racing in Belgium. "There were these Dutch bikes, and I rode them to get around when I wasn't racing; it was great!" 

Around the same time, a local man named Jeff Palter got himself a Brompton folding bike and began commuting on it, posting excitedly on Twitter about how much he enjoyed that. If you're outside New England that name might not mean anything to you, but Mr. Palter happens to be the CEO of the Northeast Velodrome and the owner of Cycle Loft - one of the biggest roadie shops around. CycleLoft is also the main sponsor of the Northeast Bicycle Club - the largest local racing club and the very club that offers the "infamous" paceline rides that so divided my readership two summers ago. Until recently, it would have been difficult to imagine anyone associated with this camp entertaining the idea of riding around on anything but a racing bike with a backpack. I was more than a little surprised when Jeff approached me about sponsorship, explaining that CycleLoft was expanding into the city bike market. 

"Looks like the war is over," said a local cyclist when I shared this news with her. I guess sometimes, with all the insults flung about, it can indeed feel like a war - especially when some are described as "riding tanks" and others as being "weekend warriors." With a chuckle, I pictured an army of speeding Cervelos clashing with an army of menacingly rolling Workcycles (incidentally - a Dutch bike company founded by an American, who got his start at Fat City). 

Some time in December, I was approached by Bicycling Magazine and invited to write a weekly online column about "city bikes and gear." I was initially skeptical about what they had in mind, but it seemed pretty straightforward: They wanted to expand their coverage beyond racing, to encourage people to commute by bike, introducing them to a variety of bikes and accessories for the purpose. I agreed to write the column. It's a short-term contract and I may not be the one doing it in the long run, but I hope to give it a running start. Or rather, a re-start: Historically, such coverage is not new for Bicycling. A 1978 copy I found of the magazine includes articles such as "Choosing a Three-Speed Commuting Bike" and "Road Test: the Bickerton Folding Bicycle." These things are cyclical. Hopefully the current cycle, with its interest in transportation and city bikes, will be around for a while. 

A few days ago I read a story in the New York Times about a man who, a couple of times a week, commutes from the suburbs outside New York City to his office in Manhattan on his racing bike. It's a 40 mile ride and he uses the milage for training. He does it year round, sometimes in snow. I thought it was a cool story, especially after the cyclist himself provided additional details on Velocipede Salon. Then today I read a story in Atlantic Cities in response to it, about ordinary New Yorkers commuting. The author mentions that some readers criticised the NYT piece for "alienating [ordinary people] who might want to ride to work," but I am glad the author herself did not go that route. Instead she gave examples of some interesting New Yorkers who ride and urged cyclists to unite in promoting their shared interests. 

For those of us who have been cycling in major North American cities over the past few years, it is hard not to notice that things are changing. Now more than ever, I feel there is room for everyone who loves to be on a bike to promote their style of riding without criticising others in the process. Whether 4 miles or 40, whether in a business suit or a skin suit, whether on a cheap or expensive bike, bottom line is: It's all positively biketastic. The more we understand that, the better off we will be.

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Beware of the Warm and Cozy

Watching Bikeyface ride around the studio in circles as the sun shone weakly through frost-covered windows, I had a terrible realisation: If we weren't careful, we could fall prey to the Cozy Neighbourhood Winter Madness Syndrome. Ever since I moved to the Cambridge/Somerville area it's gotten me every year. 

Not to be confused with the Winter Doldrums or Seasonal Depression, the Cozy Neighbourhood Winter Madness Syndrome is characterised by the claustrophobia of becoming trapped by winter in our immediate surroundings. Particularly vulnerable are residents of certain urban yet peripheral neighbourhoods like ours. On the one hand, our neighbourhood is self-sufficient and has everything we need: Cafes, grocery stores, shops and a multitude of other services are within walking distance or just a short bike ride away. On the other hand, it is village-like and does not feel altogether connected to the outside world. This makes it both convenient to stay close to home once the freezing temps and snow set in, and frustrating to feel yourself trapped in a pattern of doing just that. Soon, Boston proper begins to seem as distant and foreign as Hong Kong; the outer suburbs as desolate and forbidding as Siberia. Sure, we know that it's all in our heads, that we could and should venture out beyond our shrunken travel radius. But the 'ville keeps us firmly in its clutches with its cozy cafes, charming shops and poorly plowed roads leading out of town. "Stay put, baby," the neighbourhood whispers seductively, "it's cold outside." As the winter progresses, we slowly begin to go mad from lack of contact with the outside world. Before we know it, we are speaking a dialect that only the local coffee shop baristas understand. When we finally emerge in spring the folk across the river can sense we're different.

Well, not this year. I was worldly now. I was tough. I would not be deterred by the warm, inviting glow of the Wine and Cheese Cask whilst attempting to ride past it on my way out of town. 

"Bikeyface," I said, my voice ringing with festive  determination. "I am prepared to go anywhere for lunch! I have donned many layers of wool and my bike is geared for adventure." Bravely, we bundled up and stepped into the cold. Things were going well, until we happened past a new coffee house down the road. We tried not to look directly at it. But oh how tiny it was. How comfy the people inside looked. Through the fogged up window we could make out a small unoccupied table with two chairs, just waiting for us...

Next thing I recall, I was sitting across from Bikeyface, chewing on a delicious spinach pie and sipping a hot cappuccino. A David Bowie song played in the background. Humming along, the barista glanced in our direction meaningfully, as if to say "You see ladies? No need to go anywhere; we got everything you need right here." A customer approached the counter and ordered a hot beverage. It was only January, and already he spoke in the local dialect. 

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Don't Go There?

Got an email from a woman who is about to start cycling to work. It's only a 4 mile commute each way, and she is more than comfortable with the distance. But between her own neighbourhood and her office is an area known to have high crime rates. She is concerned about passing through it, especially on her way home after dark. "I would not walk there alone. How do I know if it's safe to ride my bike?" 

Personally, I feel far more comfortable cycling through questionable neighbourhoods than walking there or waiting for the subway/bus. But overall I live in a decent area. We have occasional shootings and bank robberies here, but none of the places I ride through feel too rough or dangerous. And while I've had a few uncomfortable encounters over the years, the bike allowed me to ride away and avoid serious conflict. Still, in the past I've lived in cities with definite "don't go there" zones. I had not thought of what I would do if I had to commute there by bike. 

What determines whether you consider an area safe for cycling? Do you take special precautions in neighbourhoods that are known for high crime rates, or do you plan your route so as to avoid them altogether? 

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Cycling without Fear

I talk to a lot of beginner cyclists who are afraid to ride on the road. Some try to conquer their fears by riding anyway, only to find that they end up being more afraid, not less. The proximity of the passing cars frightens them so much, that their bike handling suffers. This in turn makes them more likely to experience close calls and drivers honking at them, terrifying them even more. It becomes a vicious cycle. 

Fear is a nasty, crippling emotion. I don't mean the philosophical kind, where you are thinking "Gee I don't think I can handle this." What I mean is the visceral kind: that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, adrenaline, heart racing, trembling, weak at the knees. It is debilitating and difficult to control. But it can be avoided.

If an aspect of cycling scares you at a strong visceral level, my suggestion would be to take it down a notch - to a point where you do not experience the fear - and work from there. If cycling on busy roads gives you panic attacks, try riding on quiet side streets exclusively, until that feels so comfortable that you are ready for the next step. If even that is too much, stick to bike paths, parks and empty lots until you are ready for side streets. If your neighbourhood has none of these things, try riding in the middle of the night or very early morning (with good lights of course). Even in a busy city, the roads will be nearly empty. Whatever it takes, find a way to ride so that you are relaxed and not in panic mode. I would apply this to every aspect of cycling - from riding for transportation, to learning new skills, to trying drop bars, clipless pedals, and riding off road. 

It's also important to understand that when we ride with friends and spouses, their level of comfort may be very different from ours. Without meaning any harm, they might coax or pressure us to do things we cannot handle. When we are ready for it, being encouraged to push ourselves can be a good thing. I've certainly received more than a couple of nudges that were helpful. But overcoming nervousness or timidity is one thing. Intense, limbs-atremble fear is not good and can affect our behaviour in unpredictable ways. It is our responsibility to know the difference.

Conquering one's fears is a worthwhile endeavor. But it takes time and there is more than one way to approach it. In my experience, those who find cycling more frightening than enjoyable, stop cycling. Therefore, I suggest sticking to riding in a way that feels fun and avoiding riding in a way that feels terrifying. Cycling should be a positive experience.

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Changing Commutes

When I first started riding for transportation in Boston, my trips were about 2-3 miles each way and took me almost exclusively through relatively flat urban areas, bike trails, and quiet side streets. But as the nature of my work changed over the past few years, I found myself making more long distance trips that took me out of town. The change snuck up on me gradually. But when I look at my typical week today, a 20 mile round trip with some hills thrown in has become normal.

The effect of this on my choice of transportation bikes has been significant. I could not tackle most of my trips today on a heavy upright 3-speed geared for the city and still arrive at my destination energetic and presentable - which is, after all, my priority. I need low gears for the hills; I need speed to cover the distance within a reasonable time. Naturally, these practical considerations have influenced my preferences.

On the other hand, the longer trips have not changed how I dress on the bike. I would describe myself as a low maintenance dresser, so I've never been one to wear carefully pressed pastel satin suits and stiletto heels in the first place. But I do wear mostly skirts and dresses - always have; it's just what I feel comfortable in. So far I've had no issue continuing to do that.

My views on the feasibility of cycling for transportation continue to expand as I ride longer distances. I still do not feel the need for a car. In fact, I enjoy traveling by bike now more than ever - the terrain is more varied, with less urban congestion. As far as challenges, time management is the biggest issue - with more careful planning required to get everything done by bike. Poorly plowed suburban roads in the winter will be a possible obstacle in future, though this past winter that was never a problem.

I am looking forward to writing more on this, addressing topics relevant for those with long commutes who still want to ride in their regular clothes. When I started out I never imagined that I would be doing this kind of cycling, yet here I am.

Has a changed commute altered your perspectives on transport bicycles, bike-appropriate clothing, and the feasibility of cycling for transportation?

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How a Grocery Store Won Me Back

There is a grocery store nearby that I've always neglected despite its proximity. They did not have a great selection of foods. They often sold stuff that was spoiled or expired. At the the checkout, the cashiers would argue with me when I declined plastic bags. And the bike parking outside was iffy. This store is so close I could easily walk to it, but carrying bags of groceries is just easier on a bike. And since I did food shopping by bike anyway, I figured I might as well shop at the stores I preferred, even if it meant riding further. 

I suspect that other residents of our neighbourhood felt similarly, because about half a year ago the nearby store began to aggressively reinvent itself. They cleaned up, reorganised their merchandise, added an organic foods section. They expanded their selection of produce. The quality control is much improved. They now sell reusable shopping bags and don't argue when customers decline plastic. 

But best of all, they allow me to roll my Brompton inside and use it as a shopping cart. No questions or comments, other than the occasional "Look, it's a bike and shopping cart in one!" Considering that other shops have thrown me out even when I've walked in with the bike fully folded, the permissive attitude of this store came as a pleasant surprise. Walking in with a small-wheel shopper is really no different from pushing a huge shopping cart; they get it. Now I shop there almost exclusively. Not only have they improved their store, but they've made shopping by bike a breeze.

While those of us who ride small wheel shoppers are in the minority, many cyclists report that their shopping preferences are guided by the store's bike-friendlieness. This can refer to a number of things, from adequate bike parking, to the parking lot being safe to navigate, to the location itself being reachable via a bike-friendly route. Do these considerations play a role in where you do your grocery shopping?

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In Appreciation of John Forester

Browsing the DFW Point to Point blog the other day, I learned about the recent release of the 7th edition of John Forester's Effective Cycling - that classic tome espousing the vehicular cycling philosophy. Thinking about this book, I feel great affection toward my own tattered blue copy.

When it comes to bicycle infrastructure, Metro Boston has changed considerably since I first began riding here. In Spring 2009 the majority of my routes involved traveling along streets with no infrastructure what so ever. When I discovered Vehicular Cycling, I thus interpreted it not as something that was a matter of agreeing or disagreeing with, but as a necessary tool for the realities of my environment. John Forester believes that bicyclists should behave like vehicles, sharing roads with motorised traffic. Effective Cycling gives precise and detailed instructions on how to do that.

As an absolute beginner, I purchased an older edition of the book and found it immensely helpful. It educated me about traffic maneuvers from the bottom up: Starting with very basic concepts that I was able to implement right away, then getting into more nuanced ideas that became useful once I gained a bit of experience and courage. And just as importantly, Effective Cycling got me into an "I can do this. I have a right to do this." frame of mind. It seems almost hard to believe now, but at the time I was often the only bicyclist out on the roads and there were no social or infrastructural cues to indicate that it was okay to ride a bike on the street. No sharrows, no "share the road" signs, no other people on bikes. Drivers would routinely shout "You're not supposed to be here!" at me, incredulous at my very presence. Effective Cycling gave me the confidence and the skills to operate in that kind of environment, and to do it safely.

Today there are bike lanes, sharrows and signage along most of my routes through the city. There are also many other cyclists out on the roads. The combined effect of this has been an increased awareness and acceptance of bicycling. The infrastructure here is far from perfect. The drivers are still far from nice. But nonetheless things are much better than they were three years ago. There is less hostility, less stress. It no longer seems abnormal to ride in the city, and cycling feels more accessible to beginners.

Extreme proponents of the Vehicular Cycling philosophy are against bicycling infrastructure of any kind, believing that separated paths and bike lanes are not in the best interest of cyclists. Often they will actively fight against infrastructure, making it a point to attend town meetings and speak out against it. Conversely, those who favour infrastructure tend to position themselves against Vehicular Cycling, viewing it is a discredited philosophy and a lost cause. But from where I stand, this battle manufactures an unnecessary and ultimately damaging dichotomy.

While I have experienced the benefits of cycling infrastructure firsthand, I nonetheless find the principles of Vehicular Cycling indispensable in environments where said infrastructure is unavailable or imperfect - or when I choose to operate a bicycle on the open road for other reasons. I do not agree with John Forester on every point, but I value much of his advice on riding in traffic. I would encourage cyclists of all persuasions to keep an open mind and give Effective Cycling a read.

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Cycling in Lower Manhattan

I am in New York City for a few days, with all sorts of nice cycling people who have gathered here for the New Amsterdam Show this weekend and the Bobbin Bicycles/ Adeline Adeline party last night. One of the first familiar faces I encountered was the beautiful Julie, of the Julie blog. This lady works in the fashion industry and rides all over the city on her white and pink Linus loop frame named Kate Middleton... which I think speaks for itself: Cycling in New York has certainly become more accessible over the past few years.

On my way down here on the train I realised that I had not been to the city since maybe 2008 - which is almost 4 years ago now. I have to confess that I don't love New York. It's not that I hate it. I just fail to see the magic and romance in it that everyone gushes about. Maybe it's because my family briefly lived in Washington Heights at a time when it was anything but romantic and my impressions are forever coloured by those childhood memories. Whatever the reason, I just see New York as a very large, very crowded city where you have to watch yourself despite all the art galleries and coffee shops and lofts and trendy boutiques that have popped up in neighbourhoods that used to be considered "dangerous." 

And despite hearing about all the new cycling infrastructure here, I couldn't easily picture myself riding through the streets of New York, at least not right away. What about the dense traffic? The notoriously aggressive drivers? Walking from Penn Station to Tribeca it was hard to imagine myself sharing these busy streets on two wheels.

But an hour later I was doing exactly that - on a beautiful Retrovelo, courtesy of Adeline Adeline. While my travel radius was mostly limited to lower Manhattan, it was still a surprise to experience how relatively easy riding in the city has become.

I started out on the West Side Highway bicycle path, which is quite impressive. The 5.5 mile stretch of major road along the Hudson River has a protected greenway running through it the entire way, with somewhat frequent but well designed interruptions where bicycles even get their own green light.

The lanes are wide, allowing bicyclists to pass pedestrians and each other if need be. Cyclists were courteous and used their bells. Pedestrians behaved predictably. With views of the city ahead and views of the river alongside, it is a great path.

Many of the piers in this are have been renovated and developed with all sorts of little restaurants an recreational complexes. The weather was pretty terrible on Thursday afternoon - heavily overcast skies and cold temperatures - but there were lots of people strolling along the piers and enjoying their day.

One great thing about New York City, is that no one found it strange at all when I would stop to photograph the bike. In Boston passers-by will sometimes comment how wacky it is that I am standing there and taking close-ups of a bicycle, but here no one batted an eye.

Having had my fill of the West Side Highway, I took to the streets. Some streets have bike lanes and others don't, but honestly I found that it did not matter hugely. The bike lanes were so frequently blocked by double parked cars and delivery vehicles that a degree of comfort with vehicular cycling was necessary regardless. There was a lot of traffic, but it was slow moving and drivers seemed accustomed to cyclists. I got honked at a couple of times, but so did everyone else around me - honking just seems to be a way of communicating here. When I needed to make a left turn and didn't  change lanes early enough, a taxi driver saw my predicament and let me squeeze in ahead of him with an impatient but not unfriendly wave. Overall it was entirely manageable and not any more stressful than riding in downtown Boston. 

I will not be in town long enough to experience riding in the city as a person living here would, but my Thursday afternoon jaunt was a nice introduction to cycling in New York. After 4 years away it was certainly the best "welcome back" I could have hoped for. I will eventually be posting about the New Amsterdam Show and all the other things I am doing here, and you can check my twitter feed for "live coverage" snapshots of all sorts of neat things. Have a good weekend!

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Transitional Weather

Last week we had our first real day of spring. The sun had that special gentle quality to it and overnight an army of crocuses tore through blankets of dried leaves. All around nature seemed to be smiling. Riding my bike in a skirt, tights, long sleeve top and wool blazer, I was pretty comfortable in the 56°F temperature. And I was also amazed how many cyclists I saw out in t-shirts and shorts!

When finally it is warm and sunny after a long winter, it's tempting to dress as if it is summer. But with the transitional weather in March and April, this is also the time of the year a lot of people tend to get sick. After all, 50-60°F is not really that balmy. And even with the kinder temperatures, Spring (in New England at least) tends to be windy - and the wind hits cyclists directly in the face and chest with more force than it does pedestrians.

It took me a while to find a comfortable balance dressing for Spring's faux warmth, but after a couple of years I've more or less settled on a system. The trick for me is to keep it light, but windproof in the torso and to keep my neck covered. I find windbreakers too casual for everyday wear, and I also tend to sweat in them. But I like lightweight wool blazers and thin (unlined) trench coats. They are breathable, and the fabric is dense enough to protect from the wind without being too heavy. 

My eyes are sensitive to the sun and wind, and Spring brings a powerful mixture of both. On the bike, my sunglasses pretty much stay on most of the time and I smear moisturiser or vaseline around my eyes on windy days. 

As far as keeping my neck covered, lightweight silk scarves work well once big wool scarves get too warm and bulky. They also fold up very small if it gets too hot for them in the middle of the day. Recently a friend introduced me to the amazing world of inexpensive "cowboy" scarves. She has a collection of silk scarves in every colour and pattern imaginable, and she buys them from these online cowboy stores for like $20 each. Done! 

Dressing for work on the bike can be tricky in the springtime, and of course different strategies will work for different people. I don't like being too hot or too cold, but I also don't want to stuff my pannier with pounds of "just in case" layers when I leave the house, so I like a system without too much bulk. What's your method of dressing for transitional weather? 

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Failure to Yield and Crosswalk Design

In Somerville, MA we have this community path for bicyclists and pedestrians that stretches all the way to the neighbouring town of Arlington, grazing Cambridge along the way. The path is great, except that it is frequently interrupted by busy roads and the crossings can be challenging. We had this one particular interruption, where cyclists had to make a complicated series of turns and negotiate a major intersection in order to get from one stretch of the path to another. Then sometime last year, construction began at that intersection. Rumor had it they were making a crosswalk that would cut through the series of islands - a straight line connecting the disjointed stretches of community path. That is exactly what they did, and the new intersection was unveiled a couple of months ago. 

It's hard to capture the whole thing in photographs; it is vast and consists of 4 separate crosswalk segments. But the pictures above each show a chunk that should give you an idea of how it's designed. In 3 of the 4 segments there are traffic lights with clear red and green signals. And there is another small segment not visible here where there is just a crosswalk without a traffic light. In theory the design is great, because it creates a direct line of travel connecting the community path, without forcing cyclists to make an elaborate detour. In practice however, there is one big problem: Drivers don't yield. Some drivers make right turns on a red light at full speed without even checking whether anyone is in the crosswalk, others make U-turns on a red light, and others still simply run the red light altogether. In some instances the drivers obviously see me, but proceed anyway, forcing me to stop abruptly in the middle of the intersection or to speed up if I am already in their line of travel. 

Roughly half the time I go through this intersection, something like this happens - to the point where I absolutely do not trust it anymore. It's a shame that all this work was done, and drivers' failure to yield ruins it. It is also frightening that the crosswalks look so nice and friendly, while in reality it is quite dangerous. I cannot really think of a solution, but it's clear that something needs to change in the local drivers' mentalities in order for attempts to create decent, convenient infrastructure to be truly successful. The infrastructure itself is not always enough. 

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Roads to Nowhere

Walking around on Christmas day, the streets are almost completely abandoned. This offers a rare opportunity to observe during daylight hours how things are laid out. I cycle past this particular intersection several times a week, but always approaching from the other direction, and it is usually very crowded. So I've never fully processed its design from the opposite direction until now. And the design is really something. I don't know how well my pictures demonstrate this, but there is a bike lane running against traffic that guides cyclist directly onto a brick island at the intersection.

Once the bike lane reaches the island, there is no entry point. But the markings invite cyclists  to hop a 4-5" curb, at an angle. Some of you are probably thinking "Well okay, I can take that at speed on the right bike." But wait, not so fast.

There is a bicycle stop sign just before the intersection, so you really don't have that much room to accelerate. In addition, remember that this bike lane is against car traffic, so you also need to watch the blind turn as you make your way toward that 5" curb. I am no expert, but this might be worthy of some sort of "cycling infrastructure fail" award. And it certainly explains why I see confused, flailing cyclists approach the intersection from this direction whenever I cycle through here.

Lately I've been reading Brown Girl in the Lane's delightful rants about Vehicular Cycling advocates. She considers these fellows to be the "spawn of Satan" because they are against cycling infrastructure. Of course, their reasoning is that they are against it precisely because the sort of thing pictured here is what cities will do to cyclists when designing said infrastructure. Carving out a middle-ground position in this debate is tricky and I am not going to try right now. I only wonder whether there is a way to put a system in place whereby those who design cycling infrastructure (1) are required to consult with experts who are actual cyclists, and (2) have some accountability over the type of layout they create. We should not have to choose between harmful infrastructure and no infrastructure at all.

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What's Your Urban Speed Limit?

When I ride through parts of town with chaotic car and pedestrian traffic, I find that I need to limit my speed in order for my reaction time to be adequate. I told this to another cyclist one time and he laughed: "But the speed limit is 20mph here! You can do 20 and still be fine." But I don't believe that's accurate. Maybe a car can do 20 and be fine, but their braking system works differently. A driver is unlikely to flip their vehicle over if they brake suddenly at 20mph, but a cyclist is quite likely to either go over the handlebars or be unable to come to a complete stop quickly enough.

Some hold the theory that instead of braking, the urban cyclist should be quick to accelerate so that they can go around swerving cars and leaping pedestrians. But that isn't always possible. Earlier this week during the holiday shopping rush, I found myself in a situation where I was basically trapped between several moving objects simultaneously and had no choice but to slam the brakes: Two car doors in a row swung open ahead to my right while, at the exact same time, a pedestrian jumped into my line of travel (which was out of the door zone). I could not swerve right because of the car doors, I could not swerve left because of the moving cars in the travel lane, and I could not continue straight because of the pedestrian. Within milliseconds, I had to come to a complete stop.

Over time I have determined that my self-imposed "speed limit" when cycling through areas where such situations are possible needs to be 12mph at most. Any faster than that, and I cannot guarantee that I can come to an immediate stop safely. Do you have an urban speed limit?

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Why Cyclists Ignore Bike Racks

Although there are plenty of complaints about the lack of bicycle parking here, my impression is that the greater Boston area is better than many places in this respect. There are bicycle racks all over shopping districts, outside post offices, libraries and prominent places of business, next to transit stations, throughout college campuses. But I notice that cyclists do not always choose to use the racks, preferring to lock their bicycles to alternative structures instead. There will sometimes be a rack that is almost entirely empty, and nearby there will be some bicycles locked to trees and sign poles. 

The other day I saw a group of cyclists locking up their bikes outside a cafe - each one of them ignoring the racks and going for random other structures. I commented about it, and we had an interesting conversation. Here are some of the reasons they gave for not using the racks provided:

. Transportation bicycles with big tires, fenders and headlights don't fit some types of racks. 

. The "tethering post" types of racks that are installed along sidewalks are often placed too closely to the road, and careless drivers can damage bicycles with their cars when parallel parking. 

. These racks can also stand too closely to pedestrian lines of travel, and people bump into the parked bicycles when walking past them, sometimes knocking them over. 

. Others lock their bicycles too closely to yours, scuffing or scratching it, or even knocking it over in the process. 

. Bicycle racks attract thieves, since that is where they look for bicycles and where it is easy to get multiple bicycles at a time. 

Some of these points reflect my own experiences. There are racks I cannot use, because my bike won't fit except locked to the very edge (a spot that is usually already taken by another bike with the same problem). And while this has not happened to me, I have seen cars hit bicycles locked to those individual racks they place along the edge of sidewalks. Pedestrians brushing against my bike and others' bikes scuffing it is less of a concern, because I don't baby my transportation bikes. And I had not given much thought to the possibility that bike racks could attract thieves. 

While not all of these issues are solvable, they are worth addressing when installing bicycle racks. It's a shame when resources are spent to create racks that cyclists find unusable. 

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City Bikes with Mountain Bike Heritage

A distinct category of transportation bicycles that has emerged in parallel to the contemporary classic Dutch bikes and English roadsters, is the city bike with mountain bike heritage. I have tried four distinct bicycles from this genre so far: the Retrovelo, the Urbana, the Pilen, and the Paper Bicycle.

The lugged Retrovelo is the most deceptively traditional looking of the bunch. But behind the facade of an elegant European city bicycle, it is essentially a remake of an early mountain bike design - made speedier with the fast rolling Schwalbe Fat Frank tires (originally made for Retrovelo and named after its designer Frank Patitz). When I rode a Retrovelo for the first time, I noticed that its handling felt different from that of Dutch city bikes and English roadsters, but could not articulate how or why. Having now tried other bicycles with MTB roots, it makes more sense.

The swan-framed Pilen surprised me with an even more dramatic difference in handling from traditional European city bikes. Its "unfellability" reminded me of one of those roly-poly toys that stay upright no matter how far you try to push them to the side. It was on the Pilen that I overcame my dislike of cycling on grassy hills and rock-strewn trails. And with its Schwalbe Big Apples in 700C, it towered over other bikes in city traffic while also breezily rolling over rough terrain.

Pushing the limits of my aesthetic open-mindedness, the Urbana is basically a downhill mountain bike redesigned with a low step-over U-frame, fitted with BMX handlebars, and equipped with all the contraptions necessary for transportational cycling - including a rear rack that, together with the frame design, allows the bike to carry an insane amount of weight without impacting handling. Unabashedly industrial looking, the Urbana does not aim at classic prettiness. But it sure rides well - rolling over substantial road debris and hopping curbs on its 2.6" wide tires with monster-truck ease and city bike grace.

And then there is the Paper Bicycle. With its seemingly bizarre construction, this bike manages to combine an upright sitting position with the type of "bad ass" mountain-bikey handling that inspired me to actually try riding it down a steep rocky hill (successfully). On top of that, it is responsive enough to ride long distance, as a single speed.

Knowing fairly little about mountain bike design (other than that they have a "low center of gravity" - which means what, exactly, as far as frame construction goes?..), I am not in a position to offer a technical analysis of these bicycles. But as a cyclist who has tried a myriad of city bikes at this point, I can feel a common thread in their handling. Granted, "stability" is a vague term. But theirs is a distinct brand of stability that I for one find useful in a city bike. The same qualities that make these bicycles stable off-road, are what makes them unexpectedly reassuring in traffic, indifferent to crater-sized potholes, and immune to unexpected road debris. There is more to it, but alas, I lack the vocabulary to describe it.

While mountain bikes have been used for transportation for decades, their sluggish tires, bouncy suspension forks, derailleur gearing and lack of fenders made them sub-optimal for this purpose. Also, allow me to be honest: Contemporary mountain bikes are rather ugly. But harvesting their best characteristics while optimising them for urban transport and aiming for a more classic look, seems like an excellent recipe for a fun, reliable and versatile city bike.

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Anti-Dooring Decals in Taxi Cab

I went out with some friends last night and we took a taxi to our destination. Decals like the one shown above were affixed to each passenger window. Have you seen them before? I have not, so this was a pleasant surprise. A taxi cab company (or driver) who wants to make sure their passengers do not accidentally "door" a cyclist! Of course this is as much for their protection as it is for the protection of the bicyclist: I am sure no taxi driver wants to be sued, prosecuted, or even held up waiting for the police to arrive in the event their vehicle is involved in a serious dooring incident. But that does not make it any less good for cyclists. Placed directly in the passenger's field of vision as they reach for the door, it seems to me these are bound to be effective. What if all motor vehicles came with them de facto, like the "objects are closer than they appear" decals on side mirrors?...

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The Everyday Spooky

I am going to be honest here: I considered doing a contest or a funny story for Halloween, but I am just not in the mood.

After a few days back in the US, I have to admit that cycling here has required some major re-adjustment on my part. Having initially set out with the same relaxed attitude I'd acquired after only a couple of weeks in Vienna, I immediately experienced a "welcome home" reminder consisting of close-calls with doors flinging open, drivers refusing to yield when I have the right of way, the works. Cycling here is spooky. Having not ventured abroad for over a year prior to my recent trip, I guess I've managed to trick myself into forgetting that.

Once in a while I write about how much conditions have improved here in Cambridge and Somerville since I began cycling in Spring of 2009. But just as often I question myself: Have they really improved that much, or have I just become more aggressive, less sensitive, and more willing to accept risks in response to the reality of how (bad) things are? Probably a bit of both, and it's so difficult to see objectively. Coming back from Las Vegas a month ago, cycling in Boston seemed like paradise. Coming back from Vienna, it seems like a war zone. 

While I maintain that I am "not an activist," of course I care about cyclists all over the world having safe and pleasant travel conditions. Everyday cycling should not be a scary experience, and some day I hope it won't be. 

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Vienna's Wrong Way Bike Lanes

As many other cities with cycling infrastructure, Vienna is full of one way streets with bike lanes going against traffic. This is done to make travel more convenient for cyclist. The drawback is that it places cyclists and motor vehicles in situations where they can potentially collide with each other. One way this could happen is when the road is so narrow that a car cannot keep out of the bike lane entirely. Another potentially hazardous scenario is when vehicles emerge from around the corner, as shown here.

When I first saw the wrong way bike lanes, I was scared to ride on them. Surely it was only a matter of time before some car or motorcycle hit me head on? However, cyclists in Vienna use these lanes all the time, and as far as I know collisions are very rare. Eventually I got used to the design and began to trust it.

Drivers appear to be vigilant and in control of their vehicles; they can stop on a dime, and have for me. And no doubt the 30km/h (18.6mph) speed limit helps. The funny thing is that whenever I leave Vienna and remember the wrong-way bike lanes, their safety seems implausible. Only when I am here do I again believe that it's okay. What are your thoughts about this design?

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Frames of Mind: Why Did We Not Cycle?

There has been a great deal of talk about the recent English study that urges policy makers to ignore the views of experienced cyclists and bicycle activists when designing infrastructure, and to focus instead on the views of those who don't cycle. The idea is that answering the question "Why don't they?" will provide greater insight into what is needed for the majority of the population to find bicycling appealing.

I tend to agree with this premise. As cyclists in a non-cycling culture become more experienced, it is only natural that they undergo a shift in perspective. Situations that used to feel awkward, difficult or dangerous to them (and still do to the majority of the population!) no longer feel that way; they can no longer place themselves in their former frames of mind. By no means immune to this effect, I too no longer see cycling in the same light as I did a mere two and a half years ago. But I've been trying to think back and remember my attitudes from the time when I didn't ride. Why didn't I?

Probably the major reason was a failure of imagination on my part:  I did not understand how bicyclists could safely share space with other road users. Seriously, I could not imagine it. The difference in speed was drastic. It was confusing that sometimes there were bike lanes and sometimes there weren't. What about merging? What about intersections? It all seemed downright absurd. I tried to watch other cyclists on the roads, but that was not reassuring in the least. They weaved around cars. They sometimes obeyed traffic laws and other times did not. All I saw was chaos. And I witnessed many close calls between cyclists and motorists, which only intensified my skepticism that cycling was in any way safe or normal. It was not until I discovered the world of friendly bicycle blogs - some of which practically spelled out in encouraging baby talk how to ride a bike on the street - that it began to (slowly) make sense. And if you're thinking that I must just be exceptionally dumb, be assured that most non-cyclists I speak to express the very same lack of comprehension I recall in myself. "You ride your bike right on the street? But how?..." I explain it step by step, but they are skeptical. The very notion of bicycles sharing the road with cars is too much to swallow for the general population, and I think many of us have lost touch with that.

The other aspect of my former mindset is somewhat difficult to admit, but here it goes: I found the vast majority of cyclists I came in contact with unappealing. And no, I don't mean just the ones in lycra. If anything, it was obvious that those were of the racing variety and simply had nothing to do with me. What I mean is that I found the attitudes of the self-identified "transportation cyclists" I happened to meet over the years unappealing. Many of the ones I came into contact with struck me as cantankerous, self-righeous, dogmatic and overall tedious. Maybe it was just bad luck that I happened to meet those particular people. But an impression formed in my mind of what being a "cyclist" in the USA entailed, and it was a negative impression. As a college undergrad, I remember this student who would always arrive late to my favourite seminar, interrupting the professor mid-sentence with the banging of the door and chairs. She would remove her bicycle helmet revealing sweaty hair, then plop it down loudly on the table. "Had to lock up my bike!" she'd announce triumphantly, as if this not only excused the lateness but also made her superior to those who did not share this tremendous responsibility. She would then sit down, produce a jar of peanut butter from her backpack and proceed to eat out of it with a spoon for the duration of the seminar - waving said spoon around when participating in group discussion. That image more or less sums up how I perceived "cyclists" until several years ago.

But my alienation from cycling would not have been complete without the occasional visits to bike stores - which, until two or three years ago, had nothing to offer but roadbikes and mountain bikes. I would walk in, optimistic, and walk out convinced that a bicycle I felt comfortable enough to ride did not exist on the market. It is amazing to think that in a relatively short amount of time, the selection of bicycles has changed so dramatically - but still, only in some parts of the country, and only in select bicycle shops. It is also amazing to think how much influence the bicycle industry's output has on the types of cycling people believe are accessible to them. Before the category of "city bike" was finally created for the North American market, the concept did not exist here as far as salespeople in bicycle shops were concerned. And, consequently, would-be consumers such as myself did not think it existed either.

For those of us who began riding bikes for transportation in adulthood and have since changed our views of what that entails, I think it's beneficial to try and remember our former attitudes. What were our reasons for not cycling before? What were our concerns, fears, misconceptions? What was difficult to understand and what was easy? And how did we feel about other cyclists? Do you remember this about yourself? And finally, do you agree with the idea that the feedback of timid would-be cyclists is more informative for infrastructure decisions than that of experienced cyclists and advocates?

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Side Street or Main Street?

Cycling in greater Boston, I alternate between routes that take me along busy roads and routes that take me through quiet side streets. Each option leaves something to be desired. The busy roads are, well, busy - lots of car traffic, lots of action, lots of chaos. But they do seem to have enough room for everyone, including the processions of cyclists that now travel along them more than ever. The side streets are much quieter and greener, but are often too narrow to fit both a car and a bike side by side - resulting in its own set of challenges. 

I've mentioned before that when I have close calls or memorably negative encounters with cars, it almost always seems to happen on a side street. But the same is definitely not true for everyone, and a recent post on Let's Go Ride a Bike illustrates why many urban cyclists tend to keep away from busy roads. So I keep wondering what it is that, over time, has made me weary of side streets, whereas others see them as a refuge. 

One possibility is that I tend to overcompensate for the danger factor of main streets by being extra-vigilant, extra-focused and extra-careful as a matter of course - expecting the worst from every vehicle out there, and cycling in a way that anticipates that. On the other hand, side-streets lull me into a state of relaxation, because they seem so tranquil and friendly - so when something bad is about happen, I don't see it coming and am less likely to avoid it.

But this factor aside, I also think that drivers are less likely to keep their aggression in check when there are fewer witnesses. On side streets there aren't many people around, and perhaps the drivers with whom I've had confrontations and close calls were well aware of that. A scary thought, to be sure.

What is your take on main streets versus side streets, and what is your preference?

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