article to clearly present several critical reasons that Vision Zero -the bike build out run amuck has
created a remorseless house of cards. Hoist on its own petard.
Logistics such as street width and population and vehicular density are vastly different. Note that
bikes lanes need no restraining wall. Further the is a responsible bike culture. This has been carefully
developed and adhered to by a public that not only cherishes the ability to cycle-but walk and motor
safety. In New York the "advocates" studiously fought establishing a responsible bike culture on the
whimsical hypothesis that enforcement would depress cycling-and the more bikes the safer the streets. WRONG.The streets and sidewalks have been overrun with rogue riders who treat the
road and sidewalks as an obstacle course-with arrogance and impunity in many cases. New York
will never be vehicle free. There is NO SAFETY without a RESPONSIBLE BIKE CULTURE.
The exercise in zealotry has cost many innocent lives. Created congestion and tax.Jeopardized
emergency vehicles ability to respond. Undermined the NYPD. Blugeoned the NYC quality of
life. Its been a wretched ends justify the means chase. A case of the tail wagging the dog. A
desperate and deplorable conflating of "going green" with bike bedlam.
Let the contrast with Copenhagen-a top 20 global cycling city-with New York-nowhere near
that responsible circle- be clear and mourned.
It's not Vision Zero but DELUSION ZERO in New York City.
copenhagen dispatch
The City That Cycles With the Young, the Old, the Busy and the Dead
Nearly half of all journeys to school and work in Copenhagen take place on bicycles. And people like it that way.
COPENHAGEN — By the standards operative
on most of planet Earth, this is not an especially wonderful day for a
bicycle ride. The temperature reads 42 degrees Fahrenheit, and a
vengeful breeze forces damp chill to the bone. Sullen gray clouds occupy
the sky, dispensing an apathetic drizzle.
Natalie Gulsrud
scoffs at these details. It is nearing 4 p.m., darkness already bringing
finality to this bleak November afternoon. She has to go to the child
care center to pick up her 5-year-old son — “5 and a half,” he quickly
corrects, later. She has to stop for groceries, and then head home for
dinner.
Like tens of thousands of
other people in Denmark’s elegant yet frequently dank capital, she
pedals her way through her daily rounds, relying on the world’s most
advanced and widely used network of bicycle lanes. She does not own a
car. She does not want a car.
She
settles her bag into the front compartment of her cargo bike — a
three-wheeled contraption built for hauling children and groceries that
is something like the S.U.V. of local family transportation. She climbs
aboard the saddle, gathers her overcoat around her, and leans into the
uncompromising wind.
“People here say there’s no such thing as bad weather,” said Ms. Gulsrud, 39. “Only bad clothing.”
On the other side of the Atlantic, New York has just proclaimed intentions to spend $1.7 billion
to dramatically expand the city’s now-convoluted and treacherous
patchwork of bicycle lanes. Local leaders speak of dismantling car
culture and replacing it with a wholesome dependence on human-powered
vehicles. The mission is draped in high-minded goals — addressing
climate change, unclogging traffic and promoting exercise.
Copenhagen’s
legendary bicycle setup has been propelled by all of these aspirations,
but the critical element is the simplest: People here eagerly use their
bicycles — in any weather, carrying the young, the infirm, the elderly
and the dead — because it is typically the easiest way to get around.
“It’s A to B-ism,” said Mikael Colville-Andersen, a raffish bicycle evangelist who preaches the gospel of Copenhagen to other cities. “It’s the fastest way from point to point.”
The
bicycle is liberation from municipal buses and their frequent stops.
The bicycle spares people from having to worry about where to park cars.
The bicycle puts people in control of when they leave and when they
arrive.
“Some people ride their bikes to the hospital to give birth,” said Ms. Gulsrud, who is herself pregnant with her second child. “I’m not going to do that.”
A former neighbor operates a bicycle mortuary service, pedaling the departed to their final destinations in caskets. Mail carriers use bicycles to deliver parcels. People use bicycles to get to the airport, sometimes pushing wheeled suitcases alongside them while they roll.
Some
49 percent of all journeys to school and work now transpire by bicycle,
according to the city, up from 36 percent a decade ago. When the
municipal government recently surveyed Copenhagen’s bikers on what
inspires them to bike, 55 percent said it was more convenient than the
alternatives. Only 16 percent cited environmental benefits.
“It’s not in the morning, when you’re late for work, that you want to save the planet,” said Marie Kastrup, who heads the city’s bicycle program.
On weekday mornings, some 42,000 people traverse the Queen Louise’s bridge in central Copenhagen, bringing residents from fashionable neighborhoods in the north into the city’s medieval center.
On
a recent soggy Monday, a woman in high heels and a trench coat pedaled a
cargo bike decked out like a city taxi, her three toddlers in the front
compartment. A plumber traversed the traffic in a cargo bike, his tools
stashed in the compartment. Bicycles vastly outnumber cars.
Most
of the bicycles were old-school upright varieties distinguished by
their utility and lack of appeal to thieves, whose ubiquity is a gnawing
source of worry among the pedaling class.
But on the opposite side of the thoroughfare, in a shopfront done up like a Parisian boutique, a retailer, Larry vs. Harry, displayed its sleek, shiny two-wheeled cargo bike, The Bullitt,
which sells for as much as 43,450 Danish kroner, about $6,500. Three
models are parked in the front window, green, yellow and red, glinting
like Ferraris.
Nearby at Nihola, a
cargo bike brand that is more like the Toyota of the pedaling scene, a
showroom displays compartments big enough to fit four children. One can
carry a wheelchair. Front doors swing open, allowing toddlers and dogs
to climb in.
Copenhagen’s
status as a global exemplar of bicycle culture owes to the
accommodating flatness of the terrain and the lack of a Danish auto
industry, which might have hijacked the policy levers. Trouble also
played a role.
The global oil shock
of the 1970s lifted the price of gasoline, making driving exorbitantly
costly. A dismal economy in the 1980s brought the city to the brink of
bankruptcy, depriving it of finance to build roads, and making bicycle
lanes an appealingly thrifty alternative.
The
city focused on making biking safe and comfortable, setting lanes apart
from cars on every street. As biking captured mass interest, improving
the infrastructure became good politics. When it snows in Copenhagen,
bike lanes are typically plowed first.
This was the situation that drew Ms. Gulsrud to Copenhagen from her native United States.
Raised
in the Pacific Northwest, she was pursuing graduate studies in public
policy and working to promote bicycle commuting in Seattle when she
opted for a semester in Copenhagen in 2009. She fell hard for the city,
transferred her studies here, and now teaches natural resources
management at the University of Copenhagen.
She and her husband, Kasper Rasmussen, his 9-year-old daughter, Pixie, and their son Pascal, live in a sixth-story walk-up apartment in Vesterbro,
a former warren of leatherworks shops that has rapidly gentrified,
yielding peculiar contrasts. Prostitutes trawl for customers at night,
walking past shops that sell Tibetan mandala paintings, organic produce
and essential oils.
“The other day, I heard people talking about whether their dogs were vegan,” Ms. Gulsrud said.
She
picked up Pascal in the handsome yet fading villa that is his child
care center. He balked at putting on his coat despite the chill. She
strapped him into a harness inside her compartment as he pulled on his
helmet. She zipped shut a clear plastic cover, shielding him from the
weather.
Then she rode through
puddles to the grocery store, where she scanned dozens of bicycles
lining the sidewalk until she found a spot big enough to accommodate
hers.
Emerging
from the market, she deposited her groceries — kale, milk, Greek yogurt
— into the compartment in front of Pascal and rode a few blocks to her
apartment. She pulled open the gate and wheeled into the courtyard.
The
walls there were lined with bicycles — the cargo bike her neighbor, a
medical student, uses to transport her three children, including her
6-month-old in a bassinet; her husband’s cargo bike, which includes an
electric engine to help with hills; and standard bicycles used by the
Pakistani immigrant family upstairs, by the Argentine-Brazilian couple
and their two small children, and by her neighbor from Sweden and her
wife and their two children.
Not long
ago, modernity felt bound for something like the Jetsons, with families
zipping around via jet packs. But maybe this is the future, a resumption
of the past, upgraded by contemporary design.
“The
infrastructure is there and it’s safe,” said Mr. Rasmussen, as he
prepared a comforting dinner of squash soup and home-baked sourdough
bread. “Why wouldn’t you bike? It’s stupid not to bike.”
Dispatches From Europe
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