tales of two cities - seeing is believing

It's taken me almost seven years, but I've finally recognized how a fundamental truth about the way drivers and cyclists observe each other on the road underlies the simmering hostility between the two groups - while each group is positioned to notice the worst of the other, there is much less chance to observe bad behavior among their own. My point is somewhat technical, statistically speaking, based on the reality of speed and how it dictates two basic movement patters as it relates to these transportation options. First, each group moves at such different speeds that drivers will almost always pass cyclists while cyclists will rarely pass drivers; second, the speed within each group is such that a given member of either group is unlikely to pass a member of the same group. What this means in a conversational sense is that if you drive a car, you'll pass cyclists but not drivers. Likewise, if you ride a bike you'll see every car as it zips past, but you could pedal all day without passing a fellow cyclist. This means you will see a lot more of the other group, as a proportion of the total of that group on the road at a given time, than you would of your own group.

Let's extend this to how you might notice a bad representative of these groups on the roads. Suppose you are going out on a trip, which for simplicity we'll say is a straight line down one road. Let's also suppose that at the start of this given trip there is one bad driver and one bad cyclist out on the roads. If you are in a car, the two most likely ways you will see the bad driver is either by passing in the opposite direction (which is usually done lawfully) or by passing in the same direction (which is virtually impossible on most roads that also share space with cyclists). The odds of seeing the bad cyclist are similar if the cyclist is on the other side of the road (again, you would pass going in the opposite direction), but the odds of seeing the bad cyclist if this person is on your side of the road are almost entirely the opposite of seeing the bad driver - it's virtually guaranteed that a driver will pass the bad cyclist at some point. In other words, the difference in the two scenarios is that although the odds of seeing the bad representative is about the same in terms of passing in opposite directions, the odds are virtually opposite if you are on the same side of the road - drivers and cyclists will see each other in passing, but not their own.

This doesn't guarantee that each side is only going to notice bad behavior from the other. My point is more that by seeing a larger proportion of the other group, you are also more likely to see the bad representatives from that group, which may lead you to conclude over time that the majority of bad representatives are from the other group. I don't think this conclusion is true, but I think the thought process is entirely logical (it's just statistics), and I bet many are making this error when they air their grievances about drivers or cyclists. In fact, my experience suggests drivers and cyclists travel safely at almost all times. However, I don't think the fact that majorities of both groups travel safely is the reason why there is this tension between the groups, nor do I think ensuring both sides acknowledge the fact would diffuse the situation.

The problem of one side finding fault with the other (or more precisely, airing grievances about the other side) is one fueled by perception, and I think the perception is based on an accumulation of the statistical effect described in the prior paragraph. If you ask the average driver about cyclists, the odds are good that you'll hear a long list of transgressions committed by some cyclist or the other, but the unstated fact is that these transgressions are a composite story accumulated over many trips. The same applies in reverse - I regularly cycle for half an hour without seeing a single bad driver, which means I can encounter hundreds of cars without the thought of a problem, but I do have a long list of serious situations where I believe a driver was at fault. Of course, this list is one accumulated over six-plus years of rare but incredible near-hits (not sure why the common expression is "near-miss", since that implies a hit). If we think about it using the outline presented earlier, it's all entirely explainable - all the drivers on a given road barely interact with each other, but they pass every cyclist on their side of the road; the cyclists basically ignore each other, but every car on their own side zooms past at some point.

What this means is that relying on drivers or cyclists to testify as expert witnesses against the other side is a nice way to collect aggrieved anecdotes, but it's not a reliable way to measure all the evidence since the facts of traffic patterns ensure a biased perspective. After all, if we assume that drivers and cyclists commit transgressions in equal proportion, then the fact that a cyclist sees more drivers than cyclists ensures that their observational evidence will irrefutably conclude that drivers are almost always at fault. The process of jury selection comes to mind, where a court of law prunes potential jurors from the pool for the smallest possibilities of bias ahead of hearing the case. If a similar standard were applied in this example, then it seems to me that we would rule out having a driver or a cyclist speak against the other side given the likelihood of experience creating bias - not because the cyclist would naturally favor cyclists, but because the experience of a cyclist naturally exposes him or her to driver errors while simultaneously hiding instances of cyclist error. It's not quite that one side or the other is incapable of making a balanced case, but more so the simple fact that being in one group or the other effectively rules out the possibility of noticing problems on the same scale within your own group as you naturally would in the other group.

There is an open question of how to best determine the reality of our roadways. If drivers and cyclists are equally incapable of presenting a balanced perspective, then whose voice should be amplified in the discussion? If we must hear from each side, then the instinct is to look for some kind of compromise, where voices from each side can offer basic changes that could diffuse the ongoing hostility and begin rewriting the narrative. What if each side started from a premise that the other side likely held a better perspective in at least one specific area, then committed to implementing a change that addressed this primary grievance? Perhaps drivers could stick to the 25 MPH speed limit in these two cities while cyclists could stop at red lights for once (which is kind of like the same thing, if you consider that a red light is basically a temporary change in the speed limit to 0 MPH). If things go well in the first year then we could try it again in the next, initiating a routine of incremental improvements supplied by one side for the other, all with the goal of slowly making the roads a safer and more accessible public space for all.

But maybe the better answer is to look back at that juror example and consider what the equivalent would look like in this situation. It seems to me that finding someone who lives in both groups would make for the right person to provide a balanced perspective. This person, ideally, would be the sort who makes trips from behind the wheel just as often as making trips while gripping handlebars. I've only had a few instances where I could gather perspectives from such people, but early returns imply a trend. There is a reality about cars and bikes that becomes all too evident when you share enough experiences - drivers and cyclists alike understand that a car is much more likely to kill them than a bicycle. Even in the cases where this type of person feels that cyclists have more to answer for in terms of error frequency relative to drivers, there is always a limit when the equation is rebalanced to account for the weight of each transgression, with the result resembling the way one acknowledges the difference in the relative threat between a flamethrower and a cigarette lighter - both can burn, but such an observation omits the relevant detail.

A piece of metal, weighing nearly two tons and travelling at 30 MPH, is a little different than a blue cinder block repurposed for the local bike share program incoming at 10 MPH. If you had to make your stand in front of one or the other, which would you pick? I've seen people make that the decision, and they make the same choice every time, demonstrating a certain kind of wisdom about the road that can't be worked out with logic or built up with compromises. Both sides are responsible for fixing their mistakes, but one side's mistakes disproportionally kill the other, and many on their own side as well. It seems pretty clear to me what the reality is on the roads, but some people won't believe it until they see it. I just hope it's not my corpse, tattooed with tire tracks and motor oil, that's destined to be some driver's epiphany.

proper corona admin, vol 97: tales of two cities - protecting the line

I have my bike helmet in hand when I run into my neighbor. It's a colder than usual winter day, a high of twenty-three degrees, but I intend to avoid the subway if at all possible. I keep this fact to myself because I sense further elaboration would only lead to additional questions, and I'm becoming uneasy - I cannot be late today.

01/31/2021

Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (3:42 PM)

Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (3:42 PM)

There is nothing visibly wrong with the first bike, but when I unlock it and start to pedal I find a problem - it's permanently stuck in the lowest gear. I fiddle with the knob, a token gesture, before returning the bike and pressing the "repair" button. This locks the bike in place until a technician can fix it; the simple solution prevents one problem from causing multiple issues. I am now, almost certainly, running late.

The clock started when a quiet Tuesday morning exploded into chaos, one email, another email, then a flurry of responses and chat messages, with all roads leading to a Zoom meeting optimistically allocated thirty minutes. The agenda covered the logistics of the scheduling tool, which seemed intuitive enough; simplicity is the key for the masses, but nothing is so simple. The final few minutes were preserved for questions and the two hundred or so in the virtual audience demonstrated that complexity is a matter of individuals expressing narrower concerns. Did we get to choose the manufacturer? Was the vaccine safe for pregnant women? Would there be three or four weeks between shots? Would there be additional vaccination opportunities in the future? One question was so far over my head (about amino acids, I think) that I stopped listening to the answer just to preserve my mental energy. After almost a half hour of questions, the assembly fell into silence, and the host capitalized on the quiet to end the call. 

I didn't have time to ask my question - why us? It felt like someone had made a mistake. I sporadically checked public sources over the next few hours to confirm what I'd learned on that chaotic morning - the state had declared all hospital employees eligible for the vaccine, from the front-line ICU staff down to this idiot, the one writing this sentence you are reading, and hoping will end; I've been in my remote "office" for twenty-two hours a day for the past ten months. There are some mysteries in life, but my place in line wasn't one of them, or so I'd thought. I repeatedly returned to the state's website but its list of eligible categories remained frozen with yesterday's news, and only furthered my suspicion - the closest category to me was "home-based health care worker", which based on the rest of the site seemed interchangeable with "health care workers providing care in the home"; the former kept me in the race, the latter put me out of the running. I decided that the most sensible approach would be to take the latest available appointment - it gave the governor as much time as possible to issue a stay of execution. I confirmed the timeslot and waited for the inevitable follow up - sorry, there was a mistake, please see below.

It never came, so my turn is at 4:50 PM on Sunday. Fate has just over an hour to put me back into line.

01/31/2021

Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (3:43 PM)

Dartmouth St at Newbury St (3:52 PM)

The next bike is geared for the task and I take off down Charles Street toward the hospital. It's an opportunity to take advantage of a new bike lane that rings the Public Garden, which eliminates the senseless danger of maneuvering through four lanes of Beacon Street traffic en route to Comm Ave. These bike lanes popped up earlier on in the pandemic on a temporary basis, but recent upgrades suggest the safety is part of the furniture now; it's hard to envision anyone making a compelling case to return these streets to the 2019 setup. The only issue with the new lanes is pedestrians - they sense that the protection afforded to bikes for some reason extends to them, and they let their guard down as they wander to and from their parked vehicles, oblivious to the danger presented by cyclists. Or maybe, it's the cyclist who remains oblivious to the meaning of protection - with cars excluded from the lane, we are now able to stop without fear of being run over from behind.

My itinerary includes a short detour to the library, a stop I consider postponing due to my time concerns - I suspect there may be some leeway for late arrivals, but there are no options when you miss the the last train. Still, I decide to stick with the schedule; my backpack is heavy with overdue books. I dock the bike, walk to the library, and discover that it's closed on Sundays. No matter, there is a simple solution. I walk over to the drop-off bin, take off my mittens, and unpack the bag. The books feel like ice cubes on my exposed fingers. I push on the lid but it, too, is frozen. I try again, trying to force one book in by using Heating & Cooling like an ice pick; I catch the book as it falls back out. There is no ice; the bin is full.

Copley Square - Dartmouth St at Boylston St (4:02 PM)

Longwood Ave at Binney St (4:19 PM)

I am realizing that it's been a long time since I've had any kind of day out - I have no sense of how long it takes to ride a bike from my apartment to the hospital. Luckily, the error is in my favor, and I arrive thirty minutes early. The instructions were explicit - please check-in within ten minutes of your scheduled time - so I take a twenty-minute walk around the campus. As I make my last turn, I see a man on the opposite side running frantically down the block - running late, I assume - from door to door, trying one locked entrance after another; the hospital, like the library, is closed on Sundays. Luckily for him, the unlocked door for the vaccination clinic is at the end of the block on his side of the street, and eventually he makes it there through some combination of desperation, fortune, and the process of elimination. I follow him inside but lose him at the elevators, opting to wait until I can take my own car up to the third floor.

The clinic is in the dining area, which has been converted for the weekend. The rows of staff seated behind plexiglass protectors reminds me of customs on the American side of Niagara Falls; the stern request to wait when I'm about to step forward cements the comparison. I look behind me and find one colleague in line, who I haven't seen in a year - she's also the only one maintaining six feet of distance. I wave, then turn back just as the late man from earlier zips past, almost clipping me with his elbow as he exits. Eventually, the person in charge emerges, who also happens to have run the call a few days earlier - she explains that due to some mix-up, they haven't prepared enough doses, so we'll need to come back on another day. There are appointments available on Thursday, which is news to me; I'd have preferred it from the start. There are no other options. The scheduling tool is the same as before, but I accept the offer of help in setting the new time just so I don't have to go near the others sitting by the computer. I think about the security guard who, seeing me freeze at the overflowing bin, unlocked the library doors and offered to take the books inside.

As I linger in the vicinity, someone asks me if I can take a picture of their small group. I finally realize that everyone here is protected; it would be too risky otherwise. The scene around me is pretty much what you'd expect when a roomful of people realize the mission is accomplished - there is relief and joy, there are pockets of celebration, there are exposed nostrils. There is that sense of teamwork and community that I can still recognize from a distance, even if it's been years since I've felt it myself. It's like that moment when the engine shuts off and everyone steps out of the car, the group reinforcing safety, blissfully unaware of any potential threats. Is a protected space about safety, or is it just where we put our guard down? We couldn't get everyone to stop, and now we can't get everyone to go; it's a complicated situation, but not everything needs to be complicated.

I take the phone and snap the picture. We've all gotten what we wanted today, I suppose. I hand over the phone, forget about my individual concerns, and share an elevator on the ride down to the lobby. I am back in line; it's simpler that way.

sixes and sevens

The most trivial of the changes brought about by the pandemic was in my running route. Instead of crossing Mass Ave while in Cambridge to run against the direction of traffic, I waited to cross until after I'd returned to Boston and therefore ran with traffic as I crossed the bridge. This was solely motivated by social distancing. My new route avoided the pedestrian ramp connecting the bridge to the Charles River Esplanade. My estimate is that the switch halved my pedestrian encounters on that bridge.

One fun detail of my new route is the radar gun at the halfway mark. There is some graffiti decorating this public technology - someone has spray painted 'SPEED LIMIT - 25 MPH' on the sign in block letters, so neat that it looks like every other speed limit sign I've seen in my life. Silly, I always think, because the speed limit throughout both cities on such roads is 25 MPH, everyone knows this, so on the main bridge connecting the two there is no need for the reminder. The radar gun is a firm but fair judge, and never tires of flashing its simple observation to law-abiding citizens. Sometimes I speed up as I approach and delight in seeing '6' flicker up to '7', but this is a rare joy because most of the time a car will zip by and restore order - '27', '31', even '38'. I've seen all kinds of numbers appear on the screen, but the only thing the numbers have in common is being above '25', unless of course it's just me.

At the end of the bridge is the famous intersection, Mass Ave and Beacon Street. The fame isn't just because everyone knows these streets from another block, or another town; the intersection is famous because people are hit by cars here, over and over and over. This article cites fourteen crashes from 2009 to 2012 alone, and that's only accounting for vehicle-bicycle collisions (1). Who knows what the number is if you add the next eight years, or could tally up all the unreported collisions, or include vehicle-pedestrian, er, crashes?? The folks coming through this intersection every day might not know all these details, so there are reminders everywhere - memorials, traffic markers, and the standard set of traffic lights are all placed to keep this number locked in place, forever, at whatever it happens to be right now.

Still, the next increment is only a matter of time. A six is always a moment of confusion from a seven. I was in this very intersection just a month ago, standing next to Anita Kurmann's ghost bike, already feeling uneasy because of the three cars that had ignored the walk signal and zipped across my path. Finally, there was space, so I made a belated start across Beacon Street toward The Digital White Guy. I'd made it just past halfway, the tireless signal likely preparing for its change to The Flashing Orange Hand, when a horn unloaded from what sounded like three inches behind my head. I looked back at a turning LMA shuttle, one corner of it already in the crosswalk, the details of an angry face that I instantly forgot when it accelerated out of sight a second later. The only thing I still remember is the moment familiar to me from riding a bicycle, when my heart pounded like dice bouncing across what I felt, and I wondered again why following the law was never enough to beat the house.

Footnotes / TOA's fake Onion headlines?

1. But if I have my helmet on, I'll be OK!

Imagine the headlines if some lunatic shot a biker in this intersection:

Biker crashes into bullet!

And I'm sure the story itself would be a delight...

"The victim was not wearing a helmet at the time of the crash."

tales of two cities, vol xxxvii - border crossing

04/28/2020
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (5:32 PM)
Central Square at Mass Ave / Essex St (5:45 PM)

It's sometimes hard to believe that it was nearly five years ago when I first used Hubway - hem hem, Blue Bikes, for those who take umbrage, though back then it was Hubway. But I'd like to think outside observers aren't surprised about my past. Isn't it obvious from the way I unlock the bike, nice and smooth each time, that I've done it a thousand times? Do rookie riders casually step on the pedals as I do, like I'm testing a yard sale StairMaster, waiting for jaywalkers to scramble up to the safety of the curb? And even though sometimes I bike slow, sometimes I bike quick, demonstrating expert skills as I navigate the endless obstacles of parked cars, texting pedestrians, and splintering asphalt that have long marked my many routes across the two cities.

I've become so good at using Hubway - hem hem, Blue Bikes - that I'm almost insulted when someone offers feedback. Thus, almost insulted I was on this fine spring day, as a technician behind me demonstrated how to secure the metallic seat post on a bike I'd briefly handled, then abandoned when I spotted another choice. I know, I nodded back, my mumble muffled by the undershirt I'd deputized around my face, a CoronaShield on budget. I knew how to do it, I just wanted a different bike, and though it didn't matter, it wasn't clear. Still, I try - sometimes metal hurts, and I don't want to get cut. It wasn't why, but it wasn't a lie, either. I do not tell lies.

I unlocked my bike - nice and smooth - and glanced at the technician, who ignored me as I pedaled away. No matter, being ignored is inevitable, it's basically state policy now, a modern survival skill. Each day, I'm separated from others by two yards. I protect my allotment of space like a surly suburban neighbor, and I try to find presence in those six feet away. It's a life that does not require a bike because I only bike when it's out of the way, and I don't go out of the way these days. Every vaguely familiar movement on the bike makes me wonder - was this second nature last time? Twenty-nine days without, and I'm sensing something slipping away, and not just the seat post that has started to slip, barely enough to notice, without notice.

My trip started at the Boston end of the Longfellow Bridge, where at some point unknown to me Beantown cedes jurisdiction to Cambridge. It's often a trivial matter, an issue for cartographers and the postman, but starting tomorrow the northern neighbor will require masks in public while Boston will remain optional. This will clarify my small question about the border's exact location on this bridge, because at some point slips will not be tolerated. Is there a no-man's land? And who will hold the line? I glide through the bike lane, and its implied security tempts my wandering mind - local police, acting like border patrol, hanging out at an invisible line and enforcing a polite checkpoint between the two cities. Uncovered Bostonians are gently turned back toward Beacon Hill, asked to come back wearing masks like passports, while they walk alongside the incoming tourists from Cambridge - six feet apart! - who lower their guard, and inhale deeply, filling their lungs with the fresh air of the capital, and feeling something inside that once came so naturally.

The Red Line rumbles along on my left. Surely, some passengers headed northbound, having boarded in compliance with Boston's laws, will need to don their masks as the train crosses the bridge. Years ago, I'd been on a train myself, an Amtrak train, headed for the northern neighbor. I learned in Buffalo that those still on board at Niagara Falls would have to wait while border patrol politely canvassed coach, checking intent, making sure all the passports and papers were in order, confirming identity, like validating permission slips, before allowing the train to finish its journey over the river. Nothing personal, just national policy. I had nothing to fear but I suddenly realized I was alone. Whatever was going to happen on the train was going to happen to me. I didn't want to stick around and find out, so I picked my own terminus and hiked along the river, to Rainbow Bridge, and walked into Canada a few hours later.

The bike path curved and hooked me back to the present. An island! I slalomed past on its left, staying inside the lines, then checked quickly over my shoulder before crossing into the car lane to pass a parked mail truck. The nondescript building that I knew was the Cambridge Amazon office flashed past on my right and I felt it all coming back. I recovered quickly and refocused on the path ahead, on the pothole in my future, and called on everything I knew to maneuver past it. I pointed my bike toward Central Square because when my freezer is empty I go to H Mart.

The light turned red, and I stopped. I knew what I was doing and I felt fine. I was on an essential trip, it was my right, and I was going to be fine. I looked around and didn't see anybody. The light turned green and I didn't think, I just went. At some point in these few short years, I'd learned that you never forget how to ride a bike.

04/28/2020
Central Square at Mass Ave / Essex St (6:07 PM)
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (6:21 PM)

It's sometimes hard to believe that it was nearly four years ago when I first wrote about biking - hem hem, blogged, for those who take umbrage, though back then it was writing. But I'd like to think my longtime readers aren't surprised about the past. Isn't it obvious from the way I go back to everything that I'd have something to say about my adventures between Boston and Cambridge? Do I explore one thing while ignoring the adjacent, or only step into waters that others have charted? My novice wanderings across two cities were never about biking, just like the books I read or the sunrises I enjoyed were never about words, never about morning. Those were obstacles because I needed to avoid them, and markers because each evasion framed the journey. But the real trip on each bike was always in my head. I realized that no matter how far I traveled, I would always bring myself with me, and have to determine the significance of each trip for myself.

I've become so good at writing - hem hem, blogging - that I'm almost insulted when someone offers feedback. Thus, almost insulted I am, every time a reader applauds my topics rather than my writing, celebrating the destination rather than the endings abandoned on the journey. I know, I'll nod, and try to thank readers for reading, but my appreciation clangs around like a postman getting used to chain mail. I know what I picked, but the why is more important, the why not even more so, and though it matters quite a bit, it's never clear. I wonder if I should elaborate - sometimes words are abrasive, and I don't want to cut. It wouldn't be a lie, but it wouldn't be why, either. I do not know why.

I unlocked my bike - same one as the last time - and tried to secure the slipping seat post. No matter, sliding will be inevitable with my heavy backpack, now filled with natto. I always leave H Mart with the fermented soybeans, my favorite Japanese food. Each trip, I isolate myself with two feet. I generously cede aisle space like an unsure house guest sitting alone on the couch, and I try to find the presence of those six feet under. It's a task that does not require eye contact because everyone here is at home, and they go out of their way to welcome me. Every spark of recognition from a familiar sight or smell makes me wonder - isn't recognition reserved for what's already lost? I find the natto in the back, same as always like it's frozen in time, and when I look through the glass I feel something stir in me, briefly. The door opens, then closes, and the essential trip is over.

My trip will end on the Boston side of the Longfellow Bridge, where at some point unknown to me Cambridge returns naming rights to the capitol. My bag is heavy, the seat slides, but my mask holds. I'm ready for tomorrow. In some countries, lockdown means citizens explaining in writing why they are leaving their homes, like permission slips that outline essential trips - food, medicine, even walking the dog. I can't imagine, I can barely explain how I pick a bike, how will I ever explain natto to Boston? Well you see, it goes on rice, and smells weird, and, uh, it's essential, by the letter of the law? But I worry, as grocery stores are one need met adequately by Beacon Hill. Maybe on my permission slip, I'll bring the Whole Foods receipt, and circle where the Japanese yams are listed as 'ORIENTAL SWT POTATO'.

I exit Kendall Square, the bike lane all around me, its destination the bridge ahead. Years ago, I'd crossed another bridge, hours after that Amtrak trip, prepared to explain myself to the Canadians at the border. I was ready for tomorrow then, too, but only because the answer would be so easy going into the USA - I'm going home. The question ahead would be much harder - why are you coming to Canada? I had my stack of answers - printouts with maps and addresses, the falls, the casinos, the hotel. My bag was heavy, filled with clothes and a plane ticket out of Buffalo the next evening. I had a job interview coming up, and carried some prep materials with me. I didn't need any of this to answer the question - it wasn't national policy, it was personal. I was alone, but I suddenly realized I had nothing to fear. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen because of me. It felt important, like an unannounced practice for answering questions, so I took a deep breath and thought about it. Why was I going to Canada?

When I'd left the train, I walked along the river toward the falls. Despite all my preparation, I'd neglected to find a map of the trails, so I trusted my gut and followed the noise. It sounded like the wind at first, and it probably was, but it grew louder and louder as I hiked until the trees opened up on the trail ahead and I saw the mist, I heard the roar. I squinted at Niagara Falls in the distance but it was blurry, I couldn't quite make it out. At first I thought it was the mist, but I felt something stir in me that I hadn't felt in a long, long time, from back before my mom had died. I felt moved, I felt something thawing out, and in a few moments I felt the tears, too.

Why was I going to Canada? I was motioned forward, so I went. Whatever I'd said was fine, though it couldn't have been true. I hadn't lied, it's just that I was going to Canada because it was an essential trip but I didn't know this at the time. A trip is always essential, when every day is the same, and you lose track of who you are, and lose sight of where you are going. When you feel your identity slowly slipping into the past, and start to wonder where you've gone, a trip is essential to put life back into context. It's because no matter where you go, no matter how far away, two countries or two cities or just two wheels, if you bring yourself with you, you can find what you've lost, and pick up where you've left off.

The bike path straightens as the bridge comes into view. There are no options but to make it to the end, it's always been that way. On the left is the Amazon office again, and once more I feel it coming back. I didn't get that job, and remained unemployed for a few more months, until it became two years. I stand on the pedals, and step, faster and faster, surging up the hill in front of me. I remember when I heard the news that I'd felt bad, and after eating natto, I still felt bad, but I felt better. I slowed down at the top and looked around, the final stretch of the trip ahead, the Charles River expanding in full view to my right, and I felt something stir in me again. I let go and headed down, picking up speed, the lines blurring around me, knowing that where I was going, the curve was flattening, and I was going to be fine. At some point in these few long years, I'd learned that you never forget why you a ride a bike.

tales of two cities – helmet data analytics

I recently read Emily Oster's Cribsheet, her data-driven examination of the endless recommendations about parenting young children. Her primary tactic is determining the validity of study methodologies in order to understand the strength of various statistical conclusions. Her consistent refrain is to be careful with any data that does not separate the type of person from the parenting decision because no researcher can ever conclude from such studies whether the type of person mattered more than the decision in terms of influencing the observed outcome.

The book got me thinking about the ways I’m exposed to phony analytics. The bike helmet is a great example. Is the type of person who uses a helmet different from the type of person who does not use a helmet? I'd say yes, and would like to know the extent to which the safety gains are due to the nature of the person rather than the helmet. The question, unfortunately, has many layers. The helmet itself isn’t a going concern until there is some kind of head impact, and in those moments it's clear that you'd rather have the helmet. But do helmeted riders crash more often? Some researchers have studied whether wearing a helmet makes a person more likely to get hit by a car, generally exploring one of two hypotheses: (a) the helmet invites riskier driving or (b) the helmet encourages riskier cycling. It's tough to answer these questions and I'm grateful for those like Emily Oster who do their best to educate us with the truth.

One angle I haven't heard much about is how helmet ownership changes riding decisions. I'll offer my story as anecdotal evidence – after getting a helmet, I've felt less safe without it, and this had led to fewer rides. (Those in lockdown may be able to relate to a different version - having to wear a face covering, I feel less safe, and I go out less often.) I ride less often because when I forget to bring my helmet with me, I don't ride a bike, whereas in the past since I never 'forgot' the helmet I didn't own, in these situations I would have pedaled on as was my original intention. If we assume that bike accidents happen with equal probability regardless of helmet use, one sure way to lower the number of accidents is to ride less, and people who feel less safe will ride less.

Again, I simply pose the question of whether helmet use increases safety by emphasizing danger, which leads to fewer bike rides – I’ll leave any official verdict to the experts. It's not going to change my decision to ride with a helmet. But from my point of view, whatever the perceived benefit, it surely is being exaggerated by ignoring the marginal decisions made by people like me. The failure to account for such an effect is the exact sort of thing that leads people to (correctly) question the accuracy of the metric, and although the difference may be insignificant, whenever doubt is cast on the truth, the skeptics have an opportunity to misrepresent the error, discredit the overall idea, and make it more difficult for others to make good decisions for their health and safety.

tales of two cities – news, and one in one

Hi all,

Good news, and bad news, it's actually the same news - Tales of Two Cities is back for a limited run over the next few days. Three, in fact, including today. This seems the best way to keep up with this series, and mirrors how I ride bikes - ignore it for a little while, then ride a few times over a condensed period

If today is going to count as a post, there should be some substance, so here's a little teaser.

One in one

There is a sign I occasionally see on the side of the Hubway docks – eh hem, Blue Bike docks. This sign is basically a public service announcement encouraging cyclists and pedestrians to remain vigilant because one in four car accidents involves at least one other person on bike or on foot. Hmmm. Those are interesting numbers. I crunched them a little further and determined the following – one in one crashes involves a car.

Funny thing, I've never seen a sign warning drivers that one in four of their crashes will involve a person on bike or on foot. I guess there's nothing to worry about - auto body shops are better than ever, and will fix the scratch on your hood from my helmet, or repair the dent where the bumper struck my oversize ego.

leftovers #2 - running running, back back, to chelsea, chelsea

My recent comparison of my problem solving approach to a helmet football position made me think back to this post where I described my different cycling strategies in the context of those same positions. I looked back at that post and pulled together the following notes.

First things…

I posted this four days before Superbowl Sunday, which says an awful lot about how I thought my readers were interacting with TOA. The idea that a post related to helmet football would be the best use of space reserved for 'Tales of Two Cities' is the twisted logic of the pregame show for the pregame show, not for a tiny operation at the fringes of the dark web.

I remember using this approach for quite a while, perhaps the first two or three years. Over time, I got away from 'timely' posts. There’s no problem with posting something America-related on July 4, it’s just that if I were to come up with a recipe for bad writing, I would include ‘committing to a bad idea’ right at the top of the ingredients list. If you have nothing to say about trees, don’t decide in advance to write about foliage for Arbor Day.

Life notes

The helmet football game didn't turn out to be very memorable (my opinion). However, if my memory serves me correctly, it was just one year prior that I took my first early AM hospice volunteer shift. I enjoyed Sunday 8-10AM slot during the few months I held the responsibility. In particular, I remember the perfect stillness throughout the bike ride north, a silent and sleeping Cambridge being slowly brought to life under the cold sun, a scene I’d never witnessed during the year I lived in Central Square.

I gave up the shift when I admitted something important to myself – I’m not a morning person. I was confused about this for many years because I long considered myself a morning person due to my capacity for waking up early and being productive. But a closer examination of my 'accomplishments' reveals a list of straightforward tasks like running a middle distance, doing household chores, or writing out books notes. In other words, I could wake up to do admin. Tasks involving creativity, handling interruptions, or working with other people – in other words, anything important or challenging – have always better suited me later on in the day. I suspect my peak productivity zone is from 11AM – 7PM, the range perhaps moving a couple hours earlier if I woke up with the sun.

Best lines

OK, enough about me, let’s look at the post, here are my favorite lines:

An inexperienced quarterback forced to scan the entire field looks a lot like yours truly trying to sort out the intersection in Porter Square. By cutting down the field of vision in half, there is less to worry about and safe decisions are easier to make for bikers - or quarterbacks - of any experience level.

Porter Square made some significant changes over the past two years that have invalidated this analogy. These days, you essentially get a police escort through the intersection if you are patient enough to wait for the lights. The only remaining obstacle (not surprisingly) is jaywalking.

In summary, a good bike rider never passes on the right and is always ready to stop.

Nice and simple, this should be posted on the handlebars of every bike.

Are any fellows riders lurching out into the intersection, doing that weird thing where they move their legs back and forth on the pedals, as if the very act of touching the pavement with their foot would immediately cause a lightning bolt to strike them square on the forehead?

I think we've all seen this? It's like when I was eight (or twelve) I used to jump from stone to stone on a sidewalk, engrossed in an imagination that had turned the cracks into lava.

It is true in most of these cases that the bike rider has the right of way but I'm not sure if anyone hanging out up there by the pearly gates is going to be very interested.

This might be Newton's 5th Law, if he lived in Cambridge - an object powered by fossil fuels can temporarily exert a force on a bicycle if it turns left directly in front of the oncoming bike, forcing it to a frustrating yet necessary stop.

Cringe mode

And on the other side, here are some snippets I’d like to revise or remove:

You know what, reader? Sometimes, it just doesn't happen. The rooster forgets to crow, the bread fails to rise, the belt refuses to buckle, and life just goes on, whether your pants are on or not.

See note above about what happens when you commit to a gimmick for your post.

The move here is to hit the car first. Crashing into a visible car or a door is preferred to being hit from behind by a fast-moving threat. If the rider controls the collision, there is little risk of being thrown into the street and being dragged underneath a moving car. The best way to do it is to get low, if possible, to lower the risk of flipping over, and aim for the back end of the vehicle if possible to limit exposure to the wheels.

I kind of still believe this, but posting an untested thought among other pieces of grounded advice was irresponsible. Luckily, no one reads TOA.

Final thought

This was a decent post, I’m happy with how the playful slant softened some serious ideas and broadly speaking I like the gimmick. The challenges weren’t surprising, given how many position there are in helmet football length was always a concern and as usual I could have done more to cut down the final product. The main lesson from this post is that gimmicks force a certain conformity and therefore unless I really want to write about every position, I should probably explore other ways to express the same ideas.

Overall TOA ranking - 65th percentile

tales of two cities - leftovers (green light indicates bikes are secure)

The process of writing about my problems with Hubway – eh hem, Blue Bikes – and their ‘green light’ system reminded me of other frustrations I’ve experienced over the years with various company policies. These stories (each one unique to me in terms of the details yet likely very common to those aware of the various ways companies frustrate their own customers) helped me understand the difference between a good company and a great company: a good company helps you when things are going well while a great company helps you when things aren’t going well.

A good example comes from basic banking practices. Many institutions offer tiered services where they wave maintenance fees if the customer reaches a certain minimum balance threshold. Let’s think critically for a moment – what kind of customer is likely to reach any threshold? What kind of customer is likely to fall below any threshold? When times are good, I’m not going to the bank to make withdrawals on my fee-free account; when times are bad, the bank is ready to pounce by gradually reintroducing various charges and fees.

There are a lot of good companies out there and I think this is why these practices are ubiquitous. As individuals, we are accustomed to following good examples and companies unsurprisingly do the same. But in the organizational context, perhaps great is a better barometer. Good is subject to the whims of many variable forces – the economy, the flavor of the month, the 'wisdom' of the crowd. Great tends to have less interest with these concerns, sticking instead to the deepest principles at its foundation. A great organization endures by setting policies that profit through partnerships rather than exploitation. The logic is simple – customers will always need partners, especially when they can't afford to throw money into profits.

tales of two cities - green light indicates bikes are secure, part 3 (solutions)

I’ve written in this mini-series about the challenges created by the Blue Bikes method of using a green light to indicate a rental closure. I thought today I would briefly look at the current solutions and try to offer up a couple of my own.

First, I should be clear about what I’m talking about in these posts. The green light system works as designed over 99% of the time. From my experience, it’s also very reliable in a long-term sense because if you get the green light the system does… eventually… close out the rental. Trust me, it always works... eventually. The issue is that the green light itself means nothing beyond confirmation that the bike was docked correctly. There is still the added step of linking the docked bike with the open rental. The green light confirms this communication will happen... eventually. It’s kind of like putting a letter into the mailbox. The problem I’m concerned with is that when this communication remains pending for long enough, I won’t be able to unlock another bike. The current setup blames the customer until the system fixes itself, a policy that based on my experiences wastes one hour per member per year. What I’m writing about is a way to get that number down to zero.

The current ‘best solution’ is entirely electronic – when a bike docks, an email comes in that confirms the closure. This is a great solution in theory but in practice the failures become obvious. The biggest issue is that emails can be slow. I’ve had experiences where the emails for a closed trip come in hours after the fact. Given that the problem involves knowing whether the rental is closed while I’m in front of the bike, a slow email will only mean more confusion and anxiety. Another way of looking at this is if the email is one minute slow sixty times a year, the minute I spend waiting at the dock for the email will add up to that hour of wasted time I referenced above. This would defeat the whole point of my rant.

The larger problem is that the emails are system generated whereas the area of concern here is at the dock level. If a bike docked correctly but the system didn’t read it, that email is never coming in on time. This is again the essence of why I project the current system wastes an hour or so of member time per year. When the email doesn’t come in, the only solution is to call in to customer service, and once more the wasted time clock begins ticking upward.

An SMS option would fail for the same reasons outlined above for the current email method. I’ve also experienced firsthand its specific version of failure. I was in Washington DC this past June and I signed up for a one-day pass with their Blue Bikes equivalent, Capital Bike. I opted in for the SMS notification to notify me when my rental closed out. Unsurprisingly, when I closed my trip, no SMS came (I’m still waiting). If this option isn’t working correctly by late 2019, it probably never will, at least in the context of the problem I’m concerned with at the moment.

The solution I casually mentioned in my first post – a printed receipt – is probably the closest thing to the best solution. The method would be very simple – after the bike docks and the green light comes on, a printed receipt confirms the rental closure. The docks already have printers installed in the kiosk so the infrastructure is ready. This feature would be immune to problems with specific docking stations because the docks read closure independent of their connection to the system (the bike communicates to the dock and the dock communicates to the system). If a rider experienced an issue with an ‘open rental’, the receipt would be useful to have on hand until the dock linked back to the system.

tales of two cities - green light indicates bikes are secure, part two

I wrote in this post about the ‘green light’ system that Blue Bikes uses to confirm for a customer that a rental has been closed out. As I wrote (ranted?) in some detail, although the green light is all we customers get, the system doesn’t officially recognize it as a closure. This asymmetry leads to a predictable problem – customers will have trips remain ‘open’ long after the mythical green light and Blue Bikes will treat these open trips like stolen bikes until the matter is resolved.

This problem has come up for me a few times over the years. If I aggregate all the time I’ve spent on the matter, I’d get somewhere around three to four total hours. I’ve had my membership for just over four years so to be even more precise the time I’ve spent is just under an hour or so a year. This time comes in the form of sending emails, calling customer service (and waiting on hold), and sometimes walking from one station to another in a bumbling attempt to solve my own problem.

I’m writing about this topic today because just recently I had my annual encounter with this longtime issue. Historically, I usually don’t find out about the problem until I go to rent a few hours after I’d docked a bike. At this point, I’ll have my key rejected and the familiar thought runs through my head – here we go, I have an 'open rental'. These days, I know the fastest way is to call customer service. Most of the time, I’ll learn that the problem is ‘a system issue’ related to a station not relaying and distributing rental information correctly across all docks. Sometimes, I proactively provide this explanation over the phone and I’m often told that I’m correct – I’ve had this problem so many times I bet I could train the customer service team on its intricacies.

Anyway, after I clarify the problem, a little investigation reveals that a station where I’d recently closed a rental was ‘down’ and therefore all bikes docked in the station have not had their trips closed out. We’ll close it out now, sir! Great, I respond with the enthusiasm of a vegetarian unwrapping a box of cured meats on Christmas morning. I usually stay on the line until I've confirmed the closure processed (by being able to take out a new bike).

My most recent encounter with this issue came just at the start of summer. It was a rare moment for me because I needed to get somewhere. Naturally, my bike key was rejected for the first time in months. I called in and explained the problem – it’s a system issue, you see – but this time, I couldn’t get the trip closed out. My phone call rose prodigiously through the ranks of the customer service hierarchy until I ended up on the phone with The Supervisor. He was knowledgeable and he was eager and he was a patsy. I felt bad for him – his role in this organization was to enforce an inanity and most people have to dumb themselves down quite a bit to carry out such a function with any effectiveness.

His solution to the problem I had explained to him was to have me walk across town, almost twenty minutes away, to see if the bike I rented was in a specific station. I stayed on the line while I walked and he shared a variety of other sources of system trouble to kill the time. I filed these notes away in what I'm sure will someday become an internal Blue Bikes FAQ (including that rodents sometimes ate through the wiring of these docks and caused system outages). He knew so much that apparently there was no room in his brain for any relevant information – like how, as I learned later, there had been a massive system problem that same day which had impacted close to thirty stations.

Of course, at the time I just walked and walked and The Supervisor talked and talked, neither of us coming a step closer to solving the issue. I reached the next station and confirmed that my bike was not there at which point I was able to get my trip ‘paused’ so that I could take a new bike. The Supervisor concluded the call with an unconvincing remark that I should expect to hear again about the ‘next steps’ regarding my now 'lost' rental.

It was too late for my plans so I got on my new bike and rode back home. I had very little going through my mind until a moment of inspiration took me to another station I had used much earlier in the day. Sure enough, I found the ‘missing’ bike I’d just been instructed to look for docked at this station, right where I'd left it much earlier that afternoon. I called back into the customer service line ready for a fight. Alas, the fates connected me to a person who somehow knew even more than me and she informed me of the major issue the system had experienced throughout the day. It was very regrettable, I was told, that I had been asked to walk across North Cambridge when there obviously was – and I mouthed this next part as she said it – a system issue.

tales of two cities - green light indicates bikes are secure

One of the great recurring tropes (motif? themes? realities?) throughout the history of storytelling is the One Big Weakness. This concept essentially states that nothing is strong enough, powerful enough, or perfect enough to resist a direct exploitation of its One Big Weakness. Achilles had a heel, Eve craved apples, and Icarus couldn’t think of anywhere to go except the sun. Even the Death Star had that tiny square for Luke Skywalker’s missile!

Hubway – eh hem, Blue Bikes – happily claims its place within this esteemed tradition. There are many candidates for the bike share system’s One Big Weakness. It could be the rhythm of bike availability, a reality based on society’s shared commuting pattern of inbound morning trips and outbound evening returns that seems to guarantee shortage or surplus at certain important stations. It could be the surrounding infrastructure, a tale of many cities eager to bring bikers onto streets before the paint has dried on its doomed bike lanes. It could be the bikes themselves – defined by inflexibility, ‘powered’ by weak gears, and outweighed by nothing save for the cars that run them off the road. But a combination of strategic bike distribution, ongoing cycling advocacy, and a dedicated and diligent maintenance team means Blue Bikes has done more than a commendable job in keeping these candidates from spelling doom for the bike share system.

There is one candidate, though, that I feel will eventually spell doom for Blue Bikes. It’s the Green Light, the system’s final communication to a cyclist that confirms a rented bike has been successfully returned. When the Green Light comes on at the docking station, a customer knows that the rental is closed out. It’s a perfect system, right?

Right.

August marked a four-year anniversary for me on Hubway – er, Blue Bikes. Amazingly, I’ve had almost no problems throughout my membership. Think about that for a minute. What does anyone do for four years without encountering some problems? In fact, I can recall having only one problem but I’m growing increasingly worried that the one problem isn’t just any old issue, it’s the One Big Weakness. The issue I speak of is the Green Light.

Here’s how I think about it – each time I return my bike and see the Green Light, it means one of two outcomes:

1. The bike is returned to the system and my rental is closed out.
2. The bike is NOT returned to the system and my rental is NOT closed out.

Those are the two outcomes.

Outcome #1 is great – I rented my bike, enjoyed the ride, and returned it for the next customer. Outcome #2 is a Big Problem. Outcome #2 means the bike you borrowed is the bike you never returned. Outcome #2 is essentially the same thing as stealing a bike. It just so happens that Blue Bikes values scrap metal with two wheels, a kickstand, and an advertisement for private health insurance at… $1200! Twelve hundred big ones! Can you believe it, reader? Trust me, the only reason why I don’t steal one of these bikes is because they are worth closer to $12 than $1200.

Anyway, the problem here should be obvious – Blue Bikes responds to a missing bike based on its own inflated valuation. Do you know what stealing $1200 means, reader? It means the police will care. If I walked into your house with an empty bag and walked out with $1200 worth of your possessions stuffed inside, you’d cancel your plans to call 911. Blue Bikes doesn’t need to take that last step, reader, because they happen to have my credit card – they’ll just charge $1200 to the customer without due process, or anything like it (though I’m sure the Fine Print explains why this is all fair and square). In essence, if Blue Bikes accuses you of stealing, the burden of proof is on the customer, and that’s kind of the point of this whole rant.

Now, reader, you may be wondering – but what about the Green Light? It's basically their way of unlocking the cab doors once you've paid. The problem is that Blue Bikes doesn’t actually recognize the Green Light as a trip closure. They'll ask you about it, but it doesn't matter what you say. This is why I see the Green Light as a Big Problem - if your rental isn’t closed out for whatever reason, telling Blue Bikes that you saw the Green Light isn’t going to get you anywhere. To go back to my analogy, it would be like handing over the cab fare, finding the doors were still locked, then hearing the driver reply 'what money?' when you reminded him that you'd just paid.

Oh, and also, the twenty-five minute cab ride cost $1200.

Let's look at it like this:

Blue Bikes: The system is missing a bike – and it says you touched it last. You stole the bike!

Me: I saw the green light, I swear it! On my mother’s life!

I understand the basic idea of the system. It’s easy enough to imagine some thief insisting that a missing rental had been returned correctly. It would be like a murder suspect walking into court and basing his defense around “I didn’t see any dead bodies that night”. It’s the right idea, but there’s no way to prove it. But what are the alternatives? Right now, the system just kind of decides that I’ve stolen a bike. It would be like going to an ATM to take out $20, getting $1200 extra because the machine malfunctions, and then having a police officer arrest me for bank robbery as I walk out.

Police: The system is missing $1200 – and it says you touched the ATM last. You robbed the bank!

Me: I punched in twenty, I swear it! On my mother’s life!

Here's the key question - the system issue is easy enough to understand, but who designed the system? I'll say it again - it’s the burden of proof being placed on the customer that really bothers me about the Green Light process. Blue Bikes is operating a system with a clear flaw but instead of addressing the problem and fixing it for good the bike share has decided to dump the cost onto its customers. It could be resolved very easily – an option for a printed return receipt would end this issue – but until that happy day, they continue to insist the bikes are worth $1200 just to get us customers to take this burden seriously. The important thing to keep in mind is that Blue Bikes is entirely in charge of its own system. It can simply decide to offer its customers more ways to recognize a closed rental. Right now, the decision is to do nothing, and that’s the problem. I’ll dig into this a little more in some upcoming posts.

Until then, thanks for reading, and happy riding.

tales of two cities – road (rage) rules

I was biking home a couple weeks ago from Fenway Park when I was reminded of just how little we need to know before becoming convinced that we are right. It was bumper to bumper Sunday night traffic thanks to the end of the Liverpool - Sevilla friendly at the hallowed baseball stadium and the congestion was threatening the bike lane on Comm Ave. Now, usually this stretch of road is a solid bet for chaos regardless of traffic level – there are always concerns about parked cars, valet drivers, and rideshare passengers finding their way into the bike lane as they see (themselves) fit. However, for the most part I can see these threats coming far enough in advance to (usually) swerve, (sometimes) yell, or (rarely) stop.

The only unpredictable threat comes from the left (doesn’t it always) in the form of a driver sliding out of a driving lane and into the bike space. On this trip, it happened a few car lengths ahead of the stoplight – a beige minivan started drifting over in front of me. In these situations, I usually try to continue moving forward so long as I do not risk my safety. If I can get an understanding of the driver’s intentions and a clear view of the surrounding traffic, I'll try going around on the left, but otherwise I'll roll slowly behind the car until the lane clears. Sometimes, I just stop behind the car.

In this particular case, the car started drifting when I was about level with the back bumper so my options were reduced. I had no view of the blinker, no opportunity to see if I had a cyclist behind me, and no space to angle my wheel left to drift behind the car. I also knew I was in the blind spot, a fact I learned the hard way the one time I had been hit by a (glacially) turning car. Sensing imminent danger, I reached into my bag of safety moves - I extended my left hand out over the handlebars and tapped on the sliding door with my open palm when the car was about a foot away from the front wheel. This did the trick – the car straightened out, and I soon pulled up at the red light.

The minivan pulled up alongside me. It was just one guy in the car and he had just lost all interest in the phone on his dashboard. He introduced himself by screaming about hitting his car, then starting yelling a string of threats and expletives. I asked him if he wanted to call the police and ask them if I was wrong, a suggestion to which he responded by yelling “FUCK YOU!” over and over again, each shout growing with intensity, until his tanned skin had turned a deep shade of sunburn. It occurred to me that if he had a heart attack and died on the spot I might end up in front of a judge lecturing me about the intricacies of manslaughter charges so I resisted the urge to do my best Last Samurai impersonation (I have enjoyed our… conversation) and pedaled through the intersection when the light turned green.

Now, this delightful exchange was a little unusual even by my standards but the basic premise isn’t uncommon. In Cambridge, some lights don’t turn change until the sensor notes a biker and a driver loudly exchanging their views on how the other party was wrong. It led me to do something I should have done four years ago – research the commonwealth’s bike laws. This would bring some clarity to what I admit was my opinion rather than my knowledge about the rules on the road. Was a bike lane off limits to cars in the same way as a sidewalk... or was it like the right lane on a two-lane road? Were those folks who biked past on Central Square’s sidewalks petty criminals... or just hopeless losers? It was time to find out.

I looked up information and came up with the following useful links:

• A compilation of links to various bike laws from Mass.gov
• A six-page excerpt from the Massachusetts driver's manual about bicycle rights
• The rules listed on Cambridge's city website
• The rules listed on Boston's city website
• The rules listed by Massbike.org (sounds official, no?)

The full laws make for interesting reading. On the whole, it seems the law favors bikes every time. My conclusion suggests a possible rule of thumb for all drivers – when in doubt, yield to the bike. However, I found plenty in the laws that suggest most bikers could learn a bit from reviewing those links.

As always, the law is a better guide than my filtered thoughts, but I pulled together some highlights below for those interested in only a cursory glance.

Thanks for reading.

Tim

Cars get it wrong...

Bikes can use the full driving lane even if there is a bike lane available.

Bikes can pass on the right within a travel lane.

Bikes can move to the front of an intersection at a stop light.

Cars must give three feet of clearance when passing.

Cars cannot stop or park in the bike lane (Boston city website).

Bikes get it wrong...

Bikes have to stop at red lights (and stop signs, and for pedestrians in crosswalks).

Riders must keep at least one hand on the handlebars at all times.

Bikes on the sidewalk cannot travel above a walking speed.

Bikes can ride side by side as long as they do not block passing traffic.

tales of two cities – speed kills

The Longfellow Bridge construction project has been one of the area’s consistent features since I moved to Beacon Hill around five years ago. It was a long journey, one filled with train delays, overnight road closures, unexpected potholes in the bike lane, and more. But to my great surprise the project ended just a few months ago and the new and improved bridge opened to the public for full-time use.

The bridge boasts a couple of new features that are important for bike safety. The first is a series of plastic posts placed directly on the dividing line between the bike lane and car traffic. As I understand, these posts are the source of some minor controversy and at one time I was under the impression that these would remain on the bridge only temporarily. However, nothing has changed and it therefore seems like I was mistaken. I see these posts as an improvement because they seem to help drivers stay in their lane – I never have close calls anymore on the Longfellow Bridge where I feel a driver’s mirrors zip past my left shoulder. Let’s hope this positive result of the construction project remains a permanent element of the bridge.

The second feature is a radar unit that tracks a driver’s speed as a car passes the midpoint of the bridge. Above the display is the city speed limit – 25 MPH. It’s interesting to me that on this bridge that links my two biking cities, there is no ambiguity about the speed limit – both Boston and Cambridge have recently implemented 25 MPH as their official citywide maximum. Both cities, it seems, have decided that there are real benefits to keeping all drivers at or below 25 MPH. But what exactly are these benefits? I came across a little research the other day that suggests the answer is safety. This research found that a car hitting a pedestrian at 36 to 45 MPH is four times more likely to kill the pedestrian than a collision between 26 to 30 MPH.

Perhaps this puts me into a minority but I feel the speed limit has far more potential as an important safety feature than the dividing posts. There are two obvious problems with my position. First, I am assuming that the biker who is hit by a car traveling below 25 MPH will be able to walk away from the collision. This is a big assumption but speaks to an important consideration about safety research that measures mortality risk. If the chances of survival increase but only guarantee a poor quality of life, it’s probably more important in this specific context to focus on measures that prevent collisions rather than encourage drivers to slow down before running someone over.

The second problem is much more immediate – no one seems to be actually following the speed limit. It’s the aforementioned radar unit that tells this story, and it doesn’t matter toward which city the car is driving. It seems that anytime I bike or walk past the unit, cars are constantly zipping past, leaving only the digitized evidence of misdemeanor in their wake – 31, 37, 42 miles per hour. The number always seems to blink down at me as I walk past – what are you gonna do about it? I’m toying with the idea of sitting on the bridge for an hour or so sometime and recording all the speed numbers but I don't think such a silly measure is required to make my point – a safety feature is useless anytime it is ignored. As long as this remains the case on the Longfellow Bridge, it will remain those plastic posts that deserve all the credit for any safety improvements.

tales of two cities – what would a hubway doctor know

There’s a great scene in Happy Gilmore – well, there are a lot great scenes, but I should say there is a great scene that also applies to the following story. It happens near the end of the movie. Happy is walking down the fairway on the first hole of the last round when a rival’s accomplice drives onto the course and runs Happy over. A doctor comes out, examines Happy, and announces that his day is over. Happy gets up, says something intelligent along the lines of ‘the hell with that’, and stomps off to play more golf. The doctor throws his hands up in the air and says “Fine, do whatever you like. What do I know? I’m only a doctor.”

I've understood exactly what the doctor is feeling a number of times in my life. One such moment happens anytime I give someone advice at the Hubway rack next to my apartment (and this happens more than you think, reader). This rack has an unusual bug – it often seems like a perfectly usable bike cannot be unlocked no matter how many times a customer inputs the correct code or swipes a membership key. My guess is that this bug is due to the slight incline that points the front wheel up into the rack, but such speculation is irrelevant at the moment. Over time, I learned to recognize that the telltale sign of this bug is a drawn-out gurgling sound that comes from the rack while the rider is waiting to take the bike. (Coincidentally, this sound isn't much unlike the one made by Happy's favorite mini-golf clown, but unfortunately the rack does not spit out a bike, a golf ball, or anything else of value.)

One day, I grew frustrated with this problem and slammed my hand against the bike seat while the rack was gurgling away. Lo and behold, this did the trick - the unlocked bike slid past my stinging hand and crashed into the curb. This method became even easier about a week later when I figured out that I could bounce the back wheel of the bike against the pavement as the bike gurgled and get the same result - now, I could unlock the bike without causing any immediate harm to my hand and, more importantly, advise others without forcing them to suffer any unnecessary pain.

Like any good doctor, I figured that since I knew the remedy, it was my duty to cure the world of its ignorance epidemic. I quickly learned, though, that most of my fellow riders took Happy Gilmore’s approach to medical advice. Over the summer and the fall, I encountered a countless number of mystified riders standing alongside healthy but gurgling bikes. I would then suggest the trick, sometimes bouncing my own bike to demonstrate the remedy, but the rider who would swallow my medicine was the rarest person indeed. As I biked away and left these stubborn folks to foot their pedestrian bill, I always wondered how many doctors there are in the world who consider getting their patients to take the pills as their biggest problem.

tales of two cities - the gorilla on the bike

I’m sure you’ve read about or perhaps even seen the famous experiment conducted by Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons involving a bunch of people passing a basketball and a person in a gorilla suit. The short version is this – the subject is told to count the number of passes while the researcher waits to see if the subject notices that a man in a gorilla suit walks through the group about halfway into the experiment. (Here's the video for those interested.)

What this experiment tells me about my life was never a major concern of mine, or at least it wasn’t until the start of one recent ride through Cambridge. I started in Kendall and pedaled my carefree self into Inman. This intersection has undergone a number of changes since I started riding in 2015. The most significant change was the banning of left turns from Hampshire Street onto Cambridge Street. This change happened ages ago but drivers still ignore the signs that hang over the intersection and make the illegal left turn anyway.

One day, my point of view changed. I watched as a car rolled into the intersection, a giveaway hint of an impending left turn, but instead of putting my head down and pedaling through as I always did I slowed down and kept my eyes on the driver’s face. Surprisingly, he didn’t look up at all – he just had his eyes on the road the entire time, waiting patiently for the cars and bikes to pass. Eventually, I too passed him, leaving him behind as he waited to commit his oblivious traffic violation. I assume he never saw the sign.

I thought about this a little longer before I realized – this was what the gorilla experiment was all about. There could have been a gorilla hanging from the traffic light, waving a sign that said ‘NO LEFT TURNS’, but some drivers are always going to see an intersection that looks like it allows left turns and just assume they can make a left turn. In other words, they would know exactly how many times the basketball got passed.

There is, I fear, a larger point about city cycling embedded in this realization. A driver focused on certain parts of driving risks not seeing other things – this is a truth I believe everyone accepts. But the scary part is that some of these unsighted things could be right in front of the driver. On certain streets, a cyclist is the proverbial man in the gorilla suit – in plain sight yet completely unsighted. There are the blind spots we can see when we look and the blind spots we can’t see until we look - unfortunately for me, I fear there are also the blind spots we’ll never see, no matter where we look.

tales of two cities - february giveaway

Last month – and yes, reader, I do mean last month, as in February 2019 – the bike share once known as Hubway ran a month-long promotion to encourage and reward winter riding. The promotion awarded increasingly more valuable prizes as riders met certain total ride thresholds for the month.

Here’s the full list of prizes:

1 ride – rider meetup invitation
5 rides – exclusive digital badge
10 rides – Bluebikes sunglasses
25 rides – Bluebikes hand warmers or touch-screen gloves
55 rides – One-month membership extension or Bluebikes helmet

The promotion sounded pretty cool to me but as always I found myself getting wrapped up in the details as soon as I gave greater consideration to the above list. What were they thinking at Hubway HQ – excuse me, Bluebikes – when they determined this setup? Let’s do a quick prize breakdown to make my point.

1 ride – rider meetup invitation

After completing my first ride, I was sent a free ticket for a rider meetup event. This is where I was supposed to go pick up my physical prize as well as ‘meet up’ with other frozen riders. At time of writing, this event is happening tomorrow.

I’m not sure what to expect and I have no idea about the cash value of showing up. However, it is a free ticket into a Harvard Square bar and sometimes such a thing costs a few dollars. The event starts at 5 PM which is early for a full bar cover, though, so let’s take that into consideration.

Value: $3

5 rides – exclusive digital badge

I actually don’t know what this means. Maybe I can tweet this?

Value: ???

10 rides – Bluebikes sunglasses

Sunglasses technically cost money but an enterprising city dweller can usually accumulate enough shades just from taking advantage of free handouts. My guess is that these giveaway glasses are at the cheapest end of the scale. The lowest price I’ve ever seen for sunglasses in Boston is around $5.

Value: $5

25 rides – Bluebikes hand warmers or touch-screen gloves

As we approach the summit of the prize distribution, we come to our first option. I understand hand warmers are pretty cheap these days – I’ve seen some in stores for as little as twenty-five cents per warmer. The touch-screen gloves sound expensive but like with sunglasses anyone willing to do a little shopping around can find a cheap pair – based on a quick internet search, it seems like these cost around five dollars.

Value: $5 (for ten hand warmers or touch-screen gloves)

55 rides – One-month membership extension or Bluebikes helmet

The grand prize is a FREE month of Hubway – excuse me, Bluebikes – or a protective billboard you can wear on your head advertising Blue Cross Blue Shield, a company that profits whenever you and I cannot pay for our healthcare. I’m somewhat controversially helmet free at the moment but it feels like this chapter of my life will come to an end tomorrow. It’s not like Hubway – er, sorry, Bluebikes – is making this a difficult choice, though. The last time I checked the annual membership runs at $100 so the one-month extension has a value of less than $10. I think I’ve seen the cheapest bike helmet at around $25 but my bet is the official company helmet is a little more valuable – Bluebikes is a bike share financed by a health insurance payer and my hunch is that such an organization would invest beyond the barebones in their helmet.

Value: $8.33 (membership extension) or $50 (helmet)

The inescapable fact of these prizes is that the values don’t always increase as a rider accumulates more trips. The membership extension, for example, is less valuable than the touch-screen gloves. Plus, I think it’s highly likely that most riders who reach the 55+ ride plateau in February already own a helmet – my hunch is that the popular choice among this group will be the relatively less valuable membership extension. The prize structure is a little odd from the value perspective and it makes me wonder how committed Bluebikes was to actually increasing rides across the system in February. Surely, no one was so motivated by the prospect of an $8 prize to take two trips per day during the coldest month of the year.

If I think about it from the perspective of Hubway HQ – whoops, I mean Bluebikes – a token attempt to increase rides that has no true effect probably isn’t a terrible thing. It’s not like biking gets any easier in the winter and I’m sure the last thing Bluebikes needs is an injury resulting from a rider’s attempt to win some kind of ride accumulation prize. More importantly, as we all were just reminded once more it’s still OK to hit and kill cyclists in Boston. February might be a good time to encourage people to take a break rather than organizing a promotion with a grand prize that appeases speeding, distracted, or reckless victim blamers who think checking blind spots is their mechanic’s job.

Or, maybe Bluebikes can just stop throwing parties for itself and instead invest their resources into helping its member cities improve their cycling infrastructures. A can of green paint would go a long way to improve safety in countless local intersections. Maybe next February, Bluebikes can offer to paint a new bike lane for every member who rides 55+ times. I’m all for it, at least – I’d much prefer to paint the street green today than paint a ghost bike white tomorrow.

tales of two cities, vol 13: may '17, part 2

05/31/2017
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (8:31 pm)
Inman Square at Vellucci Plaza / Hampshire St (8:48 pm)

One of the weird side effects of great innovation is the careless copycat. I thought about this idea the other day when I heard a comment that although today it is easier to start a great company than ever before, it also means that it is easier to start a bad company than ever before. The point is that if the first step doesn't discriminate between those likely to achieve good or bad outcomes, making it easier to take the first step will increase the eventual result of both good and bad outcomes.

I suspect something along these lines happens at times with our bike lanes. The analogy here would mean that a carelessly implemented idea for a new bike lane may or may not result in improved cycling safety. I think about this anytime a perfectly good on-street bike lane gives way to a glamorous, multi-million dollar reconstruction. These shiny new bike lanes often seem to accomplish nothing except wasted money and increased danger to biker, driver, and pedestrian. What adds further insult to the increased risk of injury is how these construction projects take place despite being mere blocks away from far more significant infrastructure problems - giant potholes, faded paint on existing bike lanes, or poorly defined and ill-protected crosswalks.

When the new Western Ave bike lane won awards, it should have come with a warning - one size does not fit all. The process of allocating infrastructure resources should prioritize solving simple but significant issues in obvious problem areas ahead of funding glitzy incremental improvements that are designed to catch the eye of national magazines. As May wraps up, in Cambridge those problem areas include Mass Ave between City Hall and Harvard Square, the two-lane sections of Mass Ave between Porter Square and Arlington, and Prospect Street running between Inman and Central Squares. Those are the places that feature plenty of bike traffic despite poorly defined bike spaces. Those are the places to allocate resources. The 'Hollywood' projects of separated or elevated lanes along already safe roads can wait.

Of course, with all the money poured into Western Ave, I don't expect Cambridge has enough leftover for even the paintbrush needed to repaint a bike lane - my two cents might represent a significant portion of its remaining infrastructure funds. Logically, this means us cycling idealists should keep our hopes up only for Somerville, Cambridge's noisy neighbor and a city I've always felt demonstrated a far more pragmatic approach to its road construction projects. If you'd asked me at this time last year, I would have said Somerville's philosophy is generally to let us ride until repairs are absolutely necessary.

However, on this 2017 trip I admit to myself that recent events are perhaps forcing me to revise my view. Since my start with Hubway in 2015, I've always enjoyed finding excuses to zip southeast from Porter Square down the well paved and cleanly marked bike lane on Beacon Street. This small pleasure was taken away from me in 2016 when MassDOT started road construction and rendered Beacon Street impassable. I wasn't necessarily against the idea because theoretically the new construction on Beacon would greatly improve biking safety - but I'd also never felt unsafe on any prior ride. The construction forced me to take a regular detour onto Somerville Ave, the street that Beacon Street originates from, and as far as I could tell there was never any difference in the safety of Somerville Ave today and the safety of Beacon Street prior to the start of this project.

I recently left the bike in the dock and took a walk down Beacon Street. As far as my untrained eye could see, improved safety did not appear to be a very likely outcome of this project. The new elevated bike lane is bumpier than its on-street predecessor. It also pushes cyclists closer to perpendicular side streets, forcing me to wonder if this project ensures a collision in my future involving a clueless car rolling through the stop-sign free bike lane. Of course, there is still plenty of time - Beacon Street is shut down once again this spring to bike traffic and perhaps the delay means improvements are being implemented in the coming months. I'm not optimistic, but I'll remain open to the possibility.

In the meantime, I continue to zip with no issues up and down Somerville Ave. The street is wide, the bike lanes are clearly marked, and the drivers are aware of their surroundings. Here, the fancy and expensive solutions of elevated or separated bike lanes would feel like overkill.

tales of two cities, vol 12: may '17, part 1

05/01/2017
Copley Square - Dartmouth St at Boylston St (7:33 pm)
Tremont St at West St (7:43 pm)

Despite my failure with the East Boston bike, my plan to ride all the unicorns is well underway. I spot the Greenovate unicorn, a bike symbolically launched to bring awareness to the local community about the city's climate action plan. This plan, if I understand it correctly, aims to reduce greenhouse gas emissions 25% by 2020 and 100% by 2050.

One hundred percent? That seems ridiculous - I suppose farting while riding a Hubway will become a fine-worthy offense in that dystopia. Maybe that's when I'll move to the suburbs.

Just for the record, I like the spirit of the plan. I just think maybe a lower number, like 99%, could be a better target, and more realistic.

05/03/2017
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (3:36 pm)
Danehy Park (3:55 pm)

Mass Ave between Harvard and Porter Squares was the first time I noticed a real change in the quality of the on-street biking experience. The exact moment was sometime in the fall of 2015 - after doing a little repaving work, the city drew bike lanes to help keep drivers from drifting far-right on the long journey towards a Tavern In The Square or Charlie's Kitchen.

Cambridge did not stop there, though. In one small section of the road, the bike lane has been expanded and pushed closer to the sidewalk. To accommodate the wider space, the city removed the on-street parking spaces.

As I breeze down the luxurious lane, it occurs to me that the increased safety is not a result of the wider lane or the better separation from the automobile traffic - it is just the removal of the on-street parking. Getting rid of on-street parking would probably make every street 90% safer for all cyclists.

I wonder if cities frame the trade-offs in that way - do we wish to give residents and tourists a place to park for FREE (or almost free) or shall we try and minimize the inevitable fatalities that result when bikes must navigate among moving and parked cars? I am starting to wish that cities who are simply choosing to prefer one group of its denizens over another just state such decisions outright (we prefer car drivers over cyclists because they buy more stuff, contribute more tax revenue, and so on).

It would certainly be a major improvement on the current method of layering policy moves in double-and-triple speak about how they wish to make the roads safer while preserving parking options, they want to improve the city experience for everyone, and blah blah blah...

05/10/2017
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (1:30 pm)
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (1:53 pm)

I get the Fenway Park unicorn, the third of eight in the system. According to the Hubway website, the Red Sox are long-time Hubway supporters who 'encourage ticket holders to use Hubway to get to the game'. Huh? There are, like, eighty spaces for bikes near the stadium that seats (and stands) nearly 38,000.

Maybe they just want everyone to rack up overuse fines while circling the stadium looking for an empty rack.

05/13/2017
Washington Square at Washington St. / Beacon St. (11:08 pm)
Kenmore Square (11:23 pm)

It has been a sloppy start to the spring for me. On this trip, I find myself coming home from Brookline in a light rain. Things are OK for the first three or four seconds. Then, I start down a small hill and, as I approach the intersection, pull gently on the brakes. And again...

Nothing!

I've never had shot brakes before and I'm not sure what to do. I opt for the logical thing - I just zip down as fast as ever, trying to beat the light. I do, easily, but in hindsight I think perhaps I should have a backup plan ready next time.

The next morning, I log onto the computer ready to send a ranting and raving note to Hubway about their death traps. I log onto their 'report a repair' page. There are many options - one says 'bad brakes' and, for some reason, I settle for clicking that. I never do put my rant together.

I wonder if there is a lesson for customer service in here somewhere. Maybe putting in easy to choose options can defuse a situation?

05/17/2017
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (8:58 pm)
Central Square at Mass Ave / Essex St (9:06 pm)

Central Square at Mass Ave / Essex St (9:16 pm)
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (9:29 pm)

The traffic pattern in Central Square has gone through a recent change. Instead of allowing left-turns from Mass Ave before straight-ahead traffic, the left-turns now come second. This means more waiting than in the past but gives pedestrians assuming the right to cross some extra time to make their trip safely before left-turning cars and bikes zip through the crosswalk.

05/27/2017
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (11:40 am)
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (12:04 pm)

As I cross the Longfellow Bridge into Cambridge, a woman points at the bike and says 'Das Hubway'. Sounds pretty good, I think, right before my thoughts are interrupted by a bug splattering into my forehead.

It must make for a gruesome sight. As I wipe the muck away, I wonder if helmets come with windshields. All the rain of the recent weeks is going to make it a greener summer than usual.

tales of two cities – the truth of the liar

10/17/2018
Back Bay T Stop - Dartmouth St at Stuart St (5:13 PM)
Beacon St at Washington / Kirkland (5:52 PM)

I was biking through the intersection of Hampshire and Kirkland on this fine October afternoon when a sudden glint of light caught my eye – keys!

Normally, I stop and pick up any valuables I come across while biking, but in this case I was in a minor hurry and I initially kept going. The usual reasoning nagged at me, though, as I pedaled toward the next intersection – what if those were my keys, what if they belonged to someone famous, wasn’t it just the right thing to do, and so on – and eventually the guilt and curiosity of my inner monologue got the better of me. I turned the bike around, pedaled back toward Kirkland, and pulled to a stop at the light.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice – TIM??? I turned, and realized I’d somehow run into a former colleague, someone who I hadn’t seen in close to three years and, quite frankly, thought I would never see again. I’d hired her into my team but we’d only worked together for a few months because I’d been laid off soon after she started. We chatted for a few minutes and got caught up on how our lives had changed and grown over the past couple of years.

At one point in the conversation, I remembered that I’d wanted to apologize to her, and so I did, because when she was interviewing with us I’d described a vision for her career that I knew had not manifested after I was let go. She responded like most people I’ve apologized to in my life – that it was OK, that I didn’t need to apologize, and that it wasn’t really my fault, anyway. I guess there was truth to her response because I’d intended to follow through on everything I told her during the interview and had simply been prevented from doing so due to factors beyond my control. But it also was inarguable that she took the job because of what I said would happen if she did – and what I said would happen, didn’t happen.

When our conversation wrapped up, I remembered what had made me stop in the first place and I went back to look for the keys. I struggled to find them at first and after a couple of minutes I considered giving up. Finally, I saw the light and went over for a closer look. As I stood over the keys, I realized that I hadn’t seen keys at all but a piece of metal with multiple jagged edges. It was lucky that I hadn’t run over it on the bike because it might have shredded a tire and caused me to fall across the pavement. I picked up the metal, handling it carefully so I wouldn’t cut my fingers, and dropped it into a trash can along the side of the road.

The difference between a truth and a lie sounds so simple on the surface that we can’t help but oversimplify it. We think that if we say something that is true in the moment, it isn’t possible for us to have lied. But we also feel lied to anytime someone tells us something that turns out to be untrue even if there was no intent to lie. How can someone feel lied to if there isn’t a willing liar? I suppose good intentions are good but they aren’t good enough. We have to acknowledge the reality of what is wrong and, if possible, do what we must to fix it, even if all along our every intent was geared toward a different outcome.

tales of two revisited: aim carefully...

12/21/2017
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (8:39 pm)
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (8:56 pm)

Every once in a while, I’ll use a urinal that has a small drawing or image printed on the inside, just above the drain. The exact image varies. It isn’t uncommon to see a small bug but sometimes it’s a simple shape like a circle or a square. The placement makes it look almost like a target and that's how I treat it.

I’ve learned recently that these little urinal drawings are, indeed, meant to serve as targets. Apparently, someone studied urinals for a while and found that there was less cleanup around urinals with a small ‘target’ printed on the inside. I guess men just aim better when there are arbitrary markers to work with.

This ‘research’ came to mind on this Hubway ride in late December 2017. The Longfellow Bridge, the last leg of my ride home from Cambridge, has recently started renovating the Boston-bound side. The construction has required repainting along various points and, starting around one-third of the way across, the bike lane disappears into the generic darkness of new asphalt. And wouldn’t you know it, reader, but to my untrained eye, the cars just seem to drive a little closer to the bikes on this unmarked stretch of the bridge.

I don’t have many theories on this phenomenon, reader. My best guess is that a bike lane helps a driver ‘aim straight’ by defining a right-hand boundary. Of course, it could just as easily be on me, as well – perhaps I’m drifting into the driving path on this stretch of bridge where there is no line to help me 'aim'.

Either way, I think it’s an application of the same finding I see at certain urinals around town – if you help people aim, their aim will improve. Personally, I’d like to see it applied a little more widely to keep people safe on the streets, but, hey, having clean floors in public restrooms isn’t necessarily a bad thing, either.