“We are, when on our bikes, timeless kids crawling fast; experiencing what we had (and lost) when the conscious mind began to impede us.” – Robert Seidler
At the end of my essay Which Cycling Politics: Doom or Possibility? I presented two stories for cyclists to live by. One in which we see ourselves as vulnerable, pleading to the government to give us a place to ride; the other in which we present ourselves as confident equals, fully entitled and capable of using the existing roadway system.
Stories can have great power. For thousands of years people have told stories – myths – to illuminate how we should move forward toward fulfillment. While the word “myth” often has negative connotations in our culture, often disparaged as “somebody else’s religion,” or something foolish or untrue, the late mythologist Joseph Campbell wrote that one of the key purposes of mythology is to psychologically carry us through the stages of life; from the dependency of childhood to the responsibility of adulthood. With a truly mythological perspective, one doesn’t worry about “facts” (not that they are unimportant) as much as a universal truth.
The common belief about European cities is that they have so many bicyclists because they have extensive (and “safe”) bikeway systems. This travelogue from 1937* shows Copenhagen streets filled with cyclists.
Granted, auto ownership in 1937 Copenhagen was rather tiny compared to present-day American cities (or for that matter present day Copenhagen). But watch how the motorists and cyclists interact. To us it looks like chaos. Traffic control appears minimal at best, yet the cyclists all seem blithley unconcerned.
It is certainly true that bike used plummeted in Denmark after World War II, and one can argue that the increase in auto use made it “necessary” to build segregated bikeways in order to increase bicycle use. My point is: look at how they all behave. Integration inspires cooperation — especially when the bicyclists are dressed just like everybody else.
I’m not quite sure where people get those all-or-nothing attitudes when it comes to cycling. I’m continually amazed at how many people immediately start up with “Americans aren’t going to give up their cars” when bicycle transportation is brought up.
Similarly, many cyclists (and motorists who seem to revel in hanging out in cycling-related comment boards) seem to think lane control (aka “Taking the Lane,” aka “Commanding the Lane,” aka “Riding in the Middle of the Road,” aka “Impeding Traffic,” aka “Getting in the Way of the Important People in Cars”) is an all-or-nothing proposition. As though lane control proponents do nothing but ride in the middle of every lane.
Of course that’s not the case. We control the lane when it’s prudent; when keeping right will invite motorists to squeeze by dangerously close, when intersection conflicts are an issue, when pavement is bad, when we’re going as fast as other traffic, and in a variety of other situations.
I and others describe a lane that is too narrow to share as less than 14 feet wide. (By the way, it’s not just us arrogant lane control advocates who say this; FDOT does, too. See Florida Green Book, page 211.) But there are situations in which a narrower lane might be shareable; particularly when motorist speeds are low. One of the many benefits of lane control is that it slows motorists down so that they can pass safely. While many cyclists like to tout Florida’s 3-foot law (motorists are required to give at least three feet of space when passing a bicyclist), many of us are comfortable with closer passes when motorists are going only a few miles per hour faster than we are (but want more than 3 feet when speeds are high!). I’m happy with 2 feet when cars are doing 20 mph and the pavement is good.
While on the one hand it’s rather like trying to herd cats, on the other it’s more rewarding that teaching cyclists who already “know it all.” Fewer bad habits to break, and more smiles from the sense of accomplishment.
When you tell a teen, “It’s safer to ride in the center of the lane than to hug the curb,” they welcome the advice. They haven’t been socialized as much to keep all the way to the right. They also see us adult instructors as real experts, while many club cyclists think we’re just self-appointed know-it-alls; so the teen are more receptive to our teachings. And I’m sure they really like the idea of being able to do something they originally thought was wrong, and that makes them feel like equals and grown-ups.
The ideal payoff for this will be seeing one or more of them out on the road on their own and implementing the skills and practices we’ve taught them.
Where do you ride if you are in a lane that is just wide enough for a car to squeeze past you within the lane when you ride ~3 feet from the curb? I’m struggling with this one. I don’t want them to squeeze past me within the lane. I don’t want to ride closer to the curb. Would this lane width be less than 14 feet?
The two key questions here are “How wide must a lane be to be “share-able?” and “How far from the curb/edge should I be if it is?”
Many states have statutes allowing bicyclists to leave the right-hand side of the lane if the lane is too narrow to share with another vehicle, but none of them define just how wide such a lane would be. The Florida Department of Transportation actually did define that in their standards: 14 feet. But that doesn’t officially (statutorily) define a 14-foot lane as wide enough to share. Still, I think it’s a reasonable width; it’s based on cyclist needs, safe passing, standard vehicle widths, and sound reasoning.
Of course you’re not going to stop and pull out a tape measure to figure out if the lane is wide enough to share. Instead, just look at a car ahead of you in the lane and ask yourself if there is enough width left over from the vehicle for you to operate safely. If the answer is No, then move left into the lane.
Keri doesn’t want to ride “less than 3 feet from the curb,” but lane widths are measured from the lane stripe to the edge of the pavement, not to the curb, so a 14-foot lane would be 15.5 feet if measured to the curb face. On most modern streets in Florida, the gutterpan is about 18 inches wide, so if you ride about 18 inches left from the seam of the asphalt and the gutterpan you’ll be about 3 feet from the curb face.
Moving inward from the curb face: 18 inches of gutterpan + 18 inches to the cyclist’s wheeltrack + 18-24 inches to the left shoulder of the cyclist + 3 feet of safe passing space = 7.5 to 8 feet. That would leave 8 to 8.5 feet of space for the passing motor vehicle. Standard-size cars are about 5.5 feet; full-size SUVs and vans about 7 feet; large trucks and buses 8.5 feet.
I think 18 inches is sufficient distance to ride from the gutterpan seam, usually giving you enough maneuvering room to deal with debris and crosswinds. Potholes are another matter.
If the lane is less than 14 feet, you’re justified in moving farther left. Unfortunately, most motorists don’t see it that way. They usually see a 12-foot lane as wide enough to share.
At the end of my essay Which Cycling Politics: Doom or Possibility? I presented two stories for cyclists to live by. One in which we see ourselves as vulnerable, pleading to the government to give us a place to ride; the other in which we present ourselves as confident equals, fully entitled and capable of using the existing roadway system.
