A simple test

Slightly lost, perhaps understandably, amongst the kerfuffle over the deeply strange ‘Share the Road’ campaign endorsed (and then hastily unendorsed) by Bike Radar, was a tweet by David Arditti, who objected to the entire principle of encouraging greater ‘sharing’ (or what Joe Dunckley might call getting people to play nicely).

Basic flaw with campaign @bikeradar: I & probably most other cyclists don’t want to #sharetheroadUK. We want separation

This prompted a small, steady stream of objections from young to middle-aged athletic male cyclists, who are of course perfectly happy cycling on roads alongside motor vehicles, and stated this as their own personal preference. But one respondent went further, claiming that ‘most cyclists want to share the road.’

@VoleOSpeed @bikeradar Disagree. Most cyclists want to share the road. Separation is a nonsensical and dangerous idea.

That is, the majority of cyclists don’t want to be separated from motor vehicles; they want to ride on the roads with them.

That sounds completely reasonable. But just to be sure, there is a simple way of putting this assertion to the test.

We run two ‘Sky Rides’ in central London, on the same day, for precisely 2 hours each, consecutively. The first involves a standard loop on closed roads, free from motor traffic. The only interactions will be with other cyclists and pedestrians.

The second ‘Sky Ride’ will then take place, on exactly the same loop, under exactly the same conditions (hopefully the weather won’t have changed too much). But with one difference. The roads will now be open to motor vehicles.

We should then expect to see the floodgates open. All those cyclists who prefer to ride on roads shared with motor vehicles will then suddenly appear – probably having decided to stay at home until the more enjoyable cycling conditions materialised.

Of course an objection presents itself – the numbers riding around the circuit on the second ‘Sky Ride’ might have been artificially suppressed. Some of the cyclists who, for some bizarre reason, chose to take part in the earlier ‘Sky Ride’ will be tired, and consequently might not wish to take part in the later, more enjoyable, ‘Sky Ride’. So to be scrupulously fair, and to eliminate this bias, we could reverse the order of the ‘Sky Rides’ in a subsequent test.

We then count up the total number of riders choosing to cycle on the ‘closed loops’ and of those choosing to cycle on the ‘open loops’, and you have your results.

Indeed the test could be repeated elsewhere across the country, in any city or town that has ‘Sky Rides’. The two ‘Sky Rides’ will be marketed in precisely the same way, and run consecutively on the same roads. We just have to count the numbers choosing to cycle under the different conditions, and compare.

I am sure you will agree, as would every reasonable person who finds the idea of separation ‘nonsensical’, that such a test would be a complete waste of time. The numbers of people choosing to ride on the closed loop, separated from motor traffic, will obviously be much, much lower than the numbers of people choosing to share the loop with motor traffic. This is because most cyclists want to share the road.

In fact this conclusion is so obvious I don’t think we even need to bother. We have plenty of evidence already, in the familiar form of the tiny, insignificant dribble of people who choose to cycle, separated from motor vehicles, on those rare occasions when they are foolishly offered the chance.

Picture from Crap Cycling and Walking in Waltham Forest

The pernicious logic of ‘safety in numbers’

The recent announcement of a 13% rise [pdf] in cyclist casualties (Killed or Seriously Injured – KSIs) in the first quarter of 2012, compared to the same period in 2011, is unfortunately only further evidence of an increasingly sharp upward trend in cycling KSIs, which have risen in ten of the last 13 quarters.

Chart taken from the same report [pdf]

This 13% rise in the first 3 months of 2012 follows a similar 15% increase in cycling KSIs in 2011 on 2010 (a period in which all cycling casualties, slight and serious, rose by 11%). Data released by the Department for Transport at around the same time suggests that the distance cycled rose by only 2% over the same period; if this is correct, then it reflects a substantial increase in the rate of cycling casualties.

In London, where the ‘safety in numbers’ effect should be at its most prominent, cycling KSIs rose by a staggering 22% in 2011, on 2010. The most recent figures we have for the increase in cycling in London come from the fourth Travel in London report [pdf], dating from the end of 2011, which records a 15% rise on TLRN (the roads controlled by Transport for London) in 2010, compared to 2009.

However, this is unlikely to be representative of an increase in cycling across London as a whole, particularly as Superhighways lie on the TLRN and have ‘sucked in’ cycle traffic from other routes. A more realistic picture of the increase in cycling in London as a whole comes on page 63 of the same report, which records an increase of just 6% in cycling stages in 2010 on 2009, and about a 5% increase in cycling trips. This rate of increase has held steady for the last few years; I see no reason to assume it will have changed much in 2011. So the best evidence suggests that, just as across the rest of Great Britain, the increase in cycling KSIs in London is greatly outstripping the increase in cycling, and cycling is becoming – for whatever reason – more dangerous, despite the increasing numbers of trips being made by bicycle.

Against this background, I find it quite hard to excuse statements like this one, which recently appeared on the Economist’s ‘Blighty’ blog –

the best way to reduce the rate of injuries is to increase the number of cyclists

I don’t know what evidence the author D.K. has for this statement – none is presented – but it doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. The increasing number of cyclists in Great Britain is currently having absolutely no effect, whatsoever, on the rate of injuries. To argue, in the light of the facts, that the best way – note, the best way – to reduce those casualties is to go on pouring cyclists onto Britain’s streets and roads is verging on immoral.

The actual best way to reduce the rate of injuries is to adjust the environment so that motorists are forced to drive more safely, and cyclists are structurally separated, as much as possible, from motor vehicles. That is to say, danger reduction. It’s the tried and tested approach employed in the Netherlands, where despite people of all ages and abilities cycling in vast numbers, the casualty rate is substantially lower. The environment for cycling is ‘soft’; mistakes can be made, and the consequences are only minor. That is very different from the situation in Great Britain, where ‘mistakes’, like going up the inside of a large goods vehicle, can very often be fatal.

As I have written before, it is superficial in the extreme to attribute the greater safety of Dutch cyclists simply to the greater numbers of Dutch cyclists. But this is precisely what the CTC did in their ‘Safety in Numbers’ document [pdf] –

Countries in Europe with high levels of cycle use tend to be less risky for cyclists

And also –

The Netherlands has witnessed a 45% increase in cycling from 1980-2005 and a 58% decrease in cyclist fatalities.

No mention here of the vast amount of work the Dutch have put in over that period to make their roads and streets subjectively and objectively safer for cycling – work that has enabled that 45% increase in cycling, as well as bringing about the decrease in fatalities. In other words, the root cause of both the increase in cycling and the lowering of the fatality rate is the infrastructure. This is precisely the view of the Dutch Institute for Road Safety Research –

I do not expect that just a greater number of cyclists will on its own result in a risk reduction for the cyclist. On the other hand, I do expect that more cycling facilities will lead to lower risks. Policy that only focuses on an increase in cycling and at the same time ignores the construction of more cycling facilities, will not have a positive effect on road safety.

There is a historical analogy here that I think is instructive.

Throughout the 18th and 19th century, street lighting became increasingly common in European towns and cities. Over the same period, more women started to use the streets later at night, and crimes on those streets diminished. Doubtless we could argue, if we were a particularly stupid nineteenth century administrator, that an increase in the numbers of women on the street late at night led solely and directly to a reduction in the rate of crimes perpetrated against them.

We might even draw a graph showing a correlation.

Indeed, we might further argue that to publicly discuss the muggings, rapes and murders that were still occurring on the streets would be unhelpful, because it would put off women from going out on the streets late at night, and a lowering of the numbers of women on the streets at night would increase the exposure risk to those same women. We would argue this, despite women stating, in poll after poll, that it was the perception of danger that kept them at home.

‘Women! Going out on the streets late at night alone is safer than you think!’ might be a helpful rallying cry, accompanied by statistics showing that the relative risk of coming to harm – being mugged, raped or murdered – while walking into town is actually fairly similar to taking a carriage, or just staying at home and descending the stairs. The authorities might usefully create glossy posters showing happy women walking along dark streets, informing them that they should ‘catch up with night walking’; the idea behind the campaign to suggest to nervous women that walking alone down unlit streets is a perfectly normal activity.

Or our public servant could attempt to argue, when questioned by the press, that the risk of women being mugged, raped, or murdered is actually offset by the health benefits of walking into town, which would, on balance, prolong the lives of women. Thus

Walking into town late at night through mugger’s alley is safer than not walking into town at all.

Persuasive, no?

We would, if we were so minded, also hope to see arguments from women, suggesting that they themselves shouldn’t talk about the dangers they faced on the streets, for fear of putting off other women from walking into town at night, and thus depriving themselves of a ‘critical mass’ of female night walkers to ensure their own safety. For that would be to commit the offence of ‘dangerising’ walking alone at night, when everybody knows that night walking is actually perfectly safe (or at least safer than it is perceived to be) and we shouldn’t do anything to jeopardise increasing the numbers of women walking on the street, so vital for achieving ‘herd immunity’.

We would also expect to see women suggesting that they shouldn’t talk about the dangers involved on the streets at night, because the priority must surely be to increase the number of women walking at night, so as to gain sufficient political influence to subsequently campaign for improvements to the nocturnal walking environment – influence so sorely lacking while women walking alone at night remained such a tiny minority of the population. Indeed, as street lighting was so expensive, surely nobody could have asked for it until that political weight had been achieved.

Finally, we would also see our Victorian public servant offering, in lieu of street lighting and a subjectively safer environment, training for women nervous about walking along dark streets. Perhaps some kind of Victorian self-defence class, with women being taught how to use their parasols to ward off attackers. Once empowered, women could venture out onto slightly less well-lit streets (which double as ‘training facilities’, useful for building up their confidence), before eventually moving onto the really dark streets once they’ve realised that it’s not all that bad.

The absolute priority, in other words, would be to get women out on the streets at night, regardless of their perception of risk, and regardless of other improvements to the streetscape that would both address that perception of risk directly, and make the street objectively safer.

Put like this, such a collection of policy measures sounds absurd, even inhumane. We wouldn’t expect the authorities to persuade women to do something they didn’t really want to do, even if there were alleged benefits for ‘the herd’ in them doing so.

Of course, this account is also ahistorical. To pretend that the greater safety of women walking around towns at night in the nineteenth century was achieved simply through greater numbers of women being on the streets doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. That safety was actually attained through better lighting, and through better policing, and – more broadly – through the creation of  a better environment. It was these actions that allowed the night to be ‘reclaimed’ by women, not facile campaigns that simply urged women to ignore their fears and head out onto the streets regardless, or posters, or statistical arguments, or training, or waiting until enough women were walking the streets at night anyway.

Women responded to the changes in their environment, which had been made subjectively and objectively safer. (Note that I am not denying that there are probable benefits to women’s safety from having more of them on the street at any one time – my point is one of causation, and of ordering).

But unfortunately many cycling campaigners make precisely these same errors.

Firstly, they attribute the current greater safety of cycling in other European countries to the numbers of people cycling, instead of to the different environment – they do this in just the same way that our mythical Victorians might have attributed the safety of women to the increasing numbers of them on the street, and not to the safety benefits of lighting and an improved environment.

And secondly, they use precisely the same slightly cold and callous logic employed by our Victorian public servant to achieve the safety of their target demographic. The sad truth is that their arguments are directly analogous to the historical fiction I have just created.

For a start, those who pin their hopes for a better cycling future on ‘safety in numbers’ or a ‘critical mass’ are, just like our mythical Victorians, quick to play down talk of danger.

many organisations perceive cycling as dangerous, and perpetuate that perception through their actions

They are so concerned about this talk because they believe that it increases the perception of danger, and would, analogously, put off ladies who might otherwise consider walking into town at night, or cycling on London’s roads. And if we’re relying on more ladies walking into town at night as our strategy for ensuring their own safety, that simply won’t do.

And if we are worried about perception, it’s not hard to see, therefore, that bunches of flowers left at the scene of a fatality are definitely unacceptable, because – obviously – they might put people off cycling, or walking into town late at night.

“While ghost bikes may help ensure road users pay more attention to one another, they [may] give the impression that cycling is more dangerous than it actually is,” said Chris Peck

Quite. We can’t have visual reminders creating a false impression of the safety of walking into town, alone, late at night. Because let’s remember, the statistical risk is actually very small. And of course, in some nebulous and ungraspable way, it is ‘safer’ and more beneficial to walk into town late at night, than not to walk into town.

safety in numbers is making the roads safer than ever, with a new study… that suggests it’s actually more dangerous NOT to take to two wheels.

Or –

“Cyclists in general live two years longer than non-cyclists and are in general healthier – even in heavy traffic, a three-mile ride to work is healthier than driving to work every day and failing to get any exercise.”

Even in heavy traffic. Or even on dark streets plagued by muggings. It’s actually better for you, in the long term. How persuasive!

Other cycling campaigners, while acknowledging that a subjectively safer environment for cycling is the ultimate end goal, nevertheless insist that we must first ‘boost the numbers’ before we should even consider arguing for those changes.

More people cycling leads to greater political will to improve conditions for cyclists.

Or

The Dutch way. It would be nice, but none of us will live to see that Utopia here. To build that stuff – and to enforce the laws that make it work – you need political will. That needs votes. And not enough people cycle for that.

Once we’ve embarked on this road, it again necessarily involves playing down danger, emphasising the health benefits, and embracing marketing and training; all the measures used to increase numbers (and to attain safety) by our Victorian administrator. There just isn’t enough political will for street lighting, he might say. And besides, street lighting is very expensive (‘expense’ is, of course, an argument that has been made, by cycling campaigners, against changes to the street environment for the benefit of cycling for nearly 80 years).

Cycling campaigners enthused by safety in numbers are also keen to ‘normalise’ activities that the target audience finds intimidating. Just as our Victorian public servant might have put up posters showing walking into town on dark streets as an activity carried out by ‘ordinary’ women, so our cycling campaigners are keen on posters and images that attempt to do the same thing for cycling; cycling in a fashion that the vast majority of the population finds (with good reason) unpleasant and intimidating.

TfL is actively marketing cycling. The ‘catch up with the bicycle’ campaign lets other road users know that cyclists have a right to be there. Images used by Tfl are generally positive images of normal people on bikes (often without helmets and hi-viz). TfL could go a step further and show more images of cyclists riding in the traffic stream, perhaps in front of a bus.‘

The premise here is that the only thing stopping women from walking alone down dark streets, or from cycling amongst HGVs and buses, is the perception that these activities are not something for ‘ordinary’ people; that they not have been ‘normalised’. Make these activities seem normal, and people will do them.

In other words, a complete failure of understanding and empathy; a belligerent refusal to accept the reality that people don’t want to do these things.

This is where the pernicious logic of ‘safety in numbers’, as a bedrock of a cycling strategy, gets you. It involves assuming that when people say ‘danger’ puts them off cycling, they are thinking about brute statistics, when in fact they are concerned with how unpleasant the roads appear to them as they walk or drive along them.

It then involves attempting to solve this problem of ‘danger’ not by adjusting the street environment so it appears and feels pleasant to cycle on, but by attempting to adjust people’s perception of that same street environment as it currently exists; in other words, attempting to show that dark streets are actually safe places that ladies can venture down, provided they are confident and are trained. Every step must be taken to ensure that our dark streets are as full of women as is humanly possible, because with greater numbers comes greater safety (try not to think about how safe dark streets might feel when women are, as would naturally be expected, scarcer on them at certain times).

This policy must be rigorously adhered to; nothing can be said or done that might affect the numbers of people on the streets, even if that involves an obstinate unwillingness to address the real reasons that people continue to give for their reluctance to cycle on roads busy with motor traffic, or to walk down dark streets late at night.

These are the misguided and wrong-headed strategies that you are forced to employ if you are convinced that the overriding goal, above all else, is to boost the numbers of people cycling. Such an obsession with ‘numbers’ not only ignores the real reasons why you find greater numbers of cyclists in the Netherlands, and why they are so much safer; worse, it railroads policy into the adoption of the slightly mad tactics outlined here.

While this post was being written, David Arditti chimed in with a very similar post entitled Fear and Loathing, which covers much of the same ground, particularly on the way public policy should address a widespread problem of perception. Needless to say it is well worth a read. See also this from Freewheeler, which provided a good deal of inspiration

Auto Express inadvertently proves that drivers of cars are more likely to jump red lights than cyclists

Doubtless you are now familiar with the entirely bogus Auto Express ‘survey’ of offences committed by cyclists and motorists at Highbury Corner; the most notable ‘offences’ committed by cyclists including not wearing hi-visibility clothing, and that of not wearing a helmet, which together make up a staggering 54% of all the cycling ‘offences’ counted by the Auto Express plodders.

The Alternative Department for Transport has already conducted its own survey of offences committed by Auto Express staff, finding (scientifically, of course) that 78% of them are shitebags. However, the Auto Express poll puts me in mind of some other common offences that cyclists commit, which for some reason weren’t counted by their staff – ‘loitering with intent to use a pedestrian crossing’, ‘smelling of foreign food’, ‘coughing without due care and attention’,  ‘cycling in a loud shirt in a built up area during the hours of darkness’, or indeed ‘cycling around with an offensive wife.’

A good job that Auto Express journalists aren’t police officers.

Even if we take their absurd survey seriously, it doesn’t quite show what Auto Express believe it to. The most damaging statistic, at face value, is that 58 of the 974 cyclists observed jumped the lights – 5.9% of the total – while only 0.4% of the 3140 cars observed did the same.

However, if we include the listed offences of crossing the stop line and waiting in the advanced cycle stop box – we find that 178 cars technically jumped the lights. This is a percentage of the total number of cars of 5.6% – very similar to the percentage of cyclists committing this offence.

This is even before we take into account the fact that a substantial percentage of those 3140 cars observed would not have had the opportunity to jump the lights; they would have been stuck in a queue, trapped behind other vehicles, whereas nearly every single cyclist would have had the opportunity to cross the stop line on each red signal. So what the Auto Express survey has actually shown is that motorists are in fact more predisposed to jumping red lights than people on bicycles.

I trust that will be the headline result in their print edition.

Olympic medalists call for helmet compulsion

Please note – none of what follows is true. Except it sort of is. Story ‘borrowed’ from here.

Olympic slalom canoeing gold medalists Tim Bailie and Etienne Stott have prompted debate over whether people using canoes, rowing boats, pedalos and punts should be forced to wear helmets following the death of a man in a punt, dragged under a cruise ship on the upper reaches of the Thames near Oxford.

Reacting to the tragedy, which occurred within hours of their slalom victory, the winners said they believed canoeists, pedaloists and punters would be offered better protection if it was illegal to row, paddle and punt without one, “because ultimately, if you get squashed by a big feck-off boat and you ain’t got a helmet on, then how can you kind of argue.”

News of the fatality emerged as Bailie and Stott were about to give a press conference following their gold medal win. Asked about canoeing and punting safety, they said “People] shouldn’t be rowing, punting and pedaloing along with iPods and phones and things on and [they] should wear reflective vests and all those things. So we think when there’s laws passed for canoeists, rowers, pedaloists and punters, then you’re protected and you can say, well, I’ve done everything to be safe.”

They added: “It’s dangerous and the rivers are busy with a lot of traffic. We think we have to help ourselves sometimes.

“We haven’t punted on the Thames for 10 to 15 years now and it’s got a lot busier since we were kids round here, and we got crashed into several times.

“But at the end of the day we’ve all got to co-exist on the rivers. Pedalos and punts are not ever going to go away, as much as speedboat drivers moan, and as much as punters, canoeists and pedaloists maybe moan about certain speedboats they are never going to go away, so there’s got to be a bit of give and take.”

Some irresponsible puntists without helmets or hi-viz, yesterday evening. Think what would happen if they got in an accident with the faster, bigger vessels on our rivers. Just think about their fragile brains.

A curious paradox

A district councillor in Horsham, Philip Circus, has a ‘provocative’ column in the local newspaper, the West Sussex County Times. Judging by the typical character of his output, it is usually safe to take ‘provocative’ to mean ‘ill-informed’ (a staple is climate change denial) and the current column, entitled Why British cyclists are not always heroes, is no exception.

The success of British sporting cyclists at the Olympics and the Tour de France has, it seems, presented Mr Circus with a golden opportunity to unburden himself of his latent prejudices about cycling as a mode of transport. Stating that ‘transport policy has to start with the safety of people on two feet’ (admittedly, a very promising start) he then proceeds to write at great length about the dangers posed to pedestrians by… cyclists, curiously saying absolutely nothing about the much larger danger – both objectively and statistically – posed to them by motor vehicles.

He writes

Between 2005 and 2009, ten pedestrians were killed by cyclists and 262 seriously injured. And many readers of the County Times will not be remotely surprised by the figures.

Quite why readers of the County Times would ‘not be remotely surprised’ by these figures is not at all clear, especially when we examine the pedestrian casualties in Horsham, where there have been two pedestrian deaths, and twenty serious pedestrian injuries, in Horsham and the immediate vicinity, between 2005-11 (data from crashmap.co.uk).

As a numerate and informed reader of the County Times might already have guessed, on the balance of probabilities, none of these pedestrian deaths or serious injuries involved a cyclist; all twenty-two involved one (or more) motor vehicles.

This is, of course, entirely in line with the figures Mr Circus quotes, because ten pedestrian deaths, and 262 serious injuries, involving cyclists over a period of four years amounts to just 2.5 deaths, and 65.5 serious injuries per year. Or – approximately one serious injury involving a cyclist, per million people, per year. Horsham has a population of around 50,000, so by rough extrapolation we should only expect a serious pedestrian injury involving a cyclist in Horsham every twenty years.

Of course, these figures are not quite as damning as a bold statement that ‘262 pedestrians were seriously injured by cyclists’, and it is natural to suspect that only someone with an axe to grind would choose to present the figures in such a context-free manner. This is even before we start to address the issue of responsibility, which Mr Circus has decided to unilaterally attribute to cyclists, stating without evidence that they ‘killed’ pedestrians, when of course many of those cyclists may have been completely blameless.

In any case Mr Circus – who let’s not forget has started and finished his column with a plea to focus on the safety of those on two feet – has absolutely nothing to say about the effects on the safety of pedestrians resulting from other modes of transport.

To put his figures into some kind of perspective, in 2010 alone, 19,658 pedestrians were hit by cars in the UK (just cars – not all motor vehicles), of which 237 were killed, and 3,924 were seriously injured. In the same year, 3,855 pedestrians were hit by other types of motor vehicles (motorcycles, buses, LGVs and HGVs), of which 96 were killed, and 760 were seriously injured. To repeat, this is just for one year, not four.

Given these figures, are bicycles really the most pressing safety issue for pedestrians?

But having apparently established where the problem of danger for pedestrians correctly lies – with cyclists – Mr Circus then moves on to fulminate against the

sense of superiority and self-righteousness which often contributes to selfish cycling

a sense of superiority which,

with cycling being put on a national pedestal… is likely to increase further and with it the dangers to pedestrians.

Has Mr Circus really considered whether a cyclist using the pavement or going through a red light actually believes him or herself to be ‘superior’? Has he thought about their motives? If he did, even for a moment, he would divest himself of the bizarre opinion that  the success of Chris Hoy or Laura Trott in a velodrome many miles away is going to have any bearing on their behaviour whatsoever.

The extent of Mr Circus’ disconnect with reality becomes fully apparent in this paragraph-

Anyone who walks around Horsham has seen it. Despite dedicated cycle lanes being provided for cyclists, you will see cyclists weaving in and out of pedestrians on the pavement.

This presents a curious paradox. ‘Dedicated cycle lanes’ have been provided, and yet cyclists are choosing to weave in and out of pedestrians on the pavement! Why on earth would this be? Perhaps these cyclists prefer, for some reason, to lengthen the time and distance of their journey by cycling around pedestrians? Or, they are masochists, who like to make their journeys more arduous? Or perhaps they delight in annoying pedestrians, so much so that the bike lanes – however fantastic – are ignored?

Of course none of these theories is a rational or sensible explanation. The only reason cyclists are using pavements is because the ‘dedicated cycle lanes’ in Horsham Mr Circus refers to are actually non-existent, or desperately poor, and the roads they might usefully be on are intimidating to negotiate on a bicycle.

And here’s the proof – the main arterial roads in Horsham. (All pictures were taken at around 6pm last Sunday, when traffic levels were considerably lower than during a weekday.)

Worthing Road, the main entry road from the south. A fast and busy road. No cycle lanes here.

The Bishopric, the main road into the centre from the west. No cycle lanes.

Springfield Road. No cycle lane northbound. Only a ‘door zone’

Springfield Road, southbound. A desperately narrow cycle lane, that is usually blocked, just like in this picture.

North Parade. Cycle lanes here, but dangerously narrow and bumpy, and they disappear at pinch points, leaving you to ‘negotiate’ with passing vehicles. With a 30 mph limit, cycling on the wide pavement here is understandable

Hurst Road. No cycle lanes. But plenty of parked cars to negotiate your way around. Which is fun. The pavement would feel much safer.

North Street, the railway bridge. No cycle lanes. One of the most unpleasant stretches of roads to cycle on in Horsham

Kings Road. Only a cycle lane in the southbound direction, itself of extremely dubious quality, and intermittent at that. Again, a fast, straight and busy road, where pavement cycling is rife, and understandably so.

Harwood Road. A road with a 40 mph limit, and no cycle lanes. Again, cycling on the pavement here is a perfectly rational response

North Street. This is as good as it gets for cycle lanes in Horsham.

Although that same cycle lane on North Street soon disappears.

The junction of North Street and Albion Way. No cycle lanes here, only a 3-lane-wide intersection. Note also the turning conflicts implicit in the middle lane. Cycling right? You’d better hope a driver going straight on is paying attention

Albion Way. No cycle lanes. Like the picture above, not a place for an inexperienced cyclist.

Park Way. No cycle lanes here either, and again, multiple lanes to negotiate at junctions. 4 queuing lanes nortbound (just out of sight). Right turns not advised for the nervous.

And finally, Brighton Road, the main road into Horsham from the east. No cycle lanes.

On all the main routes in and out of Horsham, then, cycle lanes are almost entirely non-existent, and in the few places they do exist, they are frankly of such a dangerous quality it would probably be better if they were removed. That means anyone who chooses to cycle lawfully around Horsham will have to cycle next to and amongst rapidly-moving vehicles, ‘taking the lane’ at pinch points and at junctions, and will have to have the nerve to cycle well away from parked cars and also to negotiate out into the second or even third lane of fast flowing traffic.

The idea that people cycling on pavements in Horsham are wilfully choosing to ignore wonderful infrastructure that has been laid on for them is therefore manifestly absurd. That infrastructure does not exist. Cycling on the main roads in and out of Horsham feels dangerous, and is stressful and unpleasant. That is why pavements are being used; not because of an innate sense of ‘superiority’ or ‘self-righteousness’ on the part of cyclists, but because of simple self-preservation.

The three nice ladies in their fifties who attended a Bikeability class with me last year in Horsham came from their homes, and returned to them, almost entirely on pavements. They wanted to use their bicycles to make short trips in town, but were terrified of the roads, and hoped some instruction and training would help them. They were not hooligans, or anti-social; they just wanted their journeys by bike to feel safe and pleasant. The pavements were – and still are – their best option. That state of affairs is almost entirely the responsibility of Horsham District Council.

I hope the District Councillor bears that in mind the next time he decides to write about road danger and the behaviour of people on bicycles, and that instead of imagining into existence infrastructure that doesn’t exist and dreaming up strange motives for cyclists’ behaviour, he reflects on the actual sources of threat posed to pedestrians, and the concomitant problems faced by those who might want to use bicycles for everyday trips.

Cycle tracks and on-street parking

On-street parking and cycle tracks are not incompatible; in fact, quite the opposite. Parked cars – where on-street parking is necessary, and/or allowed – actually provide a useful barrier between the cycle track and moving traffic.

Take this example from Utrecht.

Biltstraat, Utrecht (courtesy of Google Streetview)

The wide cycle tracks run outside of the parked vehicles. This is subjectively safer (it feels much calmer cycling along with what amounts to a barrier between you and passing vehicles) but also objectively safer – the risk of ‘dooring’, when drivers open their car doors without looking, is decreased, for a number of reasons.

• The cycle track passes on the passenger side of the vehicles, where the doors are less likely to be opened.
• Cyclists will tend to be on the far side of the track, nearer the pavement – a safe distance away from any opening car doors (note also a separate kerbing strip).
• If, heaven forbid, a cyclist might be hit by a car door, the collision will be in the relatively safe area of the cycle track and the pavement. The cyclist will not be propelled out into the road where they risk being further struck by passing vehicles.

 Could this arrangement be used in the UK? Of course. Biltstraat is no wider than a typical UK street. The space for the cycle tracks has come at the expense of needlessly wide vehicle lanes. On Biltstraat, the lanes are still wide enough to accommodate two buses or HGVs passing each other.

In the distance, two buses passing each other. Courtesy of Google Streetview.

Compare Biltstraat, again, with (for example) Kentish Town High Street.

Biltstraat (courtesy of Google Streetview)

Kentish Town High Street, London NW5. Courtesy of Google Streetview.

The essential difference is the width of the carriageway in Kentish Town, vastly wider than on Biltstraat. Move the parked cars seen on the right of the picture out, narrow the carriageway, and you have space for wide cycle tracks on both sides of the street, with the added bonus of the calming effect on traffic speeds from slender vehicle lanes (Biltstraat has a 30 km/h (18 mph) limit, but this is, to an extent, self-reinforcing due to the narrowness of the carriageway). The cyclist seen in the picture above would no longer be trundling along between parked cars and overtaking vehicles.

Here’s what cycling on Biltstraat is like.

Peaceful and calm, and isolated from the large vehicles passing on the street itself.

There are plenty of other streets in North London which could have the same treatment. To pick a few –

Essex Road, N1. There is a wide bus lane here, which can obviously be kept, but narrowed, along with the other carriageways. A cycle track on the right would pass behind the parked cars. Courtesy of Google Streetview.

Upper Street, N1. Parking bays, but wide carriageway. Courtesy of Google Streetview

York Way, N7. A wide (one-way!) street, again with parking bays. Not difficult to see where the cycle tracks can, and should, go. Courtesy of Google Streetview

Caledonian Road, N1. Move the parking out. Courtesy of Google Streetview

And outside of London, a couple of examples from Horsham.

Queen Street, Horsham. The parking bays on the right could be kept, but moved out into a narrowed carriageway.                    Courtesy of Google Streetview

The Bishopric, Horsham. Parking on both sides, but a needlessly wide carriageway. Courtesy of Google Streetview.

Converting these streets in this fashion would obviously be a major operation, and would cost money. What is essential, therefore, is that when streets are redesigned and ‘improved’, the design is right. If cycle tracks and associated cycling infrastructure is put in as part of those redesigns, there is zero extra effective cost. We need to get things right on Leith Walk in Edinburgh, where £5.5 million is being spent redesigning the street (a very wide street), but, at the moment, without any apparent concession for cycling.

Interestingly enough, there are proposals for a redesign of several areas of Horsham, one of those areas being  Albion Way – a major dual carriageway carrying traffic through the centre of town.

Albion Way, Horsham

The consultation document [9mb pdf] suggests converting this thoroughfare into a single carriageway road, with cycle tracks protected by parking, on the continental model.

Proposals for the alteration of Albion Way in Horsham

This is very promising, and I hope that any redevelopment in the future doesn’t ignore these recommendations.

Obviously there is an enormous amount of width to play with on this particular road in Horsham, but the principle of using on-street parking, as and where it exists, to keep cycle tracks separated from passing traffic is a sound one. On-street parking is obviously not necessary for safely designed cycle tracks; you can separate in other ways. But there is no inevitable conflict between on-street parking and cycle tracks, provided they are arranged correctly, and the street width is allocated properly.

The civilising of Horsham town centre

Only two years ago, East Street in Horsham looked like this.

East Street, Horsham – April 2010

A narrow street, with large numbers of shops and restaurants, but designed principally around the motor vehicle. Despite the large numbers of pedestrians using the street, the pavements were narrow, with space assigned to parking bays and a (one-way) carriageway. A slightly dangerous cycle contraflow, separated only by a painted line, ran in the opposite direction.

East Street, April 2010

Shortly after this photograph was taken, the appearance of the street started to change dramatically. After consultation, the council had decided to implement a ‘shared space’; removal of the pavements and the tarmac ‘road’, to be replaced with a broad, uniform surface, and street furniture.

East Street, January 2011 – the finished street

I have been critical of shared space as a concept, but only of some of the wilder claims attributed to it; particularly the idea that, wherever it is implemented, conditions for pedestrians and cyclists will dramatically improve, more so than would have been the case under redesigns that explicitly separate motor vehicles away from those pedestrians and cyclists.

But it can, and does, work, in locations where the number of vehicle movements is (kept) low; even more so when the number of pedestrians is high. New Road in Brighton is a particularly good example; a carefully-designed one-way system means that the only vehicles driving on the road will be those accessing the street itself (and there is limited parking on it). Likewise Champion Square in Bristol is an excellent scheme, in large part due to the removal of through traffic, which again means that the only motor vehicles in the space will belong to residents.

The way the shared space on East Street was implemented is similar to New Road. Even before the street was converted, it was not useful as a through-route. The one-way system in Horsham town centre meant that, if you were to drive down East Street, you would only end up back where you started. Motor traffic volume was already low.

The council decided to go one step further, and effectively pedestrianise East Street, by only allowing access for the holders of disabled blue badges, who were permitted to park on the street, and vehicles loading and unloading. No other vehicle movements were allowed; bicycles could continue to use the street freely, in both directions. (Incidentally, Stuart Reid of MVA Consulting claimed, in January’s Street Talk, that there were ‘no access controls to this street’ (41:23) – which is, unfortunately, simply wrong. Only a strictly limited number and type of vehicles have access to this ‘Pedestrian Zone’.)

Restrictions on entry to East Street

These restrictions were sufficient to keep the numbers of motor vehicles on the street low, most of the time. Despite my initial scepticism (I had been concerned about how difficult it would be enforce the restrictions; not just stopping motor traffic passing through into the Carfax, but also establishing just who, and who wasn’t, ‘loading’), the street was a success. New restaurants have opened on it on a seemingly continuous basis, and the space is ‘owned’ by human beings, be they on foot, on skateboards and scooters, or on bikes.

But there were problems brewing (detailed in this previous post) – namely a difficulty in keeping some unauthorised traffic out; increasing damage to the street furniture; shoppers and street users voicing a preference for a traffic-free street; and the restaurants on the street wishing to use the space for outdoor dining.

On-street dining, during a rare closure in 2011. Not compatible with motor traffic

The council took these concerns on board, and in the summer of this year, the road has become closed to motor traffic between the hours of 10:30am and 4:30pm, by the simple addition of some temporary bollards at the entrance.

When the bollards are in, only pedestrians and those on bicycles can use the street.

Loading can still take place, of course, but only before 10:30 in the morning, and after 4:30 pm. Typically vans and lorries seem to opt for the morning slot; this coincides with a period when the street is fairly quiet, and seems to work quite well.

Pre-10:30 am unloading

This is certainly an improvement on the old situation, when vans, cars and lorries clogged up the street at lunchtime, making the environment quite unpleasant for the pedestrians and cyclists on the street, who vastly outnumbered the loading vehicles.

12:55 pm on a Friday

Now the street is quiet and civilised during the main hours of the day. It’s good for people with prams, and for children cycling.

Good for those on mobility scooters (for whom the old street arrangement must have been horrendous) –

And just good for people, generally.

And let’s not forget that it’s good for the shops and restaurants, too. East Street is now one of the best places in Horsham, where people are happy to relax, mingle and just hang about. That means more custom and trade. You don’t need cars on the street for good business.

The added bonus is that the closure of the street has led to the civilising of the street and square it leads into, Market Square. Because vehicles can’t get in here without driving down East Street, during the times East Street is closed, Market Square is effectively pedestrianised too.

Market Square, closed to vehicles. Children can play here.

This is a beautiful square, and I think it is now about to come into its own. The area of the square itself – previously principally used for the parking of vehicles – is on the verge of becoming a proper, continental-style piazza, with tables and chairs on the space. There are two bars, and a smart new cafe, on the northern side of the square, already with tables and chairs outside, and a new restaurant is planned for the Town Hall building itself, with proposals to place 42 tables in the square.

Market Square. The Town Hall building, shortly to have a restaurant in its ground floor, is in the background.

Horsham is on the verge of having a truly fantastic town centre, especially when you consider that the rest of it is largely pedestrianised, with only one one-way route for vehicles through it. The real genius of East Street and Market Square – at least for me – is that bicycles are still permitted to use the space, alongside pedestrians. It would be nice if some of the rest of Horsham town centre’s pedestrianised zones were opened up in a similar way, but perhaps that is something for the future.

Children cycling (illegally) in the pedestrianised central Carfax of Horsham

It has to be said that, at least as far as the town centre is concerned, Horsham District Council and West Sussex County Council have made enlightened decisions – and made great progress – over the last few decades, in civilising the town centre. They have appreciated that a successful town centre relies upon a relaxed, calm and pleasant environment. I hope that progress will continue, and also that we begin to see the adjustment of roads and streets across the rest of the town, principally those major through-routes that are at present quite intimidating to cycle on. A new consultation document is certainly promising; more on that to come.

Dutch Master – a Workcycles Omafiets

My Omafiets

In the UK, the bike shown in the picture above is seen as a ladies’ bike; it has a step-through frame, which is (stereotypically) assumed to accommodate a long, flowing skirt. Even some of my more enlightened bike-riding compatriots have disparagingly referred to my Omafiets as a ‘girls bike’.

But the idea that the absence of a top tube is for skirt-wearers is a bit of a myth. The addition of a top tube to a bicycle is for strength. If the bike is strong enough, then there is no need for a top tube, and the bicycle is easier to mount and dismount. Dutch bikes like this Omafiets are strong, with no need for top tubes, and you can hop on and off them much more easily than a ‘standard’ triangular frame. That means they are ridden quite commonly by males, as well as by females.

Dutch schoolboys on omafietsen in Utrecht

Men on a variety of bikes in Groningen

One particular advantage of a bike without a top tube is that the transition between walking and cycling – and vice versa – is very quick and easy. You just step from the bike, instead of having to swing your leg over the rear wheel. Never having ridden a bike like this before, this came as a bit of a revelation. It’s so much simpler to start and stop riding.

In fact, simplicity is the essence of this bike. Everything about it is designed to make cycling as painless – both literally and metaphorically – as possible.

The riding position is gloriously upright and comfortable; it’s like walking, your legs making slow circles, but of course travelling much faster. The timeless design is a consequence of the Victorians working out precisely the best way to convey oneself is a stately fashion. It hasn’t been bettered; that’s why the Dutch still ride bikes with this kind of geometry for their everyday cycling.

Ironically, the design of this bike, so traditionally ‘Dutch’, is actually… British.

The Dutch cycle industry grew rapidly from the 1890s onwards. Since by then it was the British who had the strongest and best-developed market in bike design, Dutch framemakers either copied them or imported them from England. In 1895, 85 per cent of all bikes bought in the Netherlands were from Britain; the vestiges of that influence can still be seen in the solid, gentlemanly shape of a traditional Dutch bike even now.

From ‘The Bicycle Book’ by Bella Bathurst

Unlike in the Netherlands, where everyday cycling survived largely intact during the twentieth century, bicycles essentially disappeared from Britain as a mode of transport. The only bicycles left were ridden by the faster and sportier, and as these riders preferred a bicycle that allowed greater speed, that became the British bicycle of choice. It is only recently that ‘upright’, relaxed bicycles have become available again on the British high street, despite the British largely being responsible for its design and evolution.

The Omafiets is not a nimble bike. You will not be able to accelerate away from the lights, nor will you be able to go fast up hills, or to swerve around corners; that’s not what it is for. It is for cruising along. Indeed, the experience of riding a bike like this is most analogous to riding a large American classic car, being big, heavy, and with plenty of vehicle out in front of you.

The view from the cockpit

It took some adjustment to having around five feet of bicycle out ahead of me, being used, ordinarily, to hunching over the handlebars, my head approximately over the front wheel. But it became natural very quickly. The steering, with the handlebars sloping back towards you, is relaxed and easy – not at all twitchy.  It’s easier to interact with other people, too, whether they are in cars, or on foot. You’re meeting them face to face. And the higher position is great for better visibility (you can look over the tops of cars, for instance, even larger ones), and for being seen.

The omafiets is simple to use, too. I’ve had it for about six months, and ridden it in some fairly atrocious British ‘summer’ weather, and beyond pumping up the tyres a couple of times, and a slight adjustment of the gear cable, I haven’t performed any maintenance, at all. The chain is completely concealed –

Chain case

which means that your clothes stay grease-free (no need to tuck your trousers away) and also that the elements are kept away from the chain.

I have eight gears, controlled by a simple twist grip on the right –

Shimano Nexus shifter

which changes the hub gear.

Nexus rear hub

No working parts exposed to the elements, so (hopefully) very little maintenance required. Top speed in 8th gear is about 15-20 mph, while first gear is definitely for trundling. Despite the massive weight of the Omafiets (probably around 25 kg, at a guess) you can get up steep hills on this bike; you just do it slowly. Gear down, and go at a speed you are comfortable with. That’s it.

The weight is indicative of the bomb-proof nature of the bike. Everything is designed to be indestructible, and to last. The mudguards are seriously durable.

Front mudguard

The tubing supports are nearly as big as the seatstays on a racing bike. At the rear, they carry the cabling for the rear light, and also double as a bumper.

Rear mudguard

The weight is a crucial advantage, in one important respect – you can park the bike up anywhere, without great risk of it being stolen.

kickstand

Use the stable centre kickstand, and take out the key.

Integral lock

Just like a car, the bike can’t be ridden if the key isn’t in the ‘ignition’. Realistically, it can’t be carried away – I’m reasonably fit and strong, and struggle to lift it – so it is safe to leave it for short periods, depending on the area. While I definitely wouldn’t leave the bike overnight without locking it to something, shopping is definitely a doddle. Just roll up to the front door of the supermarket, and take the key out.

The full carrying capacity of the bike is huge. I’ve never used a shopping trolley to load up a bike before, nor have I made sure to park a bike by my front door for ease of unloading. The Clarijs panniers are massive.

Easily accommodating a fish & chip supper for four, in just one bag, with room to spare.

If the panniers aren’t big enough, there’s also a front carrier, capable of carrying 25 kg.

It’s really easy to add and remove the carrier – it simply slides in and out of tubes on the frame, an operation that takes seconds.

Front carrier installation

Even if you don’t have the panniers or the front rack fitted, you can still carry a good amount of stuff. The rear rack is a sturdy platform rated to carry 50 kg, and has handy straps that can hold beer –

Or a full petrol can –

Petrol

Or whatever you fancy.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t dream of dangling things from the handlebars, but the bike is so heavy and stable, it’s not a problem to hang a bag there.

Shopping

A spring steering stabiliser helps to keep the bike under control, when parked and when being ridden.

At the front, there’s a drum brake and dynamo hub, which powers both the front and rear lights. You really don’t notice whether it’s on or off.

The only modification I’ve made to the bike is to replace the original Busch & Muller front light with a model with a standlight; I didn’t feel particularly comfortable not having a front light while stationary. Probably acceptable on Dutch roads and cycle paths, not so safe here. My front light is now a Lumotec Classic, with standlight, and the bonus of old-fashioned looks.

The intensity dips slightly when the dynamo has stopped, but the light is still bright for around 4-5 minutes after stopping. It’s a great light.

Standlight brightness

The rear light has a standlight too, which lasts even longer. I never have to worry about charging up bike lights, or making sure lights are attached to the bike, or worrying about taking them off. The lights are part of the bike, and they will always work. Yet another way in which this bike is hassle-free.

Even without lights, the bike is highly visible, with reflective sidewalls on the tyres, and a double rear reflector (a reflector is also built into the front light).

The final element is the rear coaster brake, contained in the rear hub, along with the eight gears. Apply backwards pressure to the pedals, and you slow down.

I had been rather nervous about it, but it is completely intuitive, just like using a brake pedal in a car. It’s much more effective than I had expected it to be; with your weight almost entirely over the rear wheel, you can bring yourself to a stop very quickly with just the coaster brake, bringing the weight of your body down on the pedal. The front brake, in my experience, is really there for a bit of ‘extra’ braking; it’s not as powerful as the coaster. The use of a coaster brake probably justifies a post of its own, but it really doesn’t take much getting used to. You just have to stop yourself from idly backpedaling as you cruise along; you will be braking!

A big beast

The Omafiets is not a bike for Olympians; it’s a bike for ‘ordinary’ people. While a pleasure to ride, it really brings home to me some of the difficulties a wider range of people might experience riding bikes in the UK. The slower speed you are inevitably forced to adopt makes the difficult right turns, big junctions and fast roundabouts that little bit more intimidating. The weight of the bike shows you how the elderly – and the less fit and able – might struggle to take their bikes onto a train. (There are only stairs at the eastern entrance of Horsham station, and I haven’t attempted to carry the Omafiets up them. I can think of several other stations in Sussex where I might struggle to get on the platform.) Likewise the size of the bike really emphasises just how badly some of our cycle infrastructure is designed and implemented; tight corners and fiddly gates become especially tight and fiddly on an Omafiets.

But all in all it’s been an absolute joy. Riding it is instinctive, comfortable and fun. So simple to use and look after, it’s what a bicycle as a mode of transport should look and feel like.

Dangerous lorry driving is not taken seriously

Last week, HGV driver Joao Lopes was sentenced to four years imprisonment for causing death by dangerous driving (and also to 12 months imprisonment, to be served concurrently, for falsification of tachograph data).

What is significant is that Lopes will be back on the roads in six years time, free to drive an HGV in central London, provided he passes an extended driving test. This is despite a catalogue of driving misdemeanours, including the deaths of both Eilidh Cairns and Nora Guttman. Shockingly, when Lopes failed to spot the elderly Mrs Guttman on a pedestrian crossing in Marylebone, he was not wearing the spectacles he was required to wear following his conviction of driving with uncorrected defective vision after he ran over Eilidh Cairns in 2009. This was his only conviction following that death – he was fined £200, given 3 points on his licence, and allowed to continue driving, partly because of a bungled police investigation, and a police attitude that treated the death as a mere accident.

Martin Porter –

The relevance of Eilidh’s death was of course that it made it plain to Lopes that he needed glasses to drive and one would have thought that tragedy would be a sobering experience for any driver regardless of whether or not the police investigation had demonstrated fault on his part.  Yet his subsequent driving record was appalling. In July 2009 he drove into the rear of another vehicle causing £3,000 worth of damage.  In August 2010 he was involved in a collision though he disputes this was his fault and the Judge therefore rightly disregarded it. In March 2011 he collided with a parked motor vehicle and failed to stop, as a consequence of which he was dismissed by his then employer. In June 2011, shortly before he killed Ms Gutmann, he attempted to overtake a minicab so closely that he removed the wing mirror.

That is, four serious incidents that would have resulted in death or serious injury had the objects collided with been human beings. In June last year came the almost inevitable death of a pedestrian at the hands of Lopes.

The man has proven himself serially incapable of driving an HGV safely, and yet, barring passing another driving test, there will be nothing to stop him piloting lorries around central London in precisely the same reckless manner in six years’ time.

Lopes is not alone. The HGV driver Dennis Putz, who ran over and killed Catriona Patel in June 2009 while over the drink drive limit and talking on a mobile phone, had a string of convictions, including three previous drink driving convictions and twenty convictions for driving while disqualified. Quite simply, he should not have been driving legally at the time, nor should any firm even have considered employing him, or indeed Lopes. Yet both these men were free to continue endangering human beings in central London. After the death of Catriona Patel, Putz was, finally, handed a lifetime driving ban. Lopes presumably has not racked up enough carnage to justify the same penalty.

Here’s a shocking incident, filmed in Horsham.

Although the cyclist in question was lucky enough to escape with merely being struck on the shoulder, at speed, by the lorry, it’s not hard to imagine how the outcome could have been much worse. Clipped a little further along the body of the flatbed, a little harder, and he may have gone under the rear wheels.

It was a highly dangerous maneouvre – and a pointless one, because if you know Horsham, you are bound to be waiting at the lights at the end of the road – with the only mitigation being the apologetic behaviour of the driver, who seems startled at how badly he messed up.

Yet the attitude of the police, in response to this incident, is strikingly similar to that encountered by Martin Porter, who writes, again,

Near misses from lorries are not pursued by the Metropolitan Police because (I learnt last week) a safe passing distance is thought to be too subjective.  The quality of response from employers of drivers who have passed much too close varies from the highly responsible to the shockingly irresponsible (I have had one example of each in the last few days).  It does not take many miles of cycling experience to recognize that action is required to reduce the number of HGV/cyclist collisions which so frequently result in death.  A ‘nothing can be done’ attitude would be unthinkable if considering deaths in an industrial, disease, terrorism or virtually any other unnatural premature death outside the context of road traffic collision.

Sussex Police are apparently “not interested in attributing blame” for the incident shown in the video. The cyclist even asked to take the video to a traffic officer, but was told not to bother because, again, they “wouldn’t be interested”.

After protesting, I was told a cyclist was clipped by a lorry on the A24 (great I ride on that too) yesterday and thrown into a hedge – they didn’t do anything for him either, so I guess that means its OK to let poor driving continue to put vulnerable road users at risk….

other than asking if I was insured (the cheek) [exchanging details] is all the police were interested in. Looking at the standard of driving involved? Not interested, they “only do that if they attend the scene”.

Quite extraordinary.

To digress slightly, my personal opinion is that, regardless of the standard of driving, cyclists and HGVs should be structurally separated as much as possible. Residential roads should be closed off to through traffic, and main roads should require either cycle tracks, or entirely separate routes for cyclists. Indeed, I recently compiled a post showing how few interactions I had with Dutch HGVs while cycling around Assen and Groningen on a David Hembrow study tour. Mixing directly with a large vehicle while cycling in the Netherlands is rare; much, much rarer than is the case in London or other UK cities and towns.

Human beings are not infallible, and even with higher standards of driving (and cycling), mistakes will happen. The consequences of those mistakes should not be fatal. Structural separation allows people, particularly cyclists, to make mistakes with only minor consequences. It has the further important benefit of making journeys by bicycle subjectively safe, as well as objectively safe. Instead of cycling around and amongst thunderous lorries and buses, which is hardly a pleasant experience, cycling becomes stress-free.

We are a long way from that situation in the United Kingdom, of course. We expect children and the elderly to cycle on roads that are shared with large and fast-moving vehicles. The very least we should be doing, under these circumstances, is making sure that those vehicles are driven responsibly and with great care, and that all mistakes and near-misses are thoroughly investigated. Yet the evidence seems to be that collisions, injuries and deaths involving cyclists and pedestrians at the hands of the drivers of these vehicles are often treated with shocking ambivalence. This must change.

A trip to the Olympic Men’s Road Race

On Saturday I made my way to Box Hill to catch a glimpse of the Olympic Road Race. Not having tickets for the ‘zig zag’ section of the course, I had decided to head to Box Hill village, where although the riders would be going faster, I would at least get to see them several times, and for free.

The train from Horsham was packed – all eight carriages of it – and I definitely needed to fold my Brompton. A ban on non-folding bikes on Southern trains, which will last for the duration of the Olympics and the Paralympics, did seem sensible, at least for this particular journey. Quite a crowd at Dorking station, where we all disembarked.

Lots of bicycles in evidence on the A24 in Dorking –

This dual carriageway road is normally a bit of a race track, with cars haring north and south, to and from the M25. Today it was blissfully quiet, as the town awaited the arrival of the race, which would pass through here, just once, on its way to Box Hill. Lots of people were already camped out on the northbound carriageway.

Enthusiastic declarations of support along the road, from different nationalities.

Slightly annoyingly, I was told to dismount as I cycled along the deserted southbound carriageway, despite this not being part of the race route.

Not very many people about in this carriageway – definitely a bit of overkill. Below, you can see one of the officials, in the orange vest, who was stopping people from riding bikes here, myself included.

So I had to walk up to the roundabout, where I was allowed to start cycling again, heading east on the (single carriageway) A25, which is a bit of a horrible road to cycle on, even on Saturday, with lower traffic levels. I saw a few families cycling along here, with dads at the back nervously trying to shelter their children from the fast-approaching vehicles. A bit of a grim irony that it was acceptable to cycle here, but not on a closed carriageway.

I had expected to be able to walk up onto the hill, into the non-ticketed section, at the first available footpath, but several of these were manned by officials demanding tickets (very pleasantly), and I had to cycle well beyond Brockham to find a footpath that was  free to access.

Pushing the Brompton across a field –

Joining the swelling ranks heading up the path –

A hard slog up the hill, rewarded with a lovely view –

And then into Box Hill village itself. Huge numbers of people had turned out here, again, much more than I had been expecting. The slight rise in the village was already packed out –

So I was forced to opt for watching on a slight downhill. The atmosphere was wonderful, with people camped out in front of their houses, chatting and just generally having a good time.

Lots of foreign fans here too, I suspect because they may not have been so quick off the draw at getting tickets for the zig zag section (and perhaps not used to the idea of paying to watch cycling from the roadside). Germans –

Italians –

Belgians –

And a Dutch enclave –

Plenty of chat between all the groups – the Belgians asked me to take a picture of them, posing with their flag.

No mobile reception for me, so I was forced to rely upon word-of-mouth to have a clue as to what was going on with the race (strangely enough, this was much the same with watching it on TV, although I wasn’t to know this at the time). The only information was coming from a car which passed ahead of the race, giving the time gap to the break.

All very good-natured, including the police and games officials, who happily posed for pictures, while making sure we kept back from the road as the race approached. The police motorcyclists seemed to be having an especially good time, waving to the crowds as they passed through –

Standing up, and even high-fiving all the people at the roadside.

A real carnival atmosphere.

As for the race itself, well, I managed to stick it out for four laps, being greatly impressed by the speed of the riders.

Touchingly, some of the loudest cheers were for the stragglers from the lesser cycling nations, like Iran, Namibia and Georgia, who had already been tailed out the back of the race and were cycling on their own. Real empathy for these chaps.

But I decided, in the absence of any idea as to what was going on, to head off and cycle the ten miles back to Horsham, so I could catch the last laps, and the run in to London.

It was hard to be cynical about the Olympics after my day out. The good-natured, friendly mood of all the people who had turned out to catch just a glimpse of some athletes whizzing by was wonderful, and showed me that we should treat the next few weeks as an opportunity to, well, just have a bit of a party.