Malheureux Vélib' !*

In general, I'm a big fan of bicycles—unlike cars, they're economical, they emit no noxious odors or gasses, parking them takes almost no space and they're a great form of exercise. Catherine and I had a brief visit with friends staying on Fire Island this summer where the only means of transportation allowed, other than walking, is bicycles. We had a lovely, relaxing ride one morning through a couple of the townships there (it's not as far as it sounds since the towns butt right up against one another—less than two or three miles, I'd guess). In fact, we had such a good time that I've found myself pausing frequently to look at the price tags at Busy Bee Bikes, a couple of doors down from our building.

At the same time, I find many (but not all) bicyclists to be obnoxious: they speed (if you're passing taxis in New York, you're going too fast), they sail through intersections against the light while they weave perilously between pedestrians in the crosswalks, ride on the sidewalks, park their bicycles wherever and however they like (especially problematic at night when they aren't always easy to see—Catherine hurt herself pretty badly earlier this year trying to get past a clump of them on our block), and have no qualms about taking up precious sidewalk space. Busy Bee is especially bad about this last point because their wares are parked every day in two rows with only a narrow pathway between them—and that is frequently blocked by someone who has stopped to talk with one of the repair people. The air of sanctimony these particular cyclists give off doesn't do them any favors either: why they believe they're more environmentally-conscious than me, the pedestrian, is positively baffling.

In spite of my divided nature (or perhaps because of it), I've been an avid follower of stories about the Vélib' program in Paris. I love the idea of renting a bicycle for those short trips (the time limit per rental is 30 minutes); at €1 per day, it's even cheaper than a one-way subway fare.** So I was greatly disappointed to read that 80% of the bicycles in the program are missing or unusable these days. The cause is not surprising: they're stolen to be sold on the black market in emerging nations or taken by teenagers who either destroy them performing stunts or just vandalize them as a form of social protest.

It would be easy to say that it just isn't worthwhile to continue the program since the expenses are still greater than the advertising revenue that is supposed to support it. To their credit, the company running the program, JCDecaux, hasn't given up yet: they're continuing to explore ways to deter the thieves. I've no doubt they'll never be more than partially successful—as my father likes to say, locks are made to keep honest people honest—but I do hope that they'll find a way to make stealing the bikes difficult enough so that it's less worthwhile.

The joy-riding teenagers, on the other hand, are a more difficult problem. While I obviously don't condone their behavior, I don't believe they should be dismissed as mere hoodlums who are ruining it for everyone: it's disingenuous and it ignores the reality that, over the last 40 or more years, central Paris has become the domain of the wealthy and the comfortably middle-class, beyond the means—financially and geographically—of the poor and immigrant peoples. I don't believe that it was intentional racism or classism on the part of the urban planners who created the peripheral cities (banlieues) where these people must live (at least not by all of the planners), but it's not surprising that the inhabitants see it that way. Is it any surprise that these young men have no respect for this easy target, a symbol of bourgeois society they will probably never be able to enjoy? Simply making it more difficult to steal the bikes probably won't be enough of a deterrent to these underemployed and disenfranchised youths.

I hadn't intended for this to become a social commentary (except for my criticism of scofflaw bicyclists). More than anything, I hope that Decaux can find a way to make the Vélib' system work. As much as I loved riding the Métro, I'm curious to see if it will enhance one of my favorite cities in the world to navigate its winding streets on two wheels; I suspect that it will just make me appreciate more how relaxing it is to explore Paris on foot.

*Unfortunate [or Poor] Vélib'!
**Currently $2.25, unless you're on a pass; since I often walk to and from my work and since 90% of what Catherine and I do is less than a 30-minute walk from our home, I don't ride enough to make a pass worthwhile.