The City of LA loves bicyclists, officially, and tries to do what it can for them. But the great congested mass of benzene-addled motorheads does not. And the infrastructural legacy that seven decades of pandering to the personal automobile at all costs has left most of the city grimly cold to human life in general, and to bicyclists in particular.


It is stunning, really, that in a city that’s mostly flat, warm, and dry, so few people ride bicycles at all, whether for utility or pleasure. There are fifteen million plus people in LA; there are maybe 1/20th that number in cold, rainy, hilly San Francisco.

Yet there are bicycles around you almost anywhere in SF, whereas it’s unusual to see one anywhere in most parts of LA, except as a prop. Ditto Portland, Seattle, Chicago, New York—and let’s not even bring up Amsterdam or Tokyo, all cold, wet burgs half the time that are buzzing with bikes.

What is it that makes LA a strong contender for the label of the World’s Least Bicycle-Friendly City?

Sprawl is a good place to start, especially in the city that defined the term. Distances in Los Angeles are vast in the conurbation Dorothy Parker once described as “seventy suburbs in search of a city.” Commutes of ten to twenty miles are not uncommon, and some folks drive in to work from distant corners of adjacent counties, sitting in their cars for one to two hours each way each day.

That this is a collective madness that generates individual psychopathy is undeniable; that the galactic scatter of workplace and domicile mitigates against bicycle commuting for many people is self-evident.

The concentration of retail and services into gigantic malls, and concomitant decimation of neighborhood commerce (literally illegal in most parts of the city) makes it difficult to bike or stroll to a nearby bakery, greengrocer, shoemaker, hardware store, or what have you for a simple purchase, because such places simply do not exist except in the luckier, historic districts.

Since each trip involves an expedition, the tendency is to bunch them together so that one braves the intimidating expanses of mall parking as infrequently as possible, loading up the car to the brim with whatever goods one feels compelled to buy that week. Mall culture and bulk buying are antithetical to bicycling, not to mention to civility itself.

This exaggerated dependence on the motorcar coerces the denizens of this automotive dystopia into spending endless hours staring at the bumper ahead of them on freeways, streets, and parking lots, leading the citizenry to clamor for -— you guessed it! -— more freeways, streets, and parking lots.

For which you tear down yet more local stores and cozy neighborhoods, only to replace them with more malls and bedroom communities even farther apart from each other and the central city, thereby perpetuating the very syndrome one thought to escape thereby, in a slow but inexorable feedback loop.

The result is wide, eternally crowded asphalt planes that don’t even deserve the name of “streets,” fourteen lanes filled with cars from curb to curb and horizon to horizon, with nothing to look at but the cinderblock soundwalls demarcating malls, industrial parks, and the occasional cloistered pink stucco ghetto.

It creates a place that no one wants to be in, especially not on a bicycle.

The motorist’s salvation was to be the freeway, which simply replicated the conditions of the streets with added horrors, such as the practice of lowering the road into a trench from which escape is possible only at long intervals of sometimes several miles between off-ramps.

The solution, for many drivers, is to cut through residential streets. So many drivers have chanced upon this obscure but clever idea that now little narrow lanes have one or two dozen cars per block, squeezing past each other with engines roaring in opposite directions, chirping their tires as they blast away from the stop signs, and yelling the LA motor-moron’s slogan, “get off the road!,” to any bicyclists they may have to pass.

And pass and pass and pass. It so happens that one of those hapless roads is Hauser Boulevard, which comprises the first half of my bike ride to the office every morning. Let me recount an all-too-typical incident of recent date:

I was pedaling on to work one morning, going up Hauser as usual. About the middle of one block a gigantic SUV — an Escalade — swung past with the usual flurry of rasping motor sounds and tire hisses. The tires alone seemed nearly as big as my wife’s Mini Cooper. He bounded around a slower car ahead of him too, and crowded up on the next one , since there was opposing traffic and the road is narrow, as are most residential streets.

A block or so later I caught up with him at the light, waiting behind a short row of his fellows. I went past, the light turned green, we all started up again. A half a block later, he passed me again. A block and a half later, I caught up to him again, and passed him again.

This went on for nearly three miles. Finally we came to Santa Monica Boulevard. I pulled up on his left this time and motioned for him to lower the window.

Of course he was probably expecting a lecture from a self-righteous bicycle radical (which I am). Instead I just told him his right brake light was out, and that he might get a ticket for that. He thanked me and turned; I went on.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll reflect on how much he was spending in gas and nerves to go uphill at exactly the average speed of a greybeard on a bicycle. We can only hope.

At least he didn’t yell at me. Some do. Besides the usual “Get off the road!” mantra, I’ve had drivers inform me that I wasn’t a car, something I thought was pretty obvious. The implication is that I shouldn’t be on the road. So one fellow bitterly informed me one rainy night on Van Ness Avenue. I didn’t bother to argue with him. I just pulled on ahead in the space between the cars and the curb. The cars that were actually blocking his way. I was a mile closer to home before he got to the end of the block. So maybe he was jealous of my freedom.

That both the Universal Vehicle Code and the California Vehicle Code classify bicycles as vehicles and require that one operate them only on the roads is something that these boneheads shouldn’t be ignorant of, considering that they have to pass a test of their knowledge of those very codes to get their licenses. But immuring oneself in a car nurtures ignorance, and here, at Ground Zero of Autogeddon, ignorance is seen as, if not bliss, at least the comfort of the falsely self-righteous.

Plus, if tedious distances and Neanderthal drivers weren’t enough, there’s Proposition 13. Sold to the public as a way to save grandma from being taxed out of her cottage, what it really did was insulate anyone who held onto property past a certain date from paying any reasonable share of property tax. Well, grandma died, and anyway the average homeowner in LA moves every seven years, so all the small property owners were paying high taxes again fairly soon. But the Big Corporations, who hold vast tracts of land for decades, sometimes centuries, well, they’re holding onto their cash. This first great success of the starve-the-beast movement gutted California’s budget, and one consequence of that was that streets and highways that used to rival Switzerland’s now more closely resemble the shattered lanes of particularly destitute Third World countries.

Ripples, cracks, and bumps—why, you hardly even notice them! But potholes the size of real cooking pots do get your attention. Solidified asphalt washboard with repeated three to six-inch heaves that convert your bike from a thoroughbred stallion to a spastic camel as you bounce down the space between the speeding cement truck and the trash-filled gutter are hard not to notice.

Irregular longitudinal trenches up to four inches deep and wide enough to swallow a motorcycle tire, let alone a bicycle’s, occasionally inspire concern. Not to mention the surprisingly unrare blocks of concrete left in the street for weeks at a time—chunks of curb broken off in violent accidents are common, as well as fistfuls of macadam torn up by the relentless pounding of heavy trucks. Never mind the sheets of plywood, constellations of broken glass, and half-mashed shopping carts…

And dead rats. Lots of those in Hollywood, for some reason.

Fourth Street, near where I live, is a designated bicycle route. Halfway down one mansion-bordered declivity is a bad patch job where a one-by-four foot rectangle of road drops four inches down, leaving edges of jagged concrete.

The bike lanes on the eastern stretch of Sunset Boulevard place you about eighteen inches from car doors—if they’re small cars. Of course the SUV-stretch pickup with the dual rears sprawls well beyond the painted line designating your space, forcing you out into the path of stoned gangbangers, imbecilic teenagers, hemmorhoidal lawyers snarling into cell phones as they swerve their Beemers through traffic, and befuddled immigrants who took their first driving lessons at age seventy-five.

You’ve really got to love bicycling to ride in LA.

It’s a tribute to the World’s Most Efficient Machine that some of us do.

More and more each day; I see them every morning, every night, and unlike the Spandex Superheroes who attack the canyons Sunday mornings, they wave back when you say hello. We’ve even got Critical Mass, and when a phalanx of bicyclists occupies a whole block of La Brea Avenue, the diners at the sidewalk tables look up, shocked by the sudden tranquility—and everyone smiles.

So there’s hope, even here. But we’re still pioneers against our will. All we want to do is ride our bikes and create a little peace in a weary world. LA makes it difficult. But still we ride.

See more writing from Richard at EBykr

Sixteen years ago, in March 1989, the Exxon Valdez ran aground in Alaska’s pristine Prince William Sound. Approximately 258,000 barrels of crude oil were spilled. One barrel of oil contains 42 gallons. Translated, that’s about 11 million gallons of slick, sickening oil.

In 1994, a federal jury ordered Exxon to pay $5 billion in punitive damages to the people so deeply affected by the oil spill. As of October 2005, has a penny of this money been paid? Guess.

No, it has not. The people at the top of Exxon think they’ve done plenty for the region and continue to use stall tactics to avoid paying the $5 billion award, even though this amount is trivial in the pockets of this huge corporation. Record profits don’t matter when you’re trying to avoid paying to clean up something that you’re responsible for.

Did you know that waiting pays? It has been estimated that Exxon has earned millions of dollars strictly in interest from the original figure of $5 billion it was ordered by a judge’s hammer to cough up.

Don’t let Exxon mislead you by their claims of paying a few billion for environmental cleanup and land restoration. Exxon has been reimbursed for the most part by the insurance industry . . . and by American taxpayers. Spill-related tax deductions?

Much of the environment has never recovered, including harbor seals, harlequin ducks, pacific herring, sea otters, certain whales, and other impacted wildlife. The lingering oil from the Exxon Valdez will kill or stunt Alaskan pink salmon for generations to come as well as create permanent genetic damage in various species of fish and other sea mammals. The death count (representing only 10-30% of the total accounted for that died): 4,000 sea otters, 1,000 adult eagles, 345 seals, 500,000 murres, and many, many invertebrates and intertidal creatures.

The towns’ responsibilities to provide food and clothing for their people were also dramatically injured. Clinical depression. Attempted suicide. Domestic violence. Broken families. Chronic psychological stress. All effects of the trauma suffered by self-made residents. $5 billion? A paltry amount when it comes to human suffering and loss of wildlife.

To add more tragedy to travesty, Exxon used 140º F water, sprayed at overly high pressure, to “clean” the shoreline. This action, which was like a poison to the beach and many animals, did more harm than good. The hot water, high-pressure washing removed the nutrients and sediments of the shore that would have aided in the recovery of the ecosystem.

Have you heard about the “secret” agreement in 1991 that Exxon signed with seven seafood processors based in Seattle? These processors lost business because of the Valdez spill, and here’s the deal they struck with the corporate giant: Exxon paid these processors $70 million in exchange for the processors giving Exxon their share of the punitive damages, if the damages were paid. That would have been $745 million—15% of the total $5 billion. Exxon was busted when they claimed this money was given to the processors out of the goodness of the company’s heart. A very blackened heart.

Were you aware that the captain of the Exxon Valdez was reportedly intoxicated when he took the tanker out across Prince William Sound on that cold March night? He had spent the day drinking with members of his crew. Coast Guard tests revealed that Captain Joseph Hazelwood’s blood alcohol level was .241, which is more than six times the legal level under Coast Guard regulations. He put the vessel on automatic pilot, left the bridge, and the rest is dark history. The supertanker struck Bligh Reef, spilling 11 million gallons of oil.

The Aftermath

What happened to Hazelwood? He was acquitted in 1990 of operating the tanker while drunk. Hazelwood was convicted of the misdemeanor offense of illegally discharging oil, and in 1998, the Alaska Appeals Court upheld Hazelwood’s sentence on that charge, and he was fined $50,000.

The Exxon Valdez was renamed as the SeaRiver Mediterranean, and still carried oil around the world, although this tanker was barred from entering Alaskan waters. In 2002, the single-hull tanker was pulled from service.

In 1990, the U.S. introduced and passed the Oil Pollution Act of 1990 (subsequent to the Exxon Valdez oil spill). OPA 90 required new oil tankers to be double hulled and established a phase-out program for single-hull tankers, which rules that these older tankers complete their phase out by 2015. Double hull versus single hull reasoning: If the outer hull is breached, the inner hull will contain the fuel. While this measure has decreased the amount of oil spills, it surely has not eliminated them.

In 1999, many opposed the Exxon/Mobil merger because of Exxon’s failure to pay awarded punitive damages for the Exxon Valdez devastation. Unfortunately, the opposition lost.

In 2001, the Alaskan town of Cordova lost their mayor to suicide, apparently because of the seesaw events within the court system.

Oil Flows Into The Sea

Since the Exxon Valdez disaster, 13 other large oil spills have been caused by a variety of mishaps, not all of which were accidental.

• December 1989—The Canary Islands: Kharg-5, Iranian supertanker explosion. 19 million gallons of oil surged into the Atlantic Ocean.
• June 1990—Galveston, Texas: Explosion and fire on board Mega Borg. 5.1 million gallons of dispersed oil.
• January 1991—Kuwait: During the Persian Gulf War, Iraq purposely released 240-260 million gallons of oil into the Persian Gulf from tankers 10 miles off the southern coast of Kuwait.
• April 1991—Genoa, Italy: 42 million gallons of oil spilled by Haven in the Genoa port.
• May 1991—Angola: The ABT Summer exploded and spread 15-18 million gallons of oil off the coast of Angola.
• March 1992—Fergana Valley, Uzbekistan: 88 million gallons of oil gushed from an oil well.
• August 1993—Tampa Bay, Florida: Three ships collided. A freighter, Balsa 37, and two barges, Bouchard B155 and Ocean 255. Tampa Bay was deluged by approximately 336,000 gallons of oil by the Bouchard.
• September 1994—Russia: An estimated 84 million gallons of oil inundated the Kolva River tributary when the dam that had been built to contain the oil burst.
• February 1996—Milford Haven, Wales: Supertanker Sea Empress ran aground off the Welsh coast dumping 70,000 tons of oil.
• December 1999—Britanny, French Atlantic coast: Erika broke apart and sank. 3 million gallons of oil spilled.
• January 2000—off Rio de Janeiro: 343,200 gallons of oil spewed into the sea after the rupture of a government pipeline.
• November 2000—Port Sulphur, Louisiana: Westchester lost power and ran aground on the Mississippi River, south of New Orleans. 567,000 gallons of oil deposited into the lower Mississippi. This was the largest U.S. spill since the Exxon Valdez in 1989.
• November 2002—Spain: The Prestige suffered a damaged single hull and was towed to sea to sink. Almost 2 million gallons of oil leaked from the vessel before it sank, and approximately 18 million gallons of oil remain underwater.

The Prestige is a perfect example of loopholes. It was operated by a Greek firm but was registered in the Bahamas and flew a Bahamian flag. The ship had been chartered by a Swiss-based Russian oil company. Registering tankers in countries known to have ineffective safety regulations or loose taxation requirements is not uncommon. Countries have the right to close their ports to ships that cannot prove documentation of a recent safety inspection.

The OPA 90 Act will have a positive impact in the decrease of accidental oil spills, but the events of the past 16+ years are an ominous indicator of how the biggest, most profitable companies in the world will react to and whitewash the black oil spills of the future.

Jan Blair

sources
Official website of Exxon Valdez victims

enviroliteracy.org

Fact Monster—World and News—Disaster Digest

Full Resolution Images

What are urban heat islands? To begin with, they are not vacation destinations. Urban heat islands are the result of stored energy being released, which creates a spike in climate temperatures. Simply put, urban heat islands are caused by the heat produced by concrete and asphalt and the lack of vegetated surfaces to balance the heat factors. In turn, a dome of warmer air is created over a city.

Let’s take Atlanta, GA, for example. It’s one of the fastest growing metropolitan areas in the United States. To drive through the city of Atlanta, you might think there’s an abundance of lush greenery. Think again. Atlanta is suffering a desperate decline in trees, which ultimately causes the temperatures to soar.

Why the tree decline? And exactly how does this create a perfect breeding ground for urban heat islands? The decline in trees is directly related to Atlanta’s growth spurt, which shows no signs of waning. It’s the domino effect of more people equals more building equals less green space. Urban heat islands thrive in populated areas. Do the math, and you can see why Atlanta’s temperatures have risen approximately 10 degrees in a 10-year-period.

Among Atlanta residents, “growth is frequently identified with paving over the landscape,” according to an Atlanta Chamber of Commerce Quality Growth 2003-2004 Task Force Presentation. Between the paving and the building, the heat saturation rises to an incredibly taxing level, and the only way to meet and beat this problem is to create more tree canopy for urban heat island control.

The baking phenomenon in Atlanta has a likely chance of boiling over to other cities as well. The hot weather that forms over Atlanta can actually blow into the zone of other regional cities as far away as Macon and Athens. The result is decreased air quality in the city’s not-so-near surrounding areas.

“Hotlanta” is a model for what is in store for other cities in the United States and around the globe. Industrial revolutions threaten large areas of forest or jungle. The ecosystem hangs in the balance.

On the upside for our southern city of hospitality, it’s mainly the outlying counties of metro Atlanta that suffer the most. Most in-town counties (Dekalb, Fulton, Cobb) have decent tree ordinances which help slow tree loss somewhat. Outlying counties such as Cherokee, Forsythe, Douglas, and Polk have tree ordinances, but they also have plenty of development.

Can we reach a balance between nature and man? Can we encourage development yet maintain an equally necessary natural co-dependency? We’d better try and try hard, or Atlanta is going to set the perfect example of poor city planning and bake to a crisp.

Jan Blair

This freeway coming up from the southeast ends in mid-air, like the freeway from The Blues Brothers. Not even Evil Knievil would attempt this leap. Coming across the Betsy Ross Bridge from New Jersey, this strange and unusual interchange was constructed to be part of the “Five-Mile-Loop,” which would have connected US 1 with 90 and 95. This would have created an “inner loop” around the downtown core of Philadelphia. It remains unbuilt.

The freeway was originally accepted and slated for completion by 1975, but rising costs and political opposition caused the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation to halt funding for all new highway projects in July of 1977. It remains as some kind of weird monument, a prefigured bridge to nowhere.

As planned, the freeway would have bisected several neighborhoods, cemeteries and parks with a tremendous concrete freeway. As it is, the roads and bridges in Pennsylvania are in a state of serious disrepair, with a total repair bill of $6.5 billion. Too much. Not going to happen.

It’s a fairly accurate estimate though. They’ve got bumper mounted lasers and downward-pointing video cameras at PennDOT, and they survey every road and bridge in Pennsylvania every two years. That’s a lot of driving– over 40,000 miles of roadway. Completely surveyed and rated. In a huge database somewhere, presumably.

Enough driving to circumnavigate the globe one and a half times over. Every two years. Full road defect information.

Not enough money to make the repairs.

All of these roads constitute areas of impervious surface, with microclimates like little deserts. The total impervious surface area (ISA) in the United States, including rooftops, parking lots, streets and roads, within the lower 48 adds up to about the size of Ohio. That’s an area greater than the amount of wetlands found in the contiguous United States.

"ISA alters the shape of stream channels, raises the water temperature, and sweeps urban debris and pollutants into aquatic environments. It also increases the frequency and magnitude of surface runoff events. These effects lead to reduced biodiversity and degradation of wetlands and riparian zones. According to the article, these effects are measurable once impervious surfaces cover 10 percent of a watershed’s surface area." Colorado NPS Connection

With 10,000 miles of new roads being constructed every year, we continue to gradually pave over the United States. More impervious surface. More roads to maintain.

Crawling along the surface of the earth in lines, like ants.

Paving the lines over, then re-paving them after each winter’s freeze-and-thaw cycle seeps through the cracks in the concrete.

This image shows the city of Philadelphia. South of the river is New Jersey. You can see how the freeway that was never built would have cut right through the city’s core, largely for the benefit of commuters in outlying regions.