Hey gang,
I read this L.A Times article about people in bikes taking over
streets, en mass one day per month. :p Has anyone been part of this
ride? If so, did you ride you uni? 😄
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California | Local News
In S.F., cyclists as road warriors
Motorists fume as 'massers' take over the streets in monthly rides.
By John M. Glionna, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
August 12, 2007
SAN FRANCISCO -- The sea of bicyclists surges up this city's Financial
District, a boisterous mass of freewheeling humanity, 1,500 riders
strong. Pedaling six abreast, they send pedestrians scurrying as
rush-hour traffic hits the brakes.
A cable car slows, engulfed by riders who whoop and holler or chat on
cellphones. A traffic light goes red, green and red again. Still the
bikes keep coming.
As a bystander high-fives passing cyclists, one car in a line of idling
motorists lets loose with a long, blaring, impatient horn blast. A
tourist snaps a photograph and asks: "Are you protesting global
warming?"
"No," one rider shouts back, "we're taking over the streets!"
Some call it a bicycle insurrection against the thoughtless motorists
who hog city streets. Others say it's about nothing more than fun.
On the last Friday of each month, the cyclists of Critical Mass embark
on an unrehearsed crosstown jaunt that -- for a few hours -- transforms
the urban landscape.
When Critical Mass hits the streets, bikes rule. Sometimes with sharp
elbows, riders brush aside the cars, trucks and buses that stand in
their way. And often, tempers flare.
Bicyclists and drivers get into fights, cyclists slam their locks onto
car hoods and police file charges amid pointed turf battles. A decade
ago, former Mayor Willie Brown declared war on the marauding cyclists,
whose exploits he dismissed as "the ultimate arrogance."
But Critical Mass stubbornly survived, and even flourished.
Started here in 1992 by a handful of idealists, the free-form events
have spread to every continent but Antarctica and to 300 cities
worldwide, including Los Angeles.
Next month, the ride celebrates its 15th year. But it still has no
leaders, no route plans, no spokespeople.
"How the rides unfold is always a mystery," said Chris Carlsson, a ride
co-founder and editor of a book, "Critical Mass: Bicycling's Defiant
Celebration."
"They're predictable yet unknowable. People keep coming back to see
what will happen."
Critical Mass riders, who refer to themselves as "massers," insist that
they're not tying up traffic -- they are the traffic, albeit a
two-wheeled variety. Their aim is to force cars to share the road and
leave enough room for bike lanes, so cyclists won't have to fear injury
and death.
"For 29 days a month, cars call the shots. It's Auto Mass," said Kate
McCarthy, a member of the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition. "But for a
few hours of one day, we turn the tables. We take the streets back."
The rides develop their own loopy anarchy. One thing is certain:
Cyclists gather at 6 p.m. at the foot of Market Street. After that,
anything goes. False starts are common as would-be leaders try to lure
the group in one direction. No one knows where the ride will go or
when, exactly, riders will depart.
There's even a Critical Mass lexicon, with words such as "xerocracy,"
to describe the way riders record ideas about proposed routes and
photocopy them for distribution at the event. A motorist who pushes
into a group of cyclists is a "homicidal maniac driver." Aggressive,
overly confrontational massers are a "testosterone brigade."
Anger at arrogance
Many criticize the cyclists' holier-than-thou arrogance.
"There's an incredible self-righteousness, like the traffic laws
obviously aren't made for them," said blogger Rob Anderson, who has
written about the massers. "We're all trapped in our tin cans, while
they ride unfettered. They run people out of crosswalks, yelling, 'Get
out of our way! We're not burning fossil fuels!' "
Though his predecessor feuded with Critical Mass riders, Mayor Gavin
Newsom has extended an olive branch of sorts. Last year, he named the
head of the bicycle coalition (which claims independence from Critical
Mass but advertises the rides on its website) as a commissioner
overseeing the city's powerful Municipal Transportation Agency.
Meanwhile, in the 15 years since Critical Mass began, the number of San
Francisco bike commuters has doubled to more than 2% of the population.
Bike activists have successfully lobbied for more cycling lanes,
bicycle racks on buses and a weekend ban on cars in popular Golden Gate
Park. The city charter even guarantees that "bicycling shall be
promoted" in any drafting plans for traffic flow and public safety.
"Critical Mass energized the bicycle movement here," said former
Berkeley cyclist David Cohen. "It lent a sort of spiritual energy, the
idea that we could gather en masse. There were no leaders. We were all
leaders."
That's one point of view.
Four years after leaving office, Brown still steams at the mention of
Critical Mass. "They're bad for the city," he said. "They disrupt
honest people trying to get home from work. That's their whole point."
The riders swarm up Van Ness Avenue looking like Grateful Dead groupies
on wheels. The scent of marijuana is in the air as a woman with orange
dreadlocks pedals a bike with a milk crate for a basket. A man in a
fedora croons rap lyrics, blasted from a strapped-on boombox. One man
rides a tricycle shaped like a silver fish with twinkling mesh scales.
There are pricey bikes and Wal-Mart specials. A rider calls to friends
on his kazoo. Another rings his 1950s-style bicycle bell like an
excited 8-year-old.
Suddenly, a woman wheels a stroller into a crosswalk as the bikes
surround her. "Stop!" she shrieks. "I'm with a baby!"
Nearby, a driver noses his vehicle into an intersection, causing
bicycles to veer to avoid him. Immediately, massers known as "corkers"
position their bicycles in front of the car.
Only after the pack is gone do the bikers call out, with a tinge of
sarcasm: "Thanks for waiting!"
A taxi driver trying to make a left turn against the pack sees a police
cruiser shadowing the cyclists: "Officer," he says, "how can I make a
left turn here?"
The cop shrugs.
On the first ride in 1992, a few dozen cyclists rode up Market Street
handing out fliers before hitting a bar for beers. They were bike
commuters tired of motorists yelling, "Grow up! Get a car!" recalled
Carlsson. "They treated you like a kid riding your toy, like you didn't
belong in the road."
Founders called the stunt "Commute Clot." The name didn't stick. But
the idea did. People flocked to the event.
"San Francisco has a reputation as a contrarian place," said Carlsson,
50, a desktop publisher. "People have a different idea how to make life
richer and more artistic and profoundly more emotional than the
capitalist world wants for us. Critical Mass seized that spirit."
More rides, new cities
The rides were replicated elsewhere, as were the confrontations.
In New York, arrests of bicyclists are common. In Santa Monica, one
cyclist was arrested in June, prompting a meeting between police and
ride organizers. But those incidents are rare, said Monica Howe,
outreach manager for the Los Angeles County Bicycle Coalition.
"You can't really take over the streets when you only have a posse of
50 people," Howe said. "We don't have the history of run-ins. We can't
get away with it."
In the summer of 1997, Brown issued a crackdown on the San Francisco
rides, ordering bikes seized and rogue riders punished. That July,
5,000 massers jammed city streets, with more than 100 riders arrested.
None was charged.
New strategy on cyclists
In time, tempers cooled as police developed a less aggressive strategy.
Nowadays, about 40 officers monitor the rides on bikes and in squads
cars.
"It's not practical to think 40 officers can ticket every rider who
breaks the law," said department spokesman Sgt. Steve Mannina. "Our
goal is to preserve public safety and prevent property damage."
"TUNnel! TUNnel! TUNnel!"
The snakelike line of cyclists roars into a Chinatown tunnel. Riders
shriek as they enter, their echoes deafening.
So far, there have been no dust-ups. But some riders test the limits:
One sneaks up behind a bus to yank the electric cable from a power line
overhead, laughing as he rides on.
A cyclist blows kisses to glum-faced bus passengers. Another yells
"It's OK to smile!"
Some passengers do.
Detractors point to the March 30 ride as just one example of Critical
Mass spinning out of control.
Riders clashed with motorists in two incidents. Limo driver Dennis Webb
says the melee started after a female cyclist blocked his path, then
stuck a lollipop into her mouth as a subtle challenge.
When Webb got out of his car to confront the cyclists, one dented the
limo's hood with a U-shaped bicycle lock. Another slashed his tire.
Someone else grabbed his car keys and rode off. The hood-denter was
charged in the incident.
"Some of these people try to provoke motorists," said Webb, 46. "When
you start that, you're looking for trouble. It's only natural you're
not going to let them get away with that."
Another altercation came later in the ride, as cyclists made their way
through Japantown.
Susan Ferrando, who was driving with her two kids in the car, said a
throng of riders attacked her. Others said a frustrated Ferrando plowed
into the cyclists, struck one and tried to drive on. Riders surrounded
her until police arrived.
No charges were filed. But Ferrando said she remains in shock. "It's
been traumatic," she said, her voice breaking. "I've got a child
standing here saying, 'No, Mommy. I don't want to talk about it.' This
isn't over for us."
In a play off Critical Mass, a new cycling event recently was launched
here. Its few riders make a point to observe traffic laws and stay out
of fights.
They call it Critical Manners.
By 8:30 p.m., two hours after it started, the Friday night ride is
thinning out. As the pack eases through the crowded Mission District,
motorists become more daring, challenging stragglers at the end of the
bike line.
Carlsson rides alone amid the holdouts, using drumsticks to bang a pair
of cymbals on his handlebars. As always, he's elated, even a bit
baffled, by the success of the event he helped create 15 years ago.
"Every once in a while, I'll see someone who was there for the first
ride," he said. "We'll make eye contact and smile, as if to say, 'Can
you believe it? That it's gotten this big?' "
--
leadpan
"Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever" - Lance Armstrong
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