The Chance to Make a Better World for the Bike (and All of Us)

New Bike Boom or Bubble?

The pandemic has sparked more interest in cycling and more space for riders on streets. Now cities must choose whether to make their changes stick or let them slide

The highway overpass that took 64 years to build was now empty. It was a warm spring day. I was out on my bike clearing my head in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic when I came across the construction site. The overpass had opened to vehicles a few weeks previously, even though it was months away from completion – cranes and dump trucks dotted the surroundings, sitting idle on the prairie – but now, there were almost no cars and trucks on this behemoth of a highway project.

And there’s no doubt this is a beast, even by sprawling Calgary standards. The highway has been a pipe dream of transportation planners since the 1950s, back when highways and ring roads were visions of the future. Throughout that time, the idea of an impediment-free highway rimming the city never died, promised by politician after politician, coveted by suburban commuters looking to get, not downtown, but somewhere, anywhere. Those roads were never delivered, thanks to the inconvenience of asking for land back from the Tsuu T’ina First Nations after Treaty 7 forced them onto it. Finally, a breakthrough came in the early 2010s in the form of a $340-million payout from the provincial government to the First Nation. The land was secured, construction began. Dirt was stripped, piles were driven. Soon, concrete phalluses were springing from the prairie as the project came to life at a scale so big that the ndp government that inherited the project admitted it was probably overbuilt for the amount of traffic it would see.

And the world changed while that concrete poured. The price of oil plunged and, unlike previously, stayed down. Rush hour in oil town quieted. Downtown parking lots emptied. As the city’s economy ebbed, the project’s urgency seemed to as well. The traffic pressure just wasn’t what it once was. Then, covid-19 hit, and the city went into self-isolation. And here I found myself, on a solo bike ride during lockdown, trying to get some fresh air and exercise and get my mind off the pandemic, when I came across this empty behemoth.

That overpass viewpoint was just a stop on my ride. The streets were pretty much empty everywhere, so I rolled figure eights on thoroughfares I usually avoided completely. The multi-use pathways, however, were packed. The so-called coronavirus global bike boom was in full swing, and it was obvious. Driven by the cabin fever of self-isolation, the promise of roads no longer choked with cars and the simple joys of riding in a world where most recreation had been cancelled, would-be cyclists were overwhelming mechanics, buying out bike shops and filling up cities with two-wheeled trips.

A curious reaction occurred around the world. A handful of cities responded. Rather than leave the massive amounts of space we’ve designated for cars empty and idle, while physically distancing people were forced into tiny sidewalks and pathways, some cities had responded by turning over road space to pedestrians and cyclists. At first, it was a few cities, and then more and more. Soon, citizens in many other metropolises were demanding the same.