The City's Equation

Here is a fascinating article about the scientific study of cities from the New York Times:

A Physicist Solves the City.

The pictures--photo illustrations--are intriguing as well.

Geoffrey West believes that all cities operate according to certain mathematical equations, because he has measured it as so. Mr. West makes a false assumption, however, in assuming that recorded metrics are static. He only sees the past of cities, and not their future.

The comparison between cities and corporations is insightful as well. Cities are municipal corporations.

Nice Ride: Minneapolis' Bike Sharing Program

In September, I took a visit to the land of a thousand lakes, Minnesota, to visit family and take in a Twins game at the new Target Field. While walking around downtown I noticed several corrals of lime green bikes and later learned that these bikes were part of a new public bike sharing program. I took an hour one afternoon to check out the system in more detail and take some fresh wheels for a spin.

It all starts by choosing a subscription. My understanding is that locals can choose monthly or yearly subscriptions. As I was only in the Twin Cities for the weekend, I chose the 24 hour subscription for $5. It took less than 2 minutes to pay for the subscription with my credit card and get an unlocking code for the ride of my choice. (In addition to subscription fees, riders are charged trip fees for the time they have the bike checked out. The point seeming to be that these bikes are meant for short trips rather than longer-term rentals. Rides less than 30 min are free).

After getting my code, I picked a bike, entered the code, and was free to ride. Although I had walked around downtown Minneapolis before, and been a passenger in cars there, the Nice Ride gave me a chance to explore a wider area, and without the interfering lens of a car window.

The bike itself was a bit clunky, but it did the job and even had a few different gears to choose from. Most of the weight was likely attributable to the tamper-proof design, which kept all of the workings of the bicycle (gears, chain, brake lines) concealed.

Overall it was a great experience. I crossed the Mississippi (four times), explored some cool Minneapolis neighborhoods that I've never seen before, and managed to get in some exercise without even trying to. My experience with Nice Ride is likely not the typical one. The program seems to be directed at citizens without bikes who just need a ride for short trips or errands. In the long run, most riders will probably want to get their own bike, but in the short run, this is a great way to get people on bicycles and to increase the visibility of biking as a viable option for urban transportation. I look forward to seeing how Nice Ride fares in Minneapolis and hope that similar programs sprout in other American cities soon.

Spatial Inefficiency Part I: Bicycles

I was late to the ballpark on Saturday when the Dodgers were in town to face the surging Giants. Knowing that I needed to get down to the park as quickly as possible, I made the obvious decision -- grabbed my bicycle and headed out the door.

It may seems strange to the average automobile driver, but the fastest way to get around the city is often by bicycle. Especially at a time like morning rush hour--or right before a big Saturday baseball game--almost any trip of five miles or less will take less time on a bike. Less time than walking. Less time than riding the bus or train. Less time than driving. Even less time than taking a taxi.

The last two points are the most intriguing to consider. Time wasted parking anywhere in the city where one does not have a dedicated space obviously slows down the driver in his personal car. But how can a bicycle be faster than a taxi cab?

It all comes down to spatial efficiency. Bicycles are not only extremely fuel efficient, but they are incredibly spatially efficient too. Just think about how many people could ride down a two-lane city street if all were on bicycles. I admit to not making any tape measurements, but the spatial ratio must be somewhere from 3 to 6 bicycles per 1 car. And seeing as most streets in San Francisco (and everywhere in this great nation) are dominated by cars, the skilled bicycle rider can use spatial efficiency to his advantage. When a line of cars waits at a red light, the cyclist moves to the front of the line -- both because it is safer at the front where the automobiles can see the cyclist, and because the cyclist can. There is enough space between and beside the automobiles for bicycles to weave through and past. In a dense urban area like San Francisco, with stop-and-go city traffic, the bicyclist's ability to take advantage of spatial efficiency renders his mode of transportation the fastest.

At no time was the spatial efficiency of the bicycle more apparent to me than after the game (a thrilling 2 - 1 Giants victory after an eighth inning two-run dinger by Pat Burrell). While a line of cars close to a half-mile long waited in frustrated traffic along the Embarcadero, I cruised by in the bike lane, riding leisurely to enjoy the summer air and soak in the excitement of the win. Without exerting much energy at all, I left the line of cars in the proverbial rear-view and headed home one pedal at a time.

Which brings us to the name of this post: spatial inefficiency. In contrast to the spatial efficiency of the bicycle is the spatial inefficiency of a typical city road. Take Divisadero for example. Two lanes of traffic and one lane of parking each way creates a road that takes too much space to move too few people. If just one of those lanes were converted to a bike lane, think of how many more people could travel quickly down the road. For an even greater example of spatial inefficiency, imagine the typical suburban strip mall, maybe one with a Super Target, Best Buy, Quiznos, you name it. How much of the space is actually dedicated to the stores and the walkways and how much is dedicated to storing the giant steel monstrosities that everyone is lugging around with them?

So, you might ask, who cares? We've got plenty of space here in America, why not use it? I will attempt to address these questions in a further installment of Spatial Inefficiency. If anyone has ideas before then--or if you love your Suburban and think bicycles are impractical toys for overgrown children--just use the comment section and share your opinion.

Traffic as a Public Health Concern

Check out this short piece from the Streetsblog network:

Why Isn't Traffic Reduction a Top Public Health Concern

As anyone who has ever been in a car accident can attest to: driving is dangerous. In addition, cars spew all sorts of particulate matter into the air (y'know that stuff that we breathe to stay alive). It doesn't take a scientist to bike or walk down the street and realize that the exhaust coming out of most cars' tailpipes is not the healthiest mixture. If you get caught behind a big enough/poorly maintained vehicle, your gasping for breath will be all the evidence you need.

So why do we take traffic for granted and just assume that it is a constant that we need to live with? Why is it so hard to imagine urban and suburban places with severely decreased automobile and truck traffic?

Suburban Infill : the choice is Yours

Urban redevelopment is a great way to utilize the efforts of the past towards better futures. It is also a way to enliven often decrepit and quiet areas that were once centers of life. It is efficient and it does not waste land. It brings people closer together.

But what about those stuck out in the suburbs of America? Some, maybe most, suburbanites actually enjoy the sprawling, car-laden world in which they live. They could do without the five o'clock traffic jam, but having a nice lawn and a garage and a place where the kids can shoot baskets outside until 10 pm and few strangers are roaming by--there is a sense of security that many find in the suburbs.

Those who truly love urban life for the pedestrian opportunities and the immense possibilities that open when life is put on the streets (rather than behind the wheel of a car or running on a treadmill) likely find the suburbs to be suffocating and dull. Where is the life on the streets? There are no shops, few people walking around, there are not even sidewalks on every street. Bikers beware too, for the streets are rarely wide enough for bikes and cars to both fit, and suburban drivers are in a rush. Everything is a drive away: work, school, grocery, gym, friends, restaurants, bars,^ shopping malls, hospitals. The suburban life is wasteful. There are too many parking lots and too much gasoline, too much land and too many mega-malls, too many damn highways. Even worse, the suburban life, lived to its most extreme, is a life spent inside in isolation (especially during the cold of winter or the heat of summer).

If, however, the suburbs are here to stay, can they slowly become better urban areas without torching the zoning code and letting the poverty of the city creep in? Or: do we really need any more suburbs than we have now? The answer is yes and no. Yes suburban areas can become more amenable to pedestrians, bicyclists, children below driving age;* and no, we don't need any more than we have now.

The bottom line is that most suburbanites aren't gonna pick up and move to the city, to join all the enlightened urbanites on streets of pigeon shit, hippies and dried coffee. Why not then, bring the city to them? At least the good parts of the city: streets with wide sidewalks, and public parks with benches and beautiful old trees, bike lanes and public transit hubs, corner stores and restaurants that aren't buried away in shopping malls and strip centers. Why not make the suburbs more urban?

Density is an issue. Just how many people does it take to support a corner store and how many suburbanites live within walking or biking distance of the certain lot where said corner store will be? Won't this corner store need a parking lot so folks can drive up and fill their cars with groceries?

The suburban desire to separate residence from commerce is another. Who wants to live next to a corner store (or a parking lot)?

And of course, collective action. How are all the different suburban voices going to decide where the corner store shall go or who will shoulder the burden of increased density, increased urbanity? Surely there must be a few more people to support suburban commerce.

I don't have the answers to these questions; if anyone does they can't fit in the virtual space of a blog post. They are life-sized and real, like going to work or picking up a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. They require political will and capital and a desire to change the suburban lifestyle. Maybe most of all they require folks to look at their lives and their hulking exhaust-spewing cars and realize that maybe we're not walking down the right path. Hell, we're not walking much at all, unless of course we belong to a gym, or the dog needs to take a dump, or we dropped some extra flow on that new treadmill that was advertised on TV.


^ Of course suburbanites do not drink and drive - they are generally law-abiding folk.

* As a child of the suburbs I can heartily testify to the great powerlessness a thirteen year old boy feels when he is stranded at home carless in a world built for people with gasoline motors.

What do fruits and vegetables have to do with urban planning?

Today I tried to imagine the perfect city. There were plenty of bikes and pedestrians everywhere and a marked absence of private vehicles. There were shorter blocks and more mixed uses of land. And there were farms: block-sized farms full of apple trees, kale, beans and carrots.

Then it got me a-thinkin': just how much space does it take to feed a person/family/city?

The answer is that it depends on what those people/families/cities are eating. Turns out that the production of meat is wildly more inefficient than the production of vegetables. Not only that, but animal excrement (i.e.: shit) pollutes that other stuff that is necessary for life: water.

So what does this all mean? Well, I guess it depends on the purpose of the city. If cities are to be places for efficient living, then perhaps what the citizens eat is as important as what transportation decisions they make. And as no city exists in a vacuum, it is also important how the choices of the city affect the surrounding suburbs and farmland.

Cities should promote life. They are centers of life, where people concentrate to work, play, sleep, eat, reproduce and live. Should they not then, also be places where life-affirming activity is concentrated? Where space is maximized for farmland and physical activity? Or are they just amusement parks for those with enough wealth to afford the high rents and tourists looking for the perfect picture (and the perfect steak)?

In order to build and maintain the perfect cities of the future, we need to make the right decisions: for ourselves, for those around us, and for those to come. In this broader sense, cutting back on meat intake is as important as riding a bike or taking public transportation. In another more specific and tangible sense, growing and eating food from the land that we live on gives us a greater connection to the land and reminds us that we inhabit a real space that is capable of generating and sustaining life.

UPDATE: turns out some hotshot from the Washington Post is one of the 5 people that read this page. Check out his article on meat consumption and its effect on global warming. Not the same point I was trying to make above, but its all related.

Public Health

We often think of the public health in mechanical terms. What is the average life span? Which diseases are most prevalent? How can money be made by selling health to people? How much does it cost to provide "health care"?

I suspect this train of thought is simplistic.

It is driven in part by big insurance and its dollars and cents approach to health (and life); driven also by the legal system, using the adversarial system as a means toward rewarding those made ill by other's negligence, but also succumbing to the ideal that money can heal and punish; driven by the business of medicine and the view that health may be bought and sold.

But of course it may, you might think. Those with money can afford to live in safe areas and purchase healthy food, live in well-built homes, buy the latest drugs and health-fads, and pay for insurance and hospital visits. This consumptive view of medicine and health, however, ultimately has a deleterious effect. It reduces public health to a budget line and obscures our understanding of what the public health is.

At its foundation, better public health is both easier and harder to achieve than universal health care and cheaper prescription drugs. It is easier in the sense that it may be reduced to simple concepts: we should create living environments that promote life and wellness, where ample shelter, fresh food, and clean water is available and people have the opportunity to engage in physical activity and nurture positive relationships. It is harder in that it requires a holistic and multi-modal understanding of health that reaches far beyond the hospital and the insurance companies' balance sheets.

Public health has as much to do with things like walkability, bike lanes, farmers markets, crime reduction and open spaces as it does with access to hospitals and advances in pharmaceutical technology or surgical procedures. We limit our understanding of public health if we conceive of it in purely medical terms. Instead, it will benefit urban areas to think about the public health impacts of every decision, particularly decisions regarding transportation and public space.

Several years ago, I spent a few months undertaking research for a paper on the importance of walkability towards creating and fostering urban relationships. My thesis was not revolutionary. I merely argued that walking brings people in closer contact with their cities, that it is more democratic than driving, and that a pedestrian friendly city will ultimately be a better place to live than an auto-centric city.

An idea that I tossed around in my head but never committed to paper was the life:death ratio. When making public decisions, I thought, we should think simply about whether our plans nurture life or risk harm, disease, and death. It seems obvious that walking environments promote life and don't increase death or disease, but that auto-centric environments lead to more carbon dioxide, more obesity, more unnecessary fatalities. Of course it is also true that automobile technology and open roads allow emergency personnel to react quickly to fires and heart attacks, but that is why we have the ratio. The ability to give and sustain life must be balanced with the susceptibility for disease and death.

Walking up Scott street the other day, from Lower Haight towards Alamo Square, I noticed a freshly planted tree and for a second envisioned the potential of the road before me and before us all. I saw trees in strange places, scattered down the middle of the road, and imagined the flow of bikers multiplying as the parked cars vanished to their place in history books. I saw a space that was public and open, one that promoted life and activity, a street where children could pick fruit from trees and people could walk to their neighbor's house without the threat of anything more imposing than a stream of bicycles and pedestrians.