I first rode a bicycle in downtown Chicago the summer of 2000. We were about to move from East Lakeview to Northbrook, and I figured this was my chance to bike to work. I took the lakefront bike path to Grand Avenue, then cut over to the paper, then on Wabash.
Or tried to.
Nearly a quarter century later, I still remember that terrifying gantlet of zooming cars and idling trucks. I felt lucky to get to 401 N. Wabash alive.
That might have also been my last bike ride downtown. But in the summer of 2013, Chicago introduced the Divvy bikeshare system. Pay a few bucks, undock the heaviest bicycle ever made and ride around the city to your heart’s content. A dock was installed right outside the paper: duty called.
Starting small, I’d Divvy to lunch spots a bit further than comfortable walking distance. Before I knew it, I was a pro, riding in February, my hands snug in their pricy lobster gloves. Zipping up the center of LaSalle Street at noon felt like being 12 years old again and standing on the pedals of my green Schwinn Typhoon. Riding a bike meant freedom, happiness.
The Divvy led to adventures. Riding a Divvy, I was mocked by both Rahm Emanuel (rolling down the window of his SUV to give me grief in traffic) and Tsakhiagiin Elbegdorj, the president of Mongolia. (I went to his opening of the new consulate here because there was a Divvy dock out front. As the only journalist present, I was bustled over and told to ask a question. I inquired about their border with China. “That’s a stupid question,” the Golden Swallow of Democracy replied, to general hilarity.)
I haven’t Divvied since COVID struck — I’m not downtown enough to justify the annual fee. But my experience left me attuned to the struggles of those who navigate Chicago by bike, or try to.
My social-media-formerly-known-as-Twitter feed is filled with reports of riders killed by careless motorists and the frustrating struggle to make Chicago more bike-friendly, which can seem one of those impossible tasks like building affordable housing or reforming the police.
It was certainly on my mind during my recent trip to Copenhagen and Amsterdam, which can be considered the bike heaven and bike hell of Europe.
Copenhagen is a dreamscape of dedicated bike lanes and special little stoplights. Bikes outnumber cars, and all is order. My wife wanted to go to Christiania, the hippie commune, and was consulting bus schedules when I suggested we bike there. Our hotel — which gives 10 percent off your bill if you arrive for your stay by bicycle — lent us bikes.
“Any advice for biking in Copenhagen?” I asked Jacob, the friendly clerk at the Coco Hotel.
“Watch out for tourists,” he said.
“Like ourselves?” I said with a smile.
Ten years ago, a third of trips to school and work in Copenhagen were by bike. Now it’s half. Why? “Infrastructure, infrastructure, infrastructure” in the words of one Copenhagen bike site.
Just as Divvy got me off my duff and riding, so creating a safe environment for bikers brings out the cyclists, which is good for the environment, good for the city and good for people doing biking. I felt more connected to the city biking than touring any church or castle.
Amsterdam was a different kettle of fish. Gone were the orderly squads of riders, replaced by lone bikes blasting by from all directions — my head was on a swivel with every step. A reminder to bike fans that giving public spaces over to bikes won’t solve every problem: Riders also must be taught how to behave. Plus, parking is an issue. Every public space was crammed with bicycles.
Biking reflects the culture around it, so I don’t think any amount of dedicated lanes and special signals would give Chicago the order that responsible, socialist Denmark manages — I imagine we’d be more like chaotic, libertarian Amsterdam.
But some can’t even get their minds around bikes being here. Earlier this year, the Sun-Times published a letter, ”Bikes don’t belong in city traffic,” that though daft, probably reflects a common sentiment. European cities also benefit from their narrow streets that were never completely dominated by cars the way our grids have been.
But as with the Divvy system, there is much more the city can do to encourage Chicagoans to get out of their cars and onto bicycles, where they belong.
