Cycling in Detroit - Week One and a Half

(boon at the dump, not bike jousting)

We here at Freighty Cat don't own a vehicle. Kyle hasn't had one in over half a decade and I've never owned one at all. Biking not only suits our politics and ethics, but also our economic state (what with relocating across the country and starting a business, this is true now more than ever). So far our bicycles have served us just fine, but we knew that living in Detroit without a car could be a whole new experience. Then again, although we just came from a city renowned for its public transit system (NYC), we very seldom traveled on anything other than our bicycles. Moving to Detroit, in turn, hasn't been too much of a transportation culture shock at all. Even biking as far as the suburbs is a drop in the bucket compared to our usual routine of biking between boroughs and over the relative hills of Brooklyn. While the terrain may be entirely different here, we have been doing just fine without a car.

I'm going to be captain random here for a moment. In the past week and a half, on our ever-widening errands by bicycle, a thought has started forming in my mind. Although I have been a bike commuter, even if for just one day, in almost every major city in America (plus several in Europe and Canada), cycling in Detroit holds a special strangeness. In cities like New York, I've been one amongst a sea of bikers, while nearly a decade ago (when taking care of my grandpa) in South Bend, Indiana, I was a lone oddity in a world made for cars. Winter in Detroit, however, is the first time I have felt like such an anomaly despite a clearly blooming bicycle infrastructure. As a newcomer and a relative outsider, riding my bicycle is the transportation equivalent of running my errands naked. Within the hefty confines of a vehicle, a person can become anonymous and mostly free of rash judgement. When I get dressed to ride in the morning, besides the extra time spent constructing my layers and debating over gloves, I am well aware that I am about to go on my own tiny parade. Living most of my life inside of large cities, it was only in Indiana where I felt even a fraction of this. My first ride out, I'd made a "Bike to Live / Live to Bike" patch using some rags and a sharpie for my thrifted "messenger" bag. The common thread between these cities - mediocre public transit and thus a noticeable lack of pedestrian traffic. Needless to say, on a bike I am the only visible set of legs for miles. The cars begin to feel like burkas in relation to my nude presentation, although even a burka identifies the wearer's gender. Suddenly, I am the only complete human within sight for miles, presenting myself as a woman on a bicycle for all the world to see from inside their antisocial pods of seclusion, otherwise surrounded by a vast emptiness. It is as empowering as it is unsettling, but in the end still worth the ride.

Despite the general lack of foot traffic in Detroit, as a cyclist I have felt well treated by vehicles. In truth, the overly wide streets and dwindling population leave plenty of room for everyone. Even so, on our bike ride to Detroit from the metro airport, drivers in the suburbs greeted us with honking, shouting, cursing, and threats. We were told countless times, even by pedestrians, to get on the sidewalk. While it was nowhere near as empty of traffic as Detroit proper, there was still plenty of room for everyone on the street, at least from our perspective. Our return from the airport had been Kyle's introduction to cycling in Detroit, so I spent the suburban half of our ride gently assuring him that the city itself was nothing like this and that we hadn't just moved to some sort of cyclist purgatory. Sure enough, the moment we passed under a bridge, leaving Dearborn, we were greeted with a whole different world. It was as though every angry driver had hit an imaginary wall of entitlement behind us. Nobody honked and cars switched to the inside lane to give us space to take a full lane and ride side-by-side, instead of cowering in the shoulder like we had for the past hour. As we headed further into town, we were greeted with bike lanes stretching out in both directions, easily finding our way to our new home.

Since our first harrowing ride into town, commuting has been a joy. We've biked as much as possible, although occasionally taking rides with friends and roommates in the interest of arriving somewhere together. We're new to town, so we aren't pushing the fair weather riders too hard yet, although once summer comes it'll be a different story for sure. I've survived many a Chicago January commuting by bike, so I've found the weather wonderfully easy so far, although I know this isn't a common sentiment in most other cities. We've made a couple of bike trips to the Southwest, including one grocery haul where we foolishly didn't bring the Schooner but managed to somehow fit everything on our racks. The cargo bike was well used, however, in our trip to the recycling center and triumphant return with a salvaged coat tree. We've even made friends over a bike rack, meanwhile appreciating the abundance of places to lock up in general. The behavior of traffic is remarkably different in Detroit, but once I figured out that motorists here drive like New York cyclists, I was right at home. The streets still seem relatively empty of bicycles despite the new bike lanes, but surely this will change with the weather. In the meantime, I'll keep getting used to biking in this bizarre and bike-friendly motor ghost city.

Rubber side down,

Leslie
(and Kyle over my shoulder)

Detroit Bike City!

Our booth at Detroit Bike City.

It has now been a week since Detroit Bike City, so it's about time we reminisced.
When we visited Detroit together in early February, it became clear that arriving in time for Detroit Bike City would be a fantastic idea. This, however, meant moving our intended departure date up by nearly a month, giving Kyle just enough time to give enough notice to his job and house. Meanwhile, I decided not to go to Mardi Gras or Honk TX, opting to head back East and help him prepare for the move. The month that followed our return to NYC was hectic, a little scary at times, and surprisingly productive.
We had one day to rest in between our cross-country move and Detroit Bike City. The twenty mile bike ride back from the airport gave us a chance to clear our heads and get to work on preparations for the expo. The next morning we awoke to find snow outside the window, dragged ourselves out of bed, and bundled up for the sort of Midwestern winter we had been expecting. Everything fit perfectly into the cargo bin of the Schooner and we set out for the Cobo Center bright and early. This was our first real day out in town since we arrived.
It was a relatively short, but slushy, ride downtown. We were disappointed to see only one cyclist on the road aside from ourselves, although unsurprised to learn that she was representing the Hub and Back Alley Bikes. We rolled our rides right into the hall and set up our display. Anyone who hadn't loaded into the hall the night before had been instructed to do so by hand on Saturday. Fortunately for us, commuting by bike meant that we were essentially given permission to drive our "truck" right up to the table. The bicycle I had ridden served as our coat rack while the cargo bike sat proudly on display. The pools of water melting beneath them gave us endless street cred throughout the day, or so we were told. In fact, people were bewildered that we were deliberately choosing to live inside Detroit without a car. We found this a strange reaction at a bicycle show inside of Detroit proper.
Since we had only just begun as Freighty Cat, our booth was humble and quite improvised. After a botched attempt at hand-made linoleum stamps the night before, we agreed that having no business cards was just fine. Instead, we had a mailing list inside of an old leather-bound journal, a corkboard which invited visitors to list what they would like on a cargo bike, a vintage suitcase which held a slideshow-showing laptop (propped up on a giant dictionary and folding chessboard, hidden beneath a torn and faded longhi), and a set of stationary in case anyone needed a bootleg business card. The most key parts of our booth, however, were the Schooner and our curious selves. Just arriving in Detroit had been victory enough, so making any whistles and bells merely secondary.
After too much time spent in NYC, we were grateful to find how friendly and inclusive everyone was. One older gentleman even slid Kyle a $20 bill, telling us to buy ourselves a drink later. "Welcome to Detroit!" We could give shout outs to people for ages, so I'll just say that we met a stunning number of cyclists, advocates, fabricators, retailers, and other interesting folks. There was barely enough time to see all of the other booths, and we somehow even missed the transportation panel. Towards the end of the show, we were paid a very friendly visit by the Bullitt dealers from Ann Arbor, who were the closest thing to "competition" we had there. We stopped by their booth later and were pleased to finally meet the Chicago Cargo guy, with whom I have a number of friends in common. Cards and even hugs were exchanged between both sides of the cargo bike business world, which is how it always should be. All told, a very intense and awesome first time out for Freighty Cat.
xo
Leslie
(and Kyle over my shoulder)

Arrival in Detroit

It's official: we've picked up and moved to Detroit.
Since neither of us owns a car, we spent days weighing our options - sometimes literally. We settled on renting a minivan, which was the cheapest and least gas guzzling option, but had to get a little creative in order for it to work. As a longtime nomad, I had little to pack, yet between us we still spent hours trying to shove the van full of odds and ends. We left half of Kyle's furniture behind in the care of friends, prioritizing other things over such trifles as a bed. Besides a carved wood love seat and an old metal-lined trunk, we had two full sized bicycles, my folding bike, and the six and a half foot long cargo bike to consider. A bike rack and a lot of elbow grease later, we were on the road without resorting to using the roof rack or leaving the other half of Freighty Cat behind in Brooklyn.
Ten hours later, we had made it to Detroit unscathed. After a comparatively easy unloading, dinner with our awesome new housemates, and a bit of sleep, we returned the van to the airport in the morning. Needless to say, we biked home. The rental car company took our departure on bicycles in stride, but suburban Detroit was... well, let's just say a little bit uninformed about traffic laws. We were happy to pass back into city limits, where the cars - when there were cars - were civil or even just unfazed. It took about two easy hours, plus a couple of fun detours along the way.
Now to get some sleep and wake up bright and early for Detroit Bike City.
xo
Leslie
(and Kyle over my shoulder)