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In a unanimous vote at Mar 9^th Committee meeting, Brampton Council said yes to the 2022 implementation schedule of the Active Transportation Master Plan. This includes $8.6 million budget for education, programs, bike lanes, pedestrian crossings, counters, initiating a bicycle friendly business program, updating the city’s cycling map, and supporting Bike the Creek signature cycling event.

The motion did not pass without debate. The installation of cycling infrastructure often creates controversy, particularly in suburban cities, like Brampton, where cycling for transportation is less common than in larger urban centres. A recent study found that most drivers don’t like sharing the road with cyclists because they believe the cyclists are inconsiderate. It turns out the vast majority of cyclists treat the road rules with respect, yet the impression lingers. Local politicians are a target of vocal opponents who don’t want to compete for road space with cyclists or who see bike lanes as taking away valuable road space that otherwise could be used for more traffic or on-street parking.

The fact is bike lanes can often improve traffic flow by defining a clear space where cyclists are supposed to be on the road. They also tend to calm traffic, reducing average speeds, making the road safer for all, but especially for vulnerable users such as pedestrians and cyclists. Safer infrastructure also encourages more pedestrian and cycling behaviour, thus reducing the number of cars on the road. As communities become more active, there are corresponding improvements in health outcomes and the sense of well-being amongst practitioners.

Despite these public benefits, the controversy remains. Residents may object to a bike lane being installed in front of their house because it would take away their on-street parking. Yet it is often the same residents who complain about high-speed drivers and who want calming measures put in place.

Quelling the controversy is possible. Communication is the key, letting residents know about the coming infrastructure, educating them about the benefits and listening to their concerns. Once the infrastructure has been in place for a few years, it becomes the norm. Strangely enough, when that happens, residents will complain bitterly if a civic leader proposes they be removed.

Brampton’s Transportation Planning and Road Engineering staff listened patiently as Council raised complaints received from constituents. They agreed to do a better job of contacting those residents to ensure their concerns were heard and addressed without compromising the integrity of the planned active transportation network. Satisfied with this approach, in the end, all 10 Councillors and the Mayor voted to support the updated implementation schedule.

by David Laing

2022 03 09 Implementation of ATMP 2021-2022 Annual Report

2022 03 09 Committee of Council ATMP 2021-2022Implementation Annual Report presentation

2022 03 09 CofC BikeBrampton delegation in support of the ATMP Annual Report by David Laing

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Cycling Chronicles Vol 11

What makes a memorable bicycle ride? Most people think only of epic rides as being memorable.

However, cycling being what it is, an up close and personal way to travel, lends itself to the pleasure of seeing things and talking to people you normally just pass by in a car. As you become more comfortable on a bicycle, especially at slower speeds, you can enjoy the countryside and the neighbourhoods you are riding through. Even on routes you have ridden before, you will notice something new.

The other aspect of cycling is that you are visible and accessible to others on the roadway and sidewalk. Although there can be bad aspects to this, my overall experiences have been positive. For example, while doing a track stand, waiting at a red light at Bloor Street and South Kingsway in Toronto, I had a driver of a van tell me how much he loved cycling. He then recounted a story of his youth, becoming the age class champion in track cycling in Trinidad. This all transpired in the time it takes for the intersection traffic light to go through its phases.

On another occasion, a gentleman engaged me in a conversation about the pleasure of cycling, again through the open passenger side window of his trade van, while in stop-and-go traffic in downtown Toronto. He asked me if I knew a certain bicycle shop owner, who was originally from Treviso, Italy. When he found out I did, he immediately asked me to pull over at the next street, so we could talk.

It turns out that when this gentleman was a new immigrant to Canada from Poland, this bicycle shop owner and bicycle racing sponsor, had taken him under his wing, culminating in the bicycle race of his life. It was the annual Quebec City to Montreal bicycle race, recognized as the longest single day cycling race in North America. The gentleman explained that although he did very well in the race, since he had no citizenship status in Canada, he was not eligible for the prize money. Life got in the way, and he had drifted away from bicycle racing and had not ridden in years. I explained to this gentleman that the bicycle shop owner had recently retired and closed the shop to spend winters in Treviso and summers here.  Upon parting, the gentleman made sure I knew what a great person that bicycle shop owner was, and how welcome he had made him feel in Canada.

My point here is that any ride can turn out to be a great and memorable ride.

It is not about how many kilometres you cover or how many metres you ascend, but how you feel about the ride, during and afterward.

An example of this is something I experienced on an evening ride in late November of 2021. I had decided to attend a live music concert at the Rose Theatre in Brampton. This was a momentous occasion for me. I have always been a lover of live music performances, but because of the pandemic, I had not been to a live concert in twenty-two months. I could not resist this one, a tribute to the late Canadian jazz icon, Moe Koffman, with a band that consisted of highly regarded musicians that had played with Moe. The band was led by Moe’s grandson.

My wife was out of town on family matters, so it would just be me going. I checked the weather forecast. There was a thirty per cent chance of snow, with no expected accumulation. As I set off on my 1990 Raleigh single speed cruiser bike, I felt a little consternation about being with a crowd of people. The Raleigh was the obvious choice for this ride since the roads were damp and there was a chance of precipitation. This bike is equipped with Kevlar belted tires and wide fenders. Just the thing for riding on wet, snowy roads and not worrying about getting dirty. The Kevlar belted tires meant there was less chance of getting a flat tire. The generously upholstered sprung seat and padded hand grips, along with the upright riding position, made riding this bike akin to lounging on my living room sofa.

I proceeded out of my neighbourhood to the Central Park Drive bike lanes. The temperature was just under the freezing mark and my clothing choices seemed perfect. Since there was no wind, this temperature seemed comfortable. I turned left, onto the bike lanes on Howden Blvd., one of the only up hill sections of my journey.

As I made the left turn onto the Vodden Street bike lanes, it began to snow. Very light, small flakes began to fall, floating straight down, melting to water as they hit the pavement. The sounds of Brampton at night became muted and slightly distant. The city was fairly quiet. There was traffic, but it seemed calm and orderly. I felt a sense of relaxation and detachment in the perceived safety of the bike lane. I was plenty early so there was need to put any effort into the pedals, it was just a case of enjoying a peaceful evening with the magic of snow gently falling.

I made the left turn into the bike lanes of Centre Street, for a short stretch, before turning right on Nelson Street East. From there I crossed the Scott Street bridge over the Etobicoke Creek. This cyclist and pedestrian only bridge was an excellent connection to the pathway running across the south side of Rosalea Park. I was pleased to see the steep section of path was free of snow and ice, as I zipped across to the Y.M.C.A. parking lot and out on to Union Street. I caught the green traffic light at Theatre Lane and glided down the underground parking garage ramp, right to the bicycle rack beside the Rose elevator vestibule. I looked at my watch and discovered I had arrived earlier than I expected. It had taken me roughly the same amount of time as driving, and yet, I felt like I had hardly expended any energy.

The expanse of the theatre, just before showtime, contained just 112 people. That, combined with the fact that I was able to sit on my own, along with the COVID restrictions in place, served to relieve my consternation at being in a crowd.

The concert did not disappoint, with the musicians, who possessed many years of experience, eager to show off their chops, reminding me of how good live music can sound and how much I had missed it.

Once the concert was over, even with unlocking my bike and putting my winter gear on, I was first up the ramp and out of the parking garage. I retraced my route, using the on-road bike lanes on the way home. It was still a magical night with no wind and a very light snow falling. As I cruised home, in no particular hurry, I thought that cycling doesn’t get much better than this. The fact that I had the ability to get where I wanted to go, using infrastructure designed for that purpose, just added to the pleasure.

What I would say to all of you is, not to look too hard for the pleasure of cycling in speeds and distances. That pleasure is front of you all the time. It is about interaction with your environment and fellow human beings.

by Steve Stoller

Previous blog posts by Steve:

Cycling Chronicles Vol 10

Cycling Chronicles Vol 9

Cycling Chronicles Vol 8

Cycling Chronicles Vol 7

Cycling Chronicles Vol 6

Cycling Chronicles Vol 5

Cycling Chronicles Vol 4

Cycling Chronicles Vol 3

Cycling Chronicles Vol 2

Cycling Chronicles Vol 1

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Variations in speed are felt to a much greater degree on a bicycle than any other form of transportation.

When you have the “hammer down”, using human power to propel yourself faster than a horse and rider, and even some of the early automobiles, you feel at one with your bicycle and the road.

At higher speeds on a bicycle, you end up making small inputs to the handlebars to pilot yourself on the smoothest portions of asphalt, all in an effort to maintain your speed with the least amount of resistance and interruption of pedal cadence. On a modern racing bike, with 700 – 23 mm tires pumped up to 120 pounds per square inch, your connection with the road is limited to two contact patches, each roughly the size of your thumb print. This, combined with the quick handling of a racing bike means you can track the smoothest line on the road, if you are relaxed, but concentrating.

If speed is your goal on a bicycle, you must realize that being in a group of like-minded cyclists will result in a higher average speed over a longer distance. The simple aerodynamics of drafting is the reason. As one of the most energy efficient machines ever invented, once rolling resistance is overcome with high pressure tires and high-quality wheel bearings, it is basically you versus wind resistance. Of course, climbing a hill places gravity into the equation.

A lesson in how much faster a group can be over a single rider was illustrated to me in the mid 1990’s when I entered a bicycle race. Although I had raced before, competitive bicycle racing was not something that drew me to the sport. I was more of a cyclist who loved the freedom of exploring by bike. Consequently, at this time, I had no measure of how fast I was compared to other cyclists.

The organization where I worked with was eligible to send competitors to a national championship. This championship location would rotate every few years, and this particular year it was being held in the nation’s capital. Since I had never competed in these games before, I had no idea what to expect. I made our hotel reservations and set about establishing a training routine.  Besides some longer rides to Toronto, this routine consisted mainly of repetitious circuits around roads in the industrial areas of Brampton. I would interject four minutes of high effort into each lap. I was worried about a lack of hill training in my repertoire but, as it turned out, it did not matter.

At the time I was riding the Shimano Ultegra equipped Miyata Ti6000. This bike was unique, in that the frame was not welded, but glued together using pressurized adhesive. The cast aluminium lugs were bonded to the tubing. It consisted of titanium tubes in the main triangle and 6000 series aluminium tubes for the rear triangle and the front forks. This combined to create a light but compliant frame. The package was rounded out by a set of Wolber TX Profil aero rims, and a gel infused saddle. By this time brake mounted shifters had been on the scene for a few years, however this bike still had down tube mounted indexed shifters.

The night before the race did not prove a restful one for me at the host hotel. A combination of nerves over the unknown competition I would be facing, and the partying antics of athletes from other sports, resulted in a fitful sleep.

The day of the competition dawned as a gray day, with a low cloud ceiling. My companion and I headed to the meeting spot, south of the Ottawa airport. The race was to be run as four laps around two rural concession blocks. The distance, according to organizers, measured 52 kilometres. The only other instructions were that a van would be used as a lead vehicle, and to be careful on the corners, because although they had been swept in preparation, there could still be loose gravel on them.

Fourteen riders assembled at the start line and an official’s arm was dropped to start the race. Almost on cue, a drizzle started, which changed to light rain, and then heavy rain. Eventually, it was raining so hard that I could see raindrops bouncing back up off the pavement. We were off, in the pouring rain.

I hung back going into the first ninety-degree corner. The wet conditions, combined with the fact that I was racing with cyclists of differing abilities and experience, was the reason for my trepidation. It turned out to be an unwise move, as, coming out of the turn, the first four riders pushed the pace and opened a gap immediately. I gave it all I had to get through the group and catch up to the breakaway, as I realized this was crucial.

As I caught up to the four lead riders and tried to shelter amongst them to take a short rest, something happened that still plays in my memory as a slow-motion video. As I sheltered in the draft and concentrated on catching my breath, the lead rider faded out a little to the right, in order to take a drink from his water bottle. As he pulled the water bottle from the cage on his down tube, the cage came with the bottle, snapping off from the frame mounts. The cage dislodged from the bottle and arced through the air, making a metallic ringing, as it hit the asphalt between us. The laws of physics dictated that the water bottle cage was going slightly slower than us as it danced along the pavement toward me. I immediately realized what the danger was, although I could do nothing to change the outcome. At the speed we were going, if the metal bottle cage snagged into the spokes of my front or back wheel, my race would have a painful end, not to mention the one or two riders I would end up taking down with me. Miraculously, I watched as the cage bounced across the road right under my bottom bracket, eventually landing on the gravel shoulder, to my left.

The breakaway succeeded, as our group of five was pulling away from the other riders. After about a kilometre, one of the riders fell off the extreme pace. That left four of us in the breakaway pack. We settled into a tight unit, working closely together, taking turns pulling at the front.

It was far from pleasant. The effort was hard. The everyone’s wheels sent up large rooster tails of water, making close drafting impossible due to obscuring of the following rider’s vision. I settled on a technique of drafting about eight inches to the right of the rider ahead of me. This resulted in most of the spray hitting my right shoulder. It was uncomfortable, but at least I had some forward vision. It was raining so hard and so much spray was being kicked up that, at times I had to look for the red taillights of the lead vehicle to maintain a reference point. Within a short time, I was as wet as if I had jumped in a swimming pool, my handlebars were so wet that my hands were sliding around on them. Tired of spending so much energy getting back up to race pace, after slowing down for the ninety-degree corners, I thought I would try carrying more speed into the corner. This was a mistake, as I felt my back tire begin to slide out from underneath me. With a slight steering correction, I maintained my balance, but learned my lesson about how much water was on the road.

Just before we crossed the start/ finish line to begin the last circuit, one of our group of four made a move to breakaway. I glanced at the other two riders, who both seemed unwilling to respond. I had seen the rider who was breaking away, talking to one of the riders in our group before the race. This conjured up the idea in my mind that this was their strategy and perhaps they were in cahoots. I had no choice, I had to pursue the break away rider by myself. Again, I was forced to put in a hard effort, but I eventually I caught up with him. To my surprise, shortly after I got on his back wheel, he sat up in the saddle as a sign of defeat and exhaustion. He began to soft pedal and immediately fell off the pace.

We were still around twelve kilometres from the finish. I knew I would blow up trying to maintain that speed, riding on my own, so I slackened the pace a little, until the other two caught up. Now it was a tactical race with two other opponents. I learned after the race, that they were Dennis, a provincial class triathlete from Hamilton and Manny, a former category two bicycle racer from Waterloo.

We continued with an elevated race pace, frequently changing the lead to keep the pace high, riding extremely close together, as the conditions would allow. We were still working closely together as we came down to the last three kilometres. Since I had never considered myself a sprinter, I did not think my chances were good if all three of us came to the finish line together. My opportunity came while I was pulling at the front. From the drop handlebar position, I looked under my arm and saw Dennis looking at Manny, behind him. I hammered the pedals going down a slight dip in the road and brought my speed up. To my surprise, when I looked down at my bike computer, it was reading 52 kph. I had never ridden that fast on a flat road.

Unfortunately, my strategy did not work, Dennis had been alert, and made the effort to get back on my wheel, with Manny, struggling a bit to stay on Dennis’s wheel. I stayed at the front, thinking this was going to come down to the line, however, Dennis surprised both Manny and me by turning wide on the last right-hand turn, riding a line by the edge of the pavement on the left-hand side of the road. Dennis had the hammer down and I would have to ride across the road while accelerating, to get on his back wheel. As I was trying to accelerate, I realized the slight grade of the road combined with the fatigue in my legs, meant that I could not spin up the gear I was in. The logical move would have been to downshift, however, the fact that I was already bogging down a little and my bike had down tube mounted shifters, meant that that opportunity was irrelevant. I ended up picking up the pace enough to follow Dennis over the finish line by about three bike lengths. Manny had been unable to match the pace coming out of the last corner and pedaled in about 200 metres behind us.

I glided down the road, after the finish line, feeling the exhaustion of the effort. As I turned around and headed back to the small crowd at the finish line, I passed Manny coming the other way. Contrary to what I expected, because he wasn’t there to vie at the finish line, Manny was smiling and laughing, pointing to his bike computer. What he was looking at was the fruits of our effort together. We had ridden 57 kilometres, in the pouring rain, at an average speed of 43 kph. Pretty good for a bunch of amateur bicycle racers. This made me feel quite elated and see the humour in the fact that my legs were like rubber and could hardly hold me up once I got off the bike.

Later, as we got changed at a recreation centre washroom, before the medal presentation, we laughed at the conditions we had just raced in. My socks felt like they weighed a pound apiece, my jersey and shorts had to be wrung out in the sink, my bicycle was mostly devoid of any lubrication. The seat was starting to come apart, after being soaked in water.

I still maintain the pride about our performance during this race, although it was dampened when the organizing body published the results in a newsletter a month later. The statistics showed the three of us finishing a 52 kilometre race in two hours and nineteen minutes. They had added an hour and reported the original distance for the race.

The bottom line is Dennis, Manny and I knew we each had one of the best races of our lives, that day in the pouring rain.

by Steve Stoller

Previous blog posts by Steve:

Cycling Chronicles Vol 9

Cycling Chronicles Vol 8

Cycling Chronicles Vol 7

Cycling Chronicles Vol 6

Cycling Chronicles Vol 5

Cycling Chronicles Vol 4

Cycling Chronicles Vol 3

Cycling Chronicles Vol 2

Cycling Chronicles Vol 1

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You may not think that physics has much to do with bike riding. Staying upright on a bicycle is a lesson in physics and mastering of balance points.

The amazing thing is that once these principles are learned, usually as a young child, they become ingrained and are never really forgotten. This universal truth is well recognized, and it has made its way into our general lexicon of phrases. Who has not heard the phrase “It’s just like riding a bicycle”? The inference is that once you learn to ride a bicycle, it is something you carry with you the rest of your life.

The real physics of bicycle riding is more complex than most riders realize. Maintaining a straight line while riding a bike seems almost natural and effortless. In reality, your brain is almost subconsciously sending messages to muscles in your arms and hips to make micro corrections that result in the bicycle maintaining a straight line.

This is one of the aspects of cycling that has garnered my attention, especially since, more recently, I have been involved in teaching adults to ride bicycles for the first time.

A number of years ago, through conversations I had with a number of cyclists, who rode mainly in the urban setting of Toronto, I thought I could come up with a set of general rules for cyclists, that would result in less likelihood of collisions with motor vehicles. I surmised that the safest way of thinking, for a vulnerable road user, was to apply the rules of physics to defensive riding techniques. One of the major cornerstones to my theory was that “two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time”. On a ride in Toronto, one summer afternoon, this rule was proved wrong.

On that particular day, I was riding up Yonge Street, after spending some time in the downtown core. I was riding a 2000 Giant TCR1. Its ground-breaking proprietary CU92 aluminum frame was ultra light for the time, and very responsive for urban riding. Although equipped with slightly lower level Shimano Ultegra parts, the frame was rumoured to be the same one that a successful top tier European professional team was using.

It was later in the afternoon, so the automobile traffic was dense. I was intending to take Yonge Street north and then head west on Wilson Avenue to return to Brampton. Above Lawrence Avenue, because of lack of parked cars, the curb lane opened up. I accelerated into this gap, bringing my speed up, equivalent to the traffic flow.

What happened next, can only be described as an error in judgement. Not by me but by the driver of a Cadillac Escalade. This vehicle accelerated in a right hand turn from a side street into the northbound Yonge Street curb lane. This was the same lane in which I was still accelerating. It would have been close either way, but then another factor entered the mix, that neither of us expected. Traffic came to a sudden stop. The Escalade jerked to a stop halfway through the turn.

Later in my life, I found this moment was incredibly well depicted by the director of a 2012 movie called “Premium Rush”. This movie was about the ultra competitive, pell-mell lives of New York City bike couriers. The telling depiction was the slowing down of time during moments of eminent collision. Time slows down in your mind, as you visualize and evaluate each of your options. If I braked hard, and continued straight, I would skid into the rear of the car in front of me. There was no option to the left, as the cars were too close together. The big SUV blocked any option to the right, as it was half in the curb lane and half on the side street.

The decision was made in a fraction of a second, to continue straight and turn right, at the same time. Without touching the brakes, I leaned the bike over to the left. At the same time, I leaned my body to the right, slightly turning the handlebars to the right. I was actually able to squeeze through the small gap between the front of the SUV and the back-right corner of the car in front of me. My tires tracked a line on the pavement underneath the front bumper of the Escalade, while my right shoulder brushed by the headlight. For a moment, my bike and I were occupying the same space as the Cadillac, and then I was through the small gap and off to finish my ride.

How I managed to get through this situation, without a scratch, is incredible. I also think I could not replicate that move, at that speed, without disastrous results, ever again. Yet it happened, seemingly without me pre-planning or even thinking about it. Since that day, I chalk this one up to the incredible power of the human brain and, of course, the physics of bicycle riding.

by Steve Stoller

Previous blog posts by Steve:

Cycling Chronicles Vol 8

Cycling Chronicles Vol 7

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