Bike Rallies Fray Nerves in San Francisco

SAN FRANCISCO — A new kind of urban rage, pitting bicyclists against fuming motorists, bus riders and pedestrians, has erupted this summer on the jampacked streets of this city.

Catalyst for the confrontation is Critical Mass, born here five years ago as a monthly, in-your-face mass ride through downtown rush-hour traffic by cyclists claiming to have as much right to the road as anyone else.

The leaderless, Internet-fed mass ride struck a chord with young cyclists across the nation, and over the years has spread to a dozen cities. Supporters and critics alike say it speaks to the frustration cyclists feel each and every day as they battle city bureaucrats and vehicles for a safe piece of urban roadways.

“Critical Mass has touched a nerve because it is scary out there for cyclists,” said Susie Stephens, executive director of the Northwest Bicycle Federation, a 7,000-strong bicycle advocacy group in Washington, one of the nation’s most bicycle-friendly states and home to smaller versions of Critical Mass.

“I ride every day, but sometimes it is a struggle to deal with so many cars on the road. Critical Mass offers a chance for hundreds of riders to get together and see other people who believe what I believe and get recharged for another month. That’s powerful stuff. That’s important,” Stephens said.

But on the last Friday night of July in San Francisco, the feel-good aspects of Critical Mass were replaced by shouting and shoving matches between defiant cyclists and furious motorists. By the time the ride ended, 110 cyclists were under arrest and dozens of bicycles confiscated.

City officials and cyclists have blamed each other for the chaos ever since and tension is mounting as the next Critical Mass, scheduled for Aug. 29, approaches.

“Next time, the city will have a considerably different approach to Critical Mass. The police are going to shut them down,” warned P.J. Johnston, a spokesman for Mayor Willie Brown.

For years, San Francisco’s Critical Mass surged through city streets with few confrontations between cyclists and motorists. In part, the monthly ride grew because city officials first tolerated, then facilitated it. Two years ago, police began looking at planned routes on the Internet and dispatching dozens of officers to escort cyclists, helping them navigate through traffic as quickly as possible.

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In a city that prides itself on liberal political and social views, Critical Mass seemed acceptable to most San Franciscans--especially when its riders numbered only in the hundreds and traffic was only slightly inconvenienced.

In fact, many sympathized with riders’ complaints that the city, with its vertiginous, one-way streets, its crowds of tourists, its buses, cable cars and moving and double-parked vehicles, was not doing enough to promote cycling as a way to get around.

Only last year, the Board of Supervisors voted to increase the number of bike lanes and bike paths, and install more bike racks and parking spaces dedicated to bicycles. The city spends about $2 million a year on such improvements, said Adam Gubser, a bicycle planner in the city’s transportation department.

Tolerance for bicyclists began to fade, however, just as the popularity of Critical Mass rose. The real turning point came when Brown’s mayoral limousine was trapped in a traffic jam sparked by Critical Mass. Relations between cyclists and City Hall soured.

The mayor denounced riders as arrogant. Police, he fumed, should be arresting them, not escorting them. City Hall was flooded with hundreds of calls from commuters praising Brown and demanding action.

But some riders took Brown’s attack as a challenge.

The Internet burned with talk from angry cyclists who issued calls for a massive July turnout. On July 25, at least 5,000 riders plunged into San Francisco’s evening rush hour. Spurning the police-preferred route, they blocked key downtown intersections. The result was chaos.

“I saw bicyclists blocking cars. I saw a motorist get out of a car with a tire chain and beat a bicyclist around his head and shoulders,” said Jill Solem, an office worker and one of the 110 cyclists arrested that night. “It seems to me there are a lot of people angry on all sides.”

The debacle sparked even more debate among cyclists across the nation who had been divided over Critical Mass’ tactics and impact since it began.

Some riders see it as a muscular illustration of their growing political clout, a peaceful act of revenge for all the times they are cut off by thoughtless drivers, the times they are trampled, the times they are squeezed from bike lanes. The mass rides, supporters say, force motorists to respect their rights to the road and show local officials they can’t be ignored.

But critics fear the rides have alienated motorists and set back lobbying efforts to encourage cycling as an alternative form of transportation.

“Years ago, I characterized Critical Mass as bicycle mob rule,” said Darryl Skrabak, a former executive director of San Francisco’s mainstream Bicycle Coalition. “My bicycling friends say it is a good thing and fun for everybody. But I say it is not a good idea when you’re having fun at everybody’s expense.”

Skrabak said he and other cyclists have been laboring to convince state transportation officials to include a bike lane on the span of the Bay Bridge to be rebuilt because of damage from the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.

Skrabak now fears their pleas will be rejected.

“Caltrans says that bicyclists are irresponsible, and this sort of demonstration makes it hard to argue with them,” he said.

For years, said Washington state bicyclist Stephens, other cities had looked to San Francisco and its Critical Mass as a model. Now she and others wonder if any city will tolerate mass rides.

“There has been tons of stuff bounding around on the Internet about this,” Stephens said. “What’s happened is forcing people to rethink.”

Critical Mass initially caught on, said city planner Gubser, because of a gap between what bicyclists want and what San Francisco and cities elsewhere have done in response.

“Critical Mass is a symptom of inadequate facilities and a lack of public awareness about cycling as an alternate form of transportation,” he said. A bicycle commuter himself, Gubser said he now fears for the safety of all the city’s cyclists.

“In the long term, maybe Critical Mass will raise people’s awareness, but in the short term, it has raised tension between cyclists and motorists,” he said. “There is a backlash and I feel it. It sickens me. I really think that something bad is going to happen, that somebody is going to get hurt.”

For the moment, city officials are not relenting in their position that enough is enough.

“The city’s efforts to work with this group are over,” said Johnston, Brown’s spokesman. “We tried, and our efforts were rejected. . . . Critical Mass is a police matter.”

All sides now are waiting to see what will happen Aug. 29. The Police Department already has declared the ride illegal, and Chief Fred Lau is warning cyclists they risk arrest if they show up.

Cyclists, meanwhile, are vowing to show the city it cannot stop them. They hope to attract more riders than ever before.

“I know people in cars are upset,” said Laura Wright, who rode--and was arrested--in July’s demonstration. “But if the city can suspend my rights for a day, then the drivers are next. People have a right to ride bikes.”