Bad Signs and Good Times
June 12-13
When I left Conneaut, Ohio, I was in good spirits. I was headed toward Buffalo where I would see more family — actually, Susan's side of the family: her sister, Jo Freudenheim; brother-in-law, Mike Frisch; nieces Mimi and Naomi Frisch; and Susan's brother, Tom Freudenheim, who would be joining me for a couple days on the upcoming leg of my trip.
Getting there would involve two days of riding close to Lake Erie.
In my planning, those were two days I was looking forward to, because they would be almost entirely on official state bike routes — Pennsylvania Bicycle Route Z and New York State Bicycle Route 517. I envisioned, at the least, roads with wide shoulders and signs alerting motorists to be alert for and to share the road with cyclists.
Both states let me down. And, in my opinion, both states are endangering cyclists with what appear to be half-hearted attempts at creating bike routes without investing in measures that actually help protect the cyclists using those routes.
Soon after crossing the state line from Ohio into Pennsylvania I got on Route Z. There were signs occasionally indicating that the road was a bicycle route, but they weren't much bigger than No Parking signs and were easy to miss. For the entire length of the nearly 50-mile bike route I took through Pennsylvania, I never saw a standard Bicycle Route sign or a Share the Road sign. And the roads themselves were nothing special. They were often narrow, with no shoulders. At times the pavement on the edge of the road was rough and cracked, forcing me to go into the traffic lane (with cars and trucks driven by people who, I was afraid, were not aware they were driving on a bike route).
I was glad to see the "Welcome to New York" sign. I continued on to the village of Westfield, where I spent the night.
When I got on the road the next morning for the ride to Buffalo, I was eager to see what New York's Bicycle Route 517 would be like. I figured New York would show Pennsylvania how it's done. For the first 10 miles or so, the signage was about the same — little signs that few motorists would pay attention to — but at least the road was better than I'd had in Pennsylvania. It had a wide shoulder, with a rumble strip between it and the traffic lane, and the pavement was very smooth.
Until it wasn't.
I must have passed into different governmental jurisdictions because the road, especially the shoulder, suddenly got rougher and disappeared entirely in some areas. For the next couple of hours, I rode close to the white line on the edge of the road. As I neared Buffalo, the road conditions improved, but the signage didn't.
Take a look at this intersection in the picture below. If you were driving a car, would you give much thought to what that sign to the left of the school bus is indicating? That's the sign for State Bicycle Route 517.
End of rant.
Despite the safety concerns and a stiff headwind in the first couple of hours, I covered the 65 miles to Buffalo safely and arrived on schedule. I pulled up in front of the Freudenheim-Frisch house at about 3:15 p.m.
Tom arrived a few hours later. He'd taken Amtrak from New York City, where he lives, and brought his bike with him.
That evening, Jo and Mike fixed a meal that reminded me of the dinners we enjoy in Maine, where we vacation together. It was a beautiful night, so we ate at the picnic table in their backyard. Mike grilled chicken, steak and tofu; and Jo fixed a lentil salad, a tossed salad, and for dessert, an apple-strawberry crisp. I think I had seconds (or thirds) on just about everything, it was so good. (Do you think I got enough protein?)
Dinner in Buffalo with, from left, Naomi, Mimi, Mike, Tom and Jo.
Time passed too fast. We had to call it a night so Tom and I could get to bed and be ready for tomorrow — a 45-mile ride on the Erie Canalway Trail.
We'll have plenty of energy after a fun (and very filling) visit with family.
Contact me: Thoughts or comments? Email me at richardridesusa@gmail.com.
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