This is Why Cycling is Dangerous in America (Vehicular Cycling)

Cycling in America became “dangerous” not because bicycles suddenly changed, but because decades of car-first planning left cities unprepared for a rapid cycling boom—and a powerful ideology then pushed policy in the wrong direction. In the early 1970s, bicycle sales surged and, for a brief window, cities had to decide whether to build protected infrastructure or rely on rules and training meant for cyclists already comfortable mixing with fast traffic. Some places moved toward protection: Davis, California installed the first protected bicycle lane in the United States in 1967, and UCLA traffic engineers later published “Bikeway Planning Criteria and Guidelines” (1972) drawing on Dutch research, including designs for protected intersections that remain rare in the U.S.

That shift ran into organized resistance from cyclists who believed dedicated infrastructure would marginalize “real” road riding. John Forester—an industrial engineer and prominent cycling educator—responded with fierce opposition to the UCLA standards and later helped popularize “vehicular cycling,” a philosophy summarized by the idea that cyclists fare best when they act and are treated as drivers. Forester’s approach emphasized riding in the roadway, obeying the same laws as cars, and using tactics like “taking the lane” to stay visible and prevent unsafe passing. In the short term, this had appeal because much of the early American “bike infrastructure” was indeed poor—painted gutters, debris-filled side paths, and door-zone lanes next to parked cars.

But the core policy problem, according to the account here, was Forester’s refusal to treat infrastructure as part of the safety solution. Instead of improving designs, he argued cyclists should never rely on bike lanes even when they exist, and he fought proposals that would have reduced conflicts at intersections. A concrete example came from Palo Alto, California: rather than building protected lanes, the city pushed cyclists onto sidewalks and made road riding illegal. Forester challenged the policy in court and then tested it in practice, riding at full speed on the sidewalk—only to nearly be hit while turning. The ordinance was later reversed, but the episode illustrates how “safety” rules can become a way to clear space for cars.

The transcript then pivots from history to a sustained critique of Forester’s evidence and influence. It argues that his books and training materials leaned heavily on selective interpretation of older studies, often downplaying or mischaracterizing findings that favored protected facilities. It also claims Forester’s statistics were used to justify the idea that bike lanes prevent only a tiny fraction of crashes—while ignoring the most dangerous collision types, especially overtaking and intersection conflicts like right hooks. The account contrasts this with Dutch and Scandinavian practice, where protected intersections, curb-protected cycle tracks, and traffic-signal detection loops are designed to reduce speed and improve visibility at turning points.

Finally, the transcript frames Forester’s legacy as a long-term drag on cycling adoption across English-speaking countries, estimating a setback of decades. The argument concludes that vehicular cycling can be a last-resort tactic on unsafe roads, but it cannot replace infrastructure designed for ordinary riders. With modern design manuals and proven Dutch-style templates, cities can build safer networks—and the payoff is not just fewer injuries, but more people cycling, which further normalizes the activity and improves driver behavior.