St. Valentine Takes Up Residence on 11th Street
I hadn't visited the two-way bicycle lane on 11th Street since the pandemic started, but a few days ago I decided to anticipate spring and take something of a random walk, guided mainly by a desire to avoid the ruts I have put into certain sidewalks in Center City Philadelphia.
One thing led to another, and I found myself in South Philly, on 11th Street at Catharine, staring at the empty space you see above. This area, marked with white stripes and a few flex posts, is helping to daylight the intersection - that is, allow enough open space so that everyone entering the intersection can see everyone else who may be doing the same thing. Note the car stopped demurely at the stop bar, set well back from the intersection. This also helps with visibility.
The idea that everyone entering an intersection should be able to see all the potential conflicts at the intersection - cars, pedestrians, bicyclists, stray dogs, errant hamsters - seems like a no-brainer. But for years it was trumped by the heavy demand for on-street parking spots.
And so people parked right up to the crosswalk. And then the next person along would park in the crosswalk.
When the stripes first went in, quite a few people were outraged, and some displayed their anger by parking on the stripes. Here's a shot from 2019. It's from a different location along 11th Street - frankly I'm not quite sure where. But it doesn't matter. The last time I was on 11th Street, before the pandemic, all the striped daylighting areas I looked at looked like this.
Fast forward to my random walk, and none of the spots I look at have cars in them.
I have no idea how this happened, but it makes me very happy. As I was taking the picture at the top of the story, the emptiness I was looking at was pulling me in a Zen direction. Maybe the pull was not as strong as a Japanese rock garden in Kyoto; but this is, I am sure, the first time I have ever associated the word Zen and the two words Philadelphia street.
Mother Courage, who spoke the words in the title of this story, had been at war so long (the Thirty Years' War did last thirty years) that she was outraged when peace broke out and disrupted her familiar world of chaotic violence.
Frankly, I don't have that problem.
I've also been chronicling outdoor dining in Philly, and I thought I'd show you the restaurant below, on 11th just south of Fitzwater.
I do think the dining modules, most of which are located in former parking spots, create a nice space for both diners and cyclists, and even the occasional pedestrian like me. The little sign is requesting that bicyclists watch out for pedestrians, or possibly just diners who are standing up. I think it's too small for a bicyclist to read, but it doesn't matter. The whole space is quietly saying slow down and enjoy your passage.
If you look carefully, you'll notice that the plastic igloos are actually standing on stripes. I assume this is why they're transparent, and not opaque like the structure further south.
Finally, here's another picture from the Before Days, showing the new bike lane in action.
Bertolt Brecht wrote the play Mother Courage in 1939. The Thirty Years' War lasted from 1618 to 1648. The full quotation, from Scene 8, is as follows: "Don't tell me peace has broken out just after I laid in new stock."
See also They Threw Rocks at Mayor Dilworth. Checking in With Outdoor Dining.
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