A City Built for Cars

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One, two, three, four… I count the cars as they drive past me and the signs telling them to get off the road. Seeing cars break the law on my bike-safe route happens every day, but it’s usually only one or two. Today, it’s as if the signs don’t exist. They’re pretty obvious — big orange barricades blocking an entire lane, signs showing the hours vehicles are allowed to cross, and big red symbols telling drivers “don’t go straight!” I don’t drive, but I think if I did, I would see that and think “oh, I should probably get off this street and take a different one instead.”

It’s July 23, 2024, and I’m biking home from my job as a cook at Assiniboine Park Zoo. I’m sweaty, tired, and eager to get in the shower and wash off the kitchen grease. It’s my second summer working here, so I’m used to the 7km ride to and from West Broadway. But lately, I’ve been feeling a lot more anxious on my daily commute.

I know I’m lucky because the entire ride is along bike routes. But the cars driving where they shouldn’t, off-leash dogs that could run out in front of me at any moment, and the left turn I have to make at the Wellington Crescent and Academy Road intersection challenge my sense of safety. What makes me most anxious, though, is the fact Rob Jenner was killed on this very street just over a month ago.

The Winnipeg cycling community was shocked by the news that 61-year-old Jenner was killed in a hit and run while biking to work on June 6, 2024. The push for safe bike infrastructure in the city has been growing over the years, but Jenner’s death was further proof something needed to be done.

The day after Jenner’s death, over 100 people blocked the Wellington Crescent and Cockburn Street intersection. A few weeks later, community members dressed in red, Jenner’s favourite colour, came together to carry a white “ghost bike” through the streets of Winnipeg. The sea of red cyclists rode together from Jenner’s workplace at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights to the spot he was killed. The ghost bike was placed as a memorial at the intersection.

Once I exit the zoo gates after my shift, I hop on my bike and my chest fills with a twinge of dread. I throw my helmet on, put my AirPods in, take a deep breath, and go. Sometimes my music drowns out the thoughts running through my head as I’m biking. Other times it’s as if there’s no music at all.

The park is busy today. People are out walking their dogs, jogging, and cycling, enjoying the mild mid-July weather. But what’s most notably filling the roads leading out of the park is the cars. As I exit the park, I have to decide if I want to take the multi-use path filled with distracted people, kids, and dogs, or ride down the road full of cars. I choose the road. I’d rather be hit by a car than be the one to hit someone’s pet or child with my bike.

I trudge along uphill and over speedbumps as cars ride behind me, waiting for a chance to go around, often passing me a little too close for comfort. I see the first barricade at the top of the hill and pedal with all my might, legs burning and heart pumping, to get there as fast as I can. I reach the barricade, but I have to slow down and wait for the cars trying to get around it. I finally get around safely and fly down the hill as a wave of relief floods over me. I’m out of traffic. That sense of relief is short-lived as I realize there are still a lot more cars than I’m used to here.

Biking has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. At the age of five, my dad taught me to ride a bike by pushing me down the sidewalk while I screamed in a mixture of fear and excitement.

At 12, my mom entered me in mountain bike races. I HATED them. My mom was eager to get me into some kind of sport, and since I did a good job at keeping up with my dad when we went on family mountain bike rides, she figured races were something I could do. The only problem was I had no actual training. I was the youngest one there, the adult racers were constantly trying to get around me, and the racing trails were nothing like the ones I was used to. I rode down giant boulder-covered hills, over wet slippery rocks, and turned tightly around bends to avoid hitting trees or falling off the side of a cliff. These races were the first time I felt small and incapable on a bike.

Most of my childhood experiences on a bike were a lot less intense. I remember one time when my family packed our bikes onto the back of our minivan to take them from Transcona to Assiniboine Park to ride down Wellington Crescent.

For many years, a section of Wellington Crescent was closed to all motor vehicles to allow cyclists to take over the street on Sundays and holidays for the summer. In 2021, amidst pandemic restrictions, the city started the Enhanced Summer Bike Route Program, also known as open streets, which restricted motor vehicle travel to one block on multiple city streets — including Wellington Crescent. This caused an uproar amongst Winnipeggers. Many neighbourhood residents couldn’t grasp the fact they weren’t allowed to drive down this beloved Winnipeg street.

I remember seeing one letter in particular circulating online that Gail Asper submitted to city council. She wrote about how Wellington Crescent is one of the most beautiful streets in the city, and she chooses to drive down it to experience the sights of the old trees, cherry blossoms, and gardens that have been there since her childhood. “It is a really important mental health break for me and I’m sure for many others,” she says. “Why should Wellington Crescent be closed down when the street is at its most beautiful! Why should motorists only get the benefit of [Wellington Crescent] in its most bleak state with no lush gardens and flower filled trees or blazing colours of the fall! That is a truly horrendous thought! I ADORE my drives in the fall! Why should motorists be relegated to the less scenic months of the year???”

Wellington Crescent is one of the most well-known streets in Winnipeg. It’s home to many historical houses that date back to the beginning of the 20^th century. Many prominent people and families lived on the street, including the Asper family, who at one point owned 1021 Wellington Crescent — one of the most notable mansions. It was built in 1933 and burnt down in 2014.

At the time I saw the letter, I hadn’t ridden a bike in multiple years and didn’t know much about city biking. But when I read it on X (then Twitter), I saw the complete disregard for cyclists and pedestrians. If you have to see the fall leaves on this one specific street for your mental health, get out of your car and walk, Gail! And if you can’t walk or bike, there are many other gorgeous, drivable areas nearby — why can’t cyclists have one nice thing?

Gail’s thoughts about the street are not unique — there are many River Heights residents who share similar views, as evidenced in the Letters to the Editor section for the Winnipeg Free Press on June 19, 2021, after the open streets, including Wellington Crescent, were announced.

I approach the railway crossing where the first barricade with the “no straight through” sign is and see a car go right past it. I roll my eyes and continue along. The railway is at the top of a small hill, and the road goes down to one lane. The barricade is placed right before the lane ends, leaving barely enough room for a car to squeeze past. I make my way up the hill and past the barricade. There’s a car behind me. I stay in the middle of the lane. There’s no way I’m moving over to let you around me, car. It’s one lane, and you are not supposed to drive here. I’m going to stay in the middle of this lane so you get the hint. But as soon as the street opens up into two lanes, I lose my bravery and move over to let this car go around me. I’m aware they could get angry, and I don’t feel like dealing with that today.

From the time I got my learner’s licence at age 15, I was content with walking or taking the bus to get around. Driving was scary, I didn’t want to disturb my parents by asking them to take me driving, and bussing worked for me. A few years later, I moved to an apartment in West Broadway, a central neighbourhood with access to bus routes, so getting around was relatively easy.

But when I got my job at the zoo in 2023, I realized it would be faster (and cheaper) if I biked there every day. So, I asked my parents if I could take one of the many bikes they had sitting in their garage. They gave me my old one from my mountain bike racing days. The bike was worn out from my slamming it into trees, getting flipped over, and spending hours strapped to the back of the family vehicle. Plus, it was a little too small for me. But my 11-year-old mountain bike was the best option I had as a 23-year-old paying rent, working a low-paying job, and about to start college.

Biking has been my main mode of transportation since then. I rode that beat-up old bike to and from work every day, and I used it to get to school until the snow came. While I support anyone who bikes in the winter, the snow, ice, wind, and darkness keeps me from attempting to do so.

But winter doesn’t stop Patty Wiens, also known as the Bicycle Mayor of Winnipeg, who is a major advocate for winter biking, female cyclists, and safe bike infrastructure.

Patty began biking because she didn’t want to pay $200+ every month to park downtown. She says bussing was an option, but it took her an hour of waiting in the cold and riding the bus to get to work. “If I’m going to wait outside freezing, I’m going to ride my bike and freeze instead,” said Patty. That’s when she decided to go online and search for other winter cyclists to get advice on how she could do it. Turns out, there’s a whole Discord server dedicated to winter cycling in Winnipeg. Members offer each other tips and tricks for staying warm, equipping their bikes, and picking which routes to take. “There’s this whole other world I didn’t know existed, this community that loves helping each other,” said Patty.

Patty’s commitment to biking and the cycling community is something I’ve long admired. I first met Patty in the summer of 2021 at a local roller-skating meetup. It was clear she loved being part of these communities, and her commitment and joy led me to follow her on Instagram. I saw her go from having a fun hobby of roller-skating to living a full-on biking lifestyle. Now, neither of us talk about roller-skating as much, but we found a connection to biking and sometimes even see each other at bike meet-ups.

While I do think the biking community’s stance against cars can be a bit intense, I admire people like Patty fighting for something we should all agree is important — the safety of cyclists.

There’s no denying we live in a city designed for cars. One reason cycling through our city is difficult is that every neighbourhood is so separated from the next, making it next to impossible to do anything more than a leisurely bike ride around your own neighbourhood safely. Yes, there are a lot of bike lanes and multi-use paths, but anyone who’s been on them knows they don’t connect to each other very well, and intersections are like entering a war zone. But you get used to it. You find a route that works for you, learn how the streets work, and it’s okay. Living in a central neighbourhood, I’m able to find these connections fairly easily. But as you get closer to the edge of the city, the more difficult it becomes. If I still lived with my parents in Transcona, there’s no way I’d be biking to get around — the connections don’t exist.

Now I’m thoroughly pissed off about all the cars on Wellington Crescent. As I continue pedaling, more eager than ever to get home, I notice another car coming up behind me. I pull out my phone and record the car as it drives past me and the barricade. I post the video on my Instagram story with a caption about how I don’t understand why all these cars are ignoring the rules. Feeling calmer after sharing my frustrations, I continue my way home.

After nine years of procrastination, I finally took my driving test in August 2024. With my new licence, I realized something I didn’t expect — I love driving. I was expecting to only drive when necessary, like moving to my new apartment in September and going on trips outside the city. But I quickly discovered I can get around so much easier in a car, and driving isn’t as scary as I thought. I feel more in control and less small and breakable when I’m in a car. But I don’t want to feel this way. I want to have that same feeling of independence and freedom Patty describes when she’s on a bike. I want to save money on gas, parking, and insurance. I want to do my part in helping the environment. I want to be a cyclist.

I can’t stop looking at cars, trying to decide which one I should get. I keep counting down the days until I graduate and find a well-paying job so I can afford a car. When I think about why I want a car so badly, I realize it’s because I live in a place designed for me to want one.

A 2022 Ipsos study found only four per cent of Canadians use a bike as their primary mode of transportation for a 2km distance — the lowest out of the 28 countries surveyed. And what’s the main mode of transportation Canadian’s use for a short 2km journey? Cars — ranked second highest in the world at 43 per cent, after the United States.

Approaching the Wellington Crescent and Academy Road intersection has me feeling more nervous than usual today. This is the worst part. If I’m going to get hit by a car, it’s going to be here, making my wide left turn onto the Maryland Bridge. The light turns green. My brain feels like it stops working as I flail my feet around, struggling to find the pedals. I finally find them, and eagerly try to build momentum, knowing there’s a car waiting behind me. I feel bad for this car having to wait behind me as I silently panic. I finally make the turn and cross over the bridge. I’m in my neighbourhood now. I’m basically home. I’ve done it.

Six days later, I look at my phone and see a teenage girl was hit by a car on that very intersection. She was biking across the street with her father. They had the right of way and were paying attention. Even though she did everything right, she was hit. An article from CBC reported that the driver of the vehicle had a seizure and that’s why he didn’t stop. It wasn’t the man’s fault he had a seizure and hit the child. She could have avoided being hit if there was safe bike infrastructure in place.

While the girl was okay, the bike community was outraged. It was the second time that year someone on a bike had been hit by a car on Wellington Crescent. The article says this intersection is a problem the community has been talking about for years. The next day, community members gathered at the intersection during rush hour to block traffic, holding up signs saying “Whose child is next?” They weren’t rallying against the driver, or even cars in general — they were advocating for safe bike infrastructure.

Now that I’m home from work, I check my phone. I see people have replied to my story. Oh, it was probably just people who live on that street trying to get home, they said. No. It wasn’t. The people who live on Wellington Crescent know the rules. It’s been like that for a few years now. People don’t need to go through the barricades to get home. They’re set up every four blocks, and there’s plenty of room for residents to get to their driveways. It’s not the people trying to get home I care about; it’s people blatantly ignoring the signs and putting cyclists in danger that gets me. I just want to understand why.

Me and my roommates, Carlie and Evan, at a clown-themed Bike Jelly. Photo taken by Zoe Vander Aa, July 9, 2024.

I started going to Bike Jellys over the summer of 2024. A Bike Jelly is a bi-weekly event where a large group of cyclists dress up in themed outfits to ride around the city together. Group rides are a way for cyclists to show we exist and to take control of the streets for a few hours. My roommate convinced me to join, and I agreed because I love wearing themed outfits. But the sense of community and empowerment I feel during these rides kept me coming back. They remind me why cycling is so important to me and the people of our city.

Riding a bike has always been a part of my life and always will be. Will it remain my main mode of transportation? Probably not. But for many people, it is an affordable and healthy way to get around. And that should be something people not only tolerate, but appreciate. I hope the future of our city brings more options for cyclists to get around safely. And maybe one day, I can ride down Wellington Crescent — or another similar road — and feel safe and content.