Appreciating an Underdog

by Betsy Harvey, MCRP '12


I for one am glad to not be taking Rutgers buses to and from class and work anymore. Last year, in the winter or the pouring rain, when I couldn’t muster the courage to bike, I boarded the bus from my stop on Douglass Campus. The digital displays saying when the next bus would arrive could be between 5 and 15 minutes from what the Rutgers website said, a real problem when class started in 20 minutes. People threw up on the bus on weekend nights. And I quickly learned that using the bus between 4:00 pm and 7:00 pm would mean that the ride would take twice as long. There were times when it would have been quicker for me to walk home. The supposed convenience factor was clearly lacking.

Buses get a bad rap. As the Rutgers bus system often proves, they get you where you want to go, but not necessarily when they say they will or when you need to be there, and certainly not in style. I avoid them if I can afford to. And yet they are vital to many people’s ability to get to work or to the store or to visit friends. For those who cannot afford a car - or who choose not to have one - buses provide essential mobility. As I wrote in an earlier post, mobility is vital to a health economy. It is well worth the investment.

So while I am pleased to be able to walk the ten minutes to school this year instead of taking a half-hour to wait for and ride the bus, I won’t underestimate the importance of affordable bus service. Without it, there would be a serious drain on our already ailing economy and set struggling families back further.

Transportation Fridays: Touring the Other Side of Town

by Betsy Harvey, MCRP '12

Earlier this week I biked out Route 27 towards North Brunswick. I’d never travelled down there before, and my bike map of Middlesex County indicated that it was a good road for biking, highlighting it in red. So I decided to go down 27 until I got to Cozzens Lane and take that to Jersey Avenue, which would then lead me back to New Brunswick.

                Let me say this straight away: Route 27 is not a pleasant road to bike on, even on the weekend. I’m baffled as to why the Middlesex County decided to put it on the bike map of the county. It became clear to me about a mile down that only someone as foolish and curious as me would tolerate four lanes of traffic whizzing by 50 mph without a shoulder. There is a narrow sidewalk but it ended quite suddenly (and just when I needed it most) after 2 miles or so. Cozzens Lane is a pleasant, winding road through residential neighborhoods parks. That is, until it suddenly hits Route 1, and you wonder where Jersey Avenue is and if you’ll have turn around to trek back down Route 27 in shame, while motorists stare at you as they hurry by. Checking my map, I saw I was just a few blocks from Jersey Avenue. I found it quickly and took the straight shot back to New Brunswick. Being much less busy and having only two lanes, the road was not a bad ride. But its depressed surroundings served to highlight an easily forgotten aspect of transportation: streets are not isolated entities; their quality and purpose are bound to the quality and purpose of the land that surrounds them.

I try not to disdain New Jersey’s poor quality roads, though they take some getting used to for one accustomed to small, rural New England towns. But I do struggle to excuse rundown roads – anywhere – not when they are so important to quality of life. It must have been every other building on Jersey Avenue that was shuttered up and for sale or rent. The roads are decrepit, the stores are empty, and now what do we do with them? As planners, how do we make the road pleasant for all users and how do we bring businesses into those boarded-up buildings? Those are not isolated questions; busy, diverse street life is important for a healthy neighborhood. Who lives there, what are their needs, and what are the best transportation solutions to accommodate them?

One last lesson I’m taking away from my bike ride is the importance of planners visiting neighborhoods and travelling their roads on bike and on foot. The car is too easy; problems seem to disappear. By walking or biking you see the small things: the decay of a crumbling sidewalk, the gravel and glass that chew up your bike tires, and the neat little garden that someone has planted on their front lawn. People care for their places, their homes, and as planners we must put forth the effort to understand the intricacies of neighborhoods. Only then can we properly provide their residents and visitors with what they need.