Holding the Line Against Family Fun

As a committed foot soldier in the urban cycling movement, I take pride in the few battle scars I've picked up over the years. The one I got this weekend was no exception.

On Saturday morning, I went from our flat on Margit körút over to District VIII to pick up a bike for my 6-year-old boy, Lance. I was joined on the excursion by Lance, and also by his 11-month-old sister, Sequoia.

We met up with the seller of the bike, Lance did a test ride, and we decided to take it. Lance had been given a cool dirt bike just a week earlier, but it's on the large side. This other bike seemed just the right size to tide Lance over until he's big enough for the dirt bike.

So we took the bike and started for home. Lance rode it while I walked briskly behind. This was fine for the few blocks back to the körút, but not for the full 4-5 kilometres back to the flat. Not with the heavy traffic and not with me having Sequoia on my back.

So we boarded the 4-6 tram near the Corvin cinema and were on our way. I'm aware that bicycles aren't allowed on the tram, but I thought in this instance I'd be OK. Afterall, it was a little child's bike, no bigger than a pram or shopping trolley, which are perfectly legal. And there was the fact that I had two kids in tow, which usually makes you seem more sympathetic.

Famous last words. Before we got to the next stop, a pair of inspectors stepped up and motioned to the bike: "A kerékpárt nem szabad szállítani." (It's against the rules to bring bikes on board.)

So we were busted. Fined HUF 6,000 (about EUR 23) and made to get off the tram at Oktogon and walk the rest of the way home -- about two kilometres. After I'd paid, the inspector who'd been doing most of the talking shrugged and said to me in English, "I'm sorry. That's the rule in Hungary."

I can understand limiting bike access on crowded public transport lines at rush hour. But to go after little kids with little bikes on a Saturday morning when the tram's half empty? No wonder the inspector seemed ashamed of himself.

Today, I was on the tram, and a woman got on with a 4-or 5-year-old boy. Little helmet on his head and a bicycle in tow. They'd probably been riding on Margit Island, and were taking the safe way back home. And, of course, what was I thinking: Where are the police when you need them!??

Welcome Back, BKV

Strike's over. During the weekend, the management of Budapest's public transport company BKV agreed to give workers pretty much everything they'd asked for, which is to say, everything that was taken away in the renewed collective contract.

Management didn't have a chance in winning the fight. During the last year, one corruption scandal after another befouled the already dubious name of BKV management. Among the most recent cases, there were several lavish severance packages given to BKV officers with hardly any tenure and millions of forints worth of legal service contracts given to firms that did no work.

To read the news, BKV managers seemed like nothing but a bunch of crooks, so when they tried to patch up finances by eliminating employees' hot-meal tickets, you couldn't help but want to punch someone in the face. It's a shame that a few greedy managers have done so much to undermine the reputation of BKV. Public subsidies are necessary for public transport to function, so when the people's good will dries up, so does the service.

We cyclists may be less reliant than most on public transport but I, for one, like to have it in a pinch. I blogged earlier about how I'd hurt my knee over the holidays and haven't been able to bike. BKV was my stand-in for a few weeks, and then the strike hit. Last week, I joined hundreds of others for half-hour waits on HEV platforms and more than a couple claustrophobic rides on the 4-6 tram line.

In some circles, it's heresy to say this, but the bike alone is not enough for me to live car-free. Having a functioning public transport system has been key, and this past week I missed it.