6 Ideas for Safe Streets From Winnipeg’s Parking Spot Removal Plan
Recently, street parking has been in the news in Winnipeg. Specifically, the city’s plans to remove 33 parking spaces along a 14-block section of Burrows Avenue, a four-lane major collector street with a grassy median running along the center. It’s a primarily residential area, with a sprinkling of schools and churches. Citing a huge number of right-angle (T-bone) collisions at intersections along Burrows, the city proposed the elimination of parking spaces within 15 meters (about 50 feet) of various intersections to improve sight lines.
On reading this, my first reaction was, “Great!” But as I dug into the staff report, thought a little more deeply about the proposal, and listened to citizens express their concerns and opposition (many blocks don’t have back lanes and front driveways aren’t common, so parking really is important) I realized that there was a lot more going on than just parking.
You Never Know When You Might Make a Difference.
In this case, someone took the time to contact the city via a 311 report, expressing concern over the frequency of collisions at a particular intersection, and requesting a four-way stop be implemented. But no one would have guessed what happened next.
In considering the request, the city “identified a pattern of similar collisions at numerous intersections with Burrows Avenue”:
Between 2016 and 2020, there were 180 collisions in unsignalized intersections on Burrows.
More than 60% of them were right-angle collisions.
Of those right-angle collisions, around two-thirds were severe and resulted in injury.
Based on this data, city staff proposed a set of parking restrictions to improve sight lines at more than a dozen intersections.
So, this person who took the time to write in with their concerns wound up drawing the city’s attention to a problem that went way beyond a single intersection. This reminds me of a recent Strong Towns article on how the next smallest steps don’t need to be revolutionary to be effective.
Collision Data Is Years Old. It’s No Wonder No One Flags Trouble Areas.
This next takeaway wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it’s still quite stark to have proof of it.
Although data on collision incidents is being collected (by local police and the provincial auto insurer), they’re certainly not being analyzed in anything close to real-time, by anyone.
In this instance, a relatively small stretch (14 blocks) had a serious and chronic problem with right-angle collisions, yet it didn't seem to be on the city’s radar until an everyday person took the time to share their concerns.
The absence of real-time collision reporting makes it just about impossible for everyday people to “prove” there is a problem. It's also a big challenge for city staffers, who routinely work with data that is years old. In creating this plan for Burrows, city staff obtained collision data from 2016 to 2020, which is already more than three years out of date.
We Are Missing Opportunities.
The city proposed removing 33 parking spaces along a 14-block stretch simply by putting up "no parking" signs, at a cost of $3,800. A relatively cheap intervention, sure, but it got me thinking about the difference between “daylighting” and “clear-zoning.”
Daylighting is a tactic of removing visual obstructions in approaching intersections so users can see better and cross each other’s paths more safely.
That’s close to, but not exactly, what is being proposed here. Daylighting is about opening up an area, yes, but it's also about adding complexity. Removing a “wall of cars” seems like it should solve the sight-line problem, but it’s closer to creating the forgiving design of clear zones — obstacle-free, wide-open spaces that make people feel comfortable driving faster. And as we know, high speeds in complex environments lead to more collisions, not less.
On top of that, simply creating no-parking zones effectively “deadzones” a lot of public space that could be used more productively, and this seems like a missed opportunity to make the street better for all users.
The City of Orlando’s daylighting guide gives a lot of ideas on using physical elements like flex posts or planters to create curb extensions that make the intersection safer to cross on foot. Building bioswales and bike parking are other ways to add value to the street while making better use of public space.
In the face of quite a lot of resident opposition, simply posting “no parking” signs and calling it a day seems like a recipe for resentment and noncompliance.
There’s “Still No Problem” With Speed.
The staff report notes that “there is a perception that the collision problem is due to speeding on Burrows Avenue, not on-street parking. There were requests for speed enforcement and speed limit signage.” In turn, staff did a speed study and found that, actually, most people were traveling at 51 kph or less (the posted max is 50 kph) and the mean speed was 45 kph.
Findings like this (“Nope! No one’s speeding — we measured!”) drive me crazy because they represent a fundamental mismatch between engineer-speak and regular-people-speak. When everyday folks say there’s a speeding problem in their neighborhood, they usually don’t know if people are “speeding” in the technical sense that they’re exceeding the posted limit, or even driving too fast for the conditions. Most of us don’t stand around with speed guns, taking meticulous measurements about how fast cars are traveling. But we do have an innate sense of what is “too fast” for vehicles driving in our neighborhoods.
But when engineers hear, “There’s a speeding problem,” they hear “There’s a problem with people exceeding the posted limit,” and set out to see whether that’s true.
Often, as was the case here, there isn’t a problem with people driving over the posted limit. That doesn’t mean there’s no problem with speed.
People Walking and Biking Are Barely an Afterthought.
To be very clear, I applaud my city’s decision-makers for taking action to address a dangerous street. The area councillor is quoted as saying, “Something needs to be done, it’s dangerous.” The staff engineer remarked, “While residents have expressed concerns with the parking restrictions, the safety risk is simply too high to ignore.”
But when I heard about the number of crashes happening at these intersections on such a regular basis, my first thought was how scary it must be to cross that street on foot or bike. Interestingly, there was no meaningful discussion of safety for people outside vehicles in the entire report. (The fact that the planned parking restrictions weren’t described as “daylighting” was a clue that these safety improvements were primarily designed for vehicles.)
In effect, the proposal had a goal of making a complex environment simpler, not making a complex environment safer. These aren’t the same thing, and that distinction is critical when it comes to mixing cars, people, bikes, etc.
Thankfully, one of the other councillors did notice that pedestrian collision data appeared to be missing and asked for it to be gathered and reported on.
It’s Easy To Ignore Local Knowledge.
As I watched residents present to the committee about these parking restrictions, I was struck by how attuned they were to the various factors affecting traffic patterns in their neighborhood.
Specifically, they held a strong conviction that the biggest factor in these collisions was not the “wall of cars” effect, but piles of snow blocking sight lines. This was at least partially backed up by the stats, which found that collisions peaked during winter months.
And yet, staff deemed it prudent to go straight to parking restrictions, something that on paper sounded like it would be minimally disruptive (a reduction of just 5% of parking spaces) but that, in real life, compelled over 200 residents to sign a petition opposed to the changes.
A Good Outcome?
To my surprise, by the end of the meeting, a compromise had been reached, and in a rather amicable and collaborative way. The ward councillor suggested that the city first improve snow clearing to see if that helped before removing parking, reasoning that doing both at once may not be necessary and could make it hard to discern which intervention was successful.
The public service agreed that a more incremental, experimental approach would make sense. They’d report back in another year to see whether improved snow storage had a positive impact on collisions. They’d also do some video monitoring on certain intersections to get a better sense of what’s happening in real life, as well as trying to get updated statistics, including those specifically for pedestrian collisions.
It seemed like a completely reasonable proposal to me, and one that residents were surely relieved to hear. Still, I wouldn’t call it an unmitigated success. And that’s because of the nagging questions it’s left me with.
How many other stretches of street in our city are collision hotspots that haven’t yet been “discovered”? Is there any plan to proactively analyze and monitor collision data, so that we don’t get to the point of predictably having dozens of crashes every year along the same street?
And isn’t there a better decision-making model we could use? One that takes up less precious time and causes less frustration? This issue required staff resources to research the report, develop recommendations and appear at the committee meeting to discuss it. It took the city councillor’s time to field concerns from constituents and develop his own response. Most significantly, in my books, it took a lot of residents’ time to educate themselves on the process, organize amongst themselves and take time off work to appear in delegation. And that’s to say nothing of the stress and cynicism that this needlessly adversarial system produces.
And yet, in the end, a mutually satisfying response was crafted by simply getting together and having a half-hour conversation.
How do you think cities across North America can apply the lessons from Burrows Avenue? How would you foster a culture of small, iterative bets, continuous experimentation, and collaboration in your city? Let us know in the comments!
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Emma Durand-Wood likes walkable cities, front porches, street trees, bumping into neighbors, riding her bike, downtowns, and any excuse to check out a new coffee shop, bakery, or shop. A Winnipegger by choice, she lives in Elmwood with her husband and three children. You can connect with her on Twitter @emmaewood.