Bikes and cars are often portrayed as opposing sides in a growing culture war — but the real story of how people choose to move through their cities is far more ordinary.
If you follow the daily churn of headlines, opinion columns, and comment-section skirmishes, you might walk away convinced that cities across the Western world are caught in a bitter cultural war: drivers versus cyclists, motorists versus transit lovers, SUVs versus e-bikes. Every new bike lane draws outrage; every traffic jam becomes evidence that cars are ruining civilization; every collision sparks sweeping declarations about who is “at fault” in a larger social struggle.
But like many media-manufactured culture wars, this one is more noise than reality. When you talk to real people—those who live, commute, and navigate their cities every day—a much simpler truth emerges: most people are not ideologues. They aren’t warriors for a particular transportation tribe. They just need to get around.
The framing of a dramatic battle between car users and bike users is tempting because it fits into a narrative arc the media loves: conflict, villains, good guys, heroic underdogs. It’s far easier to sell a story about a brewing civil war on our streets than it is to calmly examine zoning, infrastructure budgets, land-use patterns, or decades of planning decisions that made driving the default mode for most North Americans.
But once the noise is stripped away, the “war” turns out to involve a very small number of people—mainly activists, influencers, and online voices. The vast majority of residents do not identify strongly as “car people,” “bike people,” or “transit people.” Their transportation choices are practical, not ideological. They are shaped by what options are available, how far they need to go, how much time they have, what the weather is doing, and what each mode costs.
The Myth of the Transportation Tribe
One of the least accurate assumptions in the current discourse is the idea that people have fixed transportation identities. The reality is that most people mix and match based on convenience. Someone who cycles to work might drive to visit family in the suburbs. A die-hard transit rider might bike on weekends. A parent who primarily drives may take the train downtown because parking is too expensive. Humans are flexible. Very few individuals live their lives as exclusive, loyal participants in one mobility mode.
This is why the notion of fanatic “car people” versus fanatic “bike people” falls apart under scrutiny. The politics start to look ridiculous when you realize that someone screaming online about cyclists might also ride a bike themselves on vacation, and that the cyclist lecturing drivers on Twitter might borrow their parents’ car on the weekend. The rigid categories simply do not map onto real life.
The Real Competition Isn’t Between Bikes and Cars
Interestingly, the real tension—especially in European cities—isn’t between bikes and cars at all, but between bikes and transit systems. Decades of urban design in Europe have led to a curious pattern: cities tend to be either bike cities or transit cities, but rarely both.
Copenhagen and Amsterdam represent the archetype of a cycling city: wide bike lanes, continuous networks, low-speed streets, and a culture where riding a bike is as normal as brushing your teeth. These cities have transit too, of course, but buses and trains play a secondary role for many residents. The bicycle dominates short-to-medium travel.
By contrast, cities like Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and Stockholm lean heavily on transit. Their subways, trams, suburban rails, and buses are fast, frequent, and integrated. Bikes exist, but they are usually supplemental rather than primary. When the transit network is high-quality, extensive, safe, and affordable, most people choose it—often even if bike lanes exist.
This pattern reveals something important: when transit is strong, it wins. Transit is easier for longer distances. It’s safer in bad weather. It allows you to read, rest, or work en route. It scales better for dense cities. Most people naturally gravitate toward transit when the system is good, and bike usage often softens as a result.
Why People Bike When Transit Is Available
That said, there are people who choose bikes even when excellent transit exists. Put them in Berlin or Vienna or Munich and they will still ride. Ask them why, and a consistent answer emerges: cost.
Bikes are cheap once you’ve purchased one. Transit, even when subsidized, costs money every time you use it. A monthly pass might be €50, €80, or even €120 depending on the city. For someone trying to save money, a bike becomes the go-to option—even if transit might be faster or more comfortable.
But cost isn’t the only factor. Geography plays an enormous role. In smaller towns and non-metropolitan areas—whether in Europe, Canada, or anywhere else—distances are often short enough that biking becomes the most logical option. If you can ride from one end of town to the other in 10 or 15 minutes, the appeal of a bike skyrockets. You don’t need to wait for a bus or rely on a train schedule; you simply get on your bike and go. Small towns also tend to have calmer streets, lighter traffic, and more direct routes, making biking not just affordable but genuinely convenient.
This is crucial because it further undermines the idea that cyclists form some ideological group. Many are simply reacting to the place they live in. In compact towns, biking is faster and simpler. In big cities with great transit, biking may save money. These choices are practical, not philosophical.
Media Outrage Does Not Reflect Reality
So why does the narrative of a bike-car war persist? Partly because anger draws clicks, and partly because it fits a familiar political template. But it also persists because transportation touches daily life so intimately that even modest changes can produce strong reactions.
Install a bike lane, and some drivers will feel something has been “taken away.” Add a bus lane, and a few cyclists will complain that road space is shrinking. Remove on-street parking and nearby shop owners worry about customers. Every change will generate a small but vocal backlash, and those voices tend to be the loudest.
But those loud voices represent only a fraction of the population. When cities survey their residents, they usually find widespread support for safer streets, more transport options, and better mobility overall. People want choice. They want smoother commutes. They want less stress, less traffic, fewer collisions, and healthier environments. These desires are not controversial. But the moment the conversation becomes framed as a battle, nuance disappears.
The Real Issue: A System Built for Car Dependency
The real conflict isn’t between users of different modes—it’s between people and the environments they’ve been forced to navigate. In many North American cities, decades of design choices created a system where driving is the only feasible option for most trips. Not because people love driving so much, but because everything else was made so inconvenient or unsafe that the car became inevitable.
The frustration we hear from drivers isn’t ideological; it’s the frustration of being stuck with no alternatives. The frustration from cyclists isn’t moral superiority; it’s the frustration of surviving in environments designed without them in mind. Transit riders aren’t partisan warriors; they are people waiting for buses that don’t come frequently enough.
Everyone is reacting to scarcity. Scarcity of safe bike lanes. Scarcity of good transit. Scarcity of walkable neighborhoods. Scarcity of options.
A Healthier Framing: Mobility, Not Modes
If we step back and view the issue through a broader, more practical lens, the supposed war dissolves entirely. People don’t want one mode to dominate; they want a system where each mode makes sense for the trips it’s good at.
Cars are useful for hauling kids and groceries or for reaching rural areas. Bikes are ideal for short trips in dense neighborhoods. Transit is the backbone of large cities where road space is limited. Walking is fundamental and underappreciated. These aren’t competing ideologies—they’re complementary tools.
A city that works well is one that allows people to switch between modes easily, depending on need. That’s not a war; that’s flexibility.
Conclusion: The Battle Exists Mainly on Screens
The clash between cyclists and drivers is mostly a media spectacle, not a lived experience. The number of people who fit the stereotype of the “fanatic cyclist” or the “fanatic driver” is tiny. Most residents are simply trying to get from point A to point B with the least frustration, the lowest cost, and the fewest obstacles.
When we stop treating transportation as a tribal identity and start treating it as a practical, everyday human need, the conversation shifts. Instead of fighting about which mode is morally superior, we can focus on building cities that give everyone better choices.
Because in the end, there is no war. There are just people trying to move.