Critical Mass (CM) got a whole lot of attention in Vancouver this past summer. A press release from the Vancouver Police Department expressing concern about the ride, which was then sensationalized by the media, set off a public outcry against the mass. After the brouhaha ended, the ride emerged intact, and even a little safer, with everyone knowing they were being watched.

This was hardly the first controversy surrounding CM in Vancouver. Steve Kisby, a long-time participant and promoter, laughs a bit when he talks about all the attention it got.

“Critical Mass has always been controversial, even when it was 30 people. I can remember these same arguments being used when we were 30 people: ‘Oh you’re creating a bad image for cyclists; oh you’re setting us back; oh you’re inconveniencing drivers.’”

CM didn’t go from 30 riders to 3,000 without having something going for it, Kisby explained.

“If there was no point to Critical Mass, people wouldn’t come out, and it’s been steadily growing since, so obviously people feel that there is value and a need to express themselves in a city where cyclists, at least as this summer has shown, don’t have the respect of drivers.”

Kisby and other promoters have worked hard to make sure the ride isn’t thought of as a place to protest that apparent lack of respect. CM should be a celebration, said Kisby.

There is famously no one in charge of Critical Mass, just as there is no set route. But Kisby and others have tried to get their message across by handing out flyers that explain the ride, bringing a loudspeaker to talk safety before the ride and encouraging themes and costumes that keep the ride in a celebratory mood.

Still, many of the people that show up at the ride don’t know what it’s about or how it works, according to Michael Schmitt, a social psychologist at SFU in the midst of studying the CM phenomenon in Vancouver.

Schmitt said that since April, he and his team have talked to many people who have almost no knowledge of the ride or how it works. Many of these people are first-timers, but others have participated in several rides and still don’t understand some of the basic aspects of the ride, such as what “corking” is (when riders block traffic at intersections to keep the ride together) or that the ride is not centrally organized.

Schmitt said there’s at least one thing everyone seems to understand – “a lot of people are going to cycle together and take up a lot of asphalt.”

And that’s the appeal, a safe ride to be enjoyed with lots of other cyclists, celebrating bicycles.

Arno Schortinghuis, president of the Vancouver Area Cycling Coalition, said the VACC doesn’t yet have an official policy on CM, but he can personally understand the motivation.

“What you want is safe facilities and I think that’s one reason why Critical Mass is so successful, because we don’t have the facilities.”

He and others at the VACC are working to bring a more official ride to Vancouver, where streets would actually be closed to cars. But, he added, road closures are expensive.

Until there are city-sanctioned rides and better facilities, people like Kisby will be working hard to promote the idea of Critical Mass as a celebration and promotion of cycling.

He recalls the first “1,000 wheel ride,” back when trying to get 500 cyclists out seemed ambitious: “Those rides we definitely promoted as a festival ride. I can remember some of the main intersections, riding around and turning and seeing people Hula-Hooping while corking. I mean, how can cars start honking at Hula-Hoopers? It totally took the pressure off. That just totally dispelled the notion that we’re a bunch of militant cyclists ready to pick a fight; we’re not.”