Ghost Bikes: A History of Grief and Activism

On a late spring morning taxis accelerated and commuters hurried down the street while she was making her way to work. The earth was tilted toward the sun, approaching its solstice beneath golden rays that take their time in leaving.

It was a Thursday. She took no time at all in leaving. It was a moment that forever changed our lives.

Her name was Elizabeth.

She was 28 years old.

Sara Padilla posted these words to her blog on June 8, 2015. Ten years after the death of her younger sister, Liz. 

On the morning of June 9, 2005, Liz Padilla, a pro-bono lawyer, was killed near the corner of 5th Avenue and Prospect Place during a routine bike commute through Park Slope. Padilla, who lived on Berkeley Place, attempted to pass a 10-wheel Edy’s Ice Cream truck, when the driver of a parked P.C. Richards truck carelessly opened his car door. Swerving to avoid the open door, Padilla hit the side of the moving ice cream truck, and fell beneath the vehicle.  Kevin Caplicki, a member of the art collective Visual Resistance was also biking down 5th Avenue that morning, when he happened upon Liz’s body. The following day the art collective built a “ghost bike” by stripping a discarded bicycle down to the skeletal metal frame and painting it white. They chained the bike to a corner post near the collision site and hung a wooden tomblike plaque that read: 

Liz Padilla

28 years Old

Killed By Truck

June 9, 2005

Rest in Peace

The ashy white bike installation was a shell, a haunting symbol of a senseless loss, but it was also poetic; it told the story of Liz Padilla’s life and the pain that lingered after her death. It became a powerful symbol on an anonymous residential intersection. It was also the first ghost bike to be installed in NYC. 

Ghost bikes first appeared in St. Louis in 2003 after bike mechanic, Patrick Van Der Tuin, witnessed an accident near his home. The original project, Broken Bikes, Broken Lives, marked the sites of bike-related fatalities and non-fatal injuries.  Van Der Tuin viewed the bikes as tributes to the victims, while also serving as powerful public signifiers of the dangerous conditions that cyclists are subjected to every day. They brought consciousness to car-culture, poorly designed streets, lack of bike lanes, and the overall vulnerability of riding unsheltered. Van Der Tuin sparked a national conversation through what some cyclists and city officials argued was a subversive act, in the same vain as guerilla street art. Van Der Tuin’s first created bike was removed within 24 hours of installation. 

The term “ghost bike” was coined in Pittsburg by a small group of cyclists and activists who picked up the momentum of installing white bikes in Pennsylvania. Following the death of Liz Padilla, the group registered ghostbikes.org, eventually bringing the movement to New York City. In 2007 the NYC Street Memorial Project was developed to include both cyclists and pedestrian deaths, while also cultivating community and compassion for survivors and families of the victims. The grassroots group, NYC Ghost Bike Project, established alongside the NYC Memorial Street Project, erect the bike monuments and organize memorial rides and walks to highlight prevalent safety issues. 

Although Patrick Van Der Tuin’s initial white bike was removed, his activism generated a global movement. In a 2015 Grist report, he states, “I don’t think anyone does something like this with the intention of it becoming a model that is repeated and taken around the world on such a grassroots level.” He notes that families of the victims and community members often turn the ghost bikes into ad hoc sanctuaries, adorning them with flowers, candles, articles of clothing, and other objects that belonged to the departed. Van Der Tuin’s says that the bikes “were never designed or intended to become permanent memorials, but that is what those families have turned them into.” Now visible in over 200 major cities throughout the world, ghost bikes provide inclusive spaces that allow the public to mourn and work through trauma.

For many years local businesses and community members preserved Liz Padilla’s ghost bike. It became a makeshift shrine, decorated with flowers and letters. Sara Padilla wrote a “reaction” to her sister’s bike memorial:

“While words cannot adequately convey the depth of our loss, I believe the Ghost Bike Project makes a difference by providing a powerful visual image of a life taken from us senselessly and also by revealing our sadness publicly; in the hope that others – cyclists, pedestrians, and most importantly, drivers, will help prevent these accidents from happening again.”

Liz’s ghost bike memorial has since been removed.  

Since June 2005, 164 ghost bikes have been installed in NYC to commemorate 198 fatalities, including 54 unknown cyclists. The NYC Street Memorial Project exposes the vulnerability of cyclists and pedestrians and considers the fragility of life for all who share the road. 

Brooklyn-activist and member of the NYC Ghost Bike Project, Mirza Molberg, previously restored Liz Padilla’s ghost bike by painting over years of rust, dirt, and grime. As a dedicated cyclist himself, Mirza installed his first ghost bike in 2011, coinciding with the Occupy Wall Street movement. He attended memorial rides and bike lifts for fallen cyclists; listening to the families of the victims tell their stories over a shared sense of outrage for the countless number of preventable deaths. At times, Mirza questioned the practicality of the project and his involvement. This changed in 2016 when his life was transformed by the loss of his partner, Lauren Davis. 

Lauren’s death shocked the public. A reckless driver failed to yield, striking her in a designated slow zone. Family members held a memorial service for Lauren at Greenpoint Reformed Church and organized a memorial ride, led by Borough President Eric Adams. The night of Lauren’s passing, Mirza rode his bike to the collision site, only to realize that there was no evidence of the accident. In a way, it felt like she was invisible. He collected her mangled bike from the local precinct, painted it white, and installed it at the corner of Classon Ave. and Lexington Ave. Mirza explains how Lauren’s death made the ghost bike project more meaningful. He says, “Making the ghost bikes is something that I am now completely embedded in. It’s more present and real and necessary. I ride more carefully, knowing that this could happen to anyone at any time.”

We asked Mirza what he believes can be done to make the streets safer for cyclists and pedestrians. He replied, “It’s hard to implement street safety without the help of politicians and advocacy groups like Transportation Alternatives and Families for Safe Streets. They have really helped change the laws. Bloomberg and de Blasio have helped improve street safety by creating projects like Vision Zero to end all deaths, but the improvements aren’t throughout. The DOT (NYC Department of Transportation) could still paint more bike lanes and there could be better road structure in all the boroughs.” Despite the efforts of Mayor de Blasio and City Council to improve conditions for cyclists, 2019 had a drastic increase in bike-related deaths. 29 fatalities occurred, almost tripling the death toll of 2018. He ends with, “What we need is a fundamental change to car- culture.”

Since June 2005, 164 ghost bikes have been installed in NYC to commemorate 198 fatalities, including 54 unknown cyclists. The NYC Street Memorial Project exposes the vulnerability of cyclists and pedestrians and considers the fragility of life for all who share the road. 

For more information, including ways to donate, please visit: streetmemorials.org and ghostbikes.org

For information on upcoming workdays, follow: @nycghostbikes (FB) and @nycstreetmem (IG)