Manhattan Tops US for Walking and Biking, With Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens Not Far Behind

New York City’s penchant for walking and cycling sets it apart from the car-dominated American norm, with telling lessons for policymakers and planners nationwide.

A pedestrian in Manhattan is not a rare breed—indeed, on the island, nearly 60% of all trips are made on foot or by bike. This figure, laid bare by a new analysis from analytics firm StreetLight, stands in conspicuously stark contrast to the rest of America’s urban landscape. The study highlights the metropolis’s unique mode-share, where only 40% of trips rely on motor vehicles; in San Francisco, which trails far behind at seventh place nationally, an eye-watering 73% of daily travel still happens by car.

StreetLight’s analysis, released in mid-July, considered only counties with significant population density, sifting out rural enclaves and resort towns that might distort active transportation numbers with recreational activity. The result is an urban leaderboard firmly dominated by New York’s four core boroughs—Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx—whose dense grids and famed subways support a culture of getting about on two feet or two wheels. Michael Replogle, erstwhile deputy commissioner at the city’s Department of Transportation, credits “the best public transportation system in America, bar none,” as a main driver.

Staten Island, that perennial outlier, emerges as an outpost of motoring, with 87% of its daily trips by car, nudging it closer to the American average. In most of the nation, the car reigns supreme: the study finds that in two-thirds of high-density counties, fewer than 10% of trips are made via walking or biking. For Manhattanites and their peers in neighboring boroughs, this is a distant reality—one that bodes well for their collective lungs, if not always their patience.

For New York City, the preeminence of walking and biking is far more than an urban curiosity—it is evidence of an entrenched culture and an urban fabric that prioritizes density, connectivity, and clever land use. The city’s grid practically invites perambulation; trip distances are short, and a meal or errand is rarely more than a brisk stroll away. Congestion pricing, slated to launch for the first time in the U.S. later this year, aims to stiffen the car’s cost even further, while dedicated revenues from the state enable ongoing upgrades to both streets and subways.

The consequences are manifold. Fewer cars mean fewer road fatalities—New York’s Vision Zero initiative, for all its fits and starts, has contributed to the city’s declining pedestrian death rate at a time when national numbers are stubbornly climbing. Cleaner air is a byproduct, as is an economy braced by the resilience of foot traffic; ground-floor retail and services in Manhattan and Brooklyn benefit from the daily river of walkers. Moreover, the active-transport landscape nudges urbanites toward healthier habits, a palatable antidote to both the city’s sedentary temptations and the expensive demands of medical care.

There are, naturally, losers as well as winners in this arrangement. Delivery trucks wage ceaseless war for curb access in bike-laned corridors. Not every resident relishes trudging home with groceries in sub-zero wind. The city’s disability advocates have rightly pointed out that active transportation must also mean accessible transportation, lest sidewalks and crossings become yet another realm of exclusion.

The links between density and active mode share are, as the StreetLight report notes, “especially strong”. New York’s sibling across the Hudson—Hudson County, New Jersey—ranks fifth nationally, with Jersey City and Hoboken sharing similar tight grids, walkable scales, and strong rail connections. College towns such as Ithaca and Champaign also record robust walking and biking numbers, but these are places designed for the 18–24 set and rarely match the sheer scale of New York’s pedestrian army.

Comparisons to peers elsewhere in America prove revealing, if somewhat demoralizing. Sprawling cities like Los Angeles and Chicago barely register in the active transit tables, beset by low densities and autocentric planning. Boston’s Suffolk County, Washington, D.C., and Philadelphia’s county trail behind New York, though manage higher cycling and walking shares than the sunbelt supercities. Here, the Northeast stands anomalous—a region where density is destiny and, at least for travel, less is more.

Globally, New York’s numbers, while buoyant by American standards, still pale beside those of Paris, Amsterdam, or Tokyo. In much of Europe and Asia, walking and cycling are so commonplace as to be unremarkable. What stands out is the tenacity of the American car—and the political and infrastructural machinery supporting it. Parking minimums, vast expressways, and weak investment in transit conspire to keep most U.S. cities shackled to the petrol pump.

Public investments and political choices steer city life

The lesson for American urbanism is sobering but not beyond hope. Where cities have mustered the political courage to invest in transit, reshape their streets, and tax congestion, habits have changed. New York’s incremental victories—a protected bike lane here, a pedestrian plaza there—have compounded into real results. But we note that success is fragile. Initiatives like congestion pricing face perennial litigation and legislative threats; sidewalk improvements bow to austerity.

Nor are New York’s achievements entirely self-assured. The city weathered the pandemic’s early transit crisis and a later surge in traffic violence, both of which threatened to arrest progress. Balancing the needs of delivery, emergency access, and inclusive design is an ongoing headache for planners. Each inch clawed back from traffic evokes outsized outcry from drivers—a constituency that, while declining, remains vocal.

Yet more Americans are watching—in Minneapolis, Atlanta, even Houston—as public appetite grows for cities where children can walk to school and the air does not taste of exhaust. New York’s model is imperfect; potholes, subway delays, and uneven enforcement persist. But it does grasp a basic urban truth: given the right incentives—and a grid that invites walking—people will leave the car keys at home.

We reckon policy should reward such behavior. Effective urban investments pay dividends in cleaner air, slimmer health costs, and streets more vital by the block. If New York can dispatch sixty percent of its daily trips without a car, perhaps the rest of America’s cities are merely at the starting line rather than the finish. Whether they can—or will—catch up is a question for their mayors, planners, and, above all, their voters.■