Now and then, advertising seizes on the image of a classic subway map, using it to organise some other set of ideas. From the Metro Wine Map of France:
The Metro station stands for some distinct thing that we should learn to distinguish from other things nearby — fine-grained appellations in this case. The brightly colored subway lines are categories that we should also understand — in this case, the wine regions of France. Somehow this metaphor seems to satisfy, over and over, as a way to bring a certain je ne sais quoi to a topic.
(Absentmindedly, I begin to sketch a radial metro network converging on a central station complex called "Plants in my garden." A bright blue line called "Heather Family" departs from the Cassiope platform and heads outward via stations called Vaccinium (blueberries/cranberries) and Gaultheria before swerving toward a terminal loop of scenic Rhododendron stations. A bright red line called "Rose Family" departs from a platform called "Rosa" and heads outward via stations called Rubus (alight here for blackberries and raspberries), Fragaria (strawberries), Pyrus (pear) and Malus (apple) [those last two stations too closely spaced, really] before reaching its terminus: Prunus, the cherries, plums, apricots and peaches.)
Why does the metro line serve as such an excellent selling or organizing metaphor? Conjecture: it suggests speed, order, power, reliability, a larger design that gives meaning to experience, and an urban(e) sense of excitement (as opposed to the rural excitement of the "open road").
Of course, a true transit network functions only through the interdependence of its lines, like the lines of Daniel Huffman's transit-map of the Mississippi River system.
But the metro-as-metaphor doesn't seem to need that. The "wine-metro" map at the top of this post is all disconnected but still seems to sing, at least to its intended crowd.
What is it about the rail transit as a metaphor? How could we corral this metaphorical power to get some of the real thing built?
All good, but the simplest solution for color-blindless issues is to design maps so well that the information is all there in line weights and styles, so that the color is supplementary — very, very helpful for those who can see it but not essential. The Spokane map does this.
The current Portland map also tries to do this,
with a different line-weight for each of its four layers. The four layers are:
Portland's TriMet uses different colors for different lines, but if you copy it to black-and-white you should still be able to make out these four line weights (though not, of course, the feeble yellow shading of frequent line numbers).
I agree with many observers that the distinction between frequent bus and basic bus is insufficiently strong on the Portland map, whereas the Spokane map shows this distinction dramatically. In the past, when I've tried to use the Portland map as an example of clear delineation of network layers, I've been told that the distinction just isn't clear enough, so now I'll use the Spokane map instead. Still, Portland's intention is clear enough.