350 lines
19 KiB
Plaintext
350 lines
19 KiB
Plaintext
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About Craig
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Books & Essays
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Talks
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Membership
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Shop!
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“Special Projects” Membership
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Podcasts:🎧 On Margins & SW945
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Newsletters:📩 Roden & Ridgeline
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Header image for Electric Bike, Stupid Love of My Life
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Electric Bike, Stupid Love of My Life
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Reflections on eighteen months of electric bike ownership
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My electric bike sings, emits a nearly imperceptible hum from its tiny motor. I
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love its song. A song of peace and magic. Has money ever bought as much delight
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as the delight of an electric bike?
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The first time I rode one was nearly a decade ago, in Kyoto. The electric bike
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I rented was huge and unwieldy, but that tug of its motor never left my mind. I
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went to climb a hill and it felt as if a giant had gently placed his hand on my
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back and pushed me forward. That stupid smile has been on my face ever since.
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Two years ago I rented another one. This one smaller, lighter, the motor more
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powerful. I was convinced. This is the way. Eighteen months ago, in the heart
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of the pandemic, I committed and bought my first electric bike and have never
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looked back.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Indulge me — a summer afternoon: Soaring down the coast, the ocean to one side
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and a strand of old pines to the other. The afternoon sun beats down but it
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feels cool and there’s something irrationally stirring — downright emotional —
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about the efficiency of this dumb machine beneath my body. The motor looks too
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small — just a black cylinder on the hub of the wheel. And yet it moves. It
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sings that song. A subtle hum. A beautiful hum. It makes me want to ride and
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ride, ridiculous distances, nonsensical distances. I don’t want to get to where
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I’m going because I want the ride to last longer. I want to linger in this
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space as long as possible, this space of smooth and efficient movement through
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the world, gliding in near total mechanical silence, just the sound of rubber
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on the pavement, wind in my ears, breaking waves, salt, the smell of pine. This
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is what electric bikes do: They drive you insane with the poetry of the world.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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A strange trio A few of my old bikes: A mamachari, carbon fiber road bike, and
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Kalavinka
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#So Many Bikes
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All my standing life, I’ve biked. As a kid I rode a K-Mart Huffy to a rusted
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nub and then managed to nab a Haro Group 1. As an adult, bikes have been one of
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my few material indulgences (unwittingly, organically). In the past twenty
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years alone I’ve owned some fifteen bikes. I’ve had aluminum and carbon Bianchi
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road bikes. I’ve had steel Kalavinka keirin bikes with gorgeous head badges.
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I’ve had folding Dahon and Birdy BD-1s. I’ve had a handful of beloved brandless
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throwaway mamacharis — shopping bikes — that have proven hearty and fun in
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their own ways, and have each died uniquely. I’ve gone out of my way to get a
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handmade Arrow cruiser from a builder in Ogikubo. I still have a custom orange
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Moulton that I’ve modified into a single-speed city bomber that goes remarkably
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fast while floating atop its simple suspension.
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And on and on — bikes. Why? Because as any bike lover will tell you, to be
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ensorcelled by the bike is to crave one and only one thing: More bike. Each new
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bike is like riding once again for the first time. Exploring a city on a
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mamachari is different than a BD-1 is different than a Moulton. All thrilling.
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The bikes change, and so, too does your relationship to the pavement. My love
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for bikes has no categorical allegiances; if it has two wheels, and pedals, I’m
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interested. I want to ride them all.
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A Moulton Tiny, but fast, nearly flawless as a city machine — a Moulton with
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converted stem, Sugino cranks, coaster brake
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Summers in most of Japan have never been easy. The temperatures England flirted
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with in 2022 are temperatures Tokyoites have contended with for centuries (and
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now contend with ones even higher). Crushing heat coupled with suffocating
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humidity. A three-shower-a-day kinda summer. Watch an Ozu film and observe the
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languid and supine impulse of its inhabitants during summertime scenes — that’s
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not affect, it’s survival. In Japan’s August, you simply can’t walk a block
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without losing most of your moisture.
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Bikes have always helped. A bicycle generates a microclimate with minimal
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effort. Standing on a street corner you may be soaked, but on a bike, the wind
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whooshing past, you are crisp(er) and dry(er). An electric bike only amplifies
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the effect.
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When I was a child I dreamt of having a personal helicopter. Powered by my feet
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and a bit of magic (certainly not gasoline, oddly, thinking back on it now). I
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imagined quietly gliding over the city in this tiny contraption, floating from
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home to video rental shop to diner, stopping by a friend’s house along the way.
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An electric bike gets me most of the way to this feeling.
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In the past eighteen months I’ve put several thousand kilometers on my electric
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bikes. It feels like cheating in every best possible way. I live in a seaside
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town south of Tokyo and traffic can get ridiculous, its ancient roads sized for
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horses, not cars. The electric bike swoops between and alongside these stale
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processions of heat and burning fuel. Drifting behind a gas-powered scooter or
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moped feels like observing some Victorian contraption — inefficient and loud
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and clunky and burdensome and pollutant. And not much faster (often much
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slower) or more useful than an electric bike.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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A Vanmoof and a BESV My friend's S3 and my BESV (the X3 looks like a slightly
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smaller version of the S3)
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#Electrics
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I own two electric bikes. My first purchase was the strangely named BESV PSA1 —
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which is a smaller wheeled (20"), rear-wheel drive machine, with mostly
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off-the-shelf components allowing you to customize it to your liking. ^1 And
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then, because I was so enamored by the BESV — so seduced by its small motor of
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umph, so wanting more and different electric bike experiences — I went and
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picked up a front-wheel drive Vanmoof X3 — the smaller-wheeled brother (24") to
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Vanmoof’s (quite frankly) giant S3 — just a few months later.
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I love them both like damaged brothers, because both of these bikes are flawed
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in frustrating ways.
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The electronic brain on the BESV is as dumb as they come.^2 The settings reset
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each time you turn the bike on. The acceleration curves feel unrefined —
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herky-jerky, you might say. Its app is the worst app I have on my phone — badly
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designed, nearly functionally useless, clearly engineered without love. And
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yet. Despite these flaws I put hundreds of kilometers on this thing in the
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first month. The front and rear suspension turn every road to glass, and are
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even fine for dirt trails; I find myself hunting down paths through parks I’d
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never otherwise think about. Suddenly every hilly road is a thing demanding to
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be explored. Up up up the little machine yells, and you follow its command.
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Guests who stay at my studio are given the BESV to ride. We take it down the
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coast. It never fails to amaze. One friend felt compelled to pet it upon
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dismount, saying, Good job, buddy, so quick and deep was the affection for the
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thing.
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The Vanmoof is much smarter — the brain and software within it are refined, the
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app good, the acceleration curves smooth — but the bike is all custom
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components, and they aren’t the highest quality at that. The automatic shifting
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mechanism on mine failed twice in the first two months, requiring shipping the
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bike to the Vanmoof store.^3 The seat post bolt broke off in the post. The
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original plastic pedals felt cheap and flimsy (pedals are one of the few things
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you can swap for your own). The aluminum frame is too stiff for the speed the
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bike generates — it can feel like you’ve been rattled to death after a bumpy
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road. (And stiffness mitigation by lowering tire pressure seems to only
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increase possibility of puncture.) But, more than all that, the design of the
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bike has a dangerous fundamental flaw: The bottom bracket is simply too low.
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Of all my many, many bikes, I’ve never had a pedal bottom out. On this Vanmoof
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X3? Dozens of times. Most critically during a turn at speed — the pedal hit the
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pavement, jumped the bike sideways, and sent me flying. It’s the only bad crash
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I’ve had in decades. So I’ve had to modify the way I ride — no pedaling into or
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out of turns, hyper awareness of deviations in lateral road slope — because,
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despite all this, I can’t stop riding this stupid thing. It sings — that hum.
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It is joy. I reach for it daily and it takes me around the peninsula and makes
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me happy to be alive.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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BESV @ Lee's Bread, Oiso I've written about three electric bike rides for
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Papersky Magazine: Misaki, Oiso, and Yokosuka.
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Allow me to share a dirty secret: More often than not, at midnight I can’t
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repress the impulse — I have to take a bike out. Out the bike comes and
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together we head into the empty streets of my town and hum our way all over,
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visiting temples in total silence. There are no cars. Often no people. It feels
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illicit — this slipping around town, this sliding into temple parking lots in
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the shroud of the night, looking at their old beams, feeling ten years old and
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grateful for both the ability and awareness to be doing just this very thing at
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this very moment.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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I’ve long since posited world peace could be achieved if you bought everyone in
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the world a bike, but now I want those bikes to be electric. I want everyone to
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feel this silliness, this punch-drunk stupidity of pure love, this sense of
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cheating the rules, the norms, this sense of ever-present delight. At our
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worst, humans mindlessly consume, sear the earth and each other, fill our
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bodies with poisons. At our best we invent electric bikes. Batteries have
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gotten more efficient, motors smaller and more powerful. The last decade has
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brought great efficiency to these machines, and the next ten years will only
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double down on these gains. Electric bike numbers are up, year over year over
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year. Tremendously so. Those who know, proselytize. We can’t help it. The charm
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is too great. The game non- zero sum. The more people who know, the better the
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world. It’s a wild notion, this sense of goodness to be had if you just reach
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out for it. Goodness with no real downside. Like solar panels or wind turbines,
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electric bikes are machines that buoy the spirit and the earth.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Buy the best electric bike you can within your budget. Stretch if possible.
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Usually, the more you spend the lighter the machine, the more powerful the
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motor, the longer-lasting the battery. Depending on which country you live in
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top speeds will differ. In Japan the bike’s are capped at 24km/h. In America,
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32km/h. Some places only allow for pedal-assist — meaning the motor only works
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when pedaling. Others allow throttles, blurring the line between bike and
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scooter. Laws will change in the coming years as more people adopt the machines
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and cities themselves adapt. This is just the start. Ten years ago it was
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fairly rare to see an electric bike around Tokyo. Today, it seems as if every
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parent hauling their kids is doing so electrically.
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A good strategy: Find a local bike shop that will let you try out several
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electric bikes. Some have front-hub motors, others rear-hub motors. Others, the
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motor sits in the center, between the cranks. Each has a subtly different feel.
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Going up a hill, a front-motor’d machine may skip or slip as you pull back on
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the handlebars, but on flat land will feel more like being tugged through the
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world.
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Sure, electric bikes aren’t cheap. But I believe they’re a rare object to be
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well worth the cost. This in spite of their annoying flaws, their often bad
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software, their defective geometries. Because they open the world. Whatever
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world may have been nearby, an electric bike brings it nearer. This is worth
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more than you might estimate. These bikes sing their little songs and the smile
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on your face makes you look like a village idiot, but what a wonderful idiot to
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be.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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A summer night: Biking home alongside a river. The air is thick with humidity
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and cicadas vibrate wildly in the distance. The moon is out. My choices:
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straight home along the shimmering moonlit river, or take a detour, up into the
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dark mountains, doubling the distance. To my surprise, I choose the mountains
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almost every time. More! That tiny child who fantasized about helicopters
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yells. More of this, whatever this is. More more more. And so I feed that
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impulse, an impulse generated and nurtured by the electric bike. Into the
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shadow mountains we go, up, pushed by the hand of that giant, always present,
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always ready to help. It is a ridiculous thing. A thing of peace and magic. An
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owl hoots. The smile has never left my face.
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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#Noted:
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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1. I upgraded my BESV to an SRAM drivetrain and Paul brake levers and Klamper
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disc calipers, some MKS pedals, and a set of Brooks grips and saddle and it
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feels wonderful through and through. These Paul Klampers are mechanical.
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The Vanmoof uses (generic?) hydraulic brakes. After thousands of
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kilometers, my conclusion is: hydraulics feel nice, but they are fussy (and
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perhaps Vanmoof’s chosen components are sub-optimal) and difficult (?) to
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tune on your own. In the end, I just don’t think they’re worth it. Too
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“delicate.” The Pauls feel as fresh today as the day I put them on, whereas
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the hydraulics have required much bikeshop tuning over the course of the
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last eighteen months. Were the Vanmoof more flexible, I’d happily swap out
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for mechanicals. This lack of flexibility is a bummer because, unlike an
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Apple iPhone, for example, where the components tend to be best of class
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(think: modem, CPU, camera unit, etc), the physical components on a Vanmoof
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most definitely aren’t — nor do they offer the option to pay more to get
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better components. ↩︎
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2. Oh, how I wish this thing was open source, hackable — because it’s so close
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to great. Sadly — and I don’t know how else to frame this — it feels like
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the engineers behind the software don’t ride bikes. At least not this one.
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The software flaws are so fundamentally obvious, that anyone who had a)
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access to the code, and b) rode the bike, couldn’t NOT fix these obvious
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issues. What I really wish, though, is that I could slap the Vanmoof brain
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onto the BESV body and, well, then we’d be in Electric Bike Elysium. ↩︎
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3. I’ve since learned — the drive train of the Vanmoof is not to be “ridden”
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like a “bike” but rather, “feathered” like a delicate sand castle — assume
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the gears could explode at any moment and apply the least amount of
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pressure you can; the motor is strong enough to take care of most of the
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rest. In this way, the Vanmoof feels more like a moped that uses “pedal
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assist” as a suggestion than a pure electric-assist bike — a smart way to
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get around motorcycle laws in most countries, which I assume is the main
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point. Not to say you don’t get a workout on the Vanmoof, you do, but not
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nearly as much as the more classically committed BESV — which really does
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require you to pedal.
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Maybe this is a good place to bring up the question: Why not just get an
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electric scooter? I think it mainly comes down to flexibility and
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philosophy. With a pedal assist bike (even if the pedaling required is
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minimal) you simply have more flexibility in parking, in riding, in
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“lightness” of transportation, than with an electric scooter. Also:
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Insurance costs, maintenance, and higher base cost. And philosophically,
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being able to still use the bike as a “bike” without power feels like an
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aspect of these machines we shouldn’t be so quick to toss aside. ↩︎
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This essay, published September 2022. Thoughts? Email me@craigmod.com.
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Craig Mod, his head, floating at the bottom of the article
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Craig Mod is a writer and photographer based in Japan. He's the author of Kissa
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by Kissa and a MacDowell, Ragdale, and VCCA writing fellow. His essays and
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articles have appeared in Eater, The Atlantic, California Sunday Magazine,
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Wired, Aeon, New Scientist, Virginia Quarterly Review, The New Yorker, The New
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York Times, The Morning News, Codex: Journal of Typography, and elsewhere. He
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writes newsletters, oh yes, newsletters: Roden & Ridgeline.
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The work on this site is supported in part by paid memberships.
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[piwik]
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