Disposable vapes are indefensible. Many, or maybe most, of them contain rechargeable lithium-ion batteries, but manufacturers prefer to sell new ones. More than 260 million vape batteries are estimated to enter the trash stream every year in the UK alone. Vapers and vape makers are simply leaving an e-waste epidemic to the planet’s future residents to sort out.
To make a point about how wasteful this practice is—and to also make a pretty rad project and video—Chris Doel took 130 disposable vape batteries (the bigger “3,500 puff” types with model 20400 cells) found littered at a music festival and converted them into a 48-volt, 1,500-watt e-bike battery, one that powered an e-bike with almost no pedaling more than 20 miles. You can see the whole build and watch Doel zoom along trails on his YouTube video.
A pile of empty aluminum vape shells, and the juice and batteries that came out of them, on Chris Doel’s workstation. A pile of empty aluminum
To be clear: Do not do this. Do not put disposable vape cartridges in a vise clamp to “pop out” their components. Do not desolder them from vape cartridges that have a surprising amount of concentration still in them. Do not wire them together using a balance board, group them using 3D-printed cell holders, and then wire them in series. Heck, do not put that much power into a rear hub on a standard bike frame, at least more than once. Doel has a fire extinguisher present and visible on his workbench, and he shows you what happens when two of the wrong batteries happen to make momentary contact—smoke, coughing, and strong warnings.
And yet, when you see Doel get 33 kilometers (about 20.5 miles) on his vape-powered ride, almost entirely without pedaling, hitting 32 miles per hour once, the point is made. We are tossing out a lot of battery materials that could be doing a lot of other things. Doel estimates his “dodgy bike” cost about $60 in filament and materials to piece together. Most of the cells are rated for a minimum of 300 cycles, which is both not a lot, but also more than some bikes and scooters actually take on.
More so than most other forms of bicycle, cargo bikes are specifically designed to make ditching a car easier. Whether hauling groceries or kids, they can handle a lot more of the day-to-day errand running than most other forms of two-wheeled transport. The problem with some of the higher-end cargo bikes is that the upfront costs can be competitive with a decent used car (although operating costs will be dramatically lower) without offering quite the flexibility that a car might.
Fortunately, as Beth Mole discovered, you don’t necessarily have to spend that much to get a decent riding experience, putting cars at a further disadvantage. That left me curious as to what the price floor for a decent cargo bike might be—how little can you pay and still get a satisfactory experience? I was also keen for a second try on my experiment of going a month without using a car, meant to happen during my earlier review but interrupted by wildfire smoke.
All of which explains why I took delivery of a $1,500 cargo bike called the CycWagon, from a company called Cycrown. It’s currently well on its way toward getting me through a car-free month, but it has… well, a lot of issues.
Evoking wagons of my past
The CycWagon is a long-tail cargo bike, meaning its frame extends well to the rear of the seat, providing an area where you can fit people or packages, depending on whether you set the area up with seating or cargo-carrying hardware. They’re generally not very good as all-around bicycles. For starters, to keep the center of gravity low, they tend to use wheels with a smaller circumference that alters the handling. The longer space between the wheels also requires a relatively rigid frame, and that can translate more of the road’s bumpiness directly to your body. Depending on what attachments you’ve got on the back, they can also be considerably wider than a normal road bike, which is something to take into account while riding.
Enlarge/ I liked the wood panel aesthetic, but gradually found myself removing them for various reasons.
JOHN TIMMER
The CycWagon does make some adjustments to make the ride a bit smoother. For starters, it has a front suspension that definitely soaks up some of the road’s roughness. Wide tires that can be run at low pressures improved the situation as well. And I definitely got the sense that the rear of the frame was a bit more compliant than the Trek cargo bike I had tried a year earlier. So, overall, it was a much less jarring ride.
I cannot, however, call it a better ride because of the various decisions made by Cycrown. For starters, the company went a bit too far in trying to keep the center of gravity low, in that the cranks were low enough to the ground that the pedals would scrape pavement if you tried to lean into a turn while pedaling. I gradually adjusted to remembering to stop pedaling when turning, but by that time I had scraped the finish off of both sides of both pedals, leaving bare metal exposed.
I have gotten quite used to e-bikes that are rated for my height but don’t fit my legs, but the CycWagon’s seat was so low that my thighs were horizontal while pedaling, leaving me feeling like I had just shoved a small kid off their bike and taken it for a spin. The low seat was oddly paired with handlebars from a foldable bike, for reasons that mystify me. This does allow you to fold them down, but it’s not obvious to me when that would be useful. But it also positions the grips a bit far forward, making the riding stance even more awkward. Still, the handlebars do come with a vertical adjustment, so it’s possible to find a reasonably comfortable arrangement.
Enlarge/ Even at its maximum extension, the seat was very low and close to the pedals, which were in turn very close to the ground.
John Timmer
There’s probably no way to make a long-tail a fun ride, but all of these design choices made the ride more awkward than it needed to be and more than offset the cushiness that the tires and front shock offered.
The bike itself was a fairly utilitarian gray. But it came with a wooden panel for the deck of the cargo area, and there are two optional foot rests that can be installed on either side of the rear wheel that are also topped with wood. Maybe it’s nostalgia for the cargo wagons of my youth, but I liked the mixed metal/wood look. Unfortunately, I gradually discovered that all of that wood had to go.
As I mentioned in another recent review, I’ve been checking out electric hardtail mountain bikes lately. Their relative simplicity compared to full-suspension models tends to allow companies to hit a lower price point without sacrificing much in terms of component quality, potentially opening up mountain biking to people who might not otherwise consider it. The first e-hardtail I checked out, Aventon’s Ramblas, fits this description to a T, offering a solid trail riding experience at a price that’s competitive with similar offerings from major manufacturers.
Velotric’s Summit 1 has a slightly different take on the equation. The company has made a few compromises that allowed it to bring the price down to just under $2,000, which is significantly lower than a lot of the competition. The result is something that’s a bit of a step down on some more challenging trails. But it still can do about 90 percent of what most alternatives offer, and it’s probably a better all-around bicycle for people who intend to also use it for commuting or errand-running.
Making the Summit
Velotric is another e-bike-only company, and we’ve generally been impressed by its products, which offer a fair bit of value for their price. The Summit 1 seems to be a reworking of its T-series of bikes (which also impressed us) into mountain bike form. You get a similar app experience and integration of the bike into Apple’s Find My system, though the company has ditched the thumbprint reader, which is supposed to function as a security measure. Velotric has also done some nice work adapting its packaging to smooth out the assembly process, placing different parts in labeled sub-boxes.
Enlarge/ Velotric has made it easier to find what you need during assembly.
John Timmer
These didn’t help me avoid all glitches during assembly, though. I ended up having to take apart the front light assembly and remove the handlebars clamp to get the light attached to the bike—all contrary to the instructions. And connecting the color-coded electric cables was more difficult than necessary because two cables had the same color. But it only started up in one of the possible combinations, so it wasn’t difficult to sort out.
The Summit 1’s frame is remarkably similar to the Ramblas; if there wasn’t branding on it, you might need to resort to looking over the components to figure out which one you were looking at. Like the Ramblas, it has a removable battery with a cover that protects from splashes, but it probably won’t stay watertight through any significant fords. The bike also lacks an XL size option, and as usual, the Large was just a bit small for my legs.
The biggest visible difference is at the cranks, which is not where the motor resides on the Summit. Instead, you’ll find that on the rear hub, which typically means a slight step down in performance, though it is often considerably cheaper. For the Summit, the step down seemed very slight. I could definitely feel it in some contexts, but I’m pretty unusual in terms of the number of different hub and mid-motor configurations I’ve experienced (which is my way of saying that most people would never notice).
Enlarge/ The Summit 1 has a hub motor on the rear wheel and a relatively compact set of gears.
John Timmer
There are a number of additional price/performance compromises to be found. The biggest is the drivetrain in the back, which has a relatively paltry eight gears and lacks the very large gear rings you’d typically find on mountain bikes without a front derailleur—meaning almost all of them these days. This isn’t as much of a problem as it might seem because the bike is built around a power assist that can easily handle the sort of hills those big gear rings were meant for. But it is an indication of the ways Velotric has kept its costs down. Those gears are paired with a Shimano Altus rear derailleur, which is controlled by a standard dual-trigger shifter and a plastic indicator to track which gear you’re in.
The bike also lacks a dropper seat that you can get out of your way during bouncy descents. Because the frame was small for me anyway, I didn’t really feel its absence. The Summit does have a dedicated mountain bike fork from a Chinese manufacturer called YDH that included an easy-to-access dial that lets you adjust the degree of cushioning you get on the fly. One nice touch is a setting that locks the forks if you’re going to be on smooth pavement for a while. I’m not sure who makes the rims, as I was unable to interpret the graphics on them. But the tires were well-labeled with Kenda, a brand that shows up on a number of other mountain bikes.
Overall, it wasn’t that hard to spot the places Velotric made compromises to bring the bike in at under $2,000. The striking thing was just how few of them there were. The obvious question is whether you’d notice them in practice. We’ll get back to that after we go over the bike’s electronics.
Enlarge/ What can I say? It was tough putting the Brompton C Line Electric through its paces. Finding just the right context for it. Grueling work.
Kevin Purdy
There’s never been a better time to ride a weird bike.
That’s especially true if you live in a city where you can regularly see kids being dropped off at schools from cargo bikes with buckets, child seats, and full rain covers. Further out from the urban core, fat-tire e-bikes share space on trails with three-wheelers, retro-style cruisers, and slick roadies. And folding bikes, once an obscurity, are showing up in more places, especially as they’ve gone electric.
So when I got to try out the Brompton Electric C Line (in a six-speed model), I felt far less intimidated riding, folding, and stashing the little guy wherever I went than I might have been a few years back. A few folks recognized the distinctively small and British bike and offered a thumbs-up or light curiosity. If anyone was concerned about the oddity of this quirky ride, it was me, mostly because I obsessed over whether I could and should lock it up outside or not.
But for the most part, the Brompton fits in, and it works as a bike. It sat next to me at bars and coffee shops and outdoor eateries, it rode the DC Metro, it went on a memorial group ride, and it went to the grocery store. I repeatedly hauled it to a third-floor walkup apartment and brought it on a week’s vacation, fitting it on the floor behind the car driver’s seat. And with an electric battery pack, it was even easier to forget that it was any different from a stereotypical bike—so long as you didn’t look down.
Still, should you pay a good deal more than $3,000 (and probably more like $4,000 after accessories) for a bike with 16-inch tires—especially one you might never want to leave locked up outside?
Let’s get into that.
The Brompton C Line, pre-fold (mid-beer).
Kevin Purdy
Step 1: Release a clasp and pull the bike frame up, allowing the rear wheel to swing forward underneath.
Kevin Purdy
Step 2: Loosen the clamp and fold the front half back to align with the rear wheel, lining up a little hook on the wheel with the frame.
Kevin Purdy
Step 3: Remove the battery (technically unnecessary, but wise), loosen a clamp holding up the handlebar, then fold it down onto the frame, letting a nub tuck into a locking notch.
Kevin Purdy
Step 4: Drop down the seat (which also locks the frame into position), rotate one pedal onto the tire, and flip the other pedal up.
Kevin Purdy
Learning The Fold
Whether you buy it at a store or have it shipped to you, a Brompton C Line is possibly the easiest e-bike to unpack, set up, and get rolling. You take out the folded-up bike, screw in the crucial hinge clamps that hold it together, put on the saddle, and learn how to unfold it for the first time. Throw some air in the tires, and you could be on your way about 20 minutes after getting the bike.
But you shouldn’t head out without getting some reps in on The Fold. The Fold is the reason the Brompton exists. It hasn’t actually changed that much since Andrew Ritchie designed it in 1975. Release a rear frame clip and yank the frame up, and the rear wheel and its frame triangle roll underneath the top tube. Unscrew a hinged clamp, then “stir” the front wheel backward, allowing a subtle hook to catch on the rear frame. Drop the seat and you’ll feel something lock inside the frame. You can then unhinge and fold the handlebar down, or you can keep it up to push the bike around on its tiny frame wheels in “shopping cart mode.”
If you forget the sequence of the fold, there are little reminders in a few spots on the bike.
Kevin Purdy
After maybe five attempts, I began to get The Fold done in less than a minute. After around a dozen tries, I started to appreciate its design and motions. The way a Brompton folds up is great for certain applications, like fitting into a car instead of using a rack, bringing on public transit or train rides, tucking underneath a counter or table, or fitting into the corner of the most space-challenged home. It can also be handy if you’re heading somewhere you’re wary of locking it up outside (more on that in a moment).
Enlarge/ The Clip attached to a late-90s vintage mountain bike.
Eric Bangeman
Shortly after World War II, a French manufacturer by the name of Solex started selling mopeds. These were not your “typical” moped that looks kind of like a motorcycle with pedals—the mopeds made by Solex were essentially bicycles with a small, two-stroke engine mounted over the front wheel that could propel the rider around 100 km on a single liter of gas mixture. The downside: Solex mopeds were loud and cumbersome to ride due to the weight distribution, and they never really caught on in North America.
Clip, a startup based in Brooklyn, New York, has come up with its own twist on the Solex. Its only product, the eponymously named Clip, is a friction drive unit that attaches to the front fork of any bicycle, turning it into an e-bike. At $499 for the Commuter model and $599 for the Explorer, it is a relatively inexpensive way to turn just about any bicycle into an e-bike for a fraction of the cost of a new one.
Enlarge/ The Clip mounts to the front fork just below the brake caliper.
Eric Bangeman
Weighing in at 8.8 lb (4 kg) for the Commuter model (the Explorer is a pound heavier), the Clip is at its essence a portable friction-drive. There’s a detachable controller that mounts on the handlebar and the unit itself. The Explorer model, the one we reviewed, has a 192 Wh battery that takes an hour to fully charge. Its range is pegged at “up to 12 miles,” a claim that is pretty accurate based on our testing, and the top speed is 15 mph. The Commuter model offers half the battery capacity, charge time, and range.
Twelve miles may not seem like a lot, especially in contrast to e-bikes with ranges that exceed 70 miles. But the Clip isn’t designed for long, leisurely rides. It’s a tool for folks who want to resuscitate old bikes that might be gathering dust in the garage. In my case, that bike is a 1997 Gary Fisher Marlin mountain bike that is now only ridden once or twice a year.
Clipping the Clip to your bike
The Clip arrived in a box with a single sheet of instructions glued to the inside with a pair of QR codes. One leads to the product manual, but the other one has a surprising function: scheduling a one-on-one orientation session with Clip, which is unusual and fantastic at the same time. Mine took about 20 minutes.
Enlarge/ The Clip remote. Hold the red button down to go; the white button below will regenerate the battery.
Eric Bangeman
In theory, attaching the Clip to a bike is simple, and it is fairly easy once you get the hang of it. First, remove the remote from the Clip, which attaches to the bicycle’s handlebar with a clever rubber loop. Next, grab one side of the Clip, slide the button on the handle, and push the handle forward. Then align the top edge so that it sits just below the brake caliper and pull down on the handle of the Clip. If you’ve done it right, you’ll hear a satisfying click, and the white LED battery charge indicators on the Clip will light up. The wheel of the Clip should now be resting on the front wheel of the bike, so congratulations—you now have an e-bike.
Operation is dead simple. Press and hold the red button to activate the friction drive. Press and hold the white button for some regenerative braking action. The lack of displays and apps means we have to take Clip’s word that the regen function can restore 12 to 18 percent of the device’s range. In practice, it acts as a low-key brake as it sends charge back to the battery.
Immediately after mounting, I found that I had to pedal for a second or two before a button press would register with the Clip. After that, it worked like a charm. Positioning the remote close to the grip worked the best, and I gradually got used to holding the button while pedaling. Remembering to switch to the regen button while slowing down was a bit harder.
The extra 10 pounds of gear attached to the front wheel messes with the weight distribution, leading to one or two “whoa” moments my first time riding with it attached. But I figured out how to handle the bike and its new center of gravity fairly quickly. If you’re feeling lazy, you don’t need to pedal at all, and the Clip will eventually get you moving around 15 mph. Start pedaling, and you’ll feel the Clip adding to your effort—unless the road is wet. The Clip works best on dry roads; leave it at home if it’s raining.
Enlarge/ At the end of the ride, unmount the Clip and take it with you.
Clip
Once you’ve reached your destination, grab the handle, pull it back toward you, and remove the Clip from the bike. Drop the remote back into its spot, and carry the Clip with you.
There are loads of e-bike conversion kits to choose from, but I have a hard time imagining something easier to install and use. And that’s what makes the Clip such a good product—there’s no messing with tools, installing motors, and mounting batteries. The Clip literally clips to your bike and electrifies it. I wouldn’t use it for a trip to the grocery store because I wouldn’t want to lug the Clip up and down the aisles. But for quick trips or short commutes, it’s a fantastic way to give new life to an old bike.
I found myself in the air long enough to give some thought to how I could land while remaining atop the bicycle I had been riding the instant before I hit the jump. Based on similar experiences while skiing, I immediately recognized that this invariably meant very bad things. A few seconds later, as I was brushing dirt out of the abrasions I had just picked up, I contemplated where I had gone wrong.
Once again, I had misunderstood HPC’s Trailblazer e-mountain bike. Doing so had become a feature of the time I spent using the bike.
The Trailblazer looks like a solid, hefty beast of a bike (that’s not an insult—I got compliments on its looks while taking a train to some trails). It’s covered with components that are likely to be unfamiliar to people who know the default sets that come with bikes from large manufacturers. But if you do some research on the components, you realize that the Trailblazer was specced by someone with deep knowledge and fairly particular tastes. And the ride the bike provided has some surprisingly subtle qualities that took me a while to adjust to.
Spare parts
High Performance Cycles offers two models of Trailblazer, the base and the Pro, and both have the same carbon fiber frame. They differ almost entirely based on their components, with the Pro having mostly top-of-the-line material befitting its $9,000 price tag and the base model costing $6,400 for very-good-but-still-a-step-down level components. You can increase the price of either by purchasing more capacious batteries, faster chargers, lights, or even an internal geared hub. (Note that the company has just updated the specs for 2024.)
You can also pay to boost the motor to one capable of speeds that will make you a danger to yourself and others, which will also make the bike illegal to use on anything but private property. Let’s get one thing out of the way here: Making an e-bike that can reach 65 km/hr (40 mph), as some Trailblazer configurations can, is a mistake. But HPC sent me the low-end model that behaved as a standard Class 1 e-bike, with a maximum speed of 32 km/hr (20 mph), so that’s what this review is about.
Most of the components you’ll find on mountain bike frames come from just a handful of manufacturers. And HPC relies on some of them (notably SRAM drivetrains). But smaller design companies stay afloat through a combination of replacements for broken parts, tempting people with upgrades, or offering some specific features that aren’t well-served by the more generic designs of major manufacturers. The Trailblazer leans heavily into those.
For example, the tires come from Kenda and have a reputation for great grip at the expense of high rolling resistance—a drawback that matters less when you have an electric assist. The forks and shocks come from a company called DVO and have an adjustment that, based on what I’ve read, should help compensate for the added weight of the hardware. Bafang, which provides the motor, isn’t a household name, but it’s a major player in electrified cycling. I’d already identified the WTB Volt as a highly rated saddle and was pleased to find one on the bike to try out. I could go through the rest of the bike’s specs and say similar things about the other components.
Enlarge/ I ended up liking the WTB seat a great deal.
John Timmer
Overall, the parts list felt quirky, and it might give someone who’s expecting big names some pause. But every component I looked into had some features that made it a good (or at least interesting) choice for an e-mountain bike.
Enlarge/ It’s not likely to totally replace your car, nor will it probably be your only bike. But access to a cargo bike can reduce car trips, and even car ownership, a study from Germany suggests.
Cargo bikes started as something you’d see in images from Europe—bakfiets loaded up with groceries or sometimes kids. Now they’re getting more popular, and seemingly for good reason. A new study out of Germany suggests that once you let people try them, they tend to have a real impact on car use, and even car ownership.
The study, from Transportation Research Part F: Traffic Psychology and Behaviour, surveyed people using a cargo bike share (CBS) system from 58 different programs and initiatives in Germany, controlling a collective 751 cargo bikes. Out of the 2,386 active CBS users surveyed, 45.8 percent had one car in their home, and 54.2 percent lived without a car. As you might notice, this mix of cargo bike shares and car ownership is not representative of the US, but using a cargo bike, even one they didn’t technically own, still impacted ownership decisions in even one-car households.
A bit more than 18 percent of survey respondents said they either got rid of their car or decided against buying a car, and 80 percent of those people said they did so for environmental reasons. Nearly 49 percent said they ditched a car for financial reasons, 42 percent because they had “no interest in driving a car,” and about 10 percent due to the safety risks of driving a car (with the survey allowing for multiple reasons).
The average age of the study’s participants was 41.6 years old. Notably, 73.2 percent of those surveyed were in “metropolitan urban regions,” 11.8 percent in “regiopolitan urban regions” (i.e., suburbs), and about 15 percent in rural regions either close to or outside a city.
Ratings of cargo bikes and cars across different “motives” for using them, on a 1–5 scale for importance, by the Germans surveyed for a study.
In perhaps more unsurprising news, people who actively signed up to use cargo bikes think they’re pretty great. Those surveyed rated cargo bikes higher when considering motivations for different forms of transport, on a 1–5 scale. Cars significantly won out among those who considered themselves car-dependent in travel speed, comfort, and weather independence.
Interestingly, respondents gave cars a roughly 3.4–3.5 out of 5 in traffic safety, and those who considered themselves “car-reduced” rated cargo bike use just below that, around 3.3. Those who considered themselves “car-dependent” rated cars’ traffic safety higher, just above 4.0 on average, and similarly provided higher ratings for speed, comfort, and weather independence.
As Ars’ John Timmer noted in a cargo bike review from the fall, cargo bikes are somewhat specialized for what they do—but because of their build, they’re definitely second bikes. Cargo bikes, however, can often replace even a weekend-scale grocery trip and give you exercise, fresh air, and lower environmental impact.
As suggested by the survey, and the experience of cargo bike enthusiasts I’ve met, they can’t do everything a car can, but cargo bikes can work if you’re willing to put in the effort. Folks in notably bike-oriented Germany have suggested they can use even fewer cars with the advent of electric-assist cargo bikes and often feel good about doing so.
