I want to buy an e-bike. I want to buy a very expensive e-bike. One that’s really light (which in the e-bike world is anything under 20kg), really powerful and somehow also stylish. I want to put a big pannier bag on the back and a basket on the front and I’ll be able to go wherever I want door to door and never have to sit in traffic ever again. I also, crucially, will barely have to pedal.
Which I sense you’re not going to like. Cycling is meant to be hard, you say. The physicality and the pleasure go hand in hand. You’re probably the person that always comments when I turn up to the winter bunch on a 7kg race bike. You are jealous, my friend. The Archibalds just booked a Christmas ‘holiday’ (read: training camp) to Lanzarote because, you guessed it, I also don’t like the rain. I’m soft, I don’t care to hide it, and my family are enablers.
Anyway, I do enough pedalling hard. When I’m going to the cinema or when I’m going to the shops or out for dinner, I don’t want to pedal hard anymore. I want to be dressed in my finest and sat so upright I could be playing the piano but somehow still travel everywhere at 25kph. Which is why the ‘e’ element of this purchase is so important.
I suppose you could argue what I really want is a moped. I’ve had a loan of an e-bike this weekend, though, and there’s a decided romance to the bicycle that can’t survive an actual engine.
The burr of the battery power was drowned out by the wind in my face and I rode home (my ‘home’ is in Manchester now, but I was visiting my dad for the weekend) from Glasgow to Paisley through bike paths and down small lanes and felt brilliantly Dutch, with the motor squashing any hills in my path.
The battery actually died before I got home which ruins the story a touch.
I was, for some reason, still completely overjoyed with the experience though; maybe be a bad sign of my objectivity (or lack thereof) in this potential purchase. But, whatever. It made me happy so I want one of my own so I can feel happy all the time.