How riding an e-bike changed my life: The electric commute revolution

The thrill of the first e-bike ride. Photo / Getty Images

OPINION

Sarah Daniell tries an e-bike, and discovers full 'wow'.

I got to e-biking by way of brake failure while cycling the fine line between commuting and utter catastrophe.

'How far are you going?' the older one in the group asked. They gather there, on the Pink Path - the neon connective tissue between the muscle of motorways and Upper Queen St. A small team of enthusiastic bike geeks, brought to you by #AKLBIKELIFE are assembled. They are cycling cheerleaders, elves with Allen keys and expertise. They offer brisk mechanical checks and incentives: free reflective vests covered in virtue-signaling hashtags, proper bike accessories like lights (I've yet to score lights but I did manage to get an iceblock in the summer), and a quick assessment of the state of your ride - in my case a 15-year-old analogue mountain/road bike. I love this bike. It has taken me to work and back home since before cycle lane times, when I'd have to steel myself against biting cars and the wind-rush of angry buses.

"My right brake's not working, would you mind having a look?" I ask. He crouches down, looks at the wheels, fiddles with some cable, and looks back up at me in horror. "The brake cable - back and front - is worn so thin ... no one is to use this bike till you have got it fixed. How far are you going?"

It was a heavy morning. Left in a rush - even forgot my helmet. "Ah, everyone has those days now and then," he says, looking even more concerned, and as parting advice, offers somberly: "Only use the left brake."

I'm pretty good with getting regular services, but life, you know? Some things get forgotten and you don't find out till the elves tell you.

Might be time for an upgrade. Despite considerable pressure from e-bike converts, I've been resisting it for years. The e-bike revolution has swirled and exploded around me, often passing me at considerable speed on the North Western cycleway. I have observed it with curiosity and, at times, envy. Riding home is such a drag. With e-bikes, there's the alluring appeal of pedal-assisted juice. Just plug it in for two hours each night, like a phone. But I'm not ready yet. My bike is light enough to lift, fast enough to get me to work - 6km away - in 20 minutes. Chill out. I'll get one when I'm, like, I dunno, 60, maybe.

But how can I know what I'm not ready for if I haven't yet tried it?

I check my bike into the cool, low-key Pt Chev maintenance shop, and register for an e-bike test drive at Electrify NZ in Victoria Park. I'm scared, I tell my workmates. I'm a bit nervous, I tell Axel at the bike store.

I've heard the stories about first-time e-bikers who end up crashing and burning spectacularly before they've even got to second gear. That is what social media does to you - provides infinite content of terrifying mishaps. Axel says I'll be fine if I just take it for a hoon in the park, get to know it. Get the feel. Get the vibe. Like a speed date, with a bike.

I'm not sure we are compatible. It's called Black Tempo, which sounds like a really good rave. But it's so heavy. I feel like I'm walking at a 45-degree angle as I push it out of the store, into the future, into the now.

The park is mostly empty, thank God. Do not need an audience. I click from neutral to 1 and I start gliding, like a land swan. I'm fully braced for a lurch, but I smoothly navigate my way up Victoria St, on to the Northern Cycleway. Going no faster than 2, just getting the feel.

At the traffic lights, the longest phase in the history of traffic lights at the intersection of Cook and Nelson, I'm suddenly aware of the presence of another cyclist. I hear him first: "How is it?" His eyes take in the full glory of the frame. He is riding a proper road speed bike. I say I have literally just got on this beast, and I am not really sure but that early signs are promising. I encourage him to, you know, move on. Do not need an audience.

The e-bike revolution began in the 1990s and has gained pace exponentially. It's faster (I got home that first day about 10 minutes quicker than I normally would), quiet, you still have the solitude and the great views.

It still requires some effort - you do need to turn the pedals. But a US study recently revealed that while it's still beneficial to health and wellbeing, you burn around 30 per cent fewer calories on an e-bike than you would on a regular bike. About 344-422 calories an hour versus 505 calories on a road bike, if that matters to you. It is, however, magnificently less taxing.

The highest number of converts in Tāmaki Makaurau are commuters from Te Atatū and Henderson - they can make the city in 30-40 minutes. Go the Westies.

My plan is to take various trips I would mostly do either by car or Uber: small supermarket shops, work commute, check out the new cycleway to New Lynn, meet a friend at a bar. I meet my friend at a swanky restaurant in Britomart one sunny Saturday. I am wearing - and this is critical - a dress and platform kicks. I would not be able to do this on the analogue. The ride into the city is glorious. Full wow. Luxury chariot.

By the time I leave the bar and hop on the bike, I realise I am at 15 per cent power. It is now also dark. The night has fallen like a calamity and it's only 5pm. I will have to get to Western Springs, about 8km away, mostly uphill - with marginal assistance.

I give it a burst going up Grafton cycleway and keep it in neutral for the downhill stretches. I actually gain battery power. The lights are powerful and possibly blinding to any on-comer so the dark doesn't faze me. I get home with 2 per cent power.

I never do get to the new cycleway to New Lynn, because it rains and blows in a full rage and even a bike called Black Tempo isn't cut out for that nonsense. But when I return the bike after 10 days, I do so reluctantly.

The next day, I pick up my serviced bike, which does not have a name, and ride back home. I will always love it, but I sense that things have changed between us.