The Paper Bicycle: Cool and Practical Transportation

I had the Paper Bicycle on loan from Adeline Adeline in NYC for several months, and have so many things to say about it that it is hard to organise my thoughts. While the unique look is what drew me to this bike initially, it is the handling that left the biggest impression. I will try to cover all the bases.

The Paper Bicycle is Scottish, designed by Nick Lobnitz originally for use by the Royal Mail. Over time, the design moved toward something that could be used by everyone, as an "everyday bicycle." The designer describes it as "relaxed and nimble... a machine that just works every time you need it to, and a journey that leaves you comfortable, clean and refreshed." While it is difficult to glean where the name "Paper Bicycle" came from exactly, to me it makes sense because the bike resembles an elaborate origami creation. 

The Paper Bicycle's frames are TIG-welded of oversized cromoly steel tubing, handbuilt in Taiwan and finished in Scotland. Notably, the frame has no seat stays and no top tube. Instead, it is reinforced with an elaborate "double chaincase" structure on both the drivetrain and non-drivetrain side.

The structure is an inherent and multifunctional part of the frame that simultaneously gives it sufficient stiffness, contributes to the low center of gravity, creates a number of convenient spots for locking up the bike, acts as a lifting handle, and of course houses the full chaincase. 

The joints of the frame are smoothly finished, as is the wide unicorn unicrown fork (typo was too funny to remove). The downtube protrudes slightly past the joint with the headtube, and the rear brake cable is routed through it internally, the tube's opening covered with a lid of sorts with a cutout for the cable. I have seen similar tube joints on a couple of other contemporary bicycles (VanMoof's protruding top tube comes to mind), but the Paper Bicycle's design strikes me as the most elegant and harmonious of the bunch.

The Paper Bicycle is available in one size only and will fit riders 5' - 6'4". It is designed for 26" wheels with fat Schwalbe Big Apple tires. It comes equipped with front and rear Sturmey Archer (roller) hub brakes, fenders, optional dynamo lighting, and it is available as either a single speed or an 8-speed. A number of powdercoat and chaincase panel options are available and the bike is easily customisable with company logos. For detailed specifications, see here. 

The handlebars have just enough sweep to them for the hands and wrists to rest naturally, while remaining aggressive and allowing for a great deal of steering control.  The diminutive teapot bell works via a trigger mechanism. 

The gripping areas are quite long - for me at least a handful and a half each. The rubber grips are finely textured and non-slip. The Sturmey Archer levers provide good leverage and easy to squeeze.

I received the bicycle with a sprung vinyl saddle, though I believe other options are available. In environments where the bike is to be shared, the seatpost is quick release.

The spring-activated kickstand is sturdy and resembles a tailpipe when folded.

The large platform city pedals incorporate non-slip rubber strips and side reflectors. 

An integrated rear rack (dubbed the Starship Rack) will soon be commercially available, and I reviewed the prototype here in detail. The rack plugs into the rear of the chaincase structure, takes less than 5 minutes to install, and is strong enough to support a passenger.

I rode the Paper Bicycle on and off for several months, first without and then with the rear rack. Most of my trips were around town, with a handful of longer distance (20 mile) trips to the suburbs. Overall I probably rode this bicycle for 150 or so miles. The riding position felt immediately comfortable, and remained so over longer distances. The bicycle has no toe overlap.

For some of the time during which the bike was in my possession, I left it outdoors for weeks at a time and observed no adverse effects. The bicycle is intended for all-weather conditions and for outdoor storage.

As I adjusted the saddle for my height, the first thing I noticed about this bicycle was the very low bottom bracket. This allows the rider to get full leg extension on the downstroke when pedaling, while also being able to reach the ground while remaining seated - useful in traffic.

This is how much of my foot I can put down while seated, and still have full leg extension on the downstroke. This aspect of the design makes the bicycle safe and easy to handle in stop-and-go traffic, especially for beginner cyclists.

When cycling on trails, a low bottom bracket can mean picking up leaves and twigs. Luckily, they cannot get tangled in the chain on this bike, since the chain is fully enclosed. The Paper Bicycle handles well on and off road, and it is remarkably stable. I normally do not ride no-hands, but this is the only bicycle on which I've been able to do so comfortably. At all times, the bike feels as if it is "unfellable" - it just wants to remain upright. I have written here earlier about the emerging breed of city bikes with mountain bike heritage, and the Paper Bicycle is probably my overall favourite among these.

The bicycle I test rode was a single speed, and I was skeptical about how such a massive upright bike would handle without gears in the greater Boston area. It was not a problem, and I am still trying to understand how the 38x17t gearing can feel so versatile. It was low enough for uphill stretches and high enough for downhill stretches - for me at least, it was the perfect fast and easy gear. It is not for proper hills in mountainous terrain, but it is certainly adequate for the types of short hills one is likely to encounter in urban areas, as well as for long but gentle uphill stretches in the countryside. It also does fine in the headwind: The positioning makes it easy to lean low over the handlebars if so desired. 

Overall, I did not expect a bicycle this stately and stable to feel so fast on the road and so maneuverable in traffic. And with the 2" balloon tires, the ride quality over potholes was fantastic. Of all the upright city bicycles I've ridden so far, the Paper Bicycle's handling is possibly my favourite. 

Of the bikes I've ridden previously, the ride quality of the Paper Bicycle is most comparable to the Urbana and the Pilen. I found it more comfortable over long distances than the former, and faster than the latter. 

If I try to summarise my thoughts about the Paper Bicycle into pros and cons, they would be as follows: Positives include its ergonomic comfort, speed, stability, durability, low maintenance, transportation-readiness (full chaincase, fenders, rear rack), and aesthetics. And yes, I do love the aesthetics. The lack of lugs and the unicrown fork don't bother me on this particular bicycle, because they work with the overall design; I honestly find it gorgeous. The biggest potential negative for others is probably the weight (35lb as a single speed with no rack or lighting; more as you add stuff), though personally I do not care as long as the bike moves well for me, which it certainly does. 

What I do care about is the lighting. While dynamo lighting is an option, it is set up like this which to me seems weird considering that the hollow joint in the front of the bike seems to be just begging for an integrated headlight. If Paper Bicycle made this type of headlight design happen, that would be out of this world.

I will disclose at this point that I seriously considered buying the Paper Bicycle from Adeline Adeline at the end of my test ride period. The reason I did not, is that ultimately I was not prepared to let go of my current transportation bike which I also love, and I cannot afford to keep both bikes. But happily, the Paper Bicycle remains in my neighbourhood and it is now in the possession of Josh Zisson of Bike Safe Boston - who likes it quite a bit. Josh is looking into doing something clever with the lighting installation, and I am looking forward to seeing what he comes up with.

The Paper Bicycle is a cool and practical transportation bike, suitable for beginners and experienced cyclists alike. It is certainly different. But it is worth taking note of for reasons well beyond its visual eccentricities.

My sincere thanks to Adeline Adeline for the opportunity to ride and review this bike, to the designer Nick Lobnitz for entrusting me with the rear rack prototype and to the Ride Studio Cafe for receiving and setting up the bicycle. The full set of pictures can be viewed here.

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Can Your Bike Withstand the Outdoors?

A couple of days ago I forgot my bike lock and dragged the big steel bicycle I was riding that day, complete with a pannier full of art supplies, up 3 flights of stairs to my studio. While doable, it was certainly an ordeal - not even the weight alone, but the awkwardness and inconvenience of carrying something so bulky up a long, winding staircase. I cannot imagine doing this on a daily basis, and normally my transportation bikes spend the day locked up outside.

That is why it surprised me to learn that quite a few cyclists I know apparently do this several times every day and will not leave their bike outdoors for anything beyond a quick errand. Their concern is not safety, but durability. One acquaintance tells me that leaving her bicycle outside - not overnight, but during a normal workday - leads to rust and mechanical issues, particularly if it happens to rain. Another cyclist complained that after half a year of leaving her new Dutch-style bicycle outdoors 9-5 on a daily basis, the bike is now in such bad shape that the shop she took it to for a cleanup and tune-up told her not to bother and just buy a new one. It sounds absurd, but I have more anecdotes in the same vein, all involving bikes purchased in the past 2-3 years: It seems that many of the new wave "city bikes" - unlike the European originals that inspired them - were not actually designed to withstand the outdoors.

Of the current-production bikes I've owned or had on loan, I have kept a Pashley, a Bella Ciao, a Pilen, an Urbana, and a Paper Bicycle outdoors for extensive periods of time and have observed no damage as a result of this practice. Same with the vintage bikes I've owned - my Gazelle and the Steyr I rode in Austria both stayed outside overnight and were none the worse for wear. So what did these manufacturers do differently, and is it possible to do the same to other bikes aftermarket? I suppose a frame can be sprayed with some rust-proof solvent, but what about the components?

Finally, I am curious to know what you feel is realistic to expect from a new transportation bike, as far as its outdoor durability. Should it be rated for being left outside for a couple of hours at a time? A standard 9-5 workday? Overnight storage? Your own experiences with specific bikes are welcome.

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Bikes, Balance, and Riding No Hands

So, yesterday something monumentally cool happened: I rode no hands for the first time. (Before anyone points out that the picture shows one hand on the bars - this is not captured in the picture!) I was alone with no one to witness my no-hands magnificence but the drivers passing me on the quiet side street. I had both hands off, and not just hovering above the bars, but properly off - dangling at my sides as I sat back on the saddle. I rode that way for an entire block, then put my hands back on the bars when it was time to turn. Then I took them off again and rode that way for another couple of blocks. I would have kept practicing, but it was freezing. 

I was riding the Paper Bicycle, coming home from skating, and somehow the bike seemed to whisper to me "You can take your hands off the bars now, do it..." - so I did. I was absolutely amazed that I could do it, and that it felt relatively safe and intuitive. The front wheel just kept going unwaveringly straight as I pedaled. But having tried the same maneuver on a couple of other bikes (both upright and road), it didn't work and the front end seemed way too unstable with my hands off the handlebars. So this appears to be bike-specific for me. I am wondering what it is that makes some bikes easier to ride no hands than others.  If I practice long enough on the Paper Bicycle, will I eventually feel comfortable riding a "normal bike" no hands as well, or is the skill unlikely to transfer? I will try not to get too excited, but this is making me feel like maybe I am not an entirely hopeless case!

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The Starship Has Landed

As some might recall, I've had a Paper Bicycle on loan since November - but haven't been riding it for transportation because it lacked a rear rack. Not only did it lack one, but the unique frame construction made it challenging to install one aftermarket. Clearly a bicycle as distinct as this called for a custom solution. Turns out the manufacturer had been developing a special rack all along, it just wasn't quite ready. He asked me to hold off on the review so that he could send me the latest prototype. And sure enough, shortly after the holidays it arrived: Behold the Paper Bicycle "Starship" rack!

Trying to picture a suitable rack for this bicycle, my imagination was failing me. While I appreciate the unique and contemporary design, I do not understand it sufficiently - either visually or structurally - to conjure up a rack that would integrate flawlessly with the rest of the bike. What form would it take? How would it connect? How could it be made strong enough to support a great deal of weight (after all, this bike is all about utility), but minimalist enough so that it would not overwhelm the frame itself? Seeing the prototype answered all of these questions. The "Starship" rack adds utility without undermining the bike's unique design, and it does so by literally plugging into the frame's integrated chaincase. 

To install the rack, its tubing is simply inserted into the ever so slightly thicker chaincase tubing, using  hammer to really push it in there. The expander screw on the righthand side is then loosened to further secure the connection. The installation is impressively solid, resulting in a rack that looks seamlessly integrated with the frame. Total installation time was maybe 5 minutes. 

While not secured to the fender or any other part of the bike, this does not seem necessary, as there is no side-to-side play. The rack is solid, and, according to the manufacturer, can support the weight of a person. My requirements are more modest:  I just want it to support my panniers and occasionally some packages.

The rack's tubing is very thick and does not in fact support standard pannier quick-release attachment hooks, such as those by Ortlieb, Jand, Basil, and R&K. It will however support the Po Campo system very nicely, and of course the double-panniers that hang over the rack's platform, as well as any pannier that attaches via straps and not quick-release hooks. I do not think that the rack's tubing choice can or should be altered, as the thick tubing is what gives it strength. But the bike's owner will have to choose their pannier system accordingly. The Paper Bicycle has long chainstays, and the rack's stays move it back even further, so that there is no chance of heel strike. 

As far as strapping packages onto the rack, attaching bungee cords can be a bit tricky - and not all bungee hooks will fit securely around the tubing. In the final production iteration of this rack, a special tab for bungee hook attachment would be helpful. 

The Starship rack is not a lightweight rack - a couple of pounds for sure. This makes the bicycle noticeably heavier to lift, but so far I have not felt any effect on handling or speed. Riding the bike for 10 miles around town in the freezing cold and wind this morning, it felt just as zippy and effortless to pedal as I remember it being pre-rack. I will ride the Paper Bicycle some more (hopefully it will snow again, as I've been trying to test it in the snow) and should have a review soon. In the meantime, what do you think of the rack? 

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The Catharsis of Seasonal Change

"It's over. Step away from the roadbike" I said to myself as gently as possible while watching the snow from the window. I was going to publish this over the weekend and title the post "The End." But then I decided that was far too dramatic, and that when titles like this come to mind the prudent thing to do is take a couple of days off from the blog. It's snow for goodness sake, not the end of the world. In fact, it is quite beautiful. And in retrospect I see that it has been cathartic - a resolution to a state of uncertainty. 

After a productive and well-organised December I naïvely expected to keep going at the same rate in the new year. But January started out slow and difficult, and only grew more so as the weeks wore on. After the holidays there was suddenly a pile of work due all at once, which is a situation I never handle well. And the move to the new art studio proved more effortful to organise than I anticipated (How did I accumulate so many jars of congealed ...stuff? why do I never throw anything away? and why did I need such enormous canvases, and so many of them??). In the midst of this we had a special occasion to celebrate, and some financial decisions to make. My immune system kept faltering. I felt as if I were moving in slow motion while everything else spun around me faster and faster.

It took me a while to connect this unsettled, disorganised state of mind to a decrease in cycling. Soon after the holidays the roads had turned icy, so I hadn't been riding as much as during the previous month. Of course! I was coming down from a long endorphin high, and not in the midst of an existential crisis. What made it worse, was that since it hadn't started snowing yet, I kept thinking that I could/should be cycling. I kept waiting for the idyl of December to return, not willing to put my bike on the trainer just yet, stuck in limbo. 

With the snow's arrival, the limbo finally ended and things became more clear-cut: "Right then. Bike on the trainer and you are done for the season. Now stop checking the weather obsessively, ride indoors while watching all the movies you've been meaning to catch up on, and get on with your life!" (Is it a bad sign when the snow speaks to you? No, no, don't answer that...)

This might sound strange coming from someone with a daily blog about bicycles, but I tend to downplay the importance of cycling in my "real" life, particularly roadcycling. It is my anti-athletic, anti-"jock" bias - a holdover from my teenage days as the angsty weird arty girl, for whom jocks were the enemy. Not very open-minded of me to carry that over, but at least I admit it. Cycling, important? Oh no, it means nothing to me compared to things like art and (real, not bloggery) writing. Oh this little blog? It's just some light-hearted stress relief. Hours a day in the saddle? It's just physical activity; it means nothing. But of course it can't possibly mean nothing. I need to admit to myself that cycling is important to me and that it integrates with the rest of my life whether I want to acknowledge it or not. Likewise, when I drastically decrease my time on the bike it will impact other aspects of my life. It will affect my mood, creativity and productivity. I was going through withdrawal, plain and simple.

The human mind is a funny thing, and once I became aware of all this, I felt better. Swiftly, we got me all moved into the new studio - thanks to the Co-Habitant's formidable lifting prowess and a magnificent zipcar pick-up truck. I even got a workout from carrying stuff up and down 3 flights of stairs, as the freight elevator in the building is not operational over the weekend. My calves are still hurting today from all that stair-climbing and it feels kind of nice. Maybe I should do this for fun in addition to walking and riding on the trainer, and all together that might keep me in shape till spring. Of course I could also cycle inside the studio (as demonstrated by the lovely bikeyface). Indoor mini-velodrome à la Interbike 2011? 

As I write this, the heaps of snow are already half-gone and temperatures are mild again. It is possible that the roads will clear up completely and we will have a continuation of our mild winter. But I am going to take a break from roadcycling anyhow, because all the back-and-forth and the increasing concerns about icy roads on descents are making me way too neurotic and it's time to stop. Of course, transportation cycling continues as usual. Seasonal change is good, winter is beautiful, and finally I feel that the year is off to a good start. Now, could somebody please tell me what those purple berries are?..

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Single Speed Versatility?

I've been test riding the Paper Bicycle for the past month, and as I've mentioned before it is a single speed. The gearing is pretty low: 38x17t, with 26x2.5" tires (about 60 gear inches). The bicycle is upright and it weighs around 37lb. Reading these specs, it would appear that the manufacturer geared the bike low to compensate for its weight and upright positioning, enabling the urban cyclist to handle hilly areas. In turn, it stands to reason that the bike cannot go very fast, assuming that one does not want to spin like mad while commuting: a sedate urban bike, where the single speed aims to make the uphill portion of the ride easy and assumes you will coast downhill. 

However, my experience of actually riding the bike contradicts this. While the gearing is low enough to handle reasonable uphill stretches, I can also pedal downhill much of the time, and on flats I can pick up quite a bit of speed. Based on what I understand about single speed gearing, that seems implausible, and yet that's how it is. 

This is not the first time I've noticed that the single speed drivetrains on some bikes can feel more "versatile" than multi-speed hubs on other bicycles I have ridden, in the sense that a single gear on Bike A can feel acceptable over a broader range of terrain than an entire 7-8 gear range on Bike B. The first time I felt this was when switching between the multi-speed Pashley and the single speed Motobecane mixte conversion, both of which I owned in 2009-2010. The Motobecane was easier uphill and faster downhill, whereas the Pashley's gears would max out in both directions. At the time I attributed this to the city bike vs roadish bike difference, but I have since experienced the same effect on bikes that were more comparable. For instance, when I test rode the Breezer Uptown, I arrived on the Paper Bicycle, then rode the 8-speed Breezer over the same terrain. I had to switch between the high and low gears of the Breezer's 8-speed range constantly in order to make the bike "move" as comfortably as the Paper Bicycle moved in its single gear. It was a poignant contrast, given that the weight and upright positioning of the two bikes are comparable. Others have reported similar experiences - discovering a single speed that was able to cover their commute as well as a multi-speed bike, but without the hassle of constantly switching gears. A single speed Abici has proven sufficient for Trisha of Let's Go Ride a Bike in Nashville, more so than her other, geared city bike. 

Increasingly, there is a trend to put 7-8 speed hubs on city bikes. Some beginner cyclists I've spoken to won't even consider 3-speed hubs, let alone single speeds. They do not have exceptionally long or hilly commutes, but after test riding a couple of bikes they feel that multiple gears are necessary. It makes me wonder whether there is something about the way many new bikes are designed, that they simply do not respond well to the rider's pedaling effort and need all those gears to compensate. Is single speed versatility the flip side of the coin to hub inefficiency, or is it all about the frame design? I am far from having an answer, but this seems worth investigating. A single speed bike is easier to maintain and put together, and it is less expensive. If it's possible to design one that can handle mildly hilly terrain, why bother with multi-speed hubs and gear shifters?

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City Bikes with Mountain Bike Heritage

A distinct category of transportation bicycles that has emerged in parallel to the contemporary classic Dutch bikes and English roadsters, is the city bike with mountain bike heritage. I have tried four distinct bicycles from this genre so far: the Retrovelo, the Urbana, the Pilen, and the Paper Bicycle.

The lugged Retrovelo is the most deceptively traditional looking of the bunch. But behind the facade of an elegant European city bicycle, it is essentially a remake of an early mountain bike design - made speedier with the fast rolling Schwalbe Fat Frank tires (originally made for Retrovelo and named after its designer Frank Patitz). When I rode a Retrovelo for the first time, I noticed that its handling felt different from that of Dutch city bikes and English roadsters, but could not articulate how or why. Having now tried other bicycles with MTB roots, it makes more sense.

The swan-framed Pilen surprised me with an even more dramatic difference in handling from traditional European city bikes. Its "unfellability" reminded me of one of those roly-poly toys that stay upright no matter how far you try to push them to the side. It was on the Pilen that I overcame my dislike of cycling on grassy hills and rock-strewn trails. And with its Schwalbe Big Apples in 700C, it towered over other bikes in city traffic while also breezily rolling over rough terrain.

Pushing the limits of my aesthetic open-mindedness, the Urbana is basically a downhill mountain bike redesigned with a low step-over U-frame, fitted with BMX handlebars, and equipped with all the contraptions necessary for transportational cycling - including a rear rack that, together with the frame design, allows the bike to carry an insane amount of weight without impacting handling. Unabashedly industrial looking, the Urbana does not aim at classic prettiness. But it sure rides well - rolling over substantial road debris and hopping curbs on its 2.6" wide tires with monster-truck ease and city bike grace.

And then there is the Paper Bicycle. With its seemingly bizarre construction, this bike manages to combine an upright sitting position with the type of "bad ass" mountain-bikey handling that inspired me to actually try riding it down a steep rocky hill (successfully). On top of that, it is responsive enough to ride long distance, as a single speed.

Knowing fairly little about mountain bike design (other than that they have a "low center of gravity" - which means what, exactly, as far as frame construction goes?..), I am not in a position to offer a technical analysis of these bicycles. But as a cyclist who has tried a myriad of city bikes at this point, I can feel a common thread in their handling. Granted, "stability" is a vague term. But theirs is a distinct brand of stability that I for one find useful in a city bike. The same qualities that make these bicycles stable off-road, are what makes them unexpectedly reassuring in traffic, indifferent to crater-sized potholes, and immune to unexpected road debris. There is more to it, but alas, I lack the vocabulary to describe it.

While mountain bikes have been used for transportation for decades, their sluggish tires, bouncy suspension forks, derailleur gearing and lack of fenders made them sub-optimal for this purpose. Also, allow me to be honest: Contemporary mountain bikes are rather ugly. But harvesting their best characteristics while optimising them for urban transport and aiming for a more classic look, seems like an excellent recipe for a fun, reliable and versatile city bike.

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Thinking It Through: Why Unique Bikes Should Come with Accessories

I've been riding the Paper Bicycle for just over a week, and in some ways my experience with it reminds me of when I first got the Bella Ciao last year.  My initial reaction was that of ecstasy over the ride quality. Not that the two bikes feel the same - far from it. But each rides great in its own distinct way, and works better for me than most other city bicycles I've tried thus far. 

When I am this happy with how a bicycle rides, of course my first thought is "Oh my God, this thing is amazing, I want to ride it all the time!" And therein lies the problem... because I can't. Like the Bella Ciao of yesteryear, the Paper Bicycle did not come with lights or a rack. Okay, so I can begrudgingly clip on battery lights when it gets dark. But the problem of how to carry my things on the bike is more serious. I am just not willing to ride around with a backpack for weeks for the sake of my blog's test ride reports, after investing in racks and panniers on my own bikes specifically to avoid that. 

Whereas for a "normal" bike I could simply buy a rack, that is not an option when a bicycle is so unusual as to make standard racks functionally or aesthetically unworkable. There is only one rack on the market with which the Paper Bicycle is compatible (the Burley rack, with the use of an adaptor). But even that option is a bad idea in my view, because it kills the unique look of the bike. Similarly, the Bella Ciao was, in theory, compatible with the Pletscher rack, but using it undermined both the elegant form of the frame and the pains the manufacturer had taken to make the bicycle as light as possible. For the Bella Ciao, the only solution I ultimately found was to have a custom rack made. I think the same must be done for the Paper Bicycle in order to make it appealing as not just a design concept, but a complete package. I know that the manufacturer is working on a rack design, and I am really hoping they make it sufficiently "paperbikey," integrated with the rest of the bicycle in the same elegant manner as the chaincase. 

It's only natural that the more enjoyable a bicycle is to ride, the more crucial these details become. The customer's joy after experiencing a fantastic test ride can quickly turn to disappointment upon learning that the bicycle cannot be made practical for commuting without destroying its looks. Similarly, as a reviewer I cannot properly evaluate a transport bike if I am ultimately unable to use it for everyday transportation as I would my own bikes. I strongly believe that this is something manufacturers need to consider and address when they create a unique product.  

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Seat Stays, Who Needs Them?

Meet my latest long-term review visitor: the Paper Bicycle! Hailing from Scotland, this unusual city bike has recently become available in the US via Adeline Adeline in New York City.

TIG-welded in cro-moly steel, the Paper Bicycle has a number of unusual features - the most striking of which is perhaps the seat stay-free construction.

When I first saw pictures of this, I found it visually unsettling and intriguing in equal measure. How can such a frame design be stable?

Apparently, by reinforcing the seat tube with a hardy "ghost chaincase" structure on the non-drivetrain side. This is certainly one of the more unique frame designs I have seen. I daresay it officially beats the Urbana?

The Ride Studio Cafe received and prepared the bike for me, and I took the bus to Lexington, intending to cycle the 10 miles home on what I thought would be a geared, albeit clunky bike. Upon arrival I was alarmed to discover that the bike was a single speed. I braced myself for a tedious trip home.

But contrary to my expectations, the ride was terrific. Though hard to believe judging by the pictures, this thing really "flies" for me. It is also not as heavy as it looks - well under 40lb. Of the bikes I've tried so far, the handling reminds me of the Pilen and the Urbana in terms of stability (does this mean mountain bike geometry?), while also possessing an unexpected lightness and swiftness. 

As usual, I will be riding this bicycle for a few weeks, then posting a review - after which it will be returned to Adeline Adeline. I will refrain from saying much more until I gain some additional experience with the Paper Bicycle, but I confess that I really like it so far, both the looks and the performance. 

What do you think? I am too far gone into design appreciation la-la-land to tell whether my readers will find a given bicycle attractive or not, but to me this one looks downright beautiful. And now I leave you with a picture of Danny MacAskill... "jumping" a Paper Bicycle. Can you do that on your city bike?

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