Cycling in Australia is a complicated business. On the one hand, the number of cyclists has never been higher. There are vibrant communities in many capital cities, and popular competitions such as the Audax Alpine Classic. It is possible to bike through wine regions, national parks, old railroad tracks in the Victorian Alps – anywhere, really, with remarkable ease.
On the other hand, the percentage of Australians who ride has fallen over the past few years, according to the latest National Cycling Participation study, when population growth is taken into account.
And although 2017 marks 200 years since the bicycle was invented in Germany, certain state governments in Australia remain less than friendly towards urban riders, and the nation’s mandatory helmet laws dissuade many from considering a bike for recreation.
But to some entrepreneurs, this is exactly what a golden opportunity looks like: take a challenge, add enthusiasm and innovation, then transform lives. It’s the reason three very different men – Meindert Wolfraad, Lorenzo Martone and Myles Chandler – are working hard to overhaul how we think about bicycles.
Culture shift
Meindert Wolfraad had tired of being an engineer. Deciding on an adventure instead, he booked a one-way ticket from Amsterdam to Sydney nine years ago, planning to backpack, kite-surf and study a little English along the way.
The Dutchman was soon struck by how few Australians cycled “in the way the Dutch do” – as everyday commuters on commuter bikes. After six months of travelling, he sought a bicycle of his own to ride to university. But he couldn’t find a “normal bike”, only mountain and road bikes.
There was nothing to do but fly back to the Netherlands and return to Australia with a couple of Dutch bikes. Once back in Sydney, people stopped Wolfraad in the streets or yelled out (“in a positive way”) to ask about his ride. So he tucked business cards into his saddle, “just to see if there was any interest”.
There was, and seemingly, a hole in the market. Which got Wolfraad to pondering: why not import Dutch bikes commercially, along with a European way of thinking – that a bike was something you “just jumped on with your high heels” without the need for Lycra?
“I was trying to sell the Dutch culture to Australian people,” he recalls.
Wolfraad travelled far and wide, pitching his idea to retailers. In the first three months, he sold about 180 bikes. With a loan from his parents, he founded Lekker Bikes (the word means “tasty” in Dutch).
There was one big snag: not everyone loved his idea. A Dutch commuter bike is traditionally made from steel, which puts them on the heavier side; Australians were used to light sports bikes that rarely rusted. And Dutch bikes are typically “black, black and black”, Wolfraad says, while Australians go for colour. Undeterred, he decided to create something quite different.
Wolfraad switched the frame to aluminum, added a dash of colour and altered the bike’s geometry to make it functional on urban hills. The result was a fusion of Dutch convenience with Australian athleticism that has become Lekker’s hybrid trademark.
A pop-up shop in North Melbourne led to a permanent store in 2014. And by the end of last year, Wolfraad had cracked the difficult Sydney market, opening a store in Surry Hills. Remarkably, he has also taken Lekker to Amsterdam – exporting bikes with an Australian influence back to his home country, where they’ve been received with open arms.
“In the Netherlands, a bicycle is like a pair of shoes,” Wolfraad says. “In Australia, the bike is used for recreation and is expected to be nicer.”
Finding the happy medium has led to a product that is both functional and attractive, and may soon make its mark on the streets of New York.
Lekkerbikes.com.au; Tel: 1300 053 525
Aesthetic Appeal
Lorenzo Martone was born in Brazil but attended school in Paris, where he quickly embraced the city’s ethos of easy riding.
“I always had a bike,” he recalls. “I used it for transportation.”
Later, on moving to New York, Martone faced an unexpected conundrum.
Apartments tend to be small in Manhattan and there was nowhere else for Martone to store his bicycle during the winter months. He was stuck with looking at his ride, and it was downright ugly. “All of a sudden the bike was a central piece of the living room,” he says.
Martone, who got his break working in public relations in the fashion business, decided bicycles needed a radical makeover. He was inspired by French designer Philippe Starck’s famous Juicy Salif lemon squeezer: a humdrum kitchen object that had been transformed into a gorgeous sculpture.
A bicycle should be “an extension of your style”, Martone explains.
A beautiful living space, for example, requires sleek design and quality materials, Martone explains, while perfect accessories are gold and silver jewellery. He wanted to design a bicycle with a similarly stylish essence. It had to be useful but striking, an aesthetic object that a person could proudly “wear” out in the city, or exhibit in their home.
Martone had five prototype bicycles made and showed photographs of them to Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine (he waylaid her at the 2012 Valentino fashion show in Paris).
“It was like asking for a sign from the skies,” he says. “If she endorses this, then I should make it into a business.”
The heavens responded. Wintour told him to send the bikes to the office so Vogue could shoot them, and Martone Cycling Co was founded the following year.
Each season brings a new “collection”, rather like a fashion house, and the bicycles have become coveted items around the world, including in Australia.
Martone has since turned his attention to cycling accessories, starting from the same premise: why should they be ugly?
Even the chunky bike helmet has received a stylish makeover, which should silence anyone who cites helmet laws to justify their abstinence from cycling.
“Cycling wasn’t [always] about competition,” Martone says, referring to its 200-year history.
“Riders were very elegant-looking.”
Martonecycling.com.au; Tel: (02) 9191 7323
Capital design
Myles Chandler was born in Australia’s capital, studied industrial design at the University of Canberra and left in 2006, working overseas in the maritime industry before returning two years later.
“I was always a keen cyclist,” he recalls. And Canberra had a nascent cycling culture that fired his imagination. Nowadays, he says, the city features “an amazing network of bicycle paths”.
“We’ve got pretty fantastic world-class riding facilities and we’ve had many national and international events held here. Disproportionately, given its size, the level of recreational cycling in Canberra is very high.”
According to the Australian Bicycle Council, Canberra had the highest participation rate in the country in 2014. If you were thinking of launching a home-grown cycling company in Australia, Canberra is the place to do so.
At first, Chandler was content to restore and sell vintage bikes with his brother-in-law, David Alcorn. Their company Mocan Bros rolled over into a popular cafe, Mocan and Green Grout, which they opened in partnership with Hotel Hotel founders, Jonathan and Nectar Efkarpidis.
But as the bicycle culture in Canberra became increasingly sophisticated, Chandler and Alcorn decided to build a product that would reflect and celebrate that community.
“We developed this notion of Goodspeed,” Chandler says.
Goodspeed Bicycle Company, which opened its first shopfront in Canberra in 2015, is unusual for a few reasons. Chandler and Alcorn worked with frame-builder Luke Laffan to create a signature cantilevered frame that would be instantly recognisable. It would also be made from steel – the very substance Meindert Wolfraad found Australian cyclists resisted.
By introducing high-quality steel frames to a discerning bike scene like Canberra’s, Goodspeed has sought to bring people around to the alloy’s durability and springy ride quality. Steel bikes “will endure both aesthetically and functionally for many generations”, Chandler says.
More radically, though, Chandler and Alcorn decided to keep production in the city. “Canberra has brilliant talent,” Chandler says, “so why not take advantage of that?”
At a time when most bicycles are produced in countries such as Taiwan and China, Goodspeed aims to show that the skills and expertise exist in Australia.
“I’m trying to prove that you can make this sort of product on a local scale. It’s an opportunity for people to witness the birth of a big brand,” Chandler says.
He is hoping to export Goodspeed bicycles in the future, with the company’s signature “bone structure” customised around the world to suit different tastes.
Chandler is confident that, despite all the challenges, things will only getting better for cyclists in Australia. After all, bicycles are out-selling cars.
“Cycling offers an amazing experience for people at all levels,” he says.
Goodspeed.com.au
