The irony is that the amount of hate some mountain bikers have towards MORBs ranks on the same level as hateful old hikers whose goal in life is to keep mountain bikes off every inch of singletrack.
Editor's Note: The Angry Singlespeeder is a collection of mercurial musings from contributing editor Kurt Gensheimer. In no way do his maniacal diatribes about all things bike oriented represent the opinions of Mtbr, RoadBikeReview, or any of their employees, contractors, janitorial staff, family members, household pets, or any other creature, living or dead. You can submit questions or comments to Kurt at singlespeeder@consumerreview.com. And make sure to check out Kurt's previous columns.
"No way."
My buddy stared at the none-more-black Specialized Turbo Levo FSR and shook his head. He refused to ride it or even simply swing a leg over it and just take it around the block. After a couple minutes of convincing and promising not to snap a picture of him riding a MORB (my acronym for motorized off-road bicycles) for all of social media to see, he agreed to give it a try. Ten minutes later he came back with a giant smile on his face. When I asked him what he thought, with a contemplative look, the former MORB hater simply said, "It's interesting." That's exactly what I said after my first ride.
Another friend simply refused to ride it no matter how much convincing I did. He even said, "If I ever see some lazy ass on my trails with this piece of electrified crap, I'm gonna get in their face." Oh really? What if the person has a terminal illness and they only have 6 months to live? What kind of a--hole are you going to look like when you get in someone's face and draw conclusions about them? A MORB might be the only way someone can still ride a bike and enjoy "your" trails, so for those who want to play trail police with strangers, my advice is to heed the age old passage, "Judge not, lest ye be judged".
Read the first ride review of the Specialized Turbo Levo here.
With the exception of a Segway, I've never not had fun on two wheels, but based on the extreme prejudice and hatred that electric-assist off-road bikes have generated, you'd think these contraptions were the devil reincarnated. The irony is this: The amount of hate some mountain bikers have towards MORBs ranks on the same level as hateful old hikers whose goal in life is to keep mountain bikes off every inch of singletrack. And the bigger irony is, most of those who hate on MORBs have never even ridden one. Have we learned nothing from the 30-plus years of hatred and prejudice of anti-mountain bike folk?
This is not meant to be a column about promoting how cool or useful MORBs are. Rather, I agreed to ride a Turbo Levo to understand exactly what it is, what it can do, and what it can't do. The mind is like a parachute, it only works when it's open. So with an open mind, I brought a Turbo Levo up to Downieville in order to sort it out on an extensive network of moto-legal trails to determine its capabilities and pitfalls. Whether you like it or not, at least for now, these bikes are here to stay. So instead of hating on them like I admittedly did for a bit, I've chosen to better understand them by riding one.
A MORB could be a very useful machine for trail crews who need to maintain hard-to-access motorized and non-motorized trails.
Riding a MORB
Although my buddy Evan calls the Turbo Levo a "48-pound dirt bike you can pedal", it's not that good. First off, you can't roost the rear tire on this machine. It's pedal assist only with maximum output of 530 watts and an average output of 250 watts. Compared to a dirt bike, that's a paltry amount of power. Sure, the Turbo Levo is fun going uphill on pretty steep pitches so long as it isn't too technical, but once those steep pitches get littered with big loose rocks, the fun ends. Pushing a 48 pound mass of battery and motor uphill taxes your lexicon of cuss words as much as it does your legs and lungs.
Because of the slack 66.5-degree head tube angle and abundant mid-ship weight, the Turbo Levo forces you to ride at the very front of the cockpit to keep the front end planted on steep uphill pitches. And because of its weight, the Turbo Levo naturally wants to fall over at low speed going uphill. With no throttle to upright the bike, once the MORB starts falling over, that's all she wrote. Contrary to what some might think, the Turbo Levo will not out climb a mountain bike when the terrain gets steep, rocky, and technical. You might go a little further, but at some point, you'll be pushing. And it's a hell of a lot easier to push a normal mountain bike than a MORB.
So long as you keep the MORB to trails that aren't very technical, it's impressive how much terrain can be covered. Climbing to the top of Empire Creek Trail from Downieville is a serious undertaking to the tune of 12 miles and 4,000 vertical feet. On my trail bike it takes me at least two hours, and by the time I reach the top I'm drenched in sweat from the effort. On the MORB, I reached the top in a mere 90 minutes with only a mild bead of sweat on my brow. But there was one glaring issue - the 12-mile climb, even in Eco mode (30 percent assist), drained the battery to only one remaining bar. Thankfully the ride back home was almost all downhill, but on that two-hour ride it became clear that for big adventures, the Turbo Levo battery is not yet up to snuff.
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Because of the slack 66.5-degree head tube angle and abundant mid-ship weight, the Turbo Levo forces you to ride at the very front of the cockpit to keep the front end planted on steep uphill pitches.
I also found myself constantly thinking about the battery and how much charge I had left. One of the most incredible pleasures in riding a bicycle is its simplicity, allowing the rider's mind to wander. Some of the best thinking I ever do is on the mountain bike, but that can't be done when worrying about how much juice is left in the electric tank. Because the last thing you want to do on this machine is pedal it uphill with a dead battery. It's like towing a pissed off mule train.
There is a Mission Control app you can put on your smartphone to further tune the settings of the Turbo Levo to make the battery last longer, but honestly, below 30 percent assist, the MORB barely generates enough power to offset its extra 20 pounds of mass. At that point, you might as well just ride a mountain bike. Therefore, I didn't really use the app and just relied on the three stock power settings (Eco, Trail and Turbo) that are controlled on the down tube.
Although the motor worked pretty well most of the time, there were moments shifting under load when the motor would cut out completely for up to three seconds. That might not sound like a long time, but when you're barely keeping the bike upright on an steep pitch, three seconds is an eternity.
One of the biggest problems I had with the Turbo Levo was its low bottom bracket, which is another reason why this machine isn't suited for technical terrain. Although the crank spindle height is a respectable 12" off the ground, the frame hangs three inches lower, leaving only 9" of ground clearance. When a 48-pound bike tags a rock and changes trajectory, you're simply along for the ride, going where it wants to go; hopefully not off a cliff.
I did find the MORB pretty useful for a couple purposes. One was climbing stairs. Another was pedaling through sand. A third was pedaling home with a flat tire after forgetting my pump. But the most useful purpose was for trail work. There are a lot of trails above Downieville that don't get ridden much because of how hard they are to access, and as a result, get neglected when it comes to trail work. Hopping on the Turbo Levo with a bag of tools after work and pedaling 10 miles to do some trail magic was fairly effortless, and because it got me there quicker, I had more time to work.
A MORB could be a very useful machine for trail crews who need to maintain hard-to-access non-motorized trails. Riding a dirt bike on non-motorized trails would never fly with land managers, but because the Turbo Levo is silent, causes no more trail damage than a mountain bike and looks like a mountain bike, it could a very useful and stealth way for trail crews to cover a rather large amount of hard-to-access trail in a short amount of time.
Although some people think the introduction of MORBs will ruin the sport of mountain biking, after spending a few months on one, my gut says these contraptions will not suddenly take over every trailhead across North America. The Turbo Levo is widely regarded as the best execution of a MORB so far, and based on my experience, even the best MORB is still not good enough to justify opening my wallet for one. Besides the judgmental looks you'll receive on the trail, weight, battery life, and handling are the most glaring issues that keep MORBs from becoming mainstream.
Although MORBs make uphills more fun, they most definitely don't make the downhills more fun. And when I pedal a mountain bike, my goal is maximum downhill enjoyment. Therefore, at least for now, I don't see myself owning a MORB anytime soon. I'd rather spend the money on a dirt bike and keep my mountain bike adventures 100-percent human-powered.
Editor's Note: The Angry Singlespeeder is a collection of mercurial musings from contributing editor Kurt Gensheimer. In no way do his maniacal diatribes about all things bike oriented represent the opinions of Mtbr, RoadBikeReview, or any of their employees, contractors, janitorial staff, family members, household pets, or any other creature, living or dead. You can submit questions or comments to Kurt at singlespeeder@consumerreview.com. And make sure to check out Kurt's previous columns.