The Rise and Fall of E-Bike Culture
When I first got into e-bikes during the early days of the pandemic, it felt like we had discovered a new form of freedom. The streets were empty, the skies were clear, and for the first time in a long time, people had room to breathe. Riding was peaceful, even healing. No traffic, no smog, no noise—just the sound of tires on pavement and the wind on your face. Back then, group rides were slow, respectful, and almost meditative. We weren’t out there trying to prove anything. We were just trying to feel something again in the middle of a world that was falling apart.
But that moment didn’t last. As people grew more comfortable with e-bikes, something started to change. Riders began tinkering with their bikes, pushing the limits of what was possible. It wasn’t long before conversations turned from “Where should we ride today?” to “How fast can we make this thing go?” Battery upgrades, controller swaps, torque monster builds—suddenly it was all about speed and power.
People were hungry for more, and companies like Powerful Lithium and Chi Battery Systems were happy to feed that hunger. You could take a standard commuter bike and turn it into a silent speed demon. And then came the stunts. Enter a YouTuber named Sur Ronster—one of the first to really showcase aggressive e-bike riding on camera. He wheelied through city streets, ran with huge groups, and became a symbol for this new, wild side of the culture. And like clockwork, kids followed him. No safety gear, no experience—just wheelies and views.
That’s when everything really started to spiral. Mega rides exploded in popularity—massive, unsanctioned group rides filled with high-speed antics, stunts, and chaos. For a while, they felt like they were untouchable. But deep down, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the public—and law enforcement—pushed back.
And they did.
I’ve talked to cops who told me point-blank: “Before the stunts, we didn’t care. Now we do.” They used to turn a blind eye to e-bikes. But after the complaints, the crashes, and the chaos, that all changed. Today, they treat e-bikes like unregistered motorcycles. No plate? No mercy. It doesn’t matter if you’re riding responsibly—if your bike looks fast, you’re a target.
What we once saw as freedom is now criminalized. And it didn’t have to be this way.
Now, we’re seeing the industry respond with new regulations. Manufacturers are dialing back power to comply with laws. Riders, of course, are pushing back—because nobody wants to go slower. But the truth is, we need this reset. We pushed too far, too fast.
Personally, I don’t need to go 60 mph to feel alive. I ride my Segway Xyber to my doctor’s appointments, cruise at 25 to 35 mph on local roads, and I love it. It’s fast enough. It’s safe. It gets me there. That’s all I need.
But too many people got caught up in the chase. The need to be faster. The need to be viral. And in that race, we lost control of the narrative. We attracted the wrong attention, the wrong energy, and in some cases, the wrong people. And now, everyone’s paying the price. Responsible riders. New riders. Parents. Kids. All of us.
I’ve spent the last five years documenting this community for Frantic TV. I’ve seen the beauty and the bullshit. I know how much potential we have as a movement—but I also know we can’t move forward if we’re stuck in a stunt-loop for views and clout.
It’s time we get back to the root of why we started riding in the first place. The peace. The joy. The independence. We can still have that. But we need to slow down, ride smarter, and stop pretending like chaos is culture.
If we want to preserve this freedom, we have to evolve. Otherwise, e-bike culture won’t just fall—it’ll crash and burn.
— Felix Mariano Founder, Frantic TV
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