To fold, or not to fold

You’ve probably seen them, the commuters, expertly folding or unfolding their Bromptons. Wheeling them along the station platform. Tucking them into the train’s luggage rack.

The transformation from mode of transport to compact cube of hinged parts is magical to behold. In fact, a ‘magic carpet for the city’ was what engineer Andrew Ritchie had in mind when, in 1975, he set about inventing a bike that could be taken anywhere.

It was a long road from Ritchie’s flat overlooking the Brompton Oratory to the company’s current West London factory. For a long while, he hand-built every single bike in a small workshop, while banks and bike companies rejected his investment proposals. And then, in 1987, Julian Vereker, a Brompton customer, offered him backing. An angel investor riding to the rescue on a folding bicycle.

Today, the distinctive Brompton bikes – with their ingenious three-part, twenty-second fold – are a design icon. Instead of hand-making bikes in a rented workshop, the company is collaborating on special-edition models with the likes of celebrated artist Shantell Martin and adventurer Bear Grylls.

For many people, Bromptons are an indispensable part of life. Maybe you’re a folding-bike commuter yourself. Or maybe you’re a Brompton tourer – hopping on and off trains across Europe without the need for cycle reservations, and riding the stretches in between. So far, life hasn’t taken me down either of these paths.

What would the ride be like on those tiny wheels? Would I be able to get the hang of the folding?

When I was in my 20s, I commuted across London for work but couldn’t afford a Brompton. By the time I could justify the cost, I’d stopped commuting and didn’t need one. I was still curious, though. What would the ride be like on those tiny wheels? Would I be able to get the hang of the folding?

And then, in 2011, Brompton launched its hire scheme. Available at 70 locations across the country, Bromptons for hire are stored in distinctive yellow lockers. You book with the phone app, scan a QR code to open the locker, unfold the bike and go. It costs £5 per day. And it’s an ideal way to try out a Brompton. That’s what my wife, J and I did one day back before we had our son, G.

We caught the train to Birmingham to take a couple of bikes on a tour of the city. Despite some teething troubles and a tyre in need of air, the trip went well. My curiosity was satisfied. We added Brompton bike hire to our mental list of travel options, where it remained unused for several years. A path to be explored one day, when the opportunity arose.

Life moved on. G was born. And after a few years, he started riding a little bike of his own. His range soon increased, and we began seeking out longer traffic-free trails. That’s what brought us, one day around eight years ago, to the Brompton hire location outside Bristol Temple Meads Station.

“Ha, your bikes are smaller than mine,” chuckled G, as J and I retrieved our Bromptons from the lockers. He had a point. Aged five, he was riding an Islabike with 20-inch wheels; his parents’ rented folders had 16-inch wheels. He clearly thought we were a bit mad to try and ride these bikes to Bath, 25km away. We wondered if he was right.

In the end, Bromptons and Islabike alike coped pretty easily with the gentle inclines. And G coped well with the 25km distance, thanks to frequent snack stops. But we found the Bromptons unforgiving on our bodies and missed the handling of full-sized bikes. It seemed that Bromptons and I had reached the end of the road.

For a few years after that, I didn’t think much about my old folding friend. And then, recently, I began to wonder whether it would be useful to have one at home, rather than just waiting for me in a fairly distant locker. I could use it to pick up a vehicle from the local community car club. I could pop it in the front of the cargo bike when I collected G from friends’ houses, so he could ride it home.

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Fortunately, there was now a way I could explore Brompton ownership without committing to going all the way: a subscription service. Launched in the wake of the Covid cycle boom, the subscription is now priced at £50 per month for a rolling 30-day contract and £35 a month if you commit to a full year. I signed up for the rolling option and waited for a large box to be delivered.

Practical questions were answered quickly. Yes, the standard C-Line could cope with the hills around where I live. And yes, G was now tall enough to ride a Brompton. That just left the matter of whether we needed it, and the answer quickly became apparent: no. For most journeys, walking or using one of our other bikes was a better option. So, after a couple of months, I folded the Brompton into its big box and posted it back.

Life isn’t a straight road to a destination. It’s about feeling your way forward, exploring possibilities and retracing your steps when something doesn’t work out. So I reverted to the idea of hiring a Brompton by the day for suitable trips.

It wasn’t long before one came along – visiting a friend who lives near the Brampton Valley Way, a 22km walking and cycling route along the former railway line between Northampton and Market Harborough. Changing trains at Birmingham International, I nipped out of the station to pick up a Brompton from its locker.

Not having to wrestle with the logistics of booking train space for a full-size bike made the journey much easier. At Northampton, I just unfolded the Brompton and set off. It felt gloriously, ridiculously easy. I slipped out of town along back roads. And then I sped along the old track bed of the Brampton Valley Way. The Brompton coped well enough with the gentle gradient and smooth surface.

“How are you finding the Brommy on this path?” asked a cyclist I met along the way. “They’re great machines. I’ve owned three, but I don’t need one anymore because I don’t commute.”

I knew how he felt. Sure, the small wheels and big gear intervals were a bit frustrating. The few steep hills I encountered were tough. And a Brompton is pretty heavy when folded. But thanks to Andrew Ritchie’s ingenuity, I’d had a relaxing train journey across the country. I’d cycled 70km – along and around an old railway path – and encountered just a handful of cars. I’d enjoyed a long lunch catching up with my mate.

Popping the Brompton back in its locker on my way home was tinged with sadness. We’ll see each other again soon, little folder. When the time and journey are right.