There’s a phrase creeping into the mountain biking lexicon that grates on the ears of many purists: “acoustic bike.” The term, intended to distinguish human-powered mountain bikes from their electric counterparts, often feels forced and unnatural. It’s a bit like nails on a chalkboard for some, and for others, it’s simply grammatically jarring, given its musical connotations. Literalists are quick to point out the term’s musical roots, arguing its misuse in the context of bicycles. Captain Obvious would undoubtedly agree.
Initially, the aversion to “acoustic bike” might seem perplexing. Perhaps it’s the faint whiff of marketing spin, the imagined boardroom brainstorm session aimed at polishing the image of electric mountain bikes. One can almost picture a Don Draper-esque figure pitching it: “Think of it! Acoustic versus electric! A dichotomy as classic as Dylan going electric at Newport!”
Mountain bikers, after all, are no strangers to quirky nomenclature. Our bikes and gear are adorned with a motley collection of nicknames – duallie, hardtail, big bike, sled, and even the slightly less dignified “dirt donkey.” Some of these monikers stick, others fade, seemingly without rhyme or reason. Consider “softtail,” an early attempt to label dual suspension bikes, borrowed from the motorcycle world where it described hardtail aesthetics with hidden suspension. Harley-Davidson trademarked “Softail” in 1983, but it never quite resonated within mountain biking circles.
While “softtail” didn’t take hold, “hardtail” became the standard descriptor for bikes with front suspension but rigid rears – a necessary distinction from fully rigid bikes (once playfully termed “stiffies” or “steel stallions”). Before the dual-suspension revolution, these were simply known as “mountain bikes.” Now, we often use the slightly misapplied term “duallie” for full suspension bikes.
Rémy Métailler pictured in a meticulously organized garage, a common aspiration among cycling enthusiasts.
It begs the question: what do you call the bike that relies solely on your own two legs for power? What does Rémy Métailler call his non-electric bike, assuming he even uses such a plebian term?
Then there was the saga of 650b. This designation, championed by figures like Kirk Pacenti for the wheel size bridging 26″ and 29″, was chosen to evoke a sense of foreign mystique. It stemmed from a French system where the number represented the tire’s outer diameter in millimeters (650), and the letter denoted width (b). However, this French road tire standard was largely irrelevant to mountain biking. In reality, a 650b rim with a mountain bike tire actually measures around 700mm or larger in diameter, making it practically synonymous with… 27.5 inches!
The shift from 650b to 27.5″ wasn’t arbitrary. Partly fueled by resistance to metric units in some markets and partly to simplify understanding for less informed consumers, the industry pushed for “27.5” (pronounced twennysevenfive). This move aimed to boost bike sales by clarifying the wheel size. Even Norco had to abandon their “Killer Bs” marketing campaign for these in-between bikes. One wonders if Don Draper had a hand in this rebranding effort too.
This brings us to the current trend of bikes with a 29″ front wheel and a 27.5″ rear. The naming convention for this configuration is still evolving. While “mullet” gains traction, some brands resist it, opting for “MX bikes” or “mix-wheel bikes” – perhaps preferring an association with motocross over, as the original article humorously puts it, “53 year old dudes with un-ironic hockey hair.” While “business in the front, party in the back” is a catchy, if informal, description, the ultimate name will be decided by popular usage. But a safe bet is that “mullet” will likely win out.
This ongoing linguistic evolution highlights the present challenge: finding a clear way to differentiate between pedal-assist bikes and those powered purely by the rider. Those less enamored with eMTBs, sometimes pejoratively labeled “cheater chariots,” often ask, “Why can’t we just call them mountain bikes?” The answer echoes the arrival of dual suspension: distinction is sometimes necessary. “Are you riding your recharge rover or your ______ tomorrow?” the question arises.
Several contenders have emerged, some seemingly designed to provoke debate: “acoustic bike,” “analog bike,” “manual bike,” and the whimsical “Amish bike.” “Heirloom” and “artisanal bike” have also been floated, adding a touch of perhaps overly precious connotations. “Regular bike” is sometimes heard, but it carries a slightly dismissive undertone.
English speakers, however, might already have a suitable term readily available: “push bike.” Commonly used in the UK and other regions, “push bike” is believed to have originated to distinguish bicycles from motorcycles. It may also trace back to the Draisienne (or Draisine), considered the precursor to the modern bicycle.
Invented by German Baron Karl von Drais Sauerbronn, the Draisienne, or Laufmaschine (German for “running machine”), lacked pedals, resembling a modern-day balance bike. This pedal-less design likely gave rise to “push bike.” While Baron von Drais’s own term didn’t stick, the public embraced names like “velocipede” and the less flattering “hobby horse” or “dandy horse.” Fortunately for the Baron, the absence of internet forums in 1818 spared him from online mockery.
The Ti Fabrications Bonestealer 69er, a unique bike configuration showcasing a blend of wheel sizes.
During the research for this discussion of bike terminology, the Ti Fabrications Bonestealer 69er came to light. This intriguing bike, with its larger front wheel, highlights the ongoing experimentation and evolution within bike design and nomenclature. If mullet bikes had retained 26″ rear wheels, perhaps a new naming convention would already be in place.
Let’s Make “Pedal Bike” Happen
While the debate over bike names might seem trivial, the lack of clear terminology creates a certain unease. This linguistic ambiguity extends beyond just bicycles. Consider the ongoing struggle to definitively name past decades – the “2000s?” The “aughts?” The “teens” or “tens” for the decade just past? These naming uncertainties can be surprisingly unsettling.
Therefore, let’s strive for consensus. Let’s unite and agree on a term that effectively communicates the distinction we need. And the solution, arguably, is straightforward: “Pedal Bike.”
Those resistant to the “e-” prefix should find this appealing. It reinforces the fundamental action of human-powered cycling: pedaling! It subtly underscores the effort and engagement inherent in riding a non-electric mountain bike, contrasting it with the assistance provided by motors.
Admittedly, “pedal bike” isn’t flawless. Literalists (and this author often counts himself among them) will point out that e-bikes also have pedals. But to appease this pedantic faction, must we resort to the cumbersome “Mountain Bicycles Lacking Electric Motors?”
So, for the sake of clarity, and in the spirit of simplifying the jargon, let’s embrace “pedal bike.” It’s concise, descriptive, and accurately captures the essence of human-powered mountain biking. Let’s make “pedal bike” the term that sticks.
