Rivian has long presented itself as the electric automaker made for adventure, but its latest move — spinning off a company that’s betting hundreds of millions on e-bikes — may be the first time it feels perfectly aligned with the product. The second I hopped on and started weaving through the madness, it was clear why Rivian is dropping $305 million on this. It didn’t seem like a run of the mill experiment or gimmick. It seemed like something Rivian should have been shipping for years.
Rivian vehicles have always had that mix of rugged energy and quiet power about them, and some how the bike seems to carry that same characteristic. You don’t expect an e-bike to feel right, but this one does. After a few seconds, the assist kicked in with this ridiculous smooth push — none of that jerkiness, no overly strong boost, it’s just all you need to feel like your legs suddenly became stronger without you doing anything different. The throttle didn’t have the feeling that a motor had been bolted to a frame. It felt like momentum.
Taking it for a spin in Manhattan brought out the most favorable testing conditions imaginable: potholes, delivery scooters buzzing by, taxis swerving across lanes, pedestrians inattentively stepping into the street — all the New York drama. Generally, e-bikes either feel too wimpy for the mayhem or too insane to enjoy. But this one had that Rivian beefy feel that gives you confidence in the machine beneath you. It absorbed hits. It dodged effortlessly. It gave power immediately when I required it. And when I wanted control it did not oppose me.
This is a bike that feels instinctive in the way it reacts to force. No need to pedal hard, and it gives you a gentle push. Push hard on the pedals, and it’s like some invisible person is giving you a shove-ushhh to roll the whole city behind you. It’s that “effort multiplied” sensation that gets e-bikes right — and this one nails it.
The surprising part isn’t the performance. It’s what it feels like to use something when it is mostly interface, a first-generation product. Most companies that launch into e-bikes start small, learn the hard way and improve gradually until they make something good. Rivian’s spin-off leapfrogged all of that to a stage equivalent to something that feels like the third generation. It handles messiness. It handles speed. It copes with the chaos of city riding in an extremely purposeful manner.
And that’s probably because Rivian doesn’t treat e-bikes as a side hustle. The company is also investing $305 million in this new direction — a huge investment at a time when the general EV market is grappling with cost pressure, slim margins and changing demand. But e-bikes are different. They are cheaper to manufacture, simpler to scale and much more available for American consumers who just want in on this whole electric mobility thing without signing up for a $70,000 luxury car payment.
Strangely, the bike feels like Rivian returning to its roots. The marque was never intended to mean only trucks and S.U.V.s. It was to be a lifestyle company, the beginning of an electric adventure, and freedom. And what could be more liberating — and more universally applicable — than a heavy duty e-bike able to plow through crowded streets or carry you into a park without ever finding its way to a charging station?
Something else became obvious during the ride around New York: this bike isn’t just for outdoor enthusiasts or hardcore cyclists. It is for those who would like to feel sporty on a commute. For riders who are looking to replace short car trips with a smoother, faster option. For those who possess a neighborhood they need to cross without battling traffic. It’s functionally quite practical, but also weirdly uplifting — as if Rivian bottled a bit of its brand optimism and injected it into a pedal-assist motor.
It’s not just a financial bet the company is making. It’s philosophical. Rivian is wading into a category in which people become emotionally attached to things pretty rapidly. An e-bike isn’t a second car — it’s just part of someone’s daily rhythm. If Rivian can win that loyalty early, it has an opportunity to create a mobility ecosystem that’s far larger than trucks on trails.
And judging by the ride, that gamble doesn’t seem reckless. It feels obvious.
The bike is powerful. It’s intuitive. It’s stable. It’s fun in a way that paradoxically makes you forget that you’re testing a product, and rather lets you just have some fun out in the world with something that supports you in motion.
Rivian is still struggling to prove itself in the electric-truck space, but that e-bike spin-off may end up being its smartest expansion yet — not because the bike is good (it’s great), but because it feels like Rivian finally building something for mere mortals, not just adventurers.
And if the rest of the lineup is anything at all like the prototype I drove in Manhattan, Rivian has perhaps just rolled out the vehicle to carry its brand into the next decade.
