REGROUP ON THE ROAD

AN OPEN KIND OF LIFE

With the new Open Cycles 2.0 era upon us, we took a flying trip to Basel, Switzerland to visit Open's HQ and interview its co-founder, Andy Kessler.

Andy Kessler, Co-Founder at Open Bikes, at the door of the Open offices in Basel, Switzerland

Andy is worried about where we've parked our van. "Were there any signs?" he asks. Flush with the excitement of landing a dream park amidst the busy roads of Basel, we proudly tell him no, no signs to speak of. This upsets him. "Oh dear, oh dear. But there were some road markings, yes?" Adam and I look at each other, then down at our feet - no road markings. Andy seems to grow taller before our eyes. "Even worse! You'd better bring it in here."

And then he’s laughing at us. Adam and I are laughing, but I can tell from his eyes as we walk back to retrieve our vehicle and drive it into Open’s offices that he’s plotting how to throw me under the rented minivan for the parking faux pas. Not if I get there first.

 

Open’s head office is a small apartment complex. Below decks, the door to the courtyard that semi-circles the building is a beautiful wood and glass number with stainless steel fixings. It’s this door that we find Andy in front of upon our return, this time with a van. With a flick of his wrist, Andy turns a single door into a barn door to reveal a small passageway and starts to wave us in through the eye of a needle, or so it seems. He’s done this before because he’s laughing and watching our every milimeter with a practised eye. Later, we’ll learn that Andy, ‘a dumb salesman’ in his words, is a physicist by training.

 

“Welcome to Open!” says Andy as we clamber out of the van. After the squeeze to get in, the peaceful, well-ordered courtyard that greets us is a welcome relief. There’s ample parking space for cars, a dedicated bike area, and, to the left, an enormous window that gives way to neat lines of neat architects, all typing away designing whatever Swiss architects do. Banks, perhaps. Andy leads us to the door of Open’s HQ, which sits off the entranceway and houses three sparsely filled floors. An Open UPPER Concept leans against a wall, the first fruits of the Open 2.0 era. It really is a beautiful bike.

 

“When Open started in 2013, it was not an entirely new idea, of course, but perhaps we started our own revolution,” says Andy modestly. “And now, Gerard has the feeling that the time is right for our next phase.” That would be Gerard Vroomen, the industry’s design wunderkind, a startlingly talented engineer who earned his spurs and universal acclaim at Cervélo before disillusionment drew his eyes from the bars to the horizon and the possibility of building a company in a radically different way. He left and founded Open in 2013 with his friend Andy, the former head of BMC bikes, who at the time was seeking a new challenge and a new way of working. Stars aligned, and Open was born. Since then, Gerard and Andy have been ‘working hard to stay small’, making new models and developments only when they feel they have something to offer, an ideology that flies in the face of an industry that seems intent on turning bikes into a fast fashion accessory.

“It took way longer than we thought,” says Andy of the forthcoming Open 2.0 era. “But some of the things we made, like our patented adjustable stem, were quite complicated to perfect.” That stem and bar, a one-piece integrated number, offers the tantalizing possibility of changing an entire industry, not just your reach. You can move your saddle fore and aft. Why can’t you do the same with the length of your stem? “The one downside of integrated cockpits is their non-adjustability,” says Andy. “Maybe you want to be a bit more sporty or less. With our new stem, you swap a shim, turn it around, and you can adapt your length by 15 mm fore or aft. It’s super stiff, clean, but now hopefully a bit more useful!” And then there’s the sustainability benefit. “We can reduce SKUs,” he explains, “which allows us to produce less and rationalize what can be a bit of a nightmare of options.” And, he says, if you flip the shim and extend your reach by 15mm, you won’t need to extend the cable length. Neat.

 

“Things are always changing,” muses Andy when I ask him about the timing of Open 2.0. “But we only ever want to come out with a new product when we have something better.” By way of example, he mentions UDH and the question of why Open didn’t simply integrate it into their existing range. “It didn’t feel right to do it on its own. I mean, the UP and UPPER are almost 8 years old, and they’re still good bikes!” he laughs before going on to explain how so much they created so many years ago stayed relevant and fresh, design and engineering waypoints that speak to the innovation and prescience at the heart of Open. Casting his eyes towards the UPPER Concept in front of us, Andy says simply, “We now believe we can make a better product.”

 

We all trudge upstairs and enter the kitchen. “It used to be an apartment,” says Andy, in answer to our unspoken question. To one side, there are other rooms, former bedrooms, perhaps, one of which houses a smiling Martin Lang, Open’s tech specialist. On the other, there’s a meeting room, complete with the usual amenities and the inspired addition of hot and cold running water and a genuine porcelain bath with iron feet. Who knows how this meeting will go, but I shotgun the side without the taps, and Adam shoots me a look which suggests I might be walking back to the airport. Better that than tap back.

 

While he prepares coffee, Andy fills us in on the city of Basel. “With the suburbs, it’s about 500,000 people. Everything is close: the airport and train station. And the riding is amazing. In five minutes, you’re in France, or the Black Forest and almost 250km of super-duper gravel if you traverse the Jura mountain range towards Geneva.” And in answer to another unspoken question, Andy tells us that he commutes to the Open office every day. “I only work here because I can commute!” he laughs. A bike brand whose owners actually ride? Whatever next.

"You sit on an Open bike, and you feel good. It's a simple thing that you should feel so comfortable, but that's the essence of an Open."

ANDY KESSLER

Perhaps inspired by the act of making coffee, Andy tells us about another Open concept, this time of the hospitality kind. “It’s called ‘Open House’,” he explains. “We’ll offer it to our good customers as a base to go riding. It has an apartment, a bike shop in the basement, a restaurant, a vineyard on the doorstep – the works!” If things go well, this proof-of-concept Open House, positioned just 15km from Open’s Basel HQ, will be the first of fifteen around the world where people can go and ride bikes. “We’ll have a package that includes a rental of the bikes, the accommodation, some GPS devices, routes and more.” Andy is quick to point out that it’s not just for Open owners and that the ideology behind it is not strictly commercial but to offer something for the love of riding. Still, Andy is a salesman. “It’s also a great opportunity to get people on Open bikes and have them experience our point of difference,” he says, “albeit in a very natural and pressure-free way. If they like the bikes, maybe they get an Open. Maybe they just have a lovely experience, and that’s the end of it. Either way, we will have accomplished something.”

 

I’m keen to ask Andy about the Open point of difference he mentions, the ride feel and sheer quality that he believes separates Open from the rest of the industry. “First of all, it’s important to note that carbon is not carbon.” He then reveals a truly alarming fact about a mammoth bike brand and the cost of one of its frames versus an Open. “If their model costs a certain amount to make, ours is a multiple of fifteen more. That’s not because we’re running a bad company and somehow don’t know what we’re doing. It’s simply a representation of the quality difference of our bikes and the materials we use.” It’s a price difference that also reflects Open’s new production base in Portugal and a departure away from China towards a more sustainable model of frame manufacturing, closer to home, while affording greater control over the entire process, including painting.

 

Then there’s the layup – how the fiber is applied – which Andy says is another significant factor that separates the wheat from the chaff. “The layup is a big secret. You can make a radical difference with know-how in this area, and Gerard brings an engineer’s mind and decades of experience to bear when he devises the fabrication of our frames.”

 

The final thread is the geometry of an Open bike. “During his time at Cervélo, Gerard became extremely fluent with the complexity of geometry and how to make a bike that works for the majority of people.” A fluency, Andy says, fueled by a gigantic cache of data from the Canadian military, of all places. “Somehow or other, Gerard and his team managed to gain access to measurement data from the tank division, which, by the nature of the tight spaces the drivers had to be housed in, required detailed measurements.” By interrogating the data, Gerard was able to interpret the numbers and apply them to the geometry of his bikes at Cervélo and now, most broadly, as the co-founder at Open. “You sit on an Open bike, and you feel good,” says Andy. “It’s a simple thing that you should feel so comfortable, but that’s the essence of an Open bike.”

A view of the Rhine River in Basel, Switzerland on a rather gloomy day.

With the new models ahead, Andy explains that for the first time, Open will offer a choice of three fork rakes per frameset, as opposed to the single option of the past. Between the rakes and the adaptable stem, the new models of the Open 2.0 era promise an even more democratic fit. “It’s always a balance of touchpoints,” Andy explains. “Your hands, your feet and your seat.”

 

The new frames also introduce a more pronounced aerodynamic profile, although Andy is understandably cautious about attributing too much benefit to manipulating airflow off-road. “Let’s just say that I don’t believe in true aero, especially not for gravel,” he says. “Perhaps the best way of explaining the new bikes is aero at the front, comfort at the back.” It’s a difference, he recalls, that he felt from the first ride. “With the new aero fork and the head tube changes, there’s an uptick in speed. I wasn’t necessarily expecting to feel such an immediate change.” Fundamentally, though, Open remains pragmatic, aware that for everyone but the pros, they can save more watts by reducing fatigue than manipulating the incoming air. 

 

I wish I could report that at this juncture, we all retired to the bath and had a foam party. Instead, Andy suggests that we take a walk to Open’s local gelato joint, where we sample some life-changing cones. They even have a couple of Opens up on the wall, part of a fun collaboration between two local, small businesses that share a love of bikes. Both frames feature gelato-inspired paint schemes. Tasty.

 

Upon returning to Open’s HQ, we take a few photos, receive some valuable tips from Andy on where to walk in Basel, and head out to see some of the local sights. Adam has clearly forgiven me for the bath shotgun because he’s affability itself, and for the next couple of hours, we enjoy the sort of stop, stroll and chat that leaves your cup full and your wallet empty.

 

It’s no secret that some supplier visits are a little dry. It may not be the fault of the people, but rather a lack of direction within the company. Open has great people and an outsize ideology fueled by a simple love of riding, community and exceptional products. We were charmed. We think you will be too.

 

Here’s to leading the Open kind of life.