I’ve borrowed a Tern GSD. A local charity which rents them out was running a promotion so I took advantage to claim one for a month. I had hopes of writing an incisive review of some sort, but honestly, it is very hard to find anything controversial to say about this bike. To respect the inverted pyramid, then, these are the most important things you need to know:
- Take it easy round corners and the GSD handles a lot like a normal bike, especially if you’re used to an omafiets or mamachari.
- It is very good at carrying people and things if you have the right accessories for it.
- This model, the S00, which has a belt drive, stepless gearing and almost as much torque as a Kia Picanto, is incredibly smooth to ride.
And that’s about it. This is a well-designed cargo e-bike with very little to complain about.
I had never ridden a cargo bike before I picked up the GSD. I’d barely ridden an ebike, for that matter, but the GSD was exceptionally forgiving for a newbie. Luke, the charity’s active travel manager, took me through the controls (for the motor, on/off and power level; for the kickstand, a thumb lever on the bars to release it), and that was it. I pottered around for a few minutes getting my sea legs and then off I went.
First impressions: it is heavy. The frame is solid as a rock, looking more like a 19th-century bridge than a conventional bike, with tubes and braces everywhere. Getting it onto the kickstand needs two hands and a bit of a shove. Once you’re moving, though, the motor disguises the thirty-kilo weight and the steering is lighter than it has any right to be. The four-piston hydraulic Magura brakes are excellent – if anything, the GSD feels a bit over-braked, especially when unloaded.
Up to the legally-mandated 15.5mph cut-off, the Tern was quick and responsive. Fast, even. Within a day or two I found myself diving into gaps between cars that I’d have avoided on a normal bike for fear of fluffing a gear shift or slipping off a pedal. There’s a real car-like sensation and sound as you whack up through the gear range and the motor’s speed drops each time to compensate. It’s addictive.
An awkward truth is that carrying stuff is not always straightforward. Our Tern was set up with a pad for a medium-sized kid or adult (the saddle has a handle they can hang on to and there are running boards for their feet) and then a child seat right at the back for our younger kid. The bike also has a big front carrier with a low rail around it. All of this meant that carrying people was a breeze – one kid to nursery, the other to school; or both of them to the supermarket or the leisure centre. Carrying anything else, however, needs a bit more thought.
For one thing, the front carrier really needs a crate to make the most of it. It will hold a large bag, but it has to be firmly bungee’d in place. A big, open crate or box would have been ideal. There are rails at the back for panniers – massive ones, by the look of it – but I opted out because I assumed our kids’ legs would get in the way. Maybe that was the wrong move, since those panniers would have swallowed heavy, bulky loads like a week’s shopping or a DIY paint haul with ease. As it is, trips like these needs to be planned a bit more carefully.
What I am saying is this: choose your cargo set-up carefully and you won’t have a problem. Skimp on panniers or racks or baskets and it may be a different story.
After a couple of weeks with the Tern, I am still struggling to find any notable faults with it. It rides the same with two kids on the back as it does with no cargo at all. It inhales our local hills like they aren’t there. There’s a real feeling of stability and mass with the motor and the battery down low in the overbuilt frame, and I cannot detect a single creak or rattle from anywhere on the bike.
If I had to nitpick: the 20" Schwalbe Big Ben tyres are cushy enough to absorb potholes but their grip is so-so at best, I suspect in order to prolong their lifespans on such a heavy bike. I’ve had the Tern wriggle around beneath me on muddy paths through the local park, but then I don’t think the GSD is really intended for any sort of offroad excursions. In a straight line, the bike is faultless; in the curves, I take it easy. It doesn’t seem like the worst trade-off in the world.
There’s an old saw in active travel circles that half of all car journeys in Britain are under two miles. This is insane. And yet we persist in grabbing the car keys to nip down the road to the supermarket, or over to the swimming pool to pick up the kids. I do it too, at times. Of all the bikes I ride, though, the Tern is the one that most gives me hope that we stand a chance of changing our behaviour. It’s quick, it’s easy, it’s flexible. The GSD isn’t a bike – it’s a car.