A few weeks ago, four new yellow bikes appeared my street. They were branded ofo, making them the third dockless bike sharing company set up in the area. By the afternoon, all four bikes were lying across pathways, seemingly kicked over by frustrated neighbours.
I love the concept of dockless bike sharing — a trend that took off in congested Asian cities before spreading here, and that Uber recently announced it would begin rolling out in San Francisco — but the backlash against them in Australia has been fascinating to watch, and proves that not all tech ideas travel.
The companies behind these bikes used the disruptor's playbook — moving in first, asking for forgiveness later — which clearly backfired, angering potential customers and lawmakers alike.
oBike, ofo and Reddy Go have been a success in their home markets of China and Singapore, but these companies were probably not prepared for the hatred their bikes would generate when they began littering the streets of Sydney and Melbourne.
Melbournians in particular have been rather creative with their frustrations. Bikes have been thrown into the Yarra, up trees, and even stacked into street art. The only positive news story came when a young man threw an oBike under an out of control car, not exactly the intended purpose of the service.
Councils in Sydney and Melbourne have are also joining together to impose new rules on the services, including "geo-fencing" restrictions on where bikes can be left.
Dockless bike sharing services have a unique problem; for these services to be viable, the bikes need to be left on every street corner. After all, you wouldn't consider hiring one for a quick ride if you have to walk a few kilometres to find it, first. And unlike Uber or GoCatch who take advantage of cars already on the roads — hidden in plain sight — the only way for bike sharing services to enter a market is to clog our pathways with their highly visible bicycles.
But I'll admit, as much as I love the concept on paper, on the road it's a different story. I've tried Reddy Go and oBike, and there's not much difference between them. Both require a deposit before you get started, and a credit card attached to your account.
From there you can search for a bike and unlock one with your smartphone. Reddy Go has the advantage of a cleaner app experience. oBike's app is a mess of overlayed messages, flashing coupons and bizarre menus.
Once you install the app and find a bike, it takes just a few seconds to unlock and start riding. The bikes from both services are almost identical. Beyond the garish colours, the main identifying feature is how heavy these bicycles are; that's partly to help them survive the elements, partly to deter thieves. Either way, it makes for a sluggish ride. With three gears that make riding uphill just a little easier, Reddy Go again has a slight advantage.
Both companies provide helmets with their bikes, a requirement for riding on Australian roads, but soon the bikes in my area seemed to lose their helmets, and some their seats and wheels as well.
After the initial novelty of using the services for a quick ride to the shops or to the station, I found myself going back to walking. It wasn't from lack of stock, as a bike was always dumped nearby. It wasn't even the weight or missing helmets, it was more the social stigma involved. You can feel the hatred people have for these things as you ride them. No marketing campaign will fix that.