Warning consumers about a bad product is a vanishingly rare mandate for anyone writing about cycling. When I first began reviewing bikes and bike products, I did encounter products that were poorly conceived. I also encountered bikes that were well-made but poorly assembled before leaving the factory, which placed an additional burden on the reviewer to make sure that all of the components were properly adjusted so that the review was reasonable, responsible.
It’s been a number of years since I last felt the need to warn cyclists about a product. The last time was the SpeedX Leopard, a quote-unquote smart bike. It integrated a bike computer and light into the handlebar and stem and mounted that slick-appearing bar/stem on a carbon fiber aero bike with a bottom bracket height a full centimeter higher than most road designs, a feature destined to make it highly reactive, and difficult to manage in a peloton. SpeedX overreached (their next move was bikeshare) and when those computers began failing owners found themselves with no recourse.
And now we’ve been graced with the development of the Flitedeck, the world’s first “smart cockpit.”
If you’re of the TL; DR variety, I’ll cut to the chase: Just no. No. No and after that, more no.
Okay, this would be where I back up just a bit. First, this isn’t a review in the classic sense; I haven’t laid a hand on this product and am unlikely to unless they show up at Sea Otter. By rights, a review should come from a reviewer’s experience of using the product in question and I don’t want anyone to think I’m lying about my experience. I haven’t used it, but my critique of this product comes not from how well it may or may not work today, but what the future holds for the buyer.
My of my critique comes down to this: The more a manufacturer tries to integrate different functions and features into a product, the more they shorten its lifespan. Let me explain.
Gobs o’ features
To be fair, Flitedeck has a very futuristic, sci-fi look. For anyone with a penchant for sleek, seamless design, have some dopamine. And that’s its very first problem. If anything at all goes wrong with the computer, the bike is out of commission because the bar/stem must be removed and sent back to the manufacturer for service. That also includes any problem that might emerge with the integrated light, the battery or the charging port—who hasn’t had a charging port go south on their smartphone?
Another point to consider is that I’d bet this computer I’m writing on that the smartphone app doesn’t work seamlessly with other apps such as Strava and Ride With GPS. I recall the many growing pains that both Garmin and Wahoo smartphone apps went through before reaching relatively smooth functionality. The difference in development resources between a huge corporation such as Garmin and a crowd-funded product is self-evident.
Now, let me take a moment to talk fit issues. When you integrate the bar and stem that means that the bar can’t be rotated up or down, and I’ve yet to meet a rider who didn’t care what angle their bar pointed. Integrating the bar and stem also mean that there’s no flipping the stem upside down should you need a bar position higher than can be achieved with spacers. I may not like the look of an upturned stem, but some years ago I suffered through months of lower back spasms and after spending several weeks not riding when I finally got back on the bike, I did so with the stem flipped because of my temporarily reduced flexibility. And flexibility is the point here: When it comes to fit, we all need options.
And speaking of options, Flitedeck comes in three bar widths: 38, 40 and 42cm—no 44—and four stem lengths: 80, 100, 110 and 120mm—no 90 and no 130. The rebuttal to my criticism that they have not provided three sizes commonly used—44cm-wide bars, 90 and 130mm stems—is that each new combination requires you to have tooling made to make that size and more tooling is more expense. To me, this is precisely why you don’t combine the bar and the stem in a single unit.
One other note on fit: It comes in exactly one combination of reach and drop (84 and 124mm, respectively).
Flitedeck offers all of the connectivity. Bluetooth and ANT+ are great, but WiFi? Really? How come? Weirder still—5G? Do you really want to have a separate wireless account for your handlebar? I’m shaking my head so vigorously my eyes can’t focus.
While I’m picking the nits, let me add that the shots of the bar mounted to a bike show no hydraulic hoses. Worse, the bike appears to be a rendering through an app like SolidWorks, not an actual bike. (You can find a clue to this by the way the pedals hang.) What this means is that if your bike needs the hoses to exit the bar before entering the frame or the fork, this may not work. There’s no way to tell based on the information on the website.
Having routed two hydraulic hoses and several Di2 wires through a handlebar and out a port in the bar so they could enter the stem, I can attest what an absolute pain that is to complete. But I only had to get the hoses and wires through the bar before then routing them into and out of the stem. If I’d had to get everything through the bar and stem together I’m not sure I’d have managed the process.
This brings me to the other issue regarding what a complete goat parade life will be should the GPS need to be serviced: Some home mechanics will be able to remove the hoses from the bar, but next to none will be able to run the hoses into the bar. The level of disassembly and reassembly here will result in several hundred dollars in service from your local IBD. Terrific for them, but it’ll take a hammer to your wallet.
I’m not finished driving nails into this particular coffin. Flitedeck has shared exactly zero data on the construction and/or testing of this bar. Handlebars can and do break, which is why all of the handlebars on my bikes come from Zipp, Shimano, Profile or Coefficient Cycling (the Wave bar). With the Flitedeck, I’d like to know if the bar has been tested and what materials were used, but their site shares nothing about the bar beyond the features associate with the electronics and the bar’s dimensions.
A better idea
I’m not fundamentally against a stem or bar design that recesses the GPS unit into the bar or stem (one, not both, ‘kay?). I’d be all for a design that allowed an aftermarket unit made by Garmin or Wahoo or some other brand that could be inserted and removed with a minimum amount of fuss. This way, if there was an issue with the GPS, it could be removed and sent back to the manufacturer for service without taking the bike out of commission. It would also leave the door open for the brand to send out a loaner unit or for someone to purchase a spare if they spell security r-e-d-u-n-d-a-n-c-y.
I’m not going to address the cost of the Flitedeck, which can be preordered for as little as $1709. Is that a good deal? Maybe. Maybe not. As I see it, the myriad risks to longterm use outweigh any price. Does that sound like an exaggeration? It’s not. Suppose someone gave me the bar as a gift and suppose I couldn’t install it myself. I’d have to take it to a shop and they would have to disassemble the bike almost completely before replacing the bar and stem and then completely reassembling the bike. Again, shops will charge hundreds of dollars for that service.
Put that credit card away
So, as I said in my opening, there aren’t many products in cycling that I think consumers need to be warned against, but Flitedeck is such a remarkable amalgamation of bad ideas I don’t even need to mention what a bad idea it is to have such a big screen to look at when you’re busy riding your bike. Oh, oops, guess I did.
Final thought: I’m confident that Garmin and Wahoo will be around in ten years—this outfit, not so much.