I have been planing to do a blog post on my Brompton bike for some time, since it is one of the best examples of 'good design' that I use almost everyday. This experience gave me an opportunity to write one, but within a better context.
I didn't initially fall in love with my Brompton as a design artifact, because when I first got it I was not yet a design enthusiast. Instead I fell in love with it as a bike. It is not my first bike, or even my first folding bike. I used to have a top-of-the-line Dahon, which I sold soon after getting my Brompton. I was well aware of Brompton, but decided the get the Dahon instead. In fact, I had even test rode one. I ended up choosing the Dahon because it seemed more familiar to me, as someone accustomed to riding a full-sized bike. I defninetly enjoyed the Dahon while I had it. I bought it to take on a two-week trip to Europe where I visited seven cities by train, along with the bike. I continued to ride it around Brooklyn for a few months when I returned, and that's when it's shortcomings became evident. Although it folded, and was light, it was still clumsy to carry, especially through narrow passages like subway and elevator doors. Unfolded, it was fast, but the ride was incredibly rough over even the slightest bump or pavement crack. It also had a lot of cheap plastic parts, and if they broke, there was no way to get them replaced. Even though I already had a folding bike, I still had my eye on Brompton, and noticed how they were able to be rolled while folded, and have essentially 100% parts availability, (not to mention a huge selection of aftermarket parts). I couldn’t help myself from taking the plunge, and after getting a Brompton, the Dahon quickly began to gather dust, so I put it on Craigslist. It didn’t take long for me to become a diehard enthusiast, and I’ve personalized my Brompton with a slew of aftermarket parts.
I am now once again back in Europe, but this time with my Brompton.
I wasn't even aware that Brompton offered a factory tour, but when I found out while visiting the Brompton Junction store in London, I could not have been more interested. I went on a tour of the Porsche factory is Stuttgart the during my last trip to Europe, and it was an amazing experience. Upon learning that it was possible, I went straight back to my hotel and found where I could book the tour online, and scheduled one for the next morning.
The factory was easy to get to. Although it’s no longer located in Central London, it is still accessible via the Tube.
The tour group was small, consisting of only myself and a couple from Washington state.
It began with a brief history of the Bromptom bicycle and its designer, some of which was already familiar to me as a Brompton enthusiast. The tour guide has been with the company for over 20 years, and is also one of a limited number of shareholders. The bike's design has changed very little since the original was produced in the 70's, and the patents for it have long since expired. What is remarkable, however, is that nobody has been able to design a better folding bike for cheaper, or even at a higher cost, for that matter. Over the years they have made some incremental improvements to the design, but the general form, and the way it folds remains the same.
What has changed drastically is how the bike is made. They have moved factories a few times and streamlined their manfacturing process, incorporating advances in technology along the way, as well as insourcing several processes as their volume increased.
As someone concerned with furniture, I was able to draw several parallels between their production of the folding bike and designing and making furniture. For example, similar to a chair, the Brompton bicycle has to be designed to support the weight of a person, and particular attention is given to critical points of failure. This reminded me of the 'Form-follows-structure’ concept that I learned during my recent class at Pratt. Similarly, tight tolerances are crucial to avoid any gabs or misalignment between parts.
Braising these crucial joints is done by the factories most experienced welders. Having tried welding in the past, I can certainly appreciate the skill that these individuals display.
The parts are stamped with initials of the welder who braised them, so that if any misalignment or variance from the specified dimensions is detected during quality control, they know where to trace the problem. Any such discrepancy is usually an indication that the welder's jig is worn out and needs replacing, rather than a problem with the quality of the individual welder's work.
Not all the braising, however, is done by hand. For a few reasons, some of it is done mechanically. One being that the amount of heat required for the particular joint is greater than what a single welder's torch produces. Another is that the nature of the joint requires less nuance, and can be done with robotics that replicate the same process, exactly, for each unit.
This caused me to consider that there may be times, when making furniture, that a traditional approach is best, and that there will also be instances when more advanced methods are most appropriate. Further down the production line I noticed additional parallels between furniture and the bikes they were being produced. For example, like furniture, the bikes are also available in a variety of finishes, both to protect the raw material, and to suit the customers’ preferences. Finally, one of the final stages of production, for both products, is the installation and adjustment of hardware.
It was valuable to have this opportunity to spend time in a production environment and witness many best practices for production. I think much of what I saw can be applied universally, to everything from folding bikes to furniture parts. It was also great to get to see a product that I have such enthusiasm being made.