Last year I got a motorbike – an electric model from the British company Maeving – mostly for commuting, and I’ve been enjoying it immensely. It’s also opened up a whole new world of menswear.

I used to take the train or cycle to the office, with the decision largely depending on whether I had things I needed to carry and whether I needed to be smart for meetings. I’d cycle on days when neither were the case. 

The practicality of the motorbike is that I can still ride in, but wear smarter clothes if I need to – perhaps just wearing a protective layer over the jacket, and boots rather than shoes or loafers. It suits sports jackets and flannels, or a similar combination, most of all. The bike also has a decent pannier where you can put carry in a pair of smarter shoes.

Riding in on the bike has become something I look forward to – that I miss when I’m away. It’s more fun and quicker than any other form of transport, and there’s a real sense of freedom, of being in the open air. I’m sure I’m biased, having rarely been a car driver during my life, but the old saying ‘four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul’ seems to apply to the feeling of riding both bicycle and motorbike for me. 

One thing I didn’t expect was how many conversations the bike starts. The first two days I had it, three different riders asked me about it at the lights, or when we were both parking. The questions are always the same: “Is that electric?”, “How far does it go?” and then “Do you like it?”

There’s also a camaraderie among riders that I haven’t found to the same extent in any other pursuit – it seems to be assumed that because you’re on a bike, you’re happy to chat. It could be about the weather or getting directions, but there’s an implicit connection.

I did experience this with cycling when I was with a group on a long ride. But rarely if I was on my own, and never in town. Equally, Park Run on a Saturday has a lovely community feeling, but people out running don’t otherwise talk. 

I’ve enjoyed it as much as any other aspect of riding a motorbike, this membership of a community, even subculture, and it’s one of the main things that helped ease the feeling of imposter syndrome that took a few months to completely go. 

To answer those questions though. I’ve already said I enjoy it, yes it’s fully electric, and the range is about 70 miles on a full charge. I park the bike in front of my house (luckily it just about fits in our small front garden) and charge it with a cable once a week. 

If you can’t reach an electric socket, you can take out the two batteries and put them on a charging station in the house. It’s better outside though, as the fan is a little noisy. 

I’d never buy anything petrol- or diesel-powered today, and it’s great that charging the bike is easier than charging a car – at least for these short distances. I have taken it on longer journeys, as the charging cable fits in the storage tank, but you obviously have to plan for access to a socket at the other end.  

The trade off with an electric bike, of course, is the noise, and this is the thing that comes up most in conversations with other riders: they love the fact that the bike is electric, but dislike the fact it’s silent. 

I get this – I’ve never owned another motorbike, but I’ve ridden on them a few times and Lucas (who rode motorbikes when he was younger) and I have talked about it. I’ve also been on rides with other people such as the ‘Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride’ earlier this year. I think I understand the feeling, the throb and thrilling crescendo of a petrol engine. 

But I also like the calm, quiet ride of riding electric. It feels more akin to how I feel riding a bicycle – slipping in and out of the traffic, cruising rather than chasing. Yet still with the speed and acceleration of a motorbike. An electric engine is also clean and cool (as in cold) which has been a blessing during heat waves this summer. 

Perhaps I’d feel differently if I’d ridden regular motorbikes in the past, and perhaps I’ll feel differently if I get more into this and ride regular engines. But right now, it doesn’t feel like anything’s missing. 

It helps, of course, that the Maeving looks fucking great. (Expletive used intentionally, as a form of deliberate emphasis, creating shock through it’s unexpectedness; an expressive technique, not a form of crudity or simplicity. See comments here if you don’t know why I’m bringing that up!)

The company is based in Coventry and makes all the bikes there. Their designer is ex-Triumph and the bike has a similar vibe to something like the Bonneville, with its elongated tank and bench seat. It has a 1950s/60s feel, but remodelled to work well with electric power. I like the repurposing of the tank for storage, for instance, and the snaking power cable. 

The fact it’s made in the UK will I’m sure appeal to some people, but actually the company’s attitude to quality is similar to the one we have at PS: the best quality regardless of location. So the engineering is done in the Midlands, but many of the parts are the best from other parts of the world. 

I’ve met the founders, Seb and Will, on a couple of occasions, and it’s been fun talking through these similarities. 

To anticipate a few practical questions: riding an electric bike like this only requires a ‘CBT’ licence, which is the same as you need for a scooter, despite the higher power level. You get a CBT by just taking a day’s course, if you already have a car driving licence (in the UK). 

The limitations of a CBT are that you can’t take a passenger, you need an L plate, and you need to retake it every two years. I therefore plan to get my A1 licence – the lowest full motorbike level – next year, before my CBT needs renewing. 

An electric bike pays no congestion charge in London, and parking is free and pretty plentiful. With some good locks, the bike is quite secure and comes with an inbuilt tracker. Although a cover is probably even more valuable than a good lock, and at home a ground anchor or some other way to secure the bike to something makes a significant difference. 

I have the RM2, which just came out this year, and test rode the RM1 for quite a while last year. I personally prefer the geometry of the RM2, but the RM1 feels slightly racier. The RM2 cost £7,995, and I’m particularly pleased with the combination of tank and seat colour I went for – you can pick both, and the dark-brown seat with bronze tank feels quite subtle, perhaps even elegant. 

I’ll cover clothes, all the classic menswear options and wonderful practical justification, in a post next week.