The Inbred That Started It

Manufacturer

On-One

Model

Inbred

Frame material

Steel

Wheel size

29in

Gear ratio

32:20

Owner

Blake Cannon

Build purpose

Riding together, then everything else

Before the Krampus, before the Karate Monkey, before I had opinions about gear ratios, chain tension, or whether a single-speed mountain bike should be rigid, there was an On-One Inbred.

I bought the frame new from On-One for less than $200. At the time, my wife was just getting into mountain biking, and I needed something that would "level out the plane" while I rode with her.

I already had more experience on the bike. I was faster. I could ride farther. Showing up on my normal mountain bike and disappearing up the trail was not going to make riding together much fun.

The Inbred was my solution.

One gear. No suspension. Big wheels. Nothing unnecessary.

It was my first single speed.

Built From Whatever I Could Find

The bike started as a rigid 29er assembled from a random collection of parts I found on Pinkbike, Craigslist, and wherever else inexpensive bike parts appeared.

There was no carefully planned build sheet. No matching component group. No effort to make everything look like it had been chosen at the same time.

It was a cobbled-together mess.

Which, in retrospect, made it a fairly traditional single-speed mountain bike.

Single speeds have a way of becoming homes for spare parts. A frame becomes available. There is an old wheelset in the garage. Someone is selling a fork cheaply. A crank appears. A brake has been sitting in a bin for three years. Eventually, those unrelated parts become a bicycle.

The Inbred was exactly that kind of bike.

It was not fancy, light, or particularly valuable.

It was exceptionally fun.

Leveling the Plane

The original idea worked.

The rigid fork and one-speed drivetrain slowed me down just enough that riding together made more sense. I had to work harder on climbs, pay more attention to momentum, and choose lines carefully instead of letting suspension and gearing solve everything.

But the bike did more than level the plane.

It changed the way I rode.

A single speed makes simple trails interesting again. Climbs become puzzles. Corners matter more because every bit of speed you carry may be needed on the next rise. You stop shifting in anticipation of what the trail might do and start responding with your whole body.

Stand up.

Push harder.

Carry momentum.

Coast when you can.

Walk when you have to.

What began as a bike meant to make riding with my wife more balanced became the bike I wanted to ride.

One Bike, Several Personalities

The Inbred went through several configurations during the time I owned it.

It spent plenty of time as a conventional single speed. One chainring, one rear cog, and one gear for everything.

For a while, I installed a White Industries Dos freewheel, sometimes called the "duo." It provided two available rear cogs on the same freewheel. Changing gears still required stopping, loosening the wheel, moving the chain by hand, and adjusting the chain tension.

It was technically two-speed cycling, but not in any way that made shifting convenient.

That felt appropriately single speed.

At another point, I fitted the bike with studded 700c tires and used it for winter commuting. The same inexpensive mountain bike frame that had been assembled from used parts became an icy-weather commuter.

It was not elegant, but it worked.

The bike also alternated between a rigid fork and a 100 mm suspension fork. Rigid made it direct, simple, and unforgiving. The suspension fork made it more capable and a little less punishing without changing the bike's basic personality.

Every configuration revealed something different, but the underlying appeal never changed.

It was still simple.

It was still adaptable.

It was still fun.

The One I Let Go

Eventually, I parted the bike out.

That happens with cobbled-together bikes. The parts are useful elsewhere. A wheel moves to another build. The fork finds another frame. The brakes are needed for a different project. Slowly, the bicycle stops being a bicycle and becomes a collection of components again.

I told myself I would build another single speed someday.

And I did.

But every single-speed bike I have owned since traces back to that cheap On-One frame.

The Inbred taught me that a bike did not have to be complicated or expensive to change the way I rode. It showed me that limitations could make riding more engaging rather than less capable. It turned climbs into challenges, familiar trails into new experiences, and miscellaneous used parts into something memorable.

It was built to slow me down.

Instead, it started something.

The Bike That Started It

The Inbred was not the nicest bike I have owned.

It was not the most refined.

It was not built from the best parts, and it never remained in one configuration for very long.

But it introduced me to the strange appeal of riding a mountain bike with one gear: the simplicity, the effort, the momentum, the questionable decisions, and the satisfaction of clearing something that would have been easier with a derailleur.

Like many important bikes, it made sense almost by accident.

A frame that cost less than $200, a pile of parts from Pinkbike and Craigslist, and a plan to make riding with my wife a little more even.

That was all it took.

That was the bike that started it.

• mountain-bike
• single-speed
• steel
• hardtail
• on-one