Panzer Bike · Bassecourt, Swiss Jura
An electric bike paid for with all my savings, and it kept letting me down. This is how Panzer Bike was born.
I'm 23 and spending five months in California to learn English. Every morning I ride to class along Venice Beach. Salty air, rollerbladers, and bikes like nothing I'd ever seen.
The first electric bikes are showing up on the streets. I fall for the machine and the freedom it gives. I promise myself I'll own one.
Back in Switzerland, I put all my savings into an electric mountain bike from a big American brand. My dream bike. A few weeks in, the motor starts cutting out without warning. The electronics do whatever they want. I can't rely on it anymore.
I take it back to the shop where I bought it. I explain the cut-outs, the motor dying halfway up a climb. The salesman shrugs. “A real cyclist doesn't need a motor. Pedal a bit harder.” I insist. He smiles. “If you think you can do better, build it yourself.”
“I took him at his word. That day, Panzer Bike began.”
I take everything apart to understand it. Then I build my first electric bike from scratch: a homemade battery, a scooter motor, 30 kilos and a top speed that's frankly scary.
It's crazy and nobody wants it. Impossible to handle, impossible to sell. But it teaches me everything a catalogue won't tell you. What breaks, and why.
The garage fills up with boxes. Motors, batteries, brakes: I test everything on the trails of the Jura. Very few parts pass the test.
Then our first child is born. Using only the parts that held up, I build my wife a light bike, powerful enough to pull the trailer. We head off to get lost in the forest, far from everything, as a family. Friends try it, then ask: “Could you build me one?” I realise I'm onto something.
The pandemic shuts almost everything down. What's left is the outdoors. Everyone wants fresh air, and the bike becomes an escape.
E-bikes sell out and shops empty. Waiting times run into months. People can't find them anymore. We know how to build them.
I'm not alone anymore. We move into a workshop in the heart of the Jura with a small, tireless team, and the passion becomes a job.
My idea is simple: take the best parts on the market and assemble them by hand, right here. Match the big brands. And often beat them.
One model, and one obsession: it must never let its rider down. It gets better with every version, until it gives birth to the Panzer SL.
It's the bike I wish I could have bought in 2015. The salesman was right about one thing: you had to build it yourself.
From New Zealand to the Jura
Then I try DJI's new motor, the Avinox. On the first climb, I get it. It pulls hard and smoothly, and it keeps pulling where the others level off. You can barely hear it. Press tests and riders on the forums all say the same thing: it's the new benchmark.
We want to offer it to our customers. The idea of making our own moulds and building our own frame keeps nagging at us. But DJI asks for volumes designed for the industry giants. Not for a small workshop like ours.
So we search, all the way to the other side of the world. In New Zealand, Velduro has designed a carbon frame around the Avinox, the Rogue. And they offer us the frame-only version. For us, it's a godsend: a frame built for steep, rough trails like ours, paired with the new DJI Avinox M2S. We fit it with our parts and assemble it in the Jura.
“They build the frame. We build the bike.”
Ten years on
We choose every part for what it's worth on the trail, not for its logo. Then we build the bike by hand. You pay for the bike. Not the name.
Every bike is built from scratch in our workshop. When it needs fixing, we know where to look, and the parts are already in stock.
A question, a problem? You talk directly to the people who built your bike. No call centre, no weeks of waiting.
Our team
The bike you receive has passed through these four pairs of hands. They build it, set it up, and pick up when you call.
Founder
Sales & mechanics
Customer service
Graphic design
The workshop is open by appointment. Come and try the bikes. Tell us where you ride, and we'll tell you which one suits you.
Panzer Bike · Rue des Pâquerettes 42 · 2854 Bassecourt