Our Name is Our Story
Behind the Brodie name, is Paul Brodie. Originally an artist and motorcycle fanatic, he began painting and brass-welding frames for mountain bikes in 1985. It wasn't long before he invented and trademarked the Vancouver sloping top tube, launching a brand of bikes bearing the Brodie name. On September 29th, 2005, Paul was inducted into the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame at Interbike in Las Vegas, creating an international fan base for the Vancouver brand. Today, Brodie bikes are a product of our passion and a proud part of our local community.
A Better Ride With You in Mind
A Brodie isn't just a bike, it's a right of passage. Built with the individual rider in mind, Brodie bikes are built to blaze the trails of your choosing. From epic off-roading to beachside cruising, there's a Brodie that's right for you. Over the years, we've built our fair share of bikes and each one has played a role in shaping who we've become. I n fact, don't be surprised if after all these years, we still remember your 2003 White Holeshot or 2008 Root Beer Ronin. We're a small company and better yet, a community. We're not about making hundreds of different models (just to have hundreds of different models). We're about making original, quality bikes from concept to production so the bike you love now, is the bike you'll love for the years to come.
We welcome you to a stress-free environment, a place where you can escape from this thing called life. With roots that sprouted in Vancouver BC, we’re excited to be a part of the nation wide movement of a more sustainable future and quality of life.
The 2016 season marks our 30th anniversary and we’d like to thank you for all of your continued support and love! We’ve come a long way since the beginnings of Brodie’s workshop: Journeyed through the birth of North Shore mountain biking, the freeride years and into the realm of cyclocross and bikepacking, all while paying homage to the road and commuter riding that drive our business. We mark the start of our third decade with a few special projects, and some new product coming in early 2016.
We wish you all the best in the New Year and look forward to being there with you on all your cycling trips, commutes and adventures!
I don’t like putting the bike in the car to go and ride, so for me a cross bike is great. It extends my range from the doorstep, allowing me to eat up the road miles and access cross country epics. This was certainly true when we lived in South London but is even more the case since we moved to North Wales.
I just decided to rebuild my old Brodie, having managed to replace the bent mech hanger. Me and this bike have seen some action, from the Three Peaks to London League cross races and to the other day when I found myself thigh deep in a bog with the old bike on my back. Moments of elation when it feels like you’re flying, to despairing times when you wonder why you thought this was a good idea.
One boozy evening earlier this year, cajoled by an old friend (and Three Peaks stalwart), I applied for the Three Peaks entry. I didn’t get a place, but I decided to get myself fit like I really had to avoid wallowing in the mid-Peaks trough of misery. Well, I’m some of the way there in spite of a bad ankle sprain and whilst the fitness is lagging a bit what I have (re)discovered is my absolute love for the cross bike.
I’ve spent many evenings over the last few weeks poring over maps, identifying circuits of bridleway and byway that take me out over remote moors. And, when I go out the next day to track these routes on the ground I’ve been about 95% pleased with the riding. There I am spinning along an old drovers’ road, on a trail so ancient that the rocks have grooves cut in them by centuries’ of wear from cartwheels. I stop to look at the map and I see that the bridleway carries on over the mountain into the next valley and from there back down to the main road some five miles further on. I’ll be sitting down with a pint in an hour… And so I bowl down the hill and the bridleway so prominent on the map isn’t anywhere to be seen. And there you are suddenly ‘transitioning’ from firm ancient trackway to thigh deep in blanket bog. So I ask myself: is this a bad thing? And I don’t have to think long to decide that yes, it is a very bad thing and this feeling only grows as I carry my bike two miles to firm ground. Did it occur to me to turn back though? Of course not.
Then about two hours later when I’m finally sitting in the back room of the world’s greatest beer shop, I reflect that it is that familiar sinking feeling (5% displeasure) that makes so many of my rides round here great. Embrace the bog, knuckle down for a slog and then hail the grog. Exertion, stupidity, reward and REPEAT.
Like the first time I did the Three Peaks, I swore at the finish line “never again”, only to find myself in the pub a quarter of an hour later wondering how I could do it faster next year. STOOPID but FUN.