In recent days one person has emailed me wondering how a Jones compares to a Platypus, and then in yesterday’s comments like two people also wondered more or less the same thing. That makes three whole people, so I figured I might as well address it. Granted, three is not very many people, but it’s probably a good 75% of my readership; plus, I’ve never written anything based on whether meaningful numbers of people might actually find it interesting or useful, and I’m certainly not about to start now.
Before comparing the bikes, let’s compare the companies themselves. While Jones and Rivendell are pretty different in terms of the bikes they offer, I’ve always felt they were similar in that they’re run by people who do bikes they way they want to do them, without any regard for what’s popular or fashionable–and, as is often the case with people like that, much of what they’ve done has subsequently become fashionable, and I’d say that as small companies both Jones and Rivendell have had an outsized influence on cycling “culture,” if you’ll pardon the term.
Another way in which Jones and Rivendell are similar is that they have devoted followings, but in any online discussion of either company you’ll also find people saying they’re “overpriced.” With Jones it’s usually something like, “$[X] and it only comes with an NX derailleur? The Gnar-Gnar Rad-O-Gnar costs the same and it comes with a GX derailleur!,” or else “Why not just get a Surly?” Meanwhile, with Rivendell it’s generally either, “Why not just get an old Miyata mixte for $150?,” or else, “$[X] for a bike made in Taiwan?!?,” or, again, “Why not just get a Surly?” No matter what the bike, if it’s made of steel and it’s not a Surly, someone will tell you that you could have just gotten a Surly.
Of course the beauty of capitalism is that “overpriced” is in the eye of the beholder, and if you think a Jones or a Rivendell or an S-Works or whatever else is overpriced then you don’t buy it. In the case of Jones, these are singular bicycles designed by someone who has dedicated himself to the concept of a high-performance non-suspended all-terrain bicycle for many years, and despite being a small family operation he’s gotten to the point where he’s able to offer complete bikes for what in today’s bicycle marketplace is a fairly low price, which is pretty remarkable–and I don’t think any other company is putting serious thought, effort, and resources into to producing supremely capable off-road bikes that don’t use suspension systems. In the case of Rivendell, you may or not want a rim brake bike with a threaded fork, a long wheelbase, lugged construction, and beautiful show-quality paint, but if you do there’s no way to get such a bike without looking to the used market or going custom. (Maybe one or two Crust models qualify, but that’s about it.) Furthermore, there is no other bike company that remains committed to what I’ll lazily call “traditional” or “classic” standards (quill stems, rim brakes, quick-release axles, etc.) than Rivendell, and if that does matter to you then you understand why that’s important. This goes way beyond frames with pretty paint, and all the way to spending the money to design and produce components the big companies no longer care about–including a derailleur.
As for just buying vintage instead, that can certainly be fun, but if you want a whole bike and you’re not looking for a project it’s not always a practical or reasonable choice. Consider the ‘Noner. The bike was given to me, but I still had to buy new parts for it, and on top of that I’d estimate conservatively that I spent a good 15 hours getting it back into decent shape–and while my time isn’t worth much, yours is likely far more valuable. And that’s just doing the bare minimum: the bottom bracket’s still rough, the rear hub still kinda sounds like a rock tumbler, the chainrings are worn, and I didn’t even replace the old tires. Again, I’m a semi-professional bike blogger, so I’m happy for a project and I’m happy to share it with my seven our eight devoted readers. But for a normal person a new bike is probably a bargain in comparison, especially if you’re looking something special.
Okay, so now let’s look at the bikes. You’ve got your Jones (LWB Complete in my case, though an older iteration):
And you’ve got your Rivendell Platypus (mine started as just a frame, but now they’re also available as complete bikes):
At this point I should probably point out that if you’re going to compare Jones and Rivendell a much more appropriate Rivendell model would be the Susie W. Longbolts / Wolbis Slugstone, as that’s their most trail-oriented bike, with clearance for 2.6-inch tires:
[Photo: Rivendell]
Meanwhile, Rivendell describes the Platypus thusly:
I’ve got 2.1-inch 29er mountain bike tires on there, mostly because I was using what I had on hand, and that’s about the most tire the Platypus will handle. It’s quite happy on trails like the one you see above, but it’s not the bike you’d choose for terrain much rougher than that. Meanwhile, the Jones, with it’s 3″ tires (and it’ll even take a full-on fat bike tire in the front) will take you anywhere and over anything. So for all their various differences, that’s the fundamental one: for all practical purposes, the Jones is unlimited in terms of what kind of terrain you can ride it on, and if that’s your priority you simply need to go with the Jones.
Of course, there’s more to bikes than “What size tires do it fit?” Just because a bike can fit mountain bike tires, that doesn’t make it a mountain bike, as is the case with the Platypus. And just because a bike can fit big-ass plus-size mountain bike tires, it can still be good on the road, as is the case with the Jones. I approach frame geometry like grammar, which is to say I don’t think about it, I don’t know what all the technical terms mean, and I don’t really care. Whether it’s a bike or a sentence, all I know is what works and what doesn’t, and I go entirely by feel. What allows the Jones to go way farther offroad than the Platypus isn’t just the tires; it’s also that even in the long wheelbase version it’s easy to manipulate the bike and pick the front and rear wheels up off the ground in the way you have to do when riding over rocks and roots and logs and tricky sections of trail. At the same time, it’s very stable (it’s almost impossible to imagine going over the bars by accident on the Jones), it stays planted while climbing, and overall the traction you get from the huge tires is ridiculous. As for riding it on the road, it feels quite different from any road bike you’ve ridden, even one with upright bars–though, at least if you’re me, you stop noticing that after a few minutes. It’s not a substitute for a road racing bike–if that’s what you’re after you’re not going to get it from a Jones–but it’s great on the road just as long as you don’t want or expect anything like a traditional road bike experience.
Meanwhile, despite accepting what until relatively recently were considered full-on mountain bike tires (now 2.1″ 29er tires are more like gravel tires), the Platypus is not a mountain bike, nor does it want to be. Yes, I’ve taken it onto mountain bike trails here and there, but unlike the Jones the wheels of the Platypus want to stay planted on the ground–like, for all its stability, when you hop on the Jones you’re still tempted to ride off curbs or pop wheelies. This is not the case with the Platypus. The long chainstays certainly have a lot to do with that, but I think it’s also probably just something inherently “road”-ish in its design–a road racing bike has very short stays and concomitant short wheelbase, but apart from bunnyhopping potholes you’re not inclined to wheelie or jump those either. (Or at least I’m not.) The Platypus is a step-through, it’s long, and it’s designed with upright swept-back bars in mind, but if you’re used to riding road bikes the Platypus doesn’t surprise you for those first few pedal strokes on the road the way the Jones does.
So if you know you want full and uncompromising mountain bike capability at least some of the time, or you want to know you can go on a really long bikepacking expedition one day, you should absolutely choose the Jones. But what if you’re not interested in that? What if you know for sure you’ll never need to use your bike as a mountain bike or for a multi-day adventure bike? What if you know you just want a practical all-rounder that’ll carry stuff and take you into the woods a little? Besides feeling a little more familiar, what is the advantage of the Platypus, if any?
Well, this depends entirely on you, but if you like to tinker and you have lots of parts, one advantage is that the Platypus is more customizable. The Jones is perfect with a modern wide-range drivetrain, and of course the Jones bars. There’s not a lot to think about with a Jones, because it just works so well as designed. I mean yes, technically there’s nothing stopping you from using different bars, as I have done for the sake of experimenting:
But ultimately there’s really no point:
Yes, the Jones is designed for riding in an upright position, so it still works, but you also have to use a super-long stem to keep your knees away from the bars, and overall giving up the Jones bars means also giving up some of that off-road maneuverability, which doesn’t really make any sense. As for the rest of the bike, with thru-axles and Boost spacing and disc brakes and all that other stuff, you’re locked into modern mountain bike-oriented stuff–not that there’s anything wrong with that because that stuff is great for using the Jones to its full potential, but if you’re not using the Jones to its full potential it does limit how “funky” you can get with it.
Meanwhile, between the various bars Rivendell offers, and that easy compatibility with “traditional” equipment I mentioned earlier, there are lots of different ways to approach a Platypus (the bike that is; you probably shouldn’t approach a real platypus, they seem dangerous):
Want a single ring with a clutch derailleur and a trigger shifter? Fine. Want to use your old deerhead Shimano XT stuff and a friction shifter mounted to your quill stem? Also fine. In terms of being both comfortable and supremely capable for everything from road riding to mountain biking Jones bars are fantastic, but at least in my opinion if comfort is your priority and you don’t need to worry about your bars slipping while riding over a log then absolutely nothing beats bars with full back-sweep, such as the Tosco. Both the Jones and the Platypus have mounting points for all sorts of accessories and bags, and no doubt you could easily equip the Jones for anything from commuting to riding across a continent. If fact a Jones with fenders is arguably the ideal all-season, all-weather, all-terrain, all-purpose bicycle:
But if you want an upright bike with a basket for rambling, you’re a tinkerer who likes to reconfigure your bikes over time, and your mechanical preferences lean more towards tubes and rim brakes than sealant and discs then you probably want a Platypus.
Or just get both. That way you really can’t go wrong.
