Los Angeles isn’t built for hesitation. The cars stack at lights, then inch forward and stop again, over and over, for eternity, moving just enough to make you feel like you’re always negotiating for your place.
I’m sitting at a red light on Santa Monica Boulevard, one foot on the pavement, the other resting on a pedal that feels out of place on something this commanding. A Tesla inches up beside me. The driver glances over. Confused? Impressed? I think he’s mostly just trying to figure out what I am riding.
The light turns. I twist the throttle and take off without a sound. The cars fall away behind me, and suddenly there’s space on the road where there usually shouldn’t be. It feels good, almost unnervingly so. Better than driving a car in LA ever does, that’s for sure.
I’m riding the Onyx RCR 80V — technically an electric moped, but not in the way most people would think. It’s bigger, faster and a little harder to categorize, which is part of the appeal.
For the past week, I’ve been testing out this $5,000, motorcycle-sized electric bike for the small, in-between trips I’d usually grab my car keys for: grocery runs, coffee stops, park hangs and quick errands around my neighborhood. All on an absurdly fast, but sleek electric motorbike that can catch speeds over 65 mph.
It feels like a better way to move through LA. Well, at least in the moments where it makes sense.
This is the Onyx RCR 80V — something between an e-bike and a motorcycle.
It’s for all the things in between
In my Silver Lake neighborhood, most places I go are 5 to 15 minutes away by car: close enough that driving feels convenient, yet far enough that walking doesn’t make sense, especially if you’re carrying things. So you default to driving, obviously.
But if you live here, you know that those short trips rarely stay short.
A quick errand — picking up a prescription, grabbing a few things from the store — can stretch into something much longer. A 2-mile drive turns into a series of annoying interruptions: lights that take forever, cars double-parked and, of course, the slow, inevitable search for parking at the end. Depending on the time of day, you might spend 20 to 30 minutes on what should be an easy trip down the block.
That’s the kind of problem the Onyx RCR 80V is built for.
Los Angeles is the city of traffic.
Learning how to use the bike
Onyx Motors emailed me asking if I wanted to try the RCR 80V for a week. A few days later, I was in Frogtown, standing outside the company’s shop just off the Los Angeles River, right next door to a coffee spot I frequent.
The bike was already waiting for me out front. Silver and black, low-slung, much more menacing than the pictures I had studied online. A representative walked me through the basics, handed me the key and, just like that, it was mine for the week.
I swung a leg over, rolled it out onto the street and paused, the weight of it settling underneath me. Cars moved past without a single worry about me, the usual LA rhythm. Suddenly, I was very aware of how exposed I felt sitting there on something this unfamiliar. I was a little nervous.
On that ride home and the entire first day, I was mostly getting adjusted to it. I’ll admit, I’m not the most coordinated person. I’m a bit clumsy and anxious, so I felt like a kid getting on a bike for the first time. Except that this bike weighs approximately 155 pounds and accelerates from 0 to 30 mph in 1.7 seconds. No training wheels on this monster.
This is the display on the RCR 80V, which is easily viewable at high noon or in the middle of the night.
The first time I twisted the throttle, it caught me off guard. There’s no buildup, no warning, just immediate movement. It doesn’t ease into speed the way a car does. It jumps. I found myself overcorrecting at first, gripping the handlebars a little too tight, easing off when I didn’t need to, relearning how to trust something that responds this quickly.
Even balancing it at a stoplight took getting used to. You feel the weight when you lean it, when you turn a corner (something I still need more time to conquer), when you roll it backward and when you have to steady it with one foot on uneven pavement. It demands more respect than a typical e-bike.
But after a day or so, I got the hang of it. The hesitation faded. The throttle started to feel more predictable. I stopped thinking so much about how to ride it and instead started paying attention to everything around me. Los Angeles suddenly felt so much bigger in a way.
The 80V RCR excels in the small things
Once I got a feel for the RCR 80V, I put it to use. Not just riding for the sake of it, which is pretty fun on its own, but for everyday errands: buying groceries, dropping off a package, going to lunch with a friend and a few stops I hadn’t quite decided on yet.
I charged the bike the night before — it takes about 4.5 hours to go from empty to full — and the next morning I grabbed my helmet, threw on my backpack and rolled the bike out of my garage. After pairing my phone over Bluetooth, my destination route popped up on the bike’s display, along with apps for listening to music, making calls and everything else I needed.
The first stop was coffee, less than a mile away. It’s early in the morning, so I zoom through the streets with no worry about cars. I ride in the lanes, just like a car would, going between 30 and 40 mph, always following the speed limit. (I would never dare to go faster.) I park directly in front of the coffee shop, wedged between the storefront glass and the business’s A-frame.
No circling the block and no scanning for street parking. I’m inside within seconds, and I don’t even need to secure the bike to a rack because I can keep an eye on it from within the store, knowing I’ll be in and out within a few minutes.
By the time I leave, I see familiar cars looping the block for parking. I slide my coffee into my backpack’s side pocket, hop back onto the seat, turn the bike on, twist and throttle and get the hell out of there.
A few blocks over, I stop at the post office to drop off a package. I’ve attached it to the bike’s rear cargo rack, where it sits comfortably, wrapped in a cargo net and bungee cords. I pull up right near the entrance, and I’m in and out before anyone in line really moves. No meter, no time pressure.
The Onyx Motors storefront is in Elysian Valley, right next to the Los Angeles River path.
By the time I meet a friend for lunch, I’ve already been on and off the bike half a dozen times. It’s something I notice: how easy it is to stop and get going again. No major transition. No friction. I can move freely.
Valet tells me to park right out front of the restaurant, in between two other cars — a gap that would never fit another vehicle. VIP parking, without having to pay for it. My friend was still looking for a spot when I walked in.
Next is the grocery store. Not a full haul — just a few things I forgot to buy earlier in the week. I pull into the lot, bypass the rows of circling cars and roll straight up to the front. There’s no real “parking” for something like this — an almost-a-motorcycle — just space for bicycles. I lock it to a bike rack with a U-lock and a coated steel cable, mostly because it’ll be out of my sight for longer than I feel comfortable. I go inside, pay for my goods and toss them into my backpack. I’m out again.
On the way home, I stop once more, not because I need to, but because I can. It’s a small vintage clothing shop I’ve passed a dozen times. The store owner comes outside, intrigued by the electric moped, and allows me to park it right inside the storefront. That would never happen with a motorcycle. I end up buying a couple of band tees from the ’70s. It’s the kind of stop I usually talk myself out of while driving because it’s not worth the trouble.
On the RCR 80V, it feels like nothing.
By the end of the day, what stands out isn’t the speed, or even the novelty, but how much easier it is to do the small things. The in-between trips don’t feel so large. For these kinds of errands and short commutes, the bike is a perfect fit. You start to notice how much of your driving isn’t about distance, but about habit.
It’s not for everyone, though
The Onyx RCR 80V works best in Los Angeles and other dense neighborhood pockets where most trips are short but still inconvenient enough to default to driving — places like Silver Lake, Echo Park, parts of Hollywood, and plenty of similar places across the Westside.
Onyx’s storefront is here in Los Angeles, which makes it easier to bring the bike in for issues, like battery failure, sensor issues or worn-out brakes. Onyx can’t always be repaired at a typical bicycle store because of its complexity, nor can it always be serviced by a motorcycle mechanic. There’s a large online presence of Onyx bike owners who can help with DIY fixes, but if that’s not your thing, it’s best to be somewhat near Los Angeles or anywhere that can provide in-person assistance.
An electric moped isn’t built for long-distance riding, unlike a motorcycle. You’re not taking this thing on the freeway (legally), and you’re probably not riding it across the city, unless you’re willing to plan around range, traffic and how much you’re carrying.
That issue becomes even more obvious in more spread-out parts of LA, where a “quick trip” can mean 20 minutes at higher speeds or long stretches without bike-friendly roads. In Eco Mode, the bike can get up to a 130-mile range. In Normal Mode, which I used most, it’s closer to 75.
If you live in an apartment complex and don’t have anywhere secure to store it, you’ll have to rethink things. This isn’t something you want to leave outside like a typical bicycle — not just because it’s expensive but because of how it gets taken. With bikes like this, theft usually isn’t dramatic. The same bike, in the same spot, day after day. Eventually, someone notices. I’ve seen it happen with other e-bikes.
I would sometimes take the bike inside my home to charge it or keep it far away from the rain.
Also, the Onyx RCR 80V isn’t cheap. Starting at $5,200, it sits in an awkward middle ground for many people. Most solid e-bikes land somewhere between $1,500 and $3,000, with high-end models topping out around $4,000 to $5,000. Moped-style e-bikes usually fall even lower, often between about $1,200 and $3,400.
And for not much more, you’re already in entry-level motorcycle territory, where something like a Honda Grom or similar beginner bike can cost roughly $3,500 to $5,500. That’s what makes the RCR 80V harder to categorize and harder to justify as a casual purchase. It’s not something you pick up on a whim.
So why get an Onyx RCR 80V?
And even knowing all of that — the price, the limitations, the planning — it’s an e-bike I’d still seriously consider owning.
Part of it is how it rides. The RCR 80V is quick in a way that never really stops feeling surprising: silent, immediate and always a little ahead of where you expect it to be. It’s fast enough to keep up with city traffic, with enough range to get through most days without thinking too hard about it. You can also cruise slowly on a sidewalk when you need to.
It also changes how you see the city. You’re not sealed off behind glass, moving from one destination to the next. You notice things you usually don’t. Small storefronts you’ve driven past a hundred times. Restaurants tucked between buildings. I found something new about my city every time I hopped on this bike.
But more than that, it’s how simple it is. There’s no shifting, no clutch, no real learning curve beyond those first few rides. You don’t need a motorcycle license. You just get on, twist the throttle and go.
Under California law, most e-bikes are limited to 20 to 28 mph, depending on class, and don’t require a license or registration. Once you’re riding something faster or using it more like a throttle-powered vehicle, it can fall into moped or even motorcycle territory, which comes with a different set of rules: registration, a special license and stricter enforcement.
Technically, the RCR 80V can be registered as a moped. If it isn’t, and you’re riding it at higher speeds on public roads, you’re in a legal gray area, one that can still get you pulled over and cited for an unregistered vehicle or riding without the proper license.
Most of the time, that ambiguity works in your favor. But it also means you’re relying a bit on how it’s perceived: how fast you’re going, where you’re riding and whether it looks like something that belongs there.
My favorite part of the RCR 80V was the off-roading.
And then there are the moments where none of that really matters.
One afternoon, I took the RCR 80V up through Griffith Park, climbing the winding roads with no one else in sight, maybe going a little too fast. At one point, I veered off onto a dirt trail, letting it carry me through loose gravel and uneven paths, the kind of terrain I wouldn’t normally think twice about attempting on a regular e-bike. It handled it without much hesitation.
I pulled off to the side after a bit to check out the view and just sat there for a minute. The city stretched out below me. I could never do this in a car.
There’s something about riding it that’s hard to explain until you’re on it. It’s not just the speed, it’s how immediate everything feels. You’re more aware of the road, of the air, of the space around you. You’re not sealed off from all of it the way you are in a car.
And for a second, none of the rules really matter.
It’s just fun.
Stephan is the sports journalist for the Maple Grove Report.
