Ola Eleogram demonstrates how not to eat shit test driving the new Onewheel+. Photo: Kari Rowe
I wasn’t nervous. That was my first problem. When I texted Casey from our films team to see if he’d be interested in cruising up to Ojai to see what Onewheel’s new product, the Onewheel+, was all about, he was in. “Man I’ve got a few scars from one of those things,” he texted me. I thought nothing of it. “How hard can it really be?” I thought.
You’re probably aware of the hoverboard craze that swept the nation just a year or two ago. Maybe you wanted a Segway when they first came out – that is, before “Segway tours” became a thing. Point is, advances in modern technology have precipitated an uptick in the number of inventive minds trying to hack the way we get from point A to B.
Onewheel is no different in that sense – first and foremost it’s an innovative, faster way to get around than walking, but motorized so you can expel minimal effort if you so choose. But not unlike a skateboard or bicycle that at their core are modes of transportation, the Onewheel’s sturdy metal frame and heavy duty wheel make it perfect for developing tricks and having fun.
Enter Ojai. Based on feedback from their team of riders, comprised of well-known athletes from across board sport disciplines, Onewheel built a faster, more responsive, fully customizable riding experience in the Onewheel+ and invited riders and press to Ojai to come check it out.
I hadn’t stepped on a Onewheel before, but I was excited at the prospect of giving one a go. Shortly after getting to Ojai, the whole group went to some local hiking trails for some trail riding. I was confident.
“It’s pretty intuitive,” one of the guys told me. “The further forward you lean the faster you go and you lean back to slow yourself down.” Got it.
Once you figure it out, you can do a ton with a Onewheel. Even slackline. Photo: Kari Rowe
I started slow and grew more and more confident going up the trail and stuck to the beginner section – not much incline, and few obstacles. After 10 or 15 minutes, I thought I was getting the hang of it.
Casey had gone along ahead of me, so I decided to race down a hill to catch up. At some point, I lost control of how fast I was going. My mind was saying “lean back,” but I felt myself leaning forward. I wobbled, the nose of the board dipped and came to a halt, and I was airborne.
Luckily I landed in some tall grass off the side of the trail – but I had dirt stains all over my pants. I heard Casey busting up laughing. “Dude!” he said. “You ate shit!”
“Got a little over confident,” I replied with a wince and a smile. Then I stepped back on the thing, admittedly a little more timid, and kept riding.
Having to square how confident I was before stepping on the Onewheel+ and how hard I slammed was a bruise to the ego, but also somewhat endearing. See a Onewheel, like all board sports, has a learning curve. Once you figure it out, though, the thing will cause you to see fun lines in backcountry dirt trails and ditches that before you may not have even noticed. And, unlike the Segways and hoverboards of the world, Onewheels are here to stay.
