Welcome to a whirlwind tour of 10 completely barmy Victorian bicycles – a parade of oddball contraptions that proved the era’s love of invention knew no bounds. From gentlemen in top hats perched on teeter‑toting monowheels to soldiers being whisked away on two‑bike ambulances, each machine tells a tale of audacious imagination, occasional absurdity, and a dash of brilliance.
10 John Otto Lose and His Monowheel
10 Completely Barmy Monowheel Marvel
John Otto Lose’s patent application sketches a dapper gentleman, hat tipped, perched on a bench that hangs inside a gigantic wheel. He nonchalantly smokes while pedalling a smaller, oddly‑angled wheel that looks more like a prop for a circus act than a sensible mode of transport. Steering is achieved via a pair of rudders on either side, giving the whole contraption the feel of a tiny, wheeled boat.
The monowheel’s design is as flamboyant as it is unwieldy, boasting an umbrella perched over the rider’s head for sudden rain, and ornate wrought‑iron flourishes that likely added a substantial amount of weight. Yet the unpadded wooden bench saved a bit of mass, perhaps balancing the overall heft.
Patented in 1885, the monowheel never managed to catch the public’s imagination, slipping quietly into the annals of forgotten Victorian ingenuity.
9 Karl Lange and His Double Bicycle
In 1905, Karl Lange patented a truly head‑scratching invention: a double bicycle – essentially a bike perched atop another, the upper unit inverted. The rider’s head is forced forward by a padded cushion behind the neck, making for a decidedly uncomfortable ride.
Lange claimed the contraption was intended for circus performers, enabling them to execute a “Loop the Loop” stunt. The concept sounds feasible until you picture the rider’s head being thrust forward by that cushion.
The “normal” lower bike features the usual two pedals and a handle‑bar, while the upside‑down upper bike lacks pedals and shares the same handle‑bar. For a genuine loop, the track would need to be so tight that all four wheels touch the surface simultaneously – a recipe for getting hopelessly stuck.
In reality, the patent’s description was a bit of a red herring; the device was meant as a stunt bike that let the rider launch off the lower wheels, soar through the air, and land on the upper set, creating the illusion of a completed loop without pedalling against gravity.
The rider merely pedals to the apex of the loop on the lower wheels, takes off, lands on the invisible upper wheels, and somehow steers upside‑down without braking – an apparently effortless feat.
No records show circus performers actually using the double bicycle, leaving us to wonder why such a bizarre invention never saw the big top.
Can’t think why.
8 Etienne Bunau‑Varilla and His Torpedo Bicycle
Etienne Bunau‑Varilla, a French engineer and early aviation enthusiast, made a splash at the inaugural international flying convention in Riems in 1909, aged just 19. Besides dabbling in aircraft, he also designed racing bicycles.
His most iconic creation was the Vélо Torpille, or Torpedo Bike – a sleek, aerodynamically‑shaped machine that encased the rider inside a teardrop‑shaped pod, dramatically reducing drag.
When Marcel Berthe piloted the torpedo bike in 1913, he shattered the world speed record, covering five kilometres in five minutes and 39.3 seconds – an average of 33 miles per hour, astonishing for the era.
The design sparked a wave of imitators, but the following year the governing bodies of competitive cycling banned enclosed bicycles, effectively torpedoing the concept. Unsuitable for everyday riding, the torpedo bicycle faded into obscurity, remembered only for its brief moment of glory.
7 Hiram Nickerson and His Aerial Bicycle
Hiram Nickerson imagined a way to take cycling to new heights – literally. Instead of the conventional two‑wheel frame on the ground, he proposed an aerial bicycle that would glide along a purpose‑built elevated track.
The rider would sit on a saddle hung from the overhead guideway and generate motion by pedalling while suspended in the air. This meant cyclists could only travel where the track existed, demanding a massive infrastructure investment.
Nickerson’s patent glossed over practicalities: how would a rider get on and off the track? Would the bike be tethered like a cable‑car seat, or left dangling? What if two cyclists shared the same section – could they overtake, or would collisions be inevitable? And, crucially, there were no brakes.
He marketed the invention as “a new and useful improvement” in bicycle design, yet the concept never left the drawing board, never truly getting off the ground.
6 The Bicycle Ambulance
Necessity breeds invention, and the bicycle ambulance is a prime example. While makeshift ambulance rigs existed since the 1890s, they truly came into their own during the First World War.
The contraption linked two bicycles side‑by‑side, with a tarpaulin stretcher stretched between them. Saddlebags held medical supplies, and medics would ride out to wounded soldiers, lift them onto the stretcher, and pedal back to the nearest field hospital.
These bike‑ambulances could navigate terrain inaccessible to motorised vehicles, though they offered no protection from enemy fire or artillery shells.
Imagine the surreal sight of two men, helmets and all, cycling side‑by‑side across a battlefield, ferrying casualties on a makeshift stretcher – a stark reminder of wartime ingenuity.
5 Simon Wortmann and His Servant‑Propelled Bicycle
Simon Wortmann took the adage “why pedal yourself?” to heart, inventing a bicycle that outsourced the hard work to a second rider. The patent illustration shows a flat‑cap‑wearing man furiously pedalling at the lower end, while a gentleman in a morning coat and top hat perches atop, steering with a pair of unwieldy poles.
Marketed as an “Improvement in Velocipedes,” the design mimicked a horse‑drawn carriage, with the lower rider acting as the equine power source.
Although Wortmann filed the patent in 1869, the invention never reached full‑scale production – likely because recruiting a willing servant proved more challenging than inventing a new bicycle.
4 The Quadricyle Fire Engine
When fire engines were little more than hand‑carts and buckets, the Quadricyle Fire Engine seemed like cutting‑edge technology. The machine comprised two tandem bicycles mounted side‑by‑side and linked by cross‑pieces, with a platform between them.
The platform housed a hose reel, while a pump affixed to the rear could be connected to a household tap, supplying water to the hose. Australian firemen trained with this apparatus, cycling to the blaze, unspooling the hose, and fixing it to the pump within minutes.
Firefighters would then hop back onto their bikes, pedalling hard enough to power the pump, which could spray 4,500 gallons per hour over distances up to 100 feet – assuming they could maintain a vigorous cadence.
Though the contraption looked a tad comic, it proved effective in remote towns and villages, serving faithfully for many years.
3 Edward Burstow and His Hen and Chicks
One of the more whimsical creations was Edward Burstow’s pentacycle, affectionately dubbed the “Hen and Chicks.” Introduced in 1882, the five‑wheel vehicle was adopted by Britain’s Post Office. It featured a large central wheel on which the postman sat, flanked by two smaller wheels for added stability.
The design boasted a majestic silhouette and included two handy baskets for mail, giving the postman a grand, albeit cumbersome, platform for his rounds.
Despite its regal appearance, the Hen and Chicks proved impractical – the rider had to climb onto the towering seat only to dismount at each house, making deliveries a slow and laborious affair. Ultimately, the design was abandoned.
2 Georg Pinkert and His Navigating Tricycle
They say miracles let you walk on water, but why not cycle on it? Georg Pinkert, an eccentric Victorian inventor, patented a “Navigating Bicycle” in 1891 – a tricycle designed to conquer the ocean.
The vehicle sported three massive balloon‑tired wheels, and Pinkert set his sights on crossing the English Channel. He managed to pedal roughly halfway across the 20‑mile stretch before the tide turned against him.
Finding himself with two wheels pushing forward and three wheels pulling back, Pinkert realized he was being swept out to sea. In a dramatic turn, he hailed a passing ship in the busy shipping lane and was rescued.
Although the tricycle proved seaworthy enough to survive the ordeal, it never gained traction as a practical mode of transport. Pinkert, ever the Victorian eccentric, continued his experimental pursuits.
1 Louis S Burbank and His Bicycle Rowing Machine
Cycling builds leg strength, but what if you also wanted a solid arm workout? The inventive Victorians answered with a hybrid that combined a bicycle and a rowing machine.
In 1898, Louis S Burbank patented a device that mounted a rowing mechanism atop a standard two‑wheel bike. Propulsion came from the rowing action rather than pedalling, while steering was achieved by manipulating the oars, much like a sculling boat.
The concept promised a double‑exercise routine, albeit with several practical concerns. How would a rider start? By the time the cyclist mounted the bike, settled into the stirrups, and grabbed the oars, the machine would likely tip over.
Moreover, the patent makes no mention of brakes, raising the question of how one would stop. Perhaps the bike could be locked in place, essentially becoming a stationary rowing contraption perched atop a bicycle frame.
While the idea was undeniably inventive, the lack of stability and safety meant it never progressed beyond the drawing board – a fascinating footnote in Victorian engineering.
About The Author: Ward Hazell is a freelance writer and travel writer, and is currently studying for a PhD in English Literature.