I love chains.
Bicycle chains are one of those deceptively complex items that most people never think about — like a candle. A chain seems simple once it’s in place, quietly doing its job, transmitting power efficiently. But each link is a small masterpiece of engineering: rigid yet flexible, remarkably precise, and endlessly repairable. I still think they’re beautiful. And on the right bike, I wouldn’t change a thing.
But I’m also easily annoyed.
And few things annoy me more than a spinning chain covered in grease, perfectly positioned to ruin a pair of pants. You can guard it, oil it, clean it — but at some point, it’s going to remind you who’s in charge.
Belts, on the other hand, are admittedly less romantic. They don’t have the same visual poetry as polished metal links snaking around a sprocket. But when it comes to a single-speed bike — especially one meant to be ridden anywhere, anytime — a belt simply makes more sense.
A deceptively simple loop
At first glance, the belt on the Martini doesn’t look like much. Just a smooth black loop — almost too plain to notice. But that simplicity is the trick. Beneath that rubbery surface is a remarkably sophisticated system.
The one we use is made by Gates™, the industry leader in belt-drive technology. Inside that quiet band of polyurethane are carbon fiber cords that handle immense tension without stretching. Each tooth is precisely shaped to mesh with matching sprockets, so it transmits power efficiently and silently. There’s no lubrication, no grit to collect, and no corrosion to fight.
Where a chain relies on hundreds of metal links and pins, a belt is one continuous structure — a single, silent transmission of force.
The beauty of what you can’t see
Like a candle, a belt seems simple until you understand the choreography behind it. Those carbon cords carry tension, the teeth tranfer torque, and the entire structure flexes just enough to stay perfectly in sync with your pedal stroke. It’s a quiet ballet of physics, hidden inside what looks like a strip of rubber.
That’s the kind of design I love — when complexity hides behind effortlessness. The more you learn about it, the more elegant it becomes.
How it shaped the Martini
Choosing the Gates belt wasn’t just a performance decision — it was a design one.
It meant designing the frame around the drivetrain, not the other way around. A belt can’t be broken and reconnected like a chain, so the rear triangle needs a small opening to let it slide in. We built that into the frame from the start. The result is a compact, purposeful design where everything has a reason to exist — even the absence of certain things.
What it feels like
The first time you ride a belt-drive bike, you notice what’s not there. No rattle, no hum, no chain noise. You just hear wind and tires on pavement.
When you pedal, it’s smooth — perfectly direct — like the motion and the response happen at the exact same time. It’s the kind of quiet that makes you realize how much noise you’ve gotten used to. Speaking of being easily annoyed – have you ever had silent rage building inside you in the kitchen only to have it melt away when you turn off the oven hood? Well chains aren't that bad, but you get the idea.
I still ride one of our chain prototypes sometimes (in shorts). But switching back to the belt feels like turning the volume down on everything except the ride.
Why it fit the first Higbee
The Martini is meant to be simple — an easy, clean, always-ready bike. Low maintenance, no shifting, no excuses. A belt fits that rhythm perfectly.
And for a bike that spends part of its life by the beach, it just makes sense. Salt air, humidity, sand — all things that ruin chains. Belts don’t care. They don’t rust, stretch, or stain. You ride more and fuss less.
I’m sure there’ll be chain-drive Higbees in the future — there’s still something satisfying about that mechanical clatter. But for our first bike, the belt was the right choice. It’s quiet, clean, and deceptively complex — the kind of engineering that disappears beneath the joy of motion.
Looking beneath the surface
Like many modern engineering marvels, the beauty of a belt drive takes more than just looking closely — it takes looking beneath the surface.
There are so many incredible “technologies” from the Industrial Revolution — like the zipper, the sewing machine and of course the chain — that appear simple until you study them up close and see their brilliance. Today’s mechanics are no less impressive. Think of the hinge in a macbook laptop or literally anything from Dyson. Despite the gripes about planned obsolescence or our collective suspicion of plastics, sometimes — just sometimes — the modern stuff really is better.
Even if it shows a little less visible mechanical poetry.
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