There is a confidence in the Wired piece that amounts to a confession—it assumes the ebike question is settled.
This is the thinking of someone for whom the first hurdle, buying the thing, was never a hurdle. It obscures a jagged fact: for the populations most dependent on cargo transportation, an ebike is not a platform but a luxury purchase that must justify itself against every existing alternative.
Consider who actually moves cargo for survival rather than recreation—a gig worker in Phoenix delivering takeout, a parent in Des Moines who needs to haul groceries and children without a car payment, a small vendor moving inventory. These are people doing arithmetic: $2,400 for the bike plus $600 for the cargo setup versus a used Honda Civic for $5,000 that holds everything and protects them from weather and traffic. The math does not resolve in favor of the ebike.
Ebike culture operates on a hidden assumption—if we build the transportation tool and explain how to use it, adoption will flow naturally toward those who need it most. But adoption flows instead toward those who can absorb the initial cost and tolerate the learning curve and access the repair ecosystem. Wired did not ask whether a person earning $18 per hour in a mid-sized city can actually make an ebike investment pencil out before the battery degrades, whether rural areas have repair shops, or whether the person who would haul the most cargo is the last person who can afford to experiment.
The ebike is genuinely useful technology and optimizing it is a legitimate project. Framing optimization as the central conversation is a way of ensuring the conversation never reaches the people for whom it matters most—because the blank canvas only works if you already own the stretcher.