The Impact of Revel Bikes on the Mountain Bike Industry
Carbondale, Colorado, is a town of two kinds of people: the ones who chase powder, and the ones who chase dirt. Revel Bikes, nestled at the junction of that dual obsession, was born from the kind of idealism you hope survives the trip from sketchpad to spreadsheet. Now, after five short and spirited years, Revel is shutting its doors.
Here, in this high-altitude enclave of ski bums and dirt evangelists, Revel Bikes came to life. Not as a corporate brand, but as an ideal – hand-built frames, obsessive suspension tuning, and the kind of customer service that made you feel like you were borrowing a bike from a friend.
That was 2019.
In April 2025, Revel shut its doors.
If you’ve ever fallen in love with a bike brand – not just what they make, but why they make it – then this story is for you. Because Revel didn’t just close. It cratered under the same pressures currently reshaping the entire outdoor industry. And if you’re not paying attention, it could happen to your favorite brand next.
I. The Art of the Ride
In 2016, Adam Miller was fresh off selling Borealis, a fat-bike company he founded straight out of college, and already neck-deep in his next venture, Why Cycles. That company focused on titanium frames and soul rides. But something kept gnawing at him: Why weren’t there more bikes that felt right – really right – straight out of the box?
By 2019, he’d assembled a dream team of bike nerds, engineers, and industry renegades in a small shop in Carbondale. The mission was simple: build bikes they actually wanted to ride. Carbon fiber, sleek design, and a suspension kinematic so dialed you could measure it in smugness.
Their first bike, the Revel Rail, was a 165mm travel enduro sled that didn’t just eat rocks—it turned them into stories. Riders noticed. Media noticed. Pinkbike gave them nods. Enthusiasts whispered: “They’re doing something different.”
And they were. Revel was the first company to license the Canfield Balance Formula, a suspension platform known for making bikes that both climb and descend like caffeinated mountain goats. But tech alone doesn’t make a brand. What made Revel magnetic was the culture. A culture that gave a damn about the rider, not just the profit margin.
Reviewers raved. Riders converted. The Rail earned a reputation as a bruiser with ballet shoes – nimble, plush, and unapologetically fun. The Rascal followed with its own quiet confidence, an XC-capable trail bike that didn’t flinch at big days. And Revel obsessed over the details: internal cable routing that stayed silent, frame protection where it mattered, and a lifetime warranty that actually felt like one.
Revel felt like a secret handshake among riders who actually knew what they were doing.
II. When Success is a Setup
Then came the pandemic.
Like every bike brand, Revel found itself in a sudden, dizzying boom. Demand exploded. Bikes became currency. The world, it seemed, had rediscovered the bicycle – and Revel was right there with an open throttle.
So they scaled. Leased a bigger building. Doubled inventory. Hired more staff. On paper, it made sense.
But here’s the twist: a wave can lift you up, or it can leave you underwater. It depends on how well you can surf, and how fast the tide turns.
As the pandemic ended, so did the bike-buying frenzy. Warehouses filled. Shipping prices soared. Debt ballooned. Revel was left with over $8 million in liabilities and a market that had gone from sugar high to silent.
In Miller’s words, “We did everything we could. We’re proud of what we built. But it wasn’t enough.”
III. Revel in Context: A Tale of Three Brands
Revel’s story doesn’t end in a vacuum. To understand its closure, it helps to look sideways at two other brands who hit similar walls – Kona and Rocky Mountain Bicycles.
Kona: The Rebuy That Almost Wasn’t
Founded in 1988, Kona was once synonymous with West Coast grit and alt-culture appeal. But when Kent Outdoors acquired it in 2022, the brand lost its rudder. The new owners misread the market, and by 2024, Kona was on life support. Cue the heroes: co-founders Dan Gerhard and Jacob Heilbron, who repurchased the company.
They’re now trying to rebuild Kona with its original ethos intact – leaner, meaner, and more in touch with its roots. It’s a hopeful blueprint for what a Revel 2.0 might look like.
Rocky Mountain: Riding the Bankruptcy Line
Then there’s Rocky Mountain Bicycles, a Canadian staple with roots back to 1981. Unlike Revel, Rocky got big – big enough to rack up $141 million in debt. They filed for creditor protection in 2024, and while they’re not done yet, the trail ahead is foggy.
What these stories share isn’t just financial collapse – it’s a reckoning. The pandemic ballooned the industry, but like all bubbles, it had to pop. The return to “normal” left companies with too much product, too little demand, and fragile supply chains that couldn’t pivot fast enough.
IV. So Why Should You Care?
Because Revel was doing everything right – until the context changed.
They listened to customers. They built bikes people loved. They even tried making carbon rims in Utah to avoid overseas bottlenecks. But the outdoor industry right now is a tightrope in a hurricane. Brands that expanded during the boom are now trapped by the very inventory they needed to survive.
It’s not about failure. It’s about exposure. The question isn’t who’s next. It’s who’s ready.
V. What’s Left Behind
So what does Revel’s closure leave us?
A few thousand excellent bikes, still out there on the trails. A team of designers and engineers who may scatter but won’t disappear. And an example of how to build a brand that mattered – even if it didn’t last.
The frames, the tech, even the name might live on if someone decides to buy the IP. That’s a common playbook: passionate investors, a Kickstarter revival, or a founder who just can’t let go.
But for now, the lights are off in Carbondale. The tools are quiet. And the riders who built it are, in Adam Miller’s words, “exhausted – but proud.”
VI. The Descent, and Maybe the Return
There’s no shame in a company closing. There’s shame in not trying.
Revel tried. And in doing so, they showed that building bikes isn’t about profit curves – it’s about joy curves. About designing machines that make you grin halfway down a chute with your heart in your throat and your tires still gripping.
That kind of philosophy doesn’t disappear. It just changes form.
Maybe Revel comes back. Maybe it doesn’t. But what it built – the bikes, the ethos, the connection – those things don’t end with a shutdown email. They hang in the air like dust on a late summer descent. Quiet. Lingering. Alive.
