Segway is recalling over 220,000 Ninebot Max electric scooters after reports of collapsing handlebars mid-ride caused injuries, including broken bones. Here’s what you need to know.
There’s something fundamentally unholy about electric scooters. They hum with the smug energy of tech-bro optimism, a wheeled utopia imagined in the sterile conference rooms of Silicon Valley, where nobody sweats and no one knows how to fall off a goddamn scooter.
But now the curtain’s pulled back, the party’s over, and the machines are turning against us. Segway—yes, that same company that promised us the future and delivered sidewalk clutter—is recalling over 200,000 of its Ninebot Max scooters because they might just fold in half while you’re riding them.
Yes, you read that right. These things can collapse mid-ride like a dollar-store beach chair at a biker rally.
According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, the scooters’ handlebars and front stem can buckle and fold inward during use, converting your leisurely ride into a physics experiment you never volunteered for.
There have been 68 reported cases of these scooters betraying their riders—20 of which resulted in injuries: bruises, scrapes, lacerations, and yes, broken bones. The kind of fun you expect from a bar fight, not your morning commute.
The victims? Innocent citizens—likely just trying to get to work, save the planet, or chase the last embers of their youth—betrayed by a design flaw tucked neatly beneath a sheen of sleek modernity.
This isn’t just a bug in the machine. It’s the kind of design failure that whispers sweetly, “Trust me,” before throwing you face-first into the concrete.
And it’s not like these scooters were hiding in some sketchy corner of the internet. Oh no, these death-traps were peddled openly at Best Buy, Costco, Walmart, Target, Sam’s Club, and Amazon.
Since January 2020, approximately 220,000 units of the Ninebot Max G30P (gray and yellow) and G30LP (black with yellow) models have been sold—enough to turn an entire mid-size city into a rolling army of potential crash victims.
Now here’s where it gets fun: Segway isn’t replacing the scooters. Nope. Instead, they’re offering a “free maintenance kit.” That’s right. You, the loyal consumer, get to break out your Allen wrench and do a little mechanical surgery on the very device that tried to shatter your kneecaps.
You’ll get tools, instructions, and the privilege of being your own warranty department. Maybe they’ll throw in a cigarette and a shot of bourbon to calm your nerves.
The “fix” involves tightening the folding mechanism—a kind of DIY Russian roulette for tech hobbyists. It’s a slap in the face, a cold reminder that the future is built on convenience, not safety, and if you want to participate, you better be able to bleed.
Meanwhile, over in the corner of the room, Nvidia’s CEO is warning us to keep an eye on Chinese AI. But here at home, we’re being maimed by collapsing scooters sold in bulk at your local big box store.
So, if you or anyone you know owns one of these rolling Judas machines, stop riding it immediately. Contact Segway. Demand your maintenance kit. Or better yet—strap it to a rocket, light a cigarette, and send it back to whatever cursed dimension it came from.
The road is dangerous enough without your own wheels betraying you.
