We've got your tail.

Tailgator started with a crash. A real one.

Fred Goldfarb, our founder, in his cycling gear

It was a chilly Thanksgiving afternoon in Austin, Texas. Our founder, Fred Goldfarb—a 70-something-year-old cycling nut, eccentric inventor, and lifelong asker of "Why the hell not?"—was biking home from Wheatsville Co-op when his buddy braked hard to avoid a car. Fred didn't see it coming in time, swerved, and bam—broken wrist. (Fred's not exactly the "let it go" type.)

As he healed, Fred couldn't stop obsessing over one simple question:

Why don't bikes have brake lights that actually act like brake lights?
— Fred Goldfarb, Founder

Cars have them. Motorcycles too. But cyclists? Out there on the road with nothing but a dinky red blink? Madness. We've got more exposed tail than any vehicle on the road, and nothing to show for it when we slam the brakes? Unacceptable.

So Fred did what Fred does—he got curious, then he got building. He rounded up some engineers, dove deep into the world of accelerometers, gyroscopes, and all the lumens he could get his hands on, and created a smarter, safer tail light. One that actually gets brighter when you hit the brakes. One that says, loud and clear: "Hey, I'm stopping, don't ride up my tail."

And thus, Tailgator was born—a tenacious little gator with a big job: protecting your tail out there on the roads.

We're not just a light. We're a movement.

Since launching, Tailgator has quietly become one of the most reliable brake lights for cyclists across the country. Beloved by long-haul tourers, city commuters, weekend warriors, and silver-haired road beasts who ride more now than they did in their 30s.

We're proud of our gear—but even prouder of our mission: to keep cyclists safer, more visible, and better respected on the road. One bright, smart, tail-saving light at a time.

What's next?

We're just getting started. More lights. More accessories. More clever ways to keep your ride safer and smarter. And always with Fred's original spirit baked in: bold, curious, maybe a little weird—and always, always looking out for your tail.