Let’s play a quick word association: three wheels, wind in your face, and odd looks at every stoplight. If you thought “Vanderhall,” you’re in the right place. But if your second thought was “bankruptcy rumors,” buckle up—with sharp corners ahead. Vanderhall’s been the subject of coffee-break whispers and Reddit hand-wringing about them shuttering for good. Is it true, or just turbocharged speculation? Here’s what’s really happening, straight from the horse’s mouth (and their recent business filings).
The Fork in the Road: Vanderhall’s Bold Pivot
For starters, picture late 2023. Vanderhall’s Instagram is ablaze with nostalgic shots of their last gas-powered autos, models that once felt practically allergic to dullness—the Venice, the Carmel, little three-wheeled rebels built for sunset cruises and hairpin turns. Then, Vanderhall posts the big news: their final gasoline vehicle is rolling off the line. At face value, some took this as a swan song for the entire brand. But they didn’t catch the whole script.
What actually happened? Vanderhall executed a classic entrepreneurial zag: they dropped gasoline, not the curtain. It wasn’t a funeral procession—it was more like a spring cleaning of the product garage. They announced, “No more gasoline,” but followed it with, “all-in on electric.” A gutsy move, sure, and not without risk, but hardly a death knell.
For context, this wasn’t a small player quietly disappearing. In 2022, Vanderhall’s Venice model was retailing at around $30,950 and sold in a dozen countries. By summer 2023, gas sellers were already prepping for an all-electric future—sometimes it pays to close one door so you can bulldoze a wall.
New Toys: Vanderhall’s All-Electric Lineup
Let’s talk cold, hard product. Vanderhall’s post-gas strategy wasn’t “wait and see.” They rolled out the Brawley, a name that conjures images of flips, mud, and maybe some slightly worried park rangers. This isn’t an autocycle for the nervous or the allergic-to-dirt. The Brawley—set to drop in 2025—is an electric off-roader with, by their measure, up to 200 miles of range, 60kWh battery capability, and enough torque (~480 lb-ft) to make some Jeeps jealous.
And Vanderhall wants you to know: this isn’t “golf cart chic.” It’s 404 horsepower, full-cabin with air conditioning and heated seats, and designed (almost romantically) for the kind of road you make yourself. Their new all-electric approach didn’t shrink their vision—it’s grown more rugged, more “hold my drink and watch this.”
Why go electric? Simple economics meets regulatory squeeze. Gas-powered trikes are a regulatory mess in Europe and facing tough sledding elsewhere. The electric push is both an answer to government trends and a way to one-up the competition (most of which, frankly, still looks like Batman’s commuter car). Vanderhall wants to be the Tesla of autocycles—and maybe even win over a few off-road fanatics in the process.
Roots in Utah: The Shop Is Still Open
Some internet rumors hinge on location—maybe Vanderhall’s shop is a ghost town, right? Not so much. The company’s assembly lines still hum along in Provo, Utah. By all visible accounts, this isn’t a warehouse stacked with empty pallets. Try finding another autocycle builder where you can, on occasion, see the CEO welding a prototype. That’s more rare than you think.
The pitch hasn’t changed either: Vanderhall’s committed to “high-performance, handcrafted vehicles”—the word “crafted” gets more showtime than “vehicle.” They stress small batches, custom builds, and a hands-on process that, for better or worse, keeps you out of assembly line monotony.
They’re also not shy about local pride. A quick drive down 2700 West reveals a busy facility, not a mothballed one. On dealer maps and press releases, Provo isn’t disappearing. And yes, they’re still pumping out press kits about upcoming launches, customer test rides, and demo days. Hardly the signs of a business ready for hospice care.
Steering the Ship: Who’s in Charge?
Every small company needs a stubborn founder, and Vanderhall’s got Steve Hall. “I build the things I wish existed,” Hall once told a trade mag—words you’d expect from the kind of person who thinks a standard car just isn’t enough trouble. Hall isn’t someone to fade quietly: he’s still at the helm, quoted in 2025 interviews about pushing boundaries (and sometimes buttons) in powersports.
Industry shows remain a core ritual. Vanderhall displays at major expos, and their booth is still manned by Hall himself, sleeves rolled up, answering why three wheels are better than four. It’s hands-on leadership—rare these days—and not the behavior of a founder bailing out before the music stops.
Their social media presence is another tell. Vanderhall’s digital team responds to customers, fires up video tours, and chats up the community. “We’re doubling down on electric,” goes the chorus. Businesses on the ropes tend to go radio silent; not these folks.
Legal and Business Health: Mythbusting the Rumors
Bad news travels faster than good, especially online. A single tweet about layoffs or missed shipments, and suddenly people picture bankruptcy. But here’s what matters most: there are zero authoritative filings or reports of Vanderhall in bankruptcy court as of 2025. No Chapter 11. No “liquidation sale!” banners. No creditor lawsuits clogging the Utah courts.
More proof: They’re actively defending and renewing trademarks in the U.S. and Europe. A dead company doesn’t invest in lawyers. They’re engaging in business partnerships, wrestling with local zoning on factory expansion, and showing up in recent Utah business registrations. This has led to even more attention from curious industry watchers and business sites—including resources like this one, which track operational businesses by their filings and active digital presence.
And while a few dealerships (inevitably) have shifted focus or closed due to the product change, that’s just standard turbulence. Dealers pivot all the time when inventory or focus shifts. Head office? Still going strong.
Vanderhall’s Industry Footprint—Still Making Tracks
So where does all this leave Vanderhall at large? Consider how legacy vehicle brands have (occasionally) erased themselves when they fumbled the EV transition. Think Pontiac, think Saturn—a wrong turn and you’re just a trivia answer. Vanderhall might not have the Detroit big-league bankroll, but their survival strategy is clear: niche down, electrify, and stay weird.
By one count, electric powersports sales hit ~$6.4 billion in 2023, with projections pointing north of $8 billion by 2027. If Vanderhall keeps staking claims in that rich, growing soil, they could tower above the auto-cycle “curiosities” and hit the mainstream. Or, at least, carve out a battering-ram loyalist audience.
Talking to a few Brawley pre-order customers gives some color. “Sure, it’s pricey,” admits one New Mexico buyer (list price: $34,950). “But it’s the only EV that makes my Jeep look lazy—plus, it doesn’t need gas.” The tiresome “will they make it?” debate misses a bigger point: companies this hungry usually outlast those that freeze in place.
At industry events, Vanderhall banners still fly. The brand shows up in forums, YouTube breakdowns, and electric vehicle verticals—electric dreams with a three-wheeled twist.
The Road Ahead: No Closure, Just a Sharper Turn
If you skipped here for the verdict: is Vanderhall going out of business? The short answer is resoundingly no. The real story is equal parts risk and optimism—closing the book on gas-powered models, yes, but opening a new chapter in the faster, sharper language of electric.
Their staff is busy, not laid off. The factory lights are still on, and pre-orders for the Brawley (and what’s rumored to follow) remain hot topics in enthusiast circles. Founder Steve Hall is not only still in charge, but is pushing Vanderhall to chase a future that’s less about gas mileage and more about grinning like a maniac as you tear through sand or city traffic.
Like any business in a tough market, there’s no autopilot mode. The powersports world rewards weirdness and guts but punishes hesitation. Vanderhall’s betting that handcrafted, all-electric funmobiles—less practical, perhaps, but unforgettable—beat playing it safe.
So, if you’re betting on who survives the next industry shakeout, don’t count Vanderhall out just because they canned gasoline. Their approach may spark debate, but it hasn’t signaled retreat. If anything, it’s proof that, sometimes, the best way to stay alive is to change faster than everyone else.
Until they prove otherwise, rumors of their death are—if not exaggerated—at least a few cylinders short of reality.
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