Making a Fork Rigid

I like rigid forks, like the Carver that is on the front of my briefly raced bike, but in spite of that, or maybe resulting in that, I'm a bit of a suspension-phile. I was a fairly early adopter of full suspension bikes, requesting one after Matt Estes rode away from me too effectively at Wrath of the Boneyard in 1996, and a couple years later, I rode one for the national series finals at Mount Snow. Before that race, a teammate, whom I'd never beaten, asked, "What are you doing on that?" Later, I refrained from answering, "Passing you," on the muddy, rooty climb where extra rear wheel traction changed the game.

Then in 2000, I talked my team's manager into swapping our bike sponsor because I really wanted to race the minimalist rear suspension Razorback that George Frick had me try at the New England Mountain Bike Festival. I liked it so much, and saw so little penalty, I took two of those instead of mixing my stable with a hardtail. I like good suspension. It's one more characteristic I can tweak, but I'm a firm believer than no suspension is more rideable than any that disrupts the lines I try to pick. None is also often a lot cheaper!

But a suspension fork in the hand is cheaper than the one in store, so before I throw down for a proper and reliable rigid fork, it's good to know exactly what length to buy. An easy test is to precompress the suspension with a strap, crank up the preload, and viola, that awful suspension can be nearly rigid, at a viable length of my choosing, and testing. That's what I did yesterday, and yay, I confirmed starting with a rigid fork I already own, maybe switching to a taller heafset, which I also have, if I decide the fork is 10mm short.

But possibly even more exciting, on the test ride, my arm and shoulder managed the motion to bunny hop a couple times! Recovery is going in the right direction. Once more, yay!

Also cool, seeing these,

which I just learned are Coltsfoot.