The more things change... you know the rest. Once upon a time, racers bought their frames and forks separately. This was because there were very few manufacturers of truly durable forks. Come to think of it, there were very few manufacturers of durable frames either, but for some reason they tended to be different manufacturers from the durable-fork ones, and so one would often see Bottema forks on a DG, or SE Landing Gears on a Webco, or some other such odd combination. Eventually, everybody figured out how to make a semi-decent unicrown fork, and from the early Eighties until the late Nineties, frames and forks were sold together.
Later on in those late Nineties, the clever people who run Dan's Competition came up with the idea of making you pay extra for the fork in a frame-and-fork set. They probably figured this would just result in everyone buying the "matching" fork and paying fifty bucks more than they used to, but an unintended consequence arose: the aftermarket fork market came back from the dead, and people began mixing and matching frames and forks on a scale not seen since Linn Kastan introduced the Redline fork in the Seventies. Sometimes this mix and match works; other times it does not. What we will be doing this month is taking a detailed look at how and why forks work. Although there's some science involved, everything you need to know you learned on the seesaw as a kid... (but if you are not familiar with the concepts of leverage, click here for my brief explanation.)
A fork has four main parts: the steerer,
which is the tube you put through your head tube and clamp your stem
to, the dropouts to which you bolt your wheel, the legs
which go from the crown to the dropouts, and the crown which
attaches the legs to the steerer. A traditional "unicrown" BMX fork
doesn't have a separate crown; instead, the legs are bent and welded
directly to the steerer, thus the name "unicrown". Your fork affects
the way your bike rides in four different ways: geometry,
weight, stiffness, and strength. Note that
stiffness and strength aren't the same thing. We'll get back to that
part later, but right now let's take a look at geometry.
The main way your fork affects your bike's handling is through
rake. This is easy to understand. A fork with a lot of rake
sticks the wheel way out in front, like an "Easy Rider" chopper. A
fork with no rake has the wheel directly under the "fork line", like a
unicycle fork. The "fork line", by the way, is an imaginary line drawn
right down the center of the steerer tube. Rake is measured by looking
at the distance between the dropouts and that fork line. Manufacturers
take different routes to create rake. Some forks have the legs welded
onto the steerer at an angle... these forks look "pre-bent" when you
look at them from the side. That used to be very popular in the
Seventies and Eighties. Other forks use a long dropout to put some
space between the fork leg and the axle. That's what's hip now,
especially in street forks which need some dropout room to fit front
pegs on.
The way fork rake affects your handling is also simple to
understand. The more rake you have, the harder it is to turn the
bike. Think of a chopper motorcycle and how tough it must be to
parallel park it! A fork with a lot of rake feels "floppy" in turns,
like it doesn't want to change direction very much. Hmm... since we
all have to turn in our races, wouldn't we want a fork with
zero rake so we could turn in a hurry, easily? Not so fast. A
lot of times you want your bike to be stable and hard to turn - like
when you are jumping, or when you are coming out of the gate, or when
you are bumping elbows with somebody in the rhythm section, or
when... you get the idea. Nobody really wants a hyperactive race
bike. What we want is a bike that is stable in the rhythm section and
quick-turning in the berm. Since you can't really have both, you will
have to choose a fork that matches your style. If you have top-notch
bike control, go for the low-rake fork. If you have some "sideways
trouble", like many twenty-and-thirty-something Expert riders, a
higher-rake fork can help stabilize you. Don't forget, you can use a
low-rake fork to make a slow-steering frame turn more quickly, and a
high-rake fork to make a nervous frame "chill out" a bit. Once upon a
time, there were a couple of "double-dropout" forks sold, with two
axle slots on each side. It was a promising idea but the most
prominent variety - the California Customs - showed a disturbing
tendency to snap their dropouts right off their legs, no matter which
axle slot you used. Thus an interesting concept was forever ruined by
a single example of poor execution, and for neither the first nor last
time in our sport.
There's another way your fork affects your handling, and that's
fork height. What? You mean you thought all BMX forks are the
same height, since they use the same size wheels? Think again. BMX
forks can vary by an inch or more in effective height ,which we
measure from the axle to the bottom of the headset. To begin with, you
will want to make sure that your fork has enough height to clear your
tire. For instance, there's less than half an inch of clearance
between the top of my Snafu Knob Job 2.10 tire and the bottom of the
steerer tube on my Odyssey Dirt forks. Any less space there, and I
would run the risk of being "foot-jammed" by a stray leaf!
Next, you should consider the effect that fork height has on
geometry. A taller fork slows down your steering; a lower fork speeds
it up. To understand why this is so, imagine you have taken your fork
out of your bike and you are holding it by the head tube, with the
rear wheel resting on the ground. Lower the head tube. Presto! Your
head tube becomes "steeper". Raise the head tube. Wow! It's "slacker"
now. Since your fork height determines how high your head tube is off
the ground, you can see that your effective head tube is changed as a
result. (Note, also, that using a bigger tire raises your front end
and slows down your steering - the real reason why many larger riders
feel more comfortable on a large front tire.) Back in the days of
matching frames and forks, fork heights were carefully matched to
frame geometry; today, you will have to do the matching yourself. If
you pair a quick-steering frame with a low fork, you may find yourself
flopping over the front end in a tight turn... put a tall fork on a
relaxed-geometry frame and you may have to plan your turns a couple
extra feet in advance.
Now let's talk about how stiffness and strength affect your bike's
handling. To do this, we need to visualize the different forces acting
on a fork. The simplest one is also the strongest: the force coming
from the axle, into the dropouts, through the legs, into the steerer,
and from there into the headset. Every time you land a jump, every
time you hit a bump, every time your bike is standing upright, force
is being transferred in this path.
The other main force is the force applied by a turning handlebar,
which turns the stem, which turns the steerer, which turns the legs,
which turn the axle. This is not a trivial amount of force. To find
out how much force is involved, stand your bike up on its back wheel,
take the front wheel out, and try to hold the forks steady while a
friend waggles the handlebars. Unless you are much, much
stronger than your friend, you won't be able to do it. Why can't you
stop your friend from turning the fork? It's simple; the handlebars
and stem provide massive leverage. In fact, it's a leverage factor of
as much as eight to one at the axles and thirty to one at the
steerer, so ten pounds of turning pressure (which is a very light
turn) twists the fork with three hundred pounds of pressure and
applies eighty pounds of turn at the wheel. You need this leverage,
because a bike and rider going straight ahead have some decent forward
momentum and it's tough to change that momentum.
A fork designer has a tough job. Most riders want a little bit of
flex in the impact force direction, because it's easier on their hands
and wrists. A bit of landing-force flex also reduces the tendency to
crash, because a very stiff fork tends to be "nervous" and transmit
the irregularities in the track right to the handlebars, making the
bike less stable. On the other hand, almost nobody likes a fork that
feels "mushy" in the turns. The problem is that, by their basic
design, forks are stiff in the impact direction and noodly in the turn
direction. What can you do?
There have been two recent answers to this problem. The first one
was to go back to the separate-crown design and use some exotic
materials - the "gimmick forks" like what you see from Answer and
Marzocchi. These forks can be "tuned" with a stiff crown (for
flex-free turns) and slightly flexy legs (for easier landings). It's a
heck of an idea, with just one problem: these forks appear to break
more often, and more spectacularly, than traditional unicrown
forks. After all, stiffness does not equal strength. A rubber hose is
far less stiff than a tree branch of the same diameter, but try
bending them and seeing which one snaps first. More pertinently, a
steel fork leg can feel much less stiff than an aluminum one but hold
up under much more severe impact.
The unicrown fork people have responded to the
carbon/aluminum/Jell-O(tm) forks by introducing heat-treated forks
with variable internal tube diameter, tapered legs, and pressed-in
reinforcements. These forks turn well thanks to their thick steerer
tubes and large-diameter legs, but use thin-walled tubing for impact
absorption and weight reduction. A few years ago, Odyssey shocked the
BMX world by introducing a thirty-six-ounce race fork with an
unconditional guarantee, a heavy-duty internally threaded steerer
tube, and a unique combination of tapering and minimal dropout
design. Take a look at Odyssey Race Forks... they look sharp, plain
and simple.
Since then, my pals at Supercross have managed to refine these same
features into a sub-twenty-five-ounce race fork, which puts them
head-to-head with the C/F and aluminum forks. I expect other
manufacturers to follow suit - S&M is already experimenting with a
lightweight dirt/vert fork and I wouldn't be surprised to see an "LT"
race fork in the near future.
I vastly prefer these new lightweight unicrown forks to any
multi-piece crowned fork out there. In my opinion, the safety and
longevity issues associated with crowned BMX forks have not been
properly resolved. When Marzocchi or Answer come up with a fork that
weighs twenty-five ounces and can be used for race and light street
use for a couple of years, I may change my mind... but right now I
advise that you choose a Cr-Mo unicrown fork. If you are put off by
the delicate looks of the Supercross fork, the Odyssey should suit you
nicely; if your brand loyalties prevent you from choosing either,
there are many excellent unicrown forks in the forty-five-ounce
range. Better safe than sorry.
We've been talking about fork weight in the past few paragraphs,
but how much impact does fork weight really have on your ride? Quite a
bit, and not always in the manner you might think. It's often easier
for a rider to feel an eight-ounce savings in fork weight than a
sixteen-ounce reduction in frame weight. The reason goes back to
leverage. When you pull your front end up, you are pulling on a
lever. The pivot of that lever is... think about it... your rear
axle. The majority of your weight is about halfway down that lever,
slightly ahead of the bottom bracket shell. Remember that the longer
the lever, the easier it is to pull a certain weight, which is why
moving your bars forward often makes pulling up easier.
Unlike a seesaw, however, your bike isn't a long, flat board. It's
an assembly of differently sized and weighted components, and having a
lot of weight at the end of your "lever" - in other words, the front
end of your bike - can make a suprisingly large difference,
considerably larger than a similar weight difference further up the
"seesaw". The major difference I always feel between my race and
street bikes is the sheer weight difference in the front end - more
than thirty ounces difference between the Odyssey Dirt forks on my
Dirt Devil and the Supercross Race forks on my UL and Nomorea
racers. The race bike's front end comes up on a whim, while the street
bike needs a less subtle persuasion. For me, that's not necessarily a
good thing. I have found over the past few years that I prefer the
"autopilot" assistance a heavier fork offers, within reason. Since
there is no doubt that a lighter bike accelerates faster, you will
have to judge for yourself whether the additional "nervousness" of a
light-fork front end is worth the benefits of pure speed. Younger
riders who are not strong enough to throw a thirty-five-pound bike
around with abandon should, of course, always run relatively light
forks.
Obviously, forks are a lot more complicated than they look, and I
hope you've learned enough to make your next fork decision an educated
one. We'll close with a final reminder about sensible part replacement
strategies. In the dirt-jumpa world there appears to be a kind of
status thing going on with switching your forks a lot... in the race
world the opposite is true, and I have seen many a rider go through a
couple new frames while keeping his old forks. Be careful about
that. Even high-quality unicrown forks can break, given enough time
and wear. Fork failures are almost always very serious, usually
leading to significant injury. Don't risk your season, your career, or
your life on worn-out forks. The fork/frame pricing model most shops
use today means there are often excellent original equipment forks
available cheaply - I've seen solid brand name Cr-Mo forks on sale for
$19.99 - so don't skimp on safety. For those of you who are interested
in the fork industy's "missing link", I've included a brief appendix
on the Tange Switchblade crowned Cr-Mo fork. I'll see the rest of you
next time!
Photo coming later this week - JB
Given enough money, how many of the traditional unicrown fork
problems - lack of turn stiffness, lack of adjustability, dropout
lever stress - could you solve? In 1991, Tange attempted to solve them
all with the SwitchBlades, a set of adjustable, crowned, chromoly
forks. The SwitchBlades were intended to sell for $199 in an era where
most forks sold for $39.99 and no fork sold for over seventy
dollars - heck, most top-quality race frames sold for $139 to
$159. Imagine a $699 fork today - that's the kind of impact that $199
retail price had back in 1991.
Those with the requisite two bills would have received a lot for
their money. Tange used their "Prestige" tubing - several grades above
what most race frames used back then and roughly equivalent to the
heat-treated tubing Standard charges too much for now - for the
steerer and legs. The legs were straight and thick, ending in a custom
high-strength dropout. In a word... magnificent. The steerer was a
forged piece with the fork rake designed-in, making it possible to use
those beautiful straight fork legs. Effective rake and height were
adjustable thanks to the four Allen bolts that clamped the whole
assembly together. It was eventually planned to offer different legs -
special lightweight Cr-Mo and possibly aluminum items as well - as
well as replacement Prestige legs for riders crazy enough to break
them.. Thus, the "Switchblade" name.
I received the pair shown above from Tange for testing purposes. I
gave them a five-star review in Bicycles Today, which they
richly deserved, but Tange got cold feet and never tried to sell them
in volume. I have never seen another pair. The forks' only real fault,
as might be ascertained from the impatient hammer marks on the right
leg, was their tendency to slip their legs a bit under heavy
impact. How heavy? I was doing full-speed fifteen-stair dropoffs on
them at the time, landing on concrete.
I used the SwitchBlades for five long years, until I stopped riding
Superclass and began to focus on cruiser racing. They were still
radical forks in 1997 and I think a similar fork would be
well-received today. Some people just plain prefer the "hi-tech" look
of crowned forks, and these would be a safe and strong way to have
that look. Hey! Want to make a small fortune in BMX? Start with a
large one, haha - but making more forks like these would be a stylish
way to do it!
Ah, seesaws - friend to children and general
science students alike! Unfortunately, kids today no longer play on
seesaws. Apparently some diversity council somewhere has determined
that seesaws are racist, classist, or just plain not electronic enough
for Generation Y, Generation Z, and whatever they come up with after
that. (Although it should be Generation AA by most alphanumeric
schemes, everybody knows that "Generation AA" was actually the group
of double-A Pros who raced together for more than a decade, most of
them for GT. But I digress.) So let's talk about what a seesaw is for
a minute.
A seesaw is a long wooden plank laid over a perpendicular (in other
words, turned 90 degrees) metal tube which is raised off the
ground. When one end of the seesaw is on the ground, the other one is
high up in the air. Makes sense, right? Those of you who actually used
seesaws as children remember that most of them were adjustable. You'd
move the plank back and forth so that the heavier kid sat on the
shorter end. Thanks to the forces of leverage, a lighter weight on a
longer lever (i.e. the "long side" of our seesaw) is equal to a
heavier weight on a shorter lever (i.e. the "short side".) So just
remember that moving a light weight a longer distance on a lever can
move a heavier weight a shorter distance. Are you with me? Good. Let's
move on.
The only other concept you need to understand is that leverage
works even when both the "lifter" and "liftee" are on the same side of
the pivot. If the heavy kid from the example above is sitting on the
end of the seesaw, and the light kid grabs the seesaw at that end and
tries to lift it up, he probably won't be able to do it... but the
farther the heavy kid "scooches" towards the pivot, the less force is
required to lift the end of the seesaw. The reason for this, of
course, is that the closer the heavy kid sits to the pivot, the less
he is moving relative to the end of the seesaw, and therefore the
light kid has more leverage to move him. Got it? Cool. Let's go back to the story.
Appendix A: The Missing Link
Appendix B: Seesaws and Levers
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