Further to yesterday’s post, in which I pushed George Plimpton’s Y-Foil a.k.a. The Charity Ride Destroyer to its very limits (or at least gently nudged it towards the general vicinity in which it limits might presumably be found)…
…you may have noted that the bike has rather a tall fork crown, which Paul of Classic Cycle has compared to “high-waisted jeans:”
I had just assumed the frame must require an unusually proportioned fork because the frame is optimized for aerodynamics and blah blah blah, but according to Y-Foil nerds on the Internet it’s because Trek designed the bike to be compatible with a suspension fork:
Today of course gravel bike suspension forks are becoming increasingly common, Lob help us:
[My gravel bike suspension fork buyer’s guide: Don’t.]
But like so many other ideas in cycling that are currently popular, this is nothing new, and for awhile there riders were even deploying them at Paris-Roubaix:
Anyway, if what I’ve read is true and the Y-Foil is indeed “suspension-corrected,” this adds an entirely new dimension to its dorkiness, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to me that when it comes to fully comprehending the nature and magnitude of its dorkitude I’ve only just barely begun to make out its contours in the fog.
Also further to yesterday’s post, my thoroughly scientific testing confirmed that George Plimpton’s Y-Foil a.k.a. The Charity Ride Destroyer is indeed faster than The Ultimate Dad Bike:
Exhilarated by the thrill of discovery, I resolved to speed-test yet another bike. But which? La Faggin con Spinerghese? The Cervino with its pro-quality tubular tires and cutting-edge componentry from 1982? But testing yet more road racing bikes just seemed like splitting hairs. Then it hit me: why not try something different, like the Homer?
Setting out, I knew the Homer would be slower than both the ‘Mond and the ‘Foil. The real question was: How much slower would it be? So I strapped on a pair of sandals and hit the road. The result?
Yeah, that’s right: while the Homer was slower than the Y-Foil, it beat the LeMond by 15 seconds.
How could this be?!? How could the Homer, complete with full fenders, touring tires, a headlight sitting out there in the wind, and 36-spoke wheels (well 36 rear, 32 front) perform nearly identically to the featherweight LeMond with its minimally-spoked ultralight race wheels? Well, I have a few theories:
- Jan Heine is right and wider tires are faster (even when they’re rugged Schwalbes with reflective sidewalls and not supple Heinian tires)
- Due to the aforementioned wider tires, plus the bike’s inherent stability thanks to its long wheelbase, I was able to ride faster over the rough sections of the bike path where the roots are forcing the pavement to buckle
- The Homer is more comfortable, and so I was able to spend more time in the drops
- While I honestly thought the Homer would be measurably slower, once I got started maybe I subconsciously hoped for an upset and thus made more of an effort without realizing it
- Ironically the handlebars on the Homer are narrower than the bars on both the Y-Foil and the LeMond, so maybe handlebar width is even more important than stuff like spoke count, which would certainly explain why the pros are riding such narrow bars these days
- As an old, out-of-shape, and balding semi-professional bike blogger, I simply do not ride fast enough to realize any of the benefits of aerodynamic bicycle equipment
I think each one of these theories has merit, but ultimately I suspect it’s that last one that explains like most of what’s going on here.