Neither would have been safe for work, but I chose the latter.
You are most welcome.
Up, up, up.
At first I was afraid; I was petrified.
I'm a rigid fork, after all. So movement isn't something I do very well, and I think that comes with a fear of change. Travel is not what I do. I've never left anyone before. But you and I both know how bad things had gotten between us, and the end was the end. And that's fine. I mean, I was furious at first. How could YOU leave ME? You with your floppy little handlebars and your wanky saddle. I hate you. You want to know what I really think? Of course you don't because you're a mean-hearted soul sucking buzz kill. So let me tell you what I think about you. Kiss my dropouts. Again, I'm a rigid fork, so I'm basically genderless, but if I had a genitals I would definitely not let you touch them anymore. You with your hate. Always with your disdain for my body. Like I wasn't good enough for YOU? Ha! That seems so silly now. But I couldn't see it at the time, because when you told me I wasn't good enough to flow down North Bank trail, I believed you. And so you would run off and ride that other fork you have, with her implanted travel adjustment and her perky air valves and bullshit - let me tell you something - that shit ain't real. And I'd sit at home all alone and think I wasn't pretty enough, and then you'd come home and we'd go get groceries or walk the dog or some garbage, and I was just that - a utility.
Let me tell you something you don't know about you, John, you can't handle me! You and your wanky little short stem. For so long I believed the story you told me that I wasn't good enough. But you know what I did last night? Of course you don't, because you LEFT ME, so let me tell you what I did: I JUMPED DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS. You would have never let me do that. You thought I wasn't good enough for it. But now I see the truth, the awful truth, that it was YOU who couldn't jump those stairs, not me. And sure, I broke a spoke or two on this wanky little no-balls wheel, but screw him, I'm a grown-ass fork now! I will huck all the stairs I want now, and bitches and spokes better bend a little. This grown ass fork is a whole lot of fork, and I'm going to paint this town with my ass on backwards if you know what I mean. Of course you don't know what I mean, because you wouldn't ever let me do that. And you kept me locked up, and I almost believed you and I could have thrown my whole life away, but finally I have escaped, and I will SURVIVE.
Again, and in summary, screw you and your wanky saddle and your carbon bikes and whatever. I hope your other fork blows oil in your stupid eyes.
-Karate Monkey Fork