After riding the Stooge Cycles MK7 (£820 frame and fork) since March on everything from fast flow to chunky hillsides and steep alpine terrain, John has developed quite a fondness for the bike. Read on for his in-depth review.
Tech Head or Soul Rider?
Do you like tech? Suspension, kinematics charts, lighter, faster, more precision-based advancements? Better dampers? Tune, tune, tune! Or are you a soul rider who prefers things from a simpler time, while willing to make a few concessions, like 12-speed drivetrains, disc brakes, and perhaps a dropper post, too? It doesn’t matter who you are or what types of bikes you like; we all stop to admire a well-designed rigid MTB. There’s something refreshing and honest about them.
Steve Cook’s 1980 Cook Brothers Racing Cruiser morphed into a Klunker with gears
The origin of the rigid MTB can be traced back to the 1970s. Much like the music of the era, the ’70s brought an evolution of the dirt bicycle. In California, these bikes were referred to as klunkers. They had gears, brakes, and weighed a lot, but were fun to ride flat-out down fire roads.
Born around 1974, these dirt-centric bicycles seemed to embody the instability of the world at the time, growing out of almost a decade of unrest; they reflected the counterculture of DIYers who sought a change in how they rode and viewed the bicycle. They sought to get away from the cops, the cars, and the concrete – status quo be damned.
Stooge Cycles: Fun House
Stooge Cycles, inspired by the American rock band the Stooges, embodies the same vibrant, boisterous, and groundbreaking direction as the band. Andrew Stevenson wanted a modern bike with a vintage silhouette and couldn’t find anything on the market. So he made his own. The first Stooge prototype frame landed in his hands late in 2013. A few months later, the first production run of frames had landed from Taiwan. From that initial batch in 2014, Stooge has slowly grown with each “mark” or model through peacemeal, incremental revisions. Andy has grown his brand in a true-to-form punk rock, grassroots fashion ever since.
The Stooges formed in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in 1967 by singer Iggy Pop, guitarist Ron Asheton, drummer Scott Asheton, and bassist Dave Alexander. On their primitive and crudely psychedelic masterpiece, Fun House, Iggy Pop can’t help howling and grunting as if he’s forgotten the English language entirely – or perhaps he can’t find the words to describe his emotions. Their proto-punk music constantly balances upon a precipice, instilling a feeling of instability. Iggy’s vocal melee constantly rubs against the grain of Ron Asheton’s echoey riffs. There’s noticeable friction there.
The late 1960s and early 1970s were peak hippie in America: LSD, Woodstock, and the Vietnam War. Rather than lean into the hippie shit, The Stooges projected the raw, primitive, unfiltered energy of the era deep into the grooves of their vinyl records. Peace and war. Love and hate. These dichotomies and the emotions they inspired were distilled down into 36 minutes and 35 seconds of chaotic energy in Fun House. Over fifty years later, this chaos is perhaps why the album holds up so well.
Klunkin is a Chaotic Cacophony
Stooge Cycles, based in Shropshire, England, has leaned heavily into throwback taxonomies. The UK brand makes a number of klunker-inspired models, including Tay’s fav the Scrambler, the Speedbomb, Dirt Tracker, Rambler, and the MK7. The MK7 is perhaps the most unique-looking of all the models, with a super compact front triangle that flows straight into the seat stays, which abruptly bend to clear big, fat rubber.
Riding klunkers – or rigid MTBs – in an era of high-tech full-suspension bikes might feel old school to some, just like riding primitive singletrack that hasn’t been sanitized like bike park blue flow lines. But there’s something to be honored by this tradition of riding under-equipped bicycles down slightly inappropriate terrain.
Bouncing over rocks, bounding across roots, and slicing through off-camber corners, the flow state achieved by piloting such a bike is reliant on a few factors. But first, before we get into all that, let’s check out the details of the MK7 model.
Stooge MK7 Quick Hits
- £820 frame and fork (US customers pay £683.33 plus shipping)
- Size 20″ reviewed
- 110 mm boost-spced fork
- 148 mm boost-spaced frame
- John is 6’2″ with a 36″ inseam, with an 83 cm saddle height, with 175 mm cranks
- Made in Taiwan
- Eccentric bottom bracket
- 1 1/8″ head tube
- 12 lb frame and fork (uncut steerer, with headset, and EBB parts)
- 29 x 2.8″ rear tire clearance
- 29 x 3.25″ front tire clearance
Finally, a Bigger Frame
The MK7 is the seventh iteration of the flagship Stooge model. It has similar DNA to the late 1970s and early 1980s cruisers. My biggest issues with bikes like the Pro Cruiser or other three-bar frames are the sizing. Early cruisers came in one size, and you fit the bike based on seat post extension and cockpit setup, often affixing motorcycle bars to a BMX stem to get enough handlebar stack height.
For bigger riders, the sizing of these types of bikes often makes us feel like a circus bear riding a unicycle. Unfortunately for us, bikes like the Pro Cruiser, Cook Brothers, and others, including the previous Stooge bikes, were all just too small.
When the MK7 was announced, with it came a size XL, or an 20″ frame, as Stooge calls it. Looking at the numbers, it still looked too small for me. As a rider who has a saddle height of 80-83 cm, depending on seat angle, and prefers a 666 mm effective top tube, the geo wasn’t ideal. Yet, I felt like with a longer stem, high-rise bars, and a long dropper, I could make it work.
Each version of the MK model features slight refinements. Tweaks. Nudges. Updates. The MK7 represents Andy’s state of mind at the time.
With the news of the MK7, I reached out to Stooge Cycles and asked if Andy would be down for a review. He obliged and shipped a frame out, lightning fast, like one of Asheton’s riffs.
Frame Details
Looking at the side profile of the MK7, the continuous line that’s formed by the top tube into the seat stay is the most prominent detail. You might call this the parti of the bike. Something drawn, quickly whipped down on paper; a sketch of the elevation of the frame. To make it work requires some careful planning, though.
Stooge achieved this by using a twin top tube design, similar to what Retrotec does on the Funduro. Then, the twin top tubes split around the seat tube, offering plentiful clearance for the massive 29 x 2.8″ rubber, before kinking slightly for disc brake caliper clearance at the dropout. The chainstays, then, complete the triangle as they meet the eccentric bottom bracket and the drive-side plate yoke.
However, one bummer about the super compact nature of this continuous top tube to seat stay line is the sole water bottle. Part of me wishes the head tube would come up a few centimeters, allowing the seat stays to rise a little, making room for at least a second small bottle. The other part of me really enjoyed having the über compact triangle for hucking the bike and having extra room to tuck or dip the frame in tight and twisty tech.
Eccentric Bottom Bracket
For singlespeed riders, the MK7 has an eccentric bottom bracket. Yet, for those of us who like to ride with gears, the bottom bracket offers other opportunities. Initially, I had the bottom bracket rotated to the bottom of the shell, which made the bike feel more planted, but I eventually stuck with the bottom bracket being at the top, which offered a more playful and poppy ride quality.
You can get about 20 mm of adjustment in any direction with the eccentric shell. Once you’ve landed on your ideal position, two beefy bolts hold the eccentric parts in place with two 6 mm Allen key heads.
Bi-Plane
Harkening back to the MK4, Stooge Cycles brought back the bi-plane fork design for the MK7. Tom Ritchey was by no means the first person to make a bi-plane fork, but he certainly made it a famous detail in the original MountainBikes he designed in California. His iconic forks, with clearance for big, fat tires and plentiful rake, make those original Ritchey frames ride like a dream. They flex over ruts and corrugations, and bring a sharp focal point for the front of the bike, almost at conflict with his Bullmoose handlebars.
Fork Yeah!
Seeing the MK7 don this classic klunker detail made the bike feel even more retro and stylish. Yet, the fork is pretty heavy. Okay – it’s a tank. It’s not the flexiest of steel forks, but it needed to be beefed up a bit at the crown. You can thank guys like Jeff Kendall-Weed for really putting these bikes through the paces. Jeff found that the previous bi-plane forks were just not strong enough for real mountain biking. So Andy redesigned the fork, making it more robust. He might have overdone it slightly, though. A majority of the heft feels to come from the crown, which means it’s built to take a beating!
Andy worked on developing a stout bi-plane fork for the MK7, and to be honest, it looks way nicer than the MK6’s segmented fork. There’s something visually soothing about the clean rake. This fork’s rake comes in at 65 mm! This insane offset literally puts the brake caliper almost parallel with the ground. This design was intentional. In doing so, it isolates the braking forces and greatly reduces brake flutter. Combined with the clean, tapered blades, it’s a very sexy detail.
The fork’s heft or beefiness might turn away your average weight weenie. Yet, for a big guy like me, who likes to ride with a certain bull-headed intentionality, I was immediately in love with the handling and feel of the bike. At 200 pounds with my riding kit on, I can gain momentum on descents, and at maximum top (safe) speed, I didn’t think twice about bump jumping a root into a hard, loose corner, time and time again.
Three-Size Geometry
Aside from the fork to end all forks, perhaps the most alluring part of the MK7 is the geometry. To simplify the numbers, it features a high-trail front end and a tucked rear end with a steep-ish seat angle. Initially, I was worried that the steeper seat angle would be a bit of an ass-hatchet. On a rigid bike, you’re locked into position without sagging into a rear shock or front fork for comfort. But it ended up riding quite smoothly. No ass was hatcheted.
For the front of the bike, there are ways to make the ride quality more comfortable, which requires some carefully selected components.
Retro-Inspired Build Kit
Square taper cranks, cable-actuated drivetrain, moto handlebars, WTB grips, silver wheels, and some 1970s Magura brake dust covers. I really leaned into the retro vibes the MK7 evokes with this frameset-up build spec.
Stooge sent over a frame and fork only, leaving it up to me to assemble the complete bike. Pulling some parts from various builds and digging into my parts bin, I assembled a mostly silver build. I think it looks great, although I’m kicking myself for not getting one of the PNW Components silver 220 mm droppers in the 31.6⌀ diameter in time. They sold out quickly!
For the cockpit, a Paul Boxcar stem with a Doom Bars shim for the Stooge Tracker 85 titanium bars. Paul short reach, short pull levers, wrapped in vintage, NOS Magura dust covers from the 1970s, and WTB’s grips, inspired by the original turned-down Magura Pow-R grips. I have these running with an almost instant bite, which modulates as you pull through the travel of the lever’s reach. For really steep sections, I like grabbing on with two fingers. For a lighter feel on more flowy trails, just one finger suffices.
Drivetrain
The drivetrain consists of Paul 100% Cranks, an AARN 28t ring, and a Phil Wood square taper bottom bracket, slammed to the cups. Look at how tucked those arms are! I’ve got a bunch of SRAM X0-1 mechs and cassettes that I bought from a bike shop, for builds just like this.
Seeking durable wheels that would endure the abuse of rigid riding, the Halo Vapour 35 wheels have exceeded every expectation. With a double-walled and eyeleted design, wide internal width, and neo-classic stylings, the $611 wheels have gone above and beyond what a sub-$1000 wheelset would endure. I’ve yet to have to true them and they remain hop-free, after five months of solid riding. On a rigid bike nonetheless. Our local distributor, BTI, brings them into the USA via Ison in the UK. More on them to come.
Rotor Revolt
Here’s where my build spec caused pause. I hadn’t planned on taking this bike into our alpine terrain, thinking it would be too rocky and steep for a rigid bike and knowing previous exploits into said terrain on rigid bikes always ended in extreme discomfort. So, when I built the MK7, I used 160 mm rotors, thinking the bike would hang mostly in the lower elevations.
A rigid bike with flexy bars and fat tires will make you question your loyalties to suspension and other parts specs. And the MK7 certainly made me question if I was “over rotoring” my bikes. These cable-actuated Paul Klampers had plenty of stopping power on these teeny – by comparison – 160 mm rotors. Even after riding a trail with a nickname of “Scorched Rotors” on Strava, as it loses 1200′ in a mile, I never lost my stopping power. Nor did the brakes scream once they heated up.
160 mm rotors are typically used on gravel bikes. How the hell were they more than enough power for my 200 lb ass? Well, they were. Perhaps some of it has to do with my braking style and some has to do with the modulation and setup of the short reach, short pull Paul levers, but it still made me rethink my braking strategy moving forward on cable-actuated brakes.
Making it Work: Contact Points
The MK7 is a stiff bike. Its frame is heavy, stout, built to withstand a 200-pound guy like me railing it through rocks, over water bars, bounding down, hitting ill shitty booters, and sending it over trailside boulders. I talk a lot about steel frames flexing, or feeling like a spring when loaded on the side. However, like all materials, steel can also be engineered to be less flexy, more robust, i.e., stiff.
Getting the bike dialed in took a lot of work, particularly on the cockpit, before my wrists and forearms would allow me to wield it correctly. I tried a number of aluminum bars, all of which were fine on more flowy, XC-oriented trails, but ended up causing a lot of discomfort on longer rocky and rough descents.
Then, Andy sent over the Tracker 85 bars in titanium, and the bike transformed.
A Brief Aside: Tire Talk
Stooge gives the MK7 a 2.8″ 29er tire clearance, rim width depending. On the Vapour 35 rims, which measure 35 mm external and 30 mm internally, the 2.8″ Teravail Oxbow tires have plenty of space in the rear triangle. On the front end, Andy likes to recommend the 3.25″ Duro Crux tires, of which I’m not a fan.
I find them to be too bulbous and slow in the corners, having tried one on my Ti Sklar PBJ in the past. I don’t want a plus bike to ride like a steamroller; I want to be able to cut and slice through lines.
Higher volume has a limit for me. Too much volume and it becomes too cumbersome. But I also should note that I’m not using it as an expedition fat bike. It’s a trail bike for me.
Once I had my hands on the Tracker 85 bars, I didn’t feel the need for any more front-end compliance.
Out of the Foothills and Into the Mountains
Combined with the right PSI for my tires, the Tracker 85 bars transformed the MK7 into a proper all-mountain ally. Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid to lift off the root ball at the top of a chute, plowing into rocks at full speed. Or bump-jumping some of my favorite trail rocks. I quickly let go of the brakes and learned to rail the bike, finding its perfect flow state.
Letting go of the brakes like my hardtail and full suspension bikes, waiting for the last minute to drag them through corners, the MK7 finally came alive.
I will say that the bars have slipped a few times. Usually on bigger hits or longer, jarring descents, and I got in the habit of riding with a torque wrench to re-torque the Paul Boxcar faceplate to the recommended 4 Nm. Unlike my Ti Doom Bars, the Tracker 85 bars lack knurling at the clamp, so there’s not a lot for the shim and stem to “bite” into. After a quick phone call with California Travis from Paul, he recommended carbon paste, which stopped the slipping issue entirely. So TL;DR: be sure to carbon paste your bars!
Gravity Bully
A few weeks ago, I was riding with a group of friends on our weekly Sunday ride, on a route that starts above 11,000′ and quickly drops 1,200′ in a mile. All of which is miserably filled with soccer ball-sized rocks that constantly break free from their prison of caked dirt, and tumble under you with the slightest bump of your tire. Halfway through the ride, they all commented on how much fun I looked like I was having on the bike. “You’re really railing that bike,” someone noted.
In fact, I didn’t feel like I was going that much slower during the descent than I would on my full-squish. Sure, I didn’t take the exact same line choices as a bike with suspension, but I wasn’t not having fun. And I was only going noticeably slower through legit tech sections with rocky or rooty drops, opting for some easier lines.
It’s crucial to have comfortable contact points, with the right PSI in tires, to fully enjoy a rigid bike in rough terrain. Once I unlocked this power-up, I felt like I could get in the zone and really push the bike.
And I was definitely fast on the climbs.
Climbing Prowess
Much of our climbing here in the Southern Rockies consists of rocky, steep terrain, with tight switchbacks carved into the mountainsides for hikers. While we have a fire road climb that terminates at the top of the bike-legal land, I really prefer to climb singletrack for the same reasons as the early klunker pilots: Away from the cops, the cars, and the concrete.
With a 74º seat angle, I do have to scooch forward more than normal on the MK7 than on other bikes in my stable with steeper seat angles. Yet thanks to the extra fit extension afforded by the longer 80 mm stem, I still have plenty of room on this relatively short top tube. Since the head angle is 66º, again toeing the line of too slack or too steep, and the fork features a whopping 65 mm of offset, the MK7 doesn’t get wheel floppy on the climbs.
Instead, you feel planted, comfortable, and the bike walks up even the jankiest of rock gardens and steep canyons. Part of this is thanks to the geometry, but a lot of it also has to do with the overall wheel diameter, afforded by the 29 x 2.8″ rubber.
Perspective on Bike Weight
The complete bike weighs in at a stout 37 lbs, which is heavier than either of my full-suspension bikes. My Cotic FlareMax, with its 125/140 suspension, weighs 34.5 lbs on the nose; my Murmur in 120/130 mode is 35.5 lbs now.
Some people say that rigid bikes don’t suffer the same “energy loss” from having suspension. I still feel like you climb faster overall on singletrack with a shock and fork open. Or, perhaps you’re more comfortable, resulting in a faster-feeling climbing situation. Plus, the traction provided as the wheel travels to maintain contact is just more secure-feeling overall. To each their own, eh?
Regardless of what camp you land in, bike weight isn’t as big of an issue as people make it out to be. Particularly on a MTB with modern gearing. Rotational weight – i.e. heavy wheels and tires – can make a bike feel sluggish, but frame weight is moot. Until you have to lift the bike over fell trees or up stairs. The MK7’s complete frame weight – like my build’s side profile and its mile-high seatpost – only bothered me on paper. When I rode the damn thing, it no longer became a concern.
TL;DR
When a bike has but three sizes and is expected to fit riders of all heights, it can get a little funky looking at one end of the fit spectrum. To be honest, I wasn’t super keen on how the MK7 looked at first. It looked lanky with my mile-high seatpost and a long stem. Then I rode it with the right equipment, and it came alive. This spec realization took a few weeks to iron out, but now, I’m torn between grabbing the MK7 or one of my suspension bikes when I ride. On one hand, it makes me take different lines and push my skillset. On the other hand, I’m still getting bumped around a lot on the trail.
There is no respite on a rigid bike.
However, on those days when you find your mental flow state, the MK7 creates a symbiotic system of shred. Those afternoons are some of my most memorable on a bike this summer.
The Stooge Cycles MK7 is a fuckin wild and strange bird, just like the band The Stooges. It’s a boisterously loud counterstatement to the status quo. Its phenotypical taxonomy is more 1970s than 2020s. While it’s not the lightest rigid chassis, it makes up for the heft with a bomber steel fork. When built up to allow for a tall rider, it can look a bit awkward. But that thought completely disappears once you hop on it for a pedal.
Much like The Stooges’ music, the MK7 is equally vibrant and boisterous feeling. Ya gotta hand it to Stooge Cycles on this one. It’s so good that the next model will remain unchanged. Save for three new colors. Look for the Stooge MK8 in Spring of 2026.
Pros
- Beautiful frame with lots of “framebuilder-inspired” detailing
- Eccentric BB allows for geometry adjustment and single-speeding
- Priced very affordably
- Thank god, no tapered or 44 mm head tube!
- Bi-plane fork is a nice touch
- Bi-plane fork is robust and strong
- Touring accoutrements a plenty with rack and cargo bosses
- Plenty of clearance for a 2.8″ tire front and rear
- Frame colors are stunning
Cons
- The heavy-duty chassis is heavy
- The fork doesn’t flex a whole lot and is heavy
- One water bottle
- Fitting the 20″ as an XL rider results in a very awkward-looking build silhouette
- Production runs sell out quickly
Check out more at Stooge Cycles, and many thanks to Kyle Klain for the riding photos!