Dirty Rock N Roll

     This is going to to be tricky. I have to convey my absolute adoration for these things, without sounding like some non-attorney spokesperson. What I appreciate about them is their purity. Their purpose-built ethos. Their rough-n-tumble, beat the snot outta’ you while you pilot ‘em, straight-up grit.

     These, my friends are what I consider real-ass machines. Built by a group of craftsmen under the roof of Sports Car Restoration in Hartford CT. These things are a mixed drink with all my favorite ingredients: Bad Ass attitude, a tongue-in-cheek ode to historic vintage competition, nuthin’ to lose style, and creativity.

     It’s equal parts Johnny Thunders and Ray Davies. Heroin and rolling field nostalgia. Girls and Milkshakes, skinny ties, Motown, Jazz, Northern Soul, Ace of Spades Lemmy, and a Message to You Rudy….it’s got it all…and yet these images and sounds enter my psyche without a single written word from a marketing department. That makes them (like all my favorite modes of transport) exquisitely executed. They perform an essential task: They evoke.

     I’ll quote builder Marc Rosenberg in describing his own rig:

     “The seat cushion is part of a Martha Stewart kitchen anti fatigue mat. The weird industrial looking end of the frame immediately behind the seat is part of the center stand from the bike. The baffles are made of pluming fixtures welded together and with holes drilled through them which were then welded inside a piece of black pipe and turned down.”

     These bikes are straight up “bombs away” hit n’ run winners in my book. Not because they’re fast or flashy. Not because they’re super model fashion statements, but because they are built with love and passion. Intrinsic qualities that don’t need an advertising firm to explain them.

     I’ll quote Marc again here:

     “I don't need fenders, I don't need an electric starter, I don't need blinkers, I don't need real mufflers, I don't need a speedometer, I don't need traditional handle bars, I don't need mirrors, I don't need a big cushy seat, or a fairing, or storage”

     That about sums it up. Purity of design. No clutter. No jewelry. No make up. In life, we often need to iron our shirts and shave….but sometimes, you just want the messed up hair of fresh sex.

     Want one? Contact Brian at: elementfmfl@aol.com

Why I will never be wealthy...

Apparently, in order to be successful and wealthy in this country, you need to:

A) believe others are dumber than you are, and hire marketing advisors to prove it. (and you *might* just be correct!)

B) un-learn your grammar and punctuation

C) for god's sake - misuse your apostrophes as often as fucking possible.

For me, such scribed atrocities are akin to farting on a first date and STILL getting laid. It gets me angry...and a little jealous.

For an example of item "A" I present you with the following brain torture:

This is a Can Am car

This is a Spider

This is a Roadster

...and THIS.....THIS abortion is what they market as the:

"Can Am Spyder (sic) Roadster"

Remember the term I used; "Flowmaxers"? They'll be lining up to buy these disabled little gremlins faster than you can say "I got Laid at a Jimmy Buffet Concert!". Apparently in the fine print of that prescription it reads: "May cause you to trade your fanny pack for ridiculous 3 wheeled ninny apparatus".

Sorry...my polo shirt failed the sniff test.

     Well, this is it. My second official blog entry. Like any good centerfold model, I’ll begin by enticing you with my “Turn Ons” and “Turn Offs”. You folks **are** here for the writing, right? Not just the pretty pictures of me in my skivvies I hope.  I'll do my best to keep you duly enthralled.

Turn Ons: 

Honest cars

Weird cars

Fun cars

The mindful waste of fossil fuels

...and above all: The visceral

Turn Offs: 

Cadillac Escalades (you're not **really** going to make me explain this, are you?)

Hummers (and just to clarify: the ones that are “purchased” are bad while the ones that are “given” are good)

Fake wood - unless it’s ironic and plastered on the outside of something from the 70s with the word “Squire” on it

Loafers with tassels

     Let's set the record straight. I am decidedly NOT a car snob. I love people that drive the living hell out of their $400 econoboxes far more than the folks that wheeze along at 54 mph in their high dollar performance cars. I call the later group "The Flomaxers". Yeah I got a prostate too...but until it starts acting up, give me something snotty to drive and let me revel in its idiosyncrasies . My favorite cars aren't just quirky....they tell great jokes, too! Dirty ones. You just have to listen for them.