Yellow Jello Bellow

A ride that’s smooth, sweet and – loud!

In the heady world of New York’s Madison Avenue and the big-dollar ad agencies lining that street of dreams, there’s a concept called “chocolate cake”. It’s basically advertising that’s supposed to evoke --and invoke -- luxury, comfort and a money-is-no-object mindset in the brains of the target audience. To that end, “chocolate cake” is, by definition, populated with the rich dark tones and images of brown, burnt sienna and burgundy that often connote the finer, quieter, things in life: charcoal-seared sirloin, tung-oil finished mahogany, corinthian leather, seventy-year old scotch.

Herewith we present the answer to chocolate cake --- by motorcycledom in general, and by Dave Perewitz’s Cycle Fabrications in particular. And as much as bittersweet chocolate lulls, so does this bright yellow lemon tart arrest, alert, awake. Two-wheeled, tangy and tasty, it’s representative of the brighter, louder, and more fluid things in life – like sunny mornings, ignition sparks, english custard, bikini’d blondes, rocket exhaust, lemonade.

Now, colors that are cousins of canary, chartreuse and Pantone #106 don’t generally find their way onto Big Twin skins. But by all the appearances on these pages, Cycle Fab shows it has the savvy to pull it off. It looks right -- from the tip of its tight tolerance front fender, to the matching teardrops of tank and aircleaner, to the raffish sweep of the oil tank. Key to the effect is a Dave Perewitz designed frame with just a judicious amount of stretch, plus all the niceties – pre-drilled for internal electrics, set-up for hidden hydraulics and an extra-wide softail for concurrent rear drive belt and 200 section tire. Having 96 inches of motivation on tap doesn’t hurt the image either. Particularly when they announce their presence through a set of Bub exhausts that – how can we put this circumspectly - have had their internals just slightly reworked for euphonic enhancement by Cycle Fab. One twist of the wick makes all those subtle saffron suggestions loud and real. Last but not least is a surface finish with a gloss that’s indescribable - like smooth, sweet yellow jello.

So if color of this example is any measure, then you can keep the dulcet tones of chocolate cake in drawing room where they belong. In the garage and on the highway, tend toward tawny, go for gold, sidle up to sienna, or shack-up with chartreuse!

-- Jake, Easyriders, 1997

Demolition derby

What's a dressy version of a hard hat?

Herspanic

What is spoken by Latinas?

Bossa Nova

What is Italian for, charp chevy?

Please take that cigarette outside

What were the last words of the Hindenberg captain?

Count Backwards

Who is the least hep member of the royal family?

Cain Mutiny

What happens when the populace really looks into 9-9-9?

Parting is such sweet sorrow

What the motto of the conflicted chop shop owner?

Doubting Thomas

What kind of muffin does a skeptic eat?

LIfetime

When the two magazines merged, what was the new name?

Around the World in 80 Days

What did the snail do after it shared lunch with Lance Armstrong?

DeJung Andy Wristless

Who's the new handicapped soap opera star?

Frail Farms

What's the new chain of assisting living centers called?

Artichoke

What's the new team vegetable for the Red Sox?

Fruit fly armageddon.

Okay, so the lingering pestilence around here finally came to a head yesterday.

I looked up from my desert of listeria laced melon, insecticide infected strawberries and Red Sox humble pie, listening to replay after replay of Tito quitting, and…

… grey smoke was hovering over the compost bucket in the sink. (I try heed mama’s words and recycle old fruit etc. into soil- my lot is mostly bedrock).

As I peered through the smoke and into the bucket, it also seemed that all the stuff was covered in dark brown mold. Hmm interesting.

Then I put my glasses. Oh. The smoke and the mold were about one trillion fruit flies. Each.

Okay, thanks to the largesse of the local orchardists I am blessed with more-or-less free fruit drops. And natch, free fruit flies.

I decided to gingerly transport this bustling hub of insect-dom outside where it belonged.

Very bad mistake.

I now had two trillion fruit flies buzzing in my face. Thank God I am not a fruit head - altho some of my friends call me that. If so, I would have had to add myself to my collection of shrunken heads from the jungles of Borneo.

Now there is nothing harder to catch than fruit flies. The are the hummingbirds of the insect world. They make mosquitos look like slugs. They must be made of neutrinos, because in my kitchen they were now exceeding the speed of light.

I tried the Dustbuster and then the Miehle and then the Bob Vila shop vac to suck em up. Zilch.

I tired the audio test tone on the EMI subwoofer turned up to the plaster-crack-glass-shatter level -- to stun them into submission. Nada.

I tried to drug then into stupor with a hemp bonfire in my living room. Nope. But somehow it now seemed like I could deal with the problem manyana. Gee how did that come about?

So…this morning I can finally report I am making headway. I now have about 55 gallons of fruit fly sludge. At the bottom of a big soapy vat of diluted vinegar. Guess I will try and bottle it for my ex..

And so that is how it is around here today…

Choke cherry

What's the new team fruit of the Boston Red Sox?

Dice Clay

How'd they play craps in the stone age?

Duck doc dock

Where's the veteranian keep his boat?

Bye bye birdie

What did Tiger say after he missed the putt on a par four hole?