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In the early summer of 1966, Mick Jagger celebrated his new wealth by splashing out an estimated £25,000 on a brand new Aston Martin DB6, at that time the marque’s latest, state-of-the-art tourer. (It had been launched the previous autumn.) He was the lead singer of The Rolling Stones, who at that point were second only to The Beatles in terms of fame and international success. In outrage and rebelliousness, they were without peer.
The Rolling Stones had begun by covering American R&B and blues songs, but that had a limited shelf life. Pushed by manager Andrew Loog Oldham, they began to write their own material and there then ensued an extraordinary sequence of self-penned hits. Between spring 1965 and early summer 1966, the Stones had four number one hits and a number two in the UK. In the US they had six top tens and three number ones. All were written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
By spring 1966, the money was beginning to flow in. Still only 22, Mick Jagger was becoming very rich. Behind the rebellious image, he was also — if you watch Peter Whitehead’s documentary of the Stones’ brief autumn 1965 Irish tour, Charlie is My Darling — a self-aware and canny young man who was, at the same time, becoming a key member of the new pop aristocracy.
The shot was taken in by Gered Mankowitz in June 1966 in a London mews, just off Baker Street: Jagger had recently moved into a flat in Harley House, near the top end of Harley Street, between Marylebone Road and Regent’s Park. The idea was to show The Rolling Stones “at home”, a then standard fan magazine trope. Still only a teenager himself at the time, Gered was the closest photographer to the group. He remembers that “Mick was in an excellent mood all day. We hung out and took a load of silly images of him generally taking the mickey out of the ‘at home’ format.”
In a contact sheet from the shoot, you can see more details. The registration number of the DB6 is KJJ4D—the number for 1966. It has wire wheels and the distinctive, aerodynamic Kammback rear end. Jagger is dressed in the height of fashion: a short, pin-striped double-breasted jacket (Twenties gangster style) with slightly flared flannel trousers, topped off with a wide-collared shirt and a hand-made kipper tie. He is obviously proud of his new purchase.
The generally distributed image shows the power of selection. In the contact sheet, Jagger is placed standing in or near the car or sitting in the boot. He runs through a variety of expressions: amused, wistful, even vaguely bored. The final pose has the look familiar to those who loved and hated the Stones in 1966: full-lipped, with a full stare and the hint of a frown. It’s both arrogant and narcissistic: it says, “I make no excuses for who I am. I am entitled to own this car. I am entitled to do what I want.”
In the 21st century, images of young men with expensive cars are two-a-penny. The footballer with his top-of-the-range, limited edition Merc or Beamer—almost never a British model—is beyond a cliché. But in 1966, this was something very new: the fact that a young man from a non-elite background could own such a car was surprising enough, but when twinned with such an attitude, it was positively subversive, if not inflammatory.
The previous generation of pop stars—such as Cliff Richard and Billy Fury—had been grateful, if not subservient, to their social superiors. If you look at any early 1960s film, like Cliff’s The Young Ones or Fury’s Play It Cool, you’ll see a lot of forelock tugging. No such accommodation was offered by the Stones: they were surly, rude, obnoxious and flagrantly lacking in redemptive qualities. They were Punk before the event, creatures of the Teenage Id.
Around the time that the DB6 shot was taken, the Stones’ latest record was at the top of the charts. “Paint It, Black” was a blast of nihilism, a howl of anguish and rage set to a relentless, driving beat. The prominent use of sitar did not portend transcendence, but rather added an abrasive, exotic texture to a song that continued, and extended, the group’s run of sarcastic, hostile 45s: “The Last Time”, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”, “Get Off of My Cloud” and “19th Nervous Breakdown”.
“The mid-Sixties pop groups were part of a wider social change in which restrictive and moralistic attitudes were relaxed”
This manic assertion went hand in hand with international recognition. The month before “Paint It, Black” topped the charts, Time magazine produced its famous “Swinging London” issue. This ratified the process that had begun in 1964, when the extraordinary, unprecedented global success of The Beatles helped to rebrand the UK not as a fading empire, but as Pop Island, a place where youth from across the classes could be creative, famous and rich. For the first time, youth was not stifled but prized.
It was The Beatles who changed the mould. Once successful, they did not relapse into cabaret or light entertainment, but continued to change and grow—like the good art students they had been. If the Sixties saw the full introduction of the American teenage ideal to the UK—the idea of youth as an autonomous consumer rather than a mini-adult or a soldier—then the musicians of the day were going to reflect teenage qualities in their music and art. The Rolling Stones’ position in the marketplace were that they were the anti-Beatles, so they were even more uncompromising in their propagation of teenage attitudes. There was much discussion of youth values in 1966, or lack of values: the opinion of many adults was summarised by the book title Just Me and Noboby Else, a popular study of youth attitudes published that year. To many people, Mick Jagger embodied that kind of selfishness and lack of empathy.
To this extent, both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones were cultural revolutionaries. It’s hard to remember now just how much Britain was still in thrall to Victorian values during the mid-Sixties: knowing your place, kotowing to authority, living a life dictated by church morality. Whatever they actually thought about these issues—and most of them couldn’t wait to shake off these restrictions—the major Sixties pop groups embodied the future: they both sang of and enacted a new kind of freedom.
For example, until the mid-Sixties, high performance cars were usually modelled with young ladies and, indeed, Aston Martin’s appearance at the 1966 London Motor Show was enhanced by some Playboy “bunnies”; the Playboy Club had opened that year. In contrast Mick Jagger embodies a new kind of masculinity: dandyish, androgynous, at home with being the object of desire. (Although in Jagger’s case, this did not extend to any let-up in the misogyny of songs such as “Stupid Girl” and “19th Nervous Breakdown”.)
The mid-Sixties pop groups were part of a wider social change in which restrictive and moralistic attitudes were relaxed. The period saw major changes in the laws relating to divorce, gender equality, and homosexuality, as well as a new definition of what it was to be young. Most Fifties teenagers had succumbed to traditional adulthood by their early twenties, but the generation coming of age in the mid-Sixties broke new ground. Adolescence wasn’t just a phase, it was a way of life.
These freedoms—and their downside—might be familiar today, but in 1966 this was new and exciting. Even though there were very few people who were actually able to live in this way, freedom from Victorian values became an object of aspiration among many teenagers and this breakthrough triggered the major changes of the late-Sixties and beyond. By then, of course, owning an Aston would have been something about which you’d have been a little more discreet.
In 1966, it was still possible to be a cutting-edge teenage star and to own a beautiful, elite car. At that point, there was no apparent contradiction. In Swinging London, everything was fused together in the promotion of a nation: fashion, music, architecture, club life—even the capital city. Sarcastic teenage attitudes could go hand in hand with flagrant spending: indeed, that was part of the point, that youth culture was the spearhead of the consumer society within the UK.
As a British marque, Aston Martin had an integral part in this rebranding. It had been thrust into the forefront of Britishness when a DB5—then the latest model—was featured in the third James Bond film, Goldfinger, premiered in September 1964. That same year, Beatles Paul McCartney and George Harrison bought the same model: a substantial endorsement from the biggest group in the world. In early 1966, McCartney also acquired a DB6.
There were other famous pop star cars: the Mini Cooper (John Lennon), the Rolls-Royce Phantom V (John Lennon, Brian Jones), the E-type Jaguar (most famously in the cover shot for the Dave Clark Five’s Catch Us If You Can album). But the Aston Martin was the most iconic of the lot, radiating speed, luxury, futuristic styling and Britishness.
In 1966, the modernity of Mick Jagger and the Aston Martin DB6 were perfectly matched. Pop culture had become unitary, centralised and futuristic. The medium was the Top 30 and that’s where you heard it, squeezed into two- or three-minute songs. Groups like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, The Yardbirds and The Who were all breaking new ground in technology, subject matter and attitude. They all seemed to be moving faster than anyone else.
Yet 1966 was also the year that the extraordinary forward thrust of Sixties pop culture began to slacken. The pace was killing. The demands of success were tiring out the culture leaders: The Beatles gave up touring in August, and disappeared from the public eye. Ray Davies of The Kinks had a nervous collapse, while even Jagger was briefly hospitalised for “exhaustion” in the early summer—soon after the Aston Martin photo. And the groups’ arrogance was beginning to stoke adult hostility.
In his second volume of autobiography, 2Stoned, Stones’ manager Andrew Loog Oldham remembers how, in 1966, “you could sense the change and chaos on the horizon. There was a backlash coming. The Stones spending more time at home—framed by a perception of wealth with a non-stop life of chauffeurs, loafers, Rolls-Royces, Aston Martins, shopping, clubs, clothes, mates, hangers-on and dolly birds—was going to get on the proverbial British tit, and it would only be a matter of deadlines before the UK press would suss the mood of a nation and reflect it”.
Within a few months, both Jagger and Keith Richards were arrested on drugs charges, after a sting sponsored by the News of the World. The newspaper had recorded Brian Jones pontificating about drugs in a nightclub, but published his statements under Jagger’s name. When the reasonably abstemious Jagger sued, the paper informed the police about a possible drugs party at Keith Richards’ Sussex home, Redlands, and the arrests ensued.
After that, The Rolling Stones were pariahs. Jagger and Richards were tried and convicted in June and July 1967, and their case became a cause célèbre, a national talking point. The Stones became symbols of the generation gap that had opened up on the topics of drugs, war and teenage rights. Whether they believed it or not, the Stones were leaders of the underground, and would be irrevocably associated with youth culture as it became more political and more divisive.
Five decades since Gered Mankowitz shot Mick Jagger and his Aston Martin DB6 on a light-hearted summer’s day in London, this photo can now be seen to symbolise the Sixties at their zenith. It’s a perfect combination of youth, style, speed and wealth, and it represents a moment of unselfconscious fusion that would soon dissipate under the weight of generational expectation and its backlash. The year 1966 was complex enough, but in some ways things were still simple. Perhaps that’s why this iconic picture of man and machine is still so modern.
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Although a first timer in the custom motorcycle world, Nathan Godillon has quite a bit of automotive modification experience under his belt. Kicking off his career path on a panel beater apprenticeship he eventually moved on to working at a custom shop modifying everything from Japanese drift machines to Euro track cars. Working later as a car salesman he was able to save up enough scratch to start his own custom auto shop Fahren Customs. Tragically the massive floods that swept through Brisbane a couple years ago put over 6 feet of water in his shop, destroying everything and forcing him to close up the business. Nathan currently holds a desk job at BMW where he began looking into 2-wheeled transport to help ease the parking woes of the city. First hopping on an Aprilia SR50, and later a Yamaha YZFR125, Nathan found he was missing something. That something turned out to be acceleration.
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Building on the success of the 340 America and its Mille Miglia victory, the 375 MM was released in 1953 as Ferrari's most potent model. These large displacement race cars were built to contest the World Sportscar Championship and competed with the best that Lancia, Alfa Romeo, Cunningham and Jaguar had to offer. Most of the cars were built by Ferrari as racing Spyders, but seven racing Berlinettas and five special-bodied road examples were also made.
By 1953, Ferrari's large V12 by Aurelio Lampredi had already won at the top level of motor sport. Some of their first F1 victories were powered by it until 1953 when the F2 regulations were adopted. However, Ferrari was able to continue with the engine in road racing cars, beginning with the 340 America and later resumed with the successful 375MM.
At first, Ferrari fitted a detuned version of their competition-spec 375 F1 engine in the 340 America chassis to make a hybrid 340/375MM. In 1954 this engine was modified for customer use with a slightly shorter stroke. Called the Tipo 108, these displaced 4522cc and were slightly more responsive for twistier events such as the Targa Florio and Mille Miglia. All the factory coupes used the F1 Tipo 102-spec engine.
The 375 was named after a victory at the 1953 Mille Miglia when Giannino Marzotto and Marco Crosara piloted their Vignale Spyder to overall victory. At the time, it was Ferrari's fifth win in a row at the event which was the most prestigious Italian road race.
LeMans in 1953 was disappointing for Ferrari, who brought three hybrid 340/375MMs and a sole 4.5 liter car. All four cars were let down by their inferior brakes and trumped by the Jaguar C-Type's discs. Despite their best efforts, the Ferraris retired trying to keep pace with Jaguar.
In total, around 26 375MMs were made, most being bodied by Pinin Farina into either coupes or spyders, but a few Vignale spyders were made. Five of these were special road-going examples which were prepared for Ferraris most respected clientele, some being rebodied after the 375's competition career was over.
The 375MM series was later replaced by the 375 Plus, which featured a larger engine that was good enough for Ferrari's much needed win at Le Mans.
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Making this bicycle a reality became just a bit of an obsession… Following months of design, research and testing we can finally reveal the ground breaking new Flying Machine; The 3DP-F1. This machine features titanium tubing joined with cutting edge 3D printed titanium lugs. We are amongst the very first to embrace 3D Printing for bike building and firmly believe this amazing technology is the way of the future.
This featured F1 prototype has been tailored to the exact measurements of Matt, owner and designer at Flying Machine. He says it fits like a glove and rides even better than he hoped, light, stiff, fast and extremely comfortable. Now, anyone can own a 3DP-F1 bicycle, made to fit their exact measurements and riding style. To start the process you just have to contact us for instructions on how to take your accurate measurements.
To make The Bike of the Future we have hybridised a more traditional method of creating bicycles, using lugs to join between the frame tubes. Lugged frames have become less popular due to limitations with variation in geometry. Now with the help of 3D printing a renaissance has occurred allowing for infinite flexibility and all bikes to have personal and tailored geometry, kind of like fingerprints.
The bespoke 3D printed lugs can be turned around very quickly, we are aiming to be able to produce a full tailored geometry custom frame within a remarkable 10 days from order and complete bikes in around 3 weeks.
3D printing ( also known as additive manufacturing ) is extremely accurate, very low waste and low invested energy. Its mind blowing ‘green’ potential is being utilised in a rapidly growing range of high tech industries now including custom bike production….
To bring this groundbreaking project to life we have been working with the extremely helpful guys from the CSIRO’s (Commonwealth Science and Industrial Research Organization), Melbourne based Titanium Technology Division. With the only 3D printer in the southern hemisphere capable of producing our titanium parts the CSIRO’s aim is to stimulate the Australian titanium industry. Without their assistance the F1 would not now be a commercial reality.
To complete the 3DP frames we have used 3Al-2.5V titanium tubing bonded to the 3D printed 6AIV4 titanium lugs using aerospace grade super toughened epoxy adhesive. The lugs are produced in Melbourne and the frame building is done in our Perth studio making these Flying Machines truly Australian Made.
More on: http://www.flyingmachine.com.au/
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Despite the bleak economic condition of the country in the mid thirties, the spirit of adverture was very much alive and well, especially in the world of speed. It was an "Age of Speed" and the place to be was the Bonneville Salt Faits in the uppermost corner of the state of Utah.
The challengers on "the Salt" were British mostly, with specially built race cars sporting monster engines to assault the time clocks in quest of the magic title of the "Fastest Man on Earth." Even today, men still talk about the greats like Capt George Eyston and Sir Malcolm Campbell and their monsterous thundering machines. 510,000 was a lot of money then and it was reported that this huge sum would be paid to the first man to drive a motorcycle at a speed of 300 miles per hour.
Enter one Californian named Fred Luther. Luther was an employee of Chrysler and he prevailed upon the company to supply him with motive power in his challenge to become this man. Chrysler responded by supplying Luther with a complete 1934 PF six cylinder engine and transmission. Already an experienced motorcycie racer, Luther began the necessary modifications to a 'cycle to accomodate its new power plant.
The basic bike was built around a much modified Henderson "X" cycle. First the engine was mounted lengthwise in the chassis, after the frame had been lengthened and strengthened as necessary. The steering was mounted far back on the frame, behind the center point of the engine, with heavy roller chain implemented to reach a lack shaft on the front fork. Skid plates were mounted on either side, with a dual purpose in mind. They managed to keep the bike in an upright position as well as acted as brakes on the surface of the salt to slow the bike down. Firestone supplied a set of 8 ply tires in a 30x5" size, with a tread less design for use on the salt.
The engine itself was sent to the speed shops of California's Harry Miller, (a name all too familiar to losers at Indy's famed brickyard, with Miller's creations taking the checkered flag for years on end). Normally rated at 77 horsepower at 3,600 rpm, the six came out snorting 125 horses at 4,500 rpm. Upon completion the "bike" weighed 1,500 pounds and ran a tape to nearly 11 feet long. The rider sat just in front of the rear tire and lay flat on his belly over the top bar of the frame.
The bike was built over the winter of 1934-35 and made its appearance on the Bonneville Salt Flats in 1935. There, under the watchful eye of the official timers, Fred Luther set out on his way to fame, glory and hopefully, $10,000 in prize money. The rules at Bonneville were the same then as they are today. To qualify for a record you must run the course both directions--down the course and then back again. The average speed of both runs determines whether or not the record has been set.
Laying into the wind, Luther pushed the bike on the first leg of the record attempt and got the bike up to aspeed of 140 miles per hour. On the return run, feeling more confident, Luther continued to "open up" the engine until trouble struck--he broke a connecting rod at about 180 miles per hour--the bike was still in second gear!
Bringing the bike to a coasting halt Luther decided he had enough of the record attempt and never again attempted to reach the 300 mile per hour mark on the bike although he always did feel that the Plymouth Henderson X-Miller combination could reach that lofty flgure--if only someone were willing to ride it that fast! There were no takers lurking in the shadows, however. 300 miles an hour on a motorcycle in 1935 was indeed a lofty goal. At the end of the year 1934 no automobile had ever attained that speed.
England's Sir Malcolm Campbell in his "Bluebird" race car set a world's speed record of 276 miles per hour on March 7th, 1935 at the Bonneville Salt Flats. Shortly before Luther's attempt at the Flats, Campbell again climbed into his Bluebird race car this time on the 3rd of September, and became the first man in the world to drive an automobile at a record speed of 300 miles per hour-- he just barely made the record, setting it at 301 m.p.h. Capt. Eyston and John Cobb would kick that up to 369 miles per hour by 1939 before such foolishness was brought to a screeching halt by Hllter's war machine.
And the $10,000 prize--what became of it? Too late it was found that the money was a hoax. There was no sponsor waiting in the wings to rush forth and bestow that astronomical sum upon some brave and daring motorcyclist. Instead a much wiser Fred Luther returned home with his broken cycle, out about $3,000 himself and probably with a few more grey hairs than he started his ride with--but the 300 mile per hour motorcycle powered by a flat head Plymouth "6" was quite an adventure. Somehow you can't help but wish that the Plymouth bike would have set that record back in 1935.
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Throughout the 1950s, most major aircraft manufacturers in the United States were anticipating the application of Vertical Takeoff and Landing (VTOL) technology to many conventional forms of military aircraft. The ability of VTOL aircraft to remain safely dispersed at small operating sites without the need for cumbersome and vulnerable airbases and aircraft carriers in an age of ballistic missiles and atomic weapons encouraged substantial research grants by the armed forces. An aircraft with a thrust-to-weight ratio greater than "1" could easily launch vertically, and once airborne, transition to horizontal flight for completion of its mission. The Ryan Aircraft Corporation attempted to convert this idea into a practical fighter for the Air Force with its X-13 Vertijet, but like most other VTOL aircraft, the performance compromises made for the vertical capability did not warrant its introduction over more capable conventional aircraft.
The idea for the Vertijet originated just after World War Two when engineers for Ryan were casually debating whether their FR-1 Fireball, which had a thrust-to-weight ratio of "1" at low fuel quantities, could take off vertically. The vertical take-off idea soon advanced beyond the discussion stage and, in 1947, the Navy's Bureau of Aeronautics awarded Ryan a contract to investigate the technical challenges involved the development of a vertically launched fighter jet. This transpired as part of a program to investigate the feasibility of submarine-launched aircraft. Ryan's engineering studies revealed that such an aircraft was feasible and could be easily controlled while hovering vertically with a reaction control system that diverted exhaust gasses in the appropriate direction. A subsequent Navy contract funded construction of an unmanned flying demonstrator. This ungainly contraption, powered by an Allison J33 turbine, and known affectionately as the "beast in the back yard," used a ball mounted nozzle to provide reaction control while hovering. In 1953, engineers transformed a B-47 fuel tank into a cockpit to allow test pilot Peter Girard to evaluate the test-bed's suitability as a manned research aircraft, which sat on its tail to take off in a vertical attitude.
After Navy funding ran out, the Air Force became interested in Ryan's experiments and in July 1954 issued the company a contract to construct two VTOL tail-sitter demonstrators, designated as the X-13 Vertijet. This project, based on the earlier Navy design proposal, was to demonstrate the suitability for this type of aircraft as a fighter. The X-13 emerged as a compact, single-engine, delta-wing fighter. The only unusual feature visible to the casual observer was a set of winglets. The engineering team, led by Robert Fuhrman, designed the aircraft to travel on a special trailer, which would tilt vertically for the launch and recovery of the X-13 during vertical takeoffs and landings.
While the use of jet thrust for VTOL aircraft was new, Lockheed and Convair with their respective XFV-1 and XFY-1 (see NASM collection) turboprop fighters had already validated the tail-sitter concept in which a conventionally configured aircraft took off in a nose-vertical attitude. The greatest flaw with the tail-sitters was the difficulty in landing due to the obscuration of the pilots vision by the airframe, which made it difficult if not impossible to adequately judge the distance to the ground without outside assistance.
By late 1955, Ryan completed the first Vertijet (s/n 54-1619), and on December 10, Girard flew it on its maiden flight. For its initial testing, the X-13 sported a fixed tricycle landing gear and flew as a conventional airplane. Fuhrman and his team did not want to risk vertical flight-testing until they had thoroughly explored the X-13's conventional handling characteristics. After the installation of dampers solved oscillation problems revealed during this phase of the testing, engineers added a steel-tube truss with castering wheels to the rear of the X-13. This allowed the aircraft to sit on its tail during the vertical flight-testing phase without the need for the complex launch and recovery procedures inherent to the launch trailer. Pete Girard made the first vertical takeoff and landing on May 28, 1956. On the same day, the second X-13 made its first flight.
In conventional flight, elevons and a rudder controlled the X-13. As the aircraft transitioned to a nose-high attitude to "hover" on the thrust from its own engine, a vectorable exhaust nozzle linked to the controls provided a simple and effective means of control. Small bleed-air thrusters mounted on the wingtips allowed for the small adjustments to the pitch and yaw of the aircraft required by the tricky landing process. The vertical takeoff procedure consisted of elevating the bed of the launch trailer vertically, which allowed the X-13 to hang from a cable suspended by two arms on the top of the trailer with a partially retractable hook. For vertical operations, a flat bumper replaced each the main wheels on the landing gear, which kept the underside of the fuselage from damage if it swung into the bed of the trailer and made transport easier. The pilot then simply increased throttle until the hook lifted off the launch cable, backed away from the trailer and then accelerated vertically and smoothly pitched over to conventional flight.
However, vertical landings were more difficult and probably the most impractical part of the Vertijet concept. The pilot had to approach the recovery trailer blind with the underside of the fuselage facing the surface of the trailer. Constant radio communication with a ground observer was required to talk the X-13 into position. A (20 ft) long folding pole with marked gradations attached to the top of the recovery trailer gave the pilot a clear indication of the distance remaining before he contacted the trailer. Once in position, the pilot slowly retarded the throttle until the nose hook caught the recovery cable.
During the summer of 1956, Girard began practicing the techniques required to hook the cable on the launch and recovery trailer by hooking a one-inch thick rope strung between two towers. On November 28, he made the first transition from horizontal to vertical flight and back again in the X-13. On April 11, 1957 Girard launched from the trailer, transitioned to conventional flight and returned to the trailer for a vertical landing. On July 30, 1957, the second X-13 put on an impressive display at the Pentagon for over 3,000 military officers and journalists.
However, competing programs reduced the funds available to continue the project, and by early 1958, the program ground to a halt. While later programs such as the XV-6 Kestrel experienced greater success, the X-13 was probably the most effective solution to the problems of creating a VTOL fighter at the time. The Vertijet accomplished all of the tasks set out for it. Ryan donated the first X-13 to the Smithsonian Institution in 1960.
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The Dual-Ghia is a rare, low volume car that was produced in America between 1956 and 1958. Eugene Casaroll formed Dual Motors in Detroit, Michigan to build an exclusive car at a reasonable price. The Virgil Exner design was based on a Chrysler show car, the Firearrow.
Out of the 117 cars produced it is believed that approximately 32 still exist. American celebrities, such as Frank Sinatra, Sterling Hayden, Richard Nixon and Desi Arnez bought the cars.
These European Style with American Muscle cars are just plain elegant. With that Chrysler power it is also reliable. The Dual-Ghia is rare and this one is in particularly good condition.
Sinatra’s dice remained hot in 1957. His best remembered work of the year is probably his Capitol album Come Fly With Me. I have always loved the Lockheed Constellation on the cover. The album’s theme was a musical trip to exotic places, and then back home. Sinatra’s Dual Ghia was sort of an exotic place all by itself. The car is an interesting mix of Virgil Exner’s designs, Ghia’s prototypes and Chrysler drivetrains. It is an interesting story that we do not have time for on this tour.
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Feast your eyes in this bad boy, Dirty Donkey. Of all the 60 some million versions of the infamous Honda Super Cub sold since its debut in 1958, this interpretation by Holland’s Super Motor Company hangs with the big dogs. The nickname stemmed to suggest that it was born for a dirt track, so take their word for it and spray some mud around with this one. Built to race with YX 140cc SOHC engine cranking out 15 hp to the back wheel. As far as its looks, well when its all cleaned up and you can see the love, it showcases pretty smooth. The frame was tweaked by welder Jaap Volkers, even grandma got involved to upholstered the seat unit in desert beige suede. “There’s a gap between the seat and tank, but it also gives it a bit of that 60s desert racer feel. Which I like,” explains project leader Dimitri Hettinga. Other unique features include a Honda C50 rear fender, a Honda Camino manipulated 180 degrees to fit, and vintage Tommaselli hand controls just to name a few.
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