Imagine a five or six year old editec, finding himself thust upon the back of a full dress Harley. Imagine that toe-headed kid wide eyed as he finds himself tearing down a two lane blacktop road, the Harley's pipes trumpeting into the shimmering summer heat of a Pennsylvania July morning. The man driving that iron horse? A jet-black duckbacked hair, engineer-boot shod, blue jeans and white teeshirt, motor cycle jacket (complete with chrome stars!)-- full blown Philly greaser named (I kid you not!) Sal, tearing down those softening -in--the-sun two land blacktop tarred roads with a young editec hanging on for dear life-- half in terror, half is complete AWE -- that anyone on EARTH could be that fucking cool! Now imagine that quintesstial 1950s rocker maniac on his baby-blue, full dress 64 cubic inch hog singing at the top of his lungs as we leaned into those hair-pin turns, and rode oblivious to what was over those blind hills that day. And THIS was the song that Sal sang whch gave me my first inkling of what R n R was really all about. [ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgHgIZxV658&feature=PlayList&p=C4AA989676E31BD4&index=35[/ame] And SAL? Whatever his last name was, (something Eye-Talian, for sure) he will forever be my benchmark for what we mean when we use the term: rebel without a cause. The Fonzi? The Fonze wouldn't make a Valtalis grease stain on Sal's rat-tailed comb folks. The Fonze TRIED to be cool. Sal wasn't trying to be anything.. he couldn't help himself!