The guy who makes our stickers, Chris Tronolone of Expressive Designs, also makes the stickers for Jesse James' shop West Coast Choppers and dozens of other semi-profitable companies.

He pulled up in front of the headquarters recently in a double stretched Hum vie limousine and stormed the doors of the Bikernet Headquarters. Even though his bodyguards were heavily armed, he was a sweating nervous wreck. I couldn't figure it out and got sorta shaky myself as his men opened their coats to flash their stainless steel Browning autos.

"Chris, you don't need to go there, man. Bandit generally pays his bills. Hell, I'll pay it again," I said trying to figure out what the hell was on his mind. "How about we write a glowing article about your company on Bikernet." That seemed to make him smile some, but he looked around the headquarters as if it was a solitary confinement cell at the Los Angeles County Jail. The guy was as touchy as a short fused firecracker. "Can I get you a girl, Chris?" I said it with pure sincerity. Either we were in a lot of trouble or he was on drugs.

He shook his head and stood up abruptly. He held out his sweaty palm and I shook his hand in greeting, fearing that Bandit had somehow ripped him off and I was going to take the slug for another deal gone south. He continually looked at his watch. He moved about the headquarters like a kid who was forced to go to a museum of ancient kitchen appliances. He looked at the antique motorcycles, the David Mann paintings and old motorcycle photographs as if he could care less. With each abrupt irritable move he glanced at his watch. A big Samoan looking body guard stepped up to him in the garage as he looked at the various stickers on Bandit's rusting tool box, "It's time to go to the airport, Boss."

Suddenly he turned to face me, a slightly overweight man who wasn't particularly tall, about 45, he held out his sweating palm one final time and I was sure I was going to give the ultimate gift to Bikernet, my life. I shook his hand and for the first time he smiled in touchy fashion as if he was about to be involved in something really bad. "I can't stand the mainland. We're headed back to the islands. Thanks for showing me around," he muttered and headed briskly for the door.

I stammered like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but I was glad to show him to the door and watched the two muscled guardians depart.

Sure as shit, just after the long black vehicle pulled away, Bandit rolled up on a new V-Rod, then I got the story on Chris. I discovered that Chris had escaped the mainland right after graduating from High School in 1977. He had been riding and surfing most of his life and as the salt water fever grew inside of him he looked for the ultimate spot on the earth to surf. A land with constant warm water and rippling waves.

"He wanted to live in a different place with great weather and warm water year 'round," Bandit confessed pushing the V-Rod into the garage. "He started working at a silk-screen shop on the North-Shore of Oahu printing T-shirts in the evenings, so he could surf all day. It was great back then, he made just enough money to get by, no responsibilities. His rent was only $100 a month, and he rode around on a Yamaha 250 enduro. He later started working for a friend who had a sticker business, so he worked some days printing shirts and other days printing stickers. His buddy flew to Bali for the summer's to surf, so he took over the business, soon after he became a business partner," Bandit said pulling a welding glasses over his head and firing up his old beat up torch.

Bandit fired that torch and send sparks spraying around the garage as he told me that we got hooked up with Chris through his brother Bob Tronolone who had ridden with Bandit in the mid '70s on the coast. Just recently after a 25 year absence, Bob found Bandit on the Internet and they got to talking. Bandit needed stickers and was having his usual bad luck with goofball companies that told him one thing and did another. Bandit traded books and a dayroll for his first batch of stickers. "They've produced some wacky stickers over the years," Bandit said while staring at a glowing belt buckle project. He hadn't hand fabbed a buckle in a couple of years and after slamming into that deer his eyesight was mostly toast. He was burning everything on the bench. "Most of the stuff they printed for companies was tame, like stickers for Walt Disney's new movie, Lilo & Stitch. On the other hand they just did some for a Mud Bog race where women were competing and wanted 'Powered by Pussy' and another one that said 'Pussy Power'. They also produced some for a diving team that said 'Muff Divers Go Deep'."

According to the welding Bandit, filling the garage with smoke, Expressive Designs has been in business since 1979 in Hawaii, but they also opened a location in Torrance, California in '87 which his partner runs. They manufacture Mylar window stickers, Vinyl bumper stickers, and they also print on a material called rice paper which goes under the glass and resin on surfboards and disappears except for what they print. All major Surfboard companies have their logos on all boards made. All pro surfers have all of their sponsors on their boards which is printed on rice paper. That paper is so rare, Chris imports it from Japan and export it to the states."

As Bandit continued to mumble and catch his bench on fire, I dove for the rusting fire extinguisher in the corner. Bandit leaned back on the bar stool at the bench and blew a hole in the drywall behind the bench as I sprayed the flames with near empty fire extinguisher. "Pay attention, Snake!" Bandit mutter trying to find me in the dark garage wearing number 10 welding lenses. "Chris also has another business he started as a joke when the GOT MILK commercials came out. He started doing sticker's like GOT SURF? GOT PAM? and GOT GOLF? etc. He started getting a lot of calls from other companies that wanted there own 'Got' stuff. He fabricated Got Miller Lite stickers for the Pro Bowl, Got Blood for the blood bank, Got Choppers for Jesse James, Got Duracell, Got Crabs for a fish market on Maui, and several others. They still get orders for the 'Got' things at http://www.gotstickershawaii.com

"Goddamnit Snake, didn't you know that sticker's are the cheapest form of advertisement there is?" Bandit said showering me in melting brass. I decided that this conversation was futile and dangerous as I splashed a bucked of corrosive water next to the grinding wheel on my Levis to put out the fire. As he continued to mumble, I stumbled back into the headquarters and grabbed Chris's card which fortunately contained his cell number. I dialed quickly, trying to wrap up this mess and get to the bar before Bandit discovered I left him alone in the garage.

"Mr. T, it's Snake from Bikernet, how the hell does a guy order stickers?" I said my Levis still smoking as I glanced out at the smoldering garage. I could still see sparks flying out of the garage door.

"Best way to get a hold of us is to either call 808-638-9090 or we have two Fax lines 808-638-9090 or 808-638-0171 or e-mail us @ expd@hawaii.rr.com or expdart@hawaii.rr.com, Chris said running to his plane. "Anybody can fax or e-mail art to get price quote. Tell us how many colors and what size and a rough quantity they are looking at. That way we can tell them best way to set it up. I hate the fuckin' mainland. Sorry, but I've got to get back to the islands. Oh, also, if they want it die cut or straight cut we can also tell them how to send art over e-mail or mail it on disk. We get art from all over the world and we can deal with any of it as long as we can talk to or e-mail the customer. See ya."

He shut off his cell phone as he reached the terminal, but his card listed their address:

Expressive Designs 59-740 Amaumau Pl. Haleiwa, Hawaii 96712.

Suddenly the Bikernet cell rang as I was about to set it down, and grab another fire extinguisher and head back to the glowing garage. "I have a sense of humor," Chris said in his scary straight tone, "just don't make me sound like a corn ball."

The phone went dead, as dead as I thought I was going to be when I first met the man. Now each time I look at our stickers or Jesse James, I have new respect. I gotta get a drink.

--Snake