I just worked a 16 hour day crankin' on a paint job for some football player. I think I'll tell a story 'cause I'm still wide awake from spraying candy……
There was this motherfucker in the sixth grade with me at St. Gabriels catholic school by the name of WYNN WILLINGER. He was a puffy faced mommas boy who wore a brown corduroy coat even in summer and was unpleasant to know. He was however, an unbelievable artist. That stinking putz of an inflamed anal tract taught me one of the most important lessons in my life, and it started with a P-51 Mustang.
In St. Gabriels that year Willinger and me were the “artists”, you know the type…We spent all our time trying to outdraw each other. Cars, dirt bikes, sharks, naked girls and monsters were the subjects of choice. Everybody told me I was the best because Willinger was a dick, but really this dude was way better.
Two events came up that were high profile, fuckin' HIGH NOON, man. The first one was a science fair, the second was a POSTER CONTEST for the annual fish fry. Such was my mania to artisticly kick this jerk's ass that I rounded up every dime I had, and bought a giant super cool scale model of a P-51 Mustang for the science fair. How is that science you ask? Because it was SEE THOUGH, like those “visible human” models. I put that sucker together and strutted into the science fair like I was Einstien.
I got it all layed out, and my friends were stoked. We couldn't wait to see Willingers face. Then here he comes, brown corduroy jacket and all, carrying something wrapped in newspaper. He's even with his MOM. He takes his place at our table and unwraps his science project. Laying on this paper is a greasy lookin' nasty ass fish of some kind with icky gray skin and GIANT fangs. It freaks everybody out.
Willinger re-created a perfect, life size DEEP SEA LAMPREY out of colored clay. Complete with vaseline for the slimy effect. HOLY SHIT.
That left the poster contest. Riding the wave of his big science fair win, Willinger was more arrogant than ever. Mentally scarred as I was, I managed to pull it together enough to do a badass drawing of the Mach 5 with Speed Racer and Chim Chim telling everyone to “Drop by the Fish Fry!” My crew (basicly the whole sixth grade) was already calling me the winner. Wynn was at his desk struggling with a mediocre drawing of a fish and chips platter. So I walk over there to take a look. He did something I thought was pure genius.
He TURNED THE “Fs” AROUND BACKWARDS in “Fish Fry”!!!!! I was so blown away by this that I decided, if a couple letters turned around backwards drew attention to a poster, just think what a WHOLE BUNCH OF 'EM WOULD DO! So, you guessed it….Everybody not only saw the lameness of me ripping off Willinger's idea, they couldn't read my poster.
It still smarts to this day. That smug look on his face is what I see when I'm tempted to copy an idea or take the easy way out on some art thing.
— Tim
The Conderosa
http://www.armageddontopfuel.com
There you have it. A taste of Tim's creativity and a hard lesson learned. Here's the story behind the man. –Bandit
I was born and raised in or around Louisville, Kentucky. Got my first Harley at 18 and didn't even have a job. I started with a 300 dollar '64 fairlane wagon and fixed up and traded cars until I got it. Went in the army so I could live in California. Spent four years in an experimental infantry unit mainly as an M-60 machine gunner. Never saw combat, but I got to travel and do amazing shit.
After my discharge I lived in Monterey and made a living as an illustrator. I worked for customizers like Ed “Big Daddy” Roth and Rod Powell. Met a girl and moved to Edmonds Washington, sold my '64 Riviera to help pay for our house. We split up and I moved into a 340 square foot apartment in downtown Seattle with 300 dollars and a duffle bag full of clothes. I put myself through art school doing illustration work. Airbrush work for Nintendo Power magazine netted me enough income to ride my '66 Sportster from Kentucky.
A local millionaire car/bike collector saw my Sportster and was always pestering me to buy it. I went to work on his collection, learning to paint, wrench and fabricate using vintage Indians, BSAs, Harleys, you name it as ginea pigs. I had his whole collection in a giant warehouse downtown by this time, but he wasn't paying me. (Part of having money is not spending it, right?)
His reason being I was gaining experience and that should be payment enough. That's fine, except I stayed dead broke most of the time. This led to the local police seeing a guy in his 20's bombin' ass around town with three or four different, mega-buck museum pieces a day. Which in turn meant I got pulled over constantly. The ironic thing… I was 28 years old, starting a business with NO MONEY, working 14 hours a day and didn't drink (much) or do drugs. Contractors were doing wild burn outs in front of bars on 70 thousand dollar customs that I probably painted, right in front of cops. I on the other hand, could take an old '41 EL that's been in a barn for 40 years, get it running and buzz around the block, bringing back four or five tickets in the process! TOO FUNNY. Stacks of tickets, if they were paid at all, they got paid last.
Nothing freaky lasts forever, so I started Conder Custom with an old school biker from Nebraska. He was the maintenance man at my first warehouse shop. The major shops were flooding me with custom motorcycle design and paintwork. I barely knew what I was doing and was completely overwhelmed. This guy wrenched and wet sanded for free every night. This evolved into him getting work and me doing it– 7 days a week 14 hours a day.
My first show bike design and paint work was done without a booth and sometimes on the sidewalk, downtown at 3 a.m. I'd hang fluorescent lights on the outside walls of my shop ('cause I was sleeping there and didn't want the fumes). I hosed down the street so passing cars wouldn't put dust in the paint. Some of these bikes were in major magazines!
I've been kicked out of nearly every shop I occupied in the seattle area because of smelly paint, loud harleys or other questionable bullshit. One management company thought we were running a porn studio because of all the young folks, Harleys and Triumphs. Not to mention this goth girlfriend I had, who oil painted half naked. NOTE TO LANDLORDS: Choppers, hot rods and pretty girls are FUN. That's all.
By the time Bandit hired me to design the “Touring Chopper” in '96 I had a bitchin' little shop in Seattle and was doing paint for every shop in town. I had five employees and lots of overhead. A funny thing happened…. I talked on the phone all day, had lunch with potential customers and basically never got to do anything cool. My employees did most of it.
About this time ('96-'97) we built two motorcycles that I am very proud of, “Gigantic” a.k.a. “Silver Bullet” (Easyriders, November, '97) and “Los Cajones Grande” (Easyriders, April, '99). These bikes made it to the Roadster show and the magazines, then mysteriously shops stopped sending me paint.
Right at this time I was offered the general manager position at an Easyriders franchise store in Bellevue.
We actually got directives from corporate telling us NOT to put any chopper imagery on our advertising or products!? They told us to gear our efforts toward the “AFFLUENT” biker, who according to them, only liked Road Kings. This stint was my “Viet Nam” as they say. Confused and disillusioned with this whole thing, I unplugged for a while. The self- induced vacation led to the creation of ARMAGEDDON TOP FUEL. I figured I'd just make my own damn universe! Fuck it!
I landed 1.7 million dollars based on the idea alone, from the first investor I mentioned it to. This was in 2000. So suddenly I was a millionaire. Then two weeks later this person tells me she's been having horrible nightmares about me getting hurt or killed doing ATF. She writes me an inspirational poem and pulls the funding. Now I'm NOT a millionaire. I sell everything I own (except “Silver Bullet”), to start it, anyway. Then three other visionary young folks step up and we manage to get pretty far with the whole gig. However, it's attracting lame asses and wackos by the dozens and quickly spiraling out of my control. I'm forced to work with people I don't like and it ain't going right……Then it starts raining airplanes.
My partners can't hang through the resulting bad economy, and I'm tens of thousands in the hole on parts/services etc. Then something magical happens. My new wife and I decide to hang on to what we've built, no matter what, and I fire up the ol' paint gun. I'm proud to say every customer I've had and every volunteer that's helped us has a stake in Conder Custom and ATF. From Giovanni and his '63 chev lowrider (Sherwood green with an Abalone metalflake top and interior) to AJ and his crew at Lucky's Choppers (five full custom paint jobs so far), I owe you a big THANKS. All the parts are paid off and my family is settled down in Sonoma. We're bustin' our asses down here like usual, but hey, the rails are almost ready to run and the sun's shinin' every day. I got an army of neighborhood kids sandin' bondo for free and some mighty fine friends.
–Tim Conder
www.armageddontopfuel.com
CONDER CUSTOM – Design, Illustration, Custom Paint, Fabrication
P.O. Box 565
Boyes Hot Springs, CA
95416
(707) 935-7764
(206) 356-0891
