Some old wise man--or was it a dumb hillbilly?--once told me, "There are guys you fish with, and there are guys you EAT fish with." Although I've never dipped a pole in Caleb's pond, we've ridden across Baja three times, and I've supped with the man under many circumstances. On every occasion, this talented, tech-savvy CGI pro by trade and motorcycle rider by birthright has treated me and everyone else in my crew with open-mindedness and respect. In a scene that's synonymous with bluster and buffoonery, Cro's friendly, no-bullshit vibe is a breath of fresh air.

Name: Caleb "Cro" Owens

Age: 41

Business: Cro Customs Inc.

Town: Culver City, CA

Coworkers: JD Sansaver

Riding buddies: Anyone with two wheels, good skill and a good attitude, but mostly myself. Local scoots are generally with any or all of these cats: My chick Kris, JD, Matt Davis, Kio, Joey Jelf

First time on two wheels: Do invisible bikes count? When I was ten or so my good friend Gary Collins and I would pretend we were riding motorcycles around the 'hood tearing up the neighbor’s yards. Gary was a great friend, he smelled pretty bad and my mom never wanted me to go inside his house, but we were tight.

First hand-built motorcycle: 1951 Panhead my brother built. I got hooked then, but it wasn't ‘til years later that I would dive in headfirst. My first ground-up build was a stroker shovel.

Earliest two-wheeled adventure: The first "real" time was about 12 or so I guess. Some of the local hoodlums I ran with stole a YZ80 and we took it out to Bird Road extension in west Miami, along with several gallons of gas. We road that thing from dust ‘til dawn. At one point the tranny got stuck in second gear, so we rode in second, tearing the shit up. Finally, one of the crew decided to wrap the clutch with some wire and jam a stick in the throttle and leave the bike propped up on a rock. Waaaaaaaaaa… poot poot… pssst… poof… the fucking thing caught fire. We were all laughing like little fucking assholes. Out of nowhere a ghetto bird swoops down. "ITS THE PIGS—WE ARE FUCKED." The helicopter got so low it spread the flames to nearby saw grass. HUGE brush fire. We ran until our little barefeet were bleeding.

Most recent two-wheeled adventure: Every day seems to be some kind of adventure with two wheels

Current stable of bikes and projects: 1966 Genny Shovel, 1956 Pan in the works, 1976/78 Shovel parts hauler, 1984 Shovel waiting for love. 1986 Evo boardtracker ground up custom build