As gross as these two highly top secret prototypes look, the brown all on em is just coffee.

Now then, one night a few years ago, I was riding down Folsom, and just as I was crossing 13th street, I heard a mad cacophony of panicked screaming and then revving engines, and squealing tires. Just as I made it to the intersection, the car monster screeched to a halt. Head lights bright in my eyes, I wheeled past, and again, the car continued like a bat leaving Hell. Within seconds, the city streets were ablaze with police sirens all in hot pursuit of this car that had just narrowly avoided making my mamas son little more than a grease spot on the ground. As it turns out, Id just been given the right-of-way by a car jacker. Your turn on The Folsom promises to be a far more enjoyable one.

And now lastly, I offer you this.