Salt Lake resident Dave Stroud doesn't care if you call his bikes weird, freakish or even ugly.
"They're Franken Bikes, not pretty bikes," Stroud said on his front lawn, surrounded by some of his favorite cycling creations. "I want to make it look like something back from the dead. I just love super ugly."
Whether raising awareness, promoting safety or just for the "look at me" factor, "dEmented Dave," as his Internet fans call him, has taken the rare hobby of bike "chopping" to the streets of Salt Lake. From riding downtown or taking an afternoon trip to Sugarhouse Park, Stroud loves parading his unique innovations.
Working with used, discarded bicycles, the self-described entrepreneur cuts off the front fork, then welds on long pipes, stretching it beyond recognition. Like chopper Murder, one of his latest creations, which is 13 feet long and has a fork with 40 pounds of steel.
"It's more like an obsession. I'm not a bike salesman and I'm not like a bike engineer. My purpose is to really have a lot of fun."
Through his Web site, www.frankenbikes.com, he showcases pictures and videos of his choppers. To date, he's made about 22 choppers and sold four or five. But his goal isn't to necessarily sell them. His day job, designing props and soundtracks for Halloween-theme places like haunted houses and various trade shows, is what brings home the bacon.
"I'm not a Lycra, spandex guy, and I wanted to do something to motivate me (to ride bikes) again, and this kind of became it. The goal isn't only selling bicycles. It's a way to massage my OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder)," Stroud said, laughing.
Stroud has always been a bike enthusiast and was even a bicycle messenger when he lived in San Francisco. But it wasn't until February, when he received a welder for his birthday, that chopping became a new passion. He started out with an old bike in the garage and then another he saw in a trash bin on the way to work. But now, "I have a lot of mysterious bike donors. People will just leave bikes on the front porch or lawn." Stroud has roughly 50 old, rusty bikes piled up in his back yard next to his workshop.
Part of his purpose in making what he calls "chopper recyclers" is helping to showcase what people can do with the trash they throw away. He even tries to build the bikes with used material.
"People pay hundreds for a bike, and they just become trash. Little pink girls bikes seems to be one of the biggest trash items for a lot of people."
Another positive factor that has played into riding eye-catchers like Murder is the attention drivers give to it — slowing down, obeying traffic signs and keeping their eyes open for bicyclers. "I feel safer riding this than my regular bike."
"No one ever stopped at this stop sign before," Stroud said, gesturing to the Third Avenue intersection near his home in the Avenues. He parks a few bikes and a large sign with his Web address on the front lawn of his corner house. "This intersection gets so busy now. It's like downtown."
And as for the added attention, Stroud doesn't mind. Actually, "I'm kind of that way." From driving a '59 hearse to singing in a band, he loves being center stage — or, in this case, center street.
"Everybody looks at you. Everybody wants to talk to you. And I love to talk to people."
While the look of monstrous bikes might stereotype Dave as, well, "dEmented," the kind, talkative guy is better labeled a family man. His garage is filled with Halloween props, like a giant casket and talking skulls, but they sit next to a giant box of diapers and sand-box toys for his three children with wife Katherine.
"I like this because I can do it at home and my son can help me," he said of his hobby. Six-year-old son Zak is his "safety officer," making sure dad and son are equipped with gloves, safety goggles and a welding mask when working in the workshop. "He's my 20-inch test pilot. A week after riding a two-wheeler, he was riding Little Red (one of the choppers)."
Even 4-year-old daughter Xandra wants a chopper tricycle. But as for his youngest 1-year-old, "I'm forbidden from chopping up the stroller."
It takes him about five to six hours to create a single-speed bike, but adding details like a skull-shaped shifter or Frankenstein-esque bolts can take a bit longer. He's always thinking of new innovations, like adding footrests, the "mother and duckling" tandem bike he's currently creating or some "super secret" ideas.
People frequently ask Stroud to ride the choppers, which are surprisingly harder to ride than a regular bike, and some residents even ask to help him in the workshop. He's thinking of creating a chopper clinic and already has a how-to DVD in the works.
"It's kind of Discovery Channel meets getting a welder for your birthday," he said. "We're still in the testing phase. And I have a feeling several relatives will be getting choppers for Christmas this year."
E-mail: astowell@desnews.com