It's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. And Hammer Tim knew this better than anyone. During the day, he souped up cars in his garage for not entirely legal competitions, and at night he occasionally lucked into some pretty serious business. Then the doors of his garage were carefully locked, and a pair of muscleheads stood watchfully outside.

On nights like these, old “business” friends turned to Tim. Rebuild a car or two, no questions asked. Hammer Tim considered tuning an art, and the night customers paid well. This really gave room to breathe for the artisan, who felt restricted by modest budgets.