A few months ago, a man walked in to my shop, interrupted my welding, and stated that he wanted a barbecue. In my line of work, if a custom request is not amended by particularities, then said project becomes more of a creative liability than a creative license. I need—and the customer appreciates—a more explicit projection of what they are paying for. So I drew a picture in my journal, showed the client, and he went for it. What emerged was a fairly angular, sturdy, and bitchin' flame bucket.
From the front, it's really just a State Park BBQ on steroids; no moving parts, no machinery, just a box on feet.
Banding of banding.
We're firing this puppy up on Friday. Be there.