You have undoubtedly seen Trotta's custom choppers on the Discovery Channel's Biker Build-Off series or maybe caught them in person on the Hard Rock Custom Bikes Tour. His designs are so distinctive that the National Geographic Channel is planning to explore them. When a photographer puts a bikini-clad woman in the saddle of one of these bikes, a funny thing occurs: Your eyes go to the bike first and then to the woman. Then, your sight gets blurry and you can't tell the difference between the woman and the bike. "I always design my bikes with a waistline as it is," Trotta says. "And then the fat tire in the back becomes the big butt." You know those glossy coffee-table books that weigh, like, two tons? Well, one titled Choppers: Heavy Metal Art lists Trotta in its legends section, along with such motorcycle-world stars as Indian Larry Desmedt. "Back before 1995, before all this Discovery Channel stuff, people thought I was in a chopper rut," Trotta says. "It was like, 'What the fuck are you building?' " High-octane Japanese bikes were in. Choppers were out. Despite everything Trotta has taken on over the years -- playing classical piano or checking the bloodlines of horses in France -- his life has always been rooted in choppers. He built his first shovelhead engine at age 16 while working part-time at East Coast Choppers in New Haven, Conn. "When it comes right down to it, it's all I really know," he points out. Today, the legend is shuffling among the cardboard displays in the showroom of Thunder Cycle Design's new $2 million, 30,000-square-foot location at 550 W. Sunrise Blvd., in Fort Lauderdale. With a half-dozen bikes always sunbathing out front, the dealership is impossible to miss. "I know the name is big enough that we could just operate out of a warehouse off the beaten path," Trotta says. "But this fits me better." "The place has become like a tourist attraction," says Nick Ayala, the head of the parts department. "People from Canada, South America, Europe, they just want to say they've been here." A visitor could get lost in the showroom, which features, among other things, a beige-felt pool table, a Mike and Ike candy machine and a blue-haired girl named Jessica Jackson working behind the counter. "I was walking by one day, and they needed a gothic girl for one of their videos for a TV show," Jackson says of how she came to work for Trotta. "I ended up in a coffin with Eddie." All the showroom's flourishes and distractions, however, are secondary to the bikes, which live up to the description of "heavy-metal art." Trotta exhibits all the traits of an artist. He often wakes up in the middle of the night to sketch out a new form. He stares into the deep metal flake of a gas tank as if it were an abyss. His creative confidence can easily be mistaken for conceit. Trotta has built hundreds of bikes. His name has been plastered all over TV and in bike magazines, and he has made the kind of money that goes with such popularity. But he never forgets the fact that his name is on every piece of machinery that rolls out of his shop. Nearly everything that goes into designing and building the bikes is done on-site, including making all the parts. Chroming is the only thing that is farmed out. While recently making the rounds in the work area directly behind the showroom, Trotta noticed employees placing a set of vision-forged pipes onto a bike for which they weren't intended. A customer had cajoled the workers into putting them on, but they had neglected to OK the request with Trotta. He proceeded to throw what can only be described as a hard-edged hissy fit with the assemblers. "It won't happen again," a top member of his crew kept repeating. But Trotta just glared down at him as if no apology or assurance would ever be good enough. "The buyer is lucky if he gets to pick out the color," Trotta says. "You have to tell him, 'You want a bike designed by me or you?' " Howie Jakobi, a member of Thunder Cycle's sales force for seven years, says it used to be so much easier selling Trotta's bikes to the public. "Now, with the TV shows, the customers all have their own ideas. We used to just build it and put in on the floor." Even so, the sales staff's motto is: You don't come to Eddie Trotta unless you want an Eddie Trotta bike. End of story. "But there's nothing wrong with being into the build. That's what a lot of the customers get off on," Trotta adds. "They want to get you on the phone and talk about production. It's a bug." It can also be an addiction. Many of Trotta's regular customers become collectors. Thunder Cycle is also the exclusive distributor of bikes mass-produced by Big Dog Motorcycles of Wichita, Kan., a company that has borrowed more than a few tricks from Trotta's art book. In the Thunder Cycle showroom, the generic Big Dog bikes share space with the astounding, one-of-a-kind Trottas that range in price from $50,000 to $90,000 and beyond. Of course, in that price range, his customers have to be loaded with mad money. When he was still playing for the Florida Marlins, New York Mets slugger Bobby Bonilla bought a bike from Trotta and later returned with the entire team to make purchases. "We're currently working on a bike for [Aerosmith singer] Steven Tyler," Trotta says. Thunder Cycle's clients include people such as Sara Lee executive C. Steven McMillan, who collects Trotta's designs. In the past, he has received commissions from the Hard Rock Cafe and RJ Reynolds, for which he built the Camel Roadhouse bike. He is now working on an elegant bike for Venus Swimwear. "But we're not about the theme bikes," Jakobi insists. For example, the Camel cigarette bike doesn't look like a camel. Jakobi and his Thunder Cycle colleagues view things such as American Chopper's Spider-Man bike as "kind of retarded." Thunder Cycle is no novelty act. "Our bikes have the lines of an elite sports car -- clean and classy," Jakobi argues. "You'll be able to look at the bikes in 20 years and still appreciate that style." Trotta has won two Biker Build-Off competitions on the Discovery Channel. First, he defeated the renowned Russell Mitchell of Sun Valley, Calif. Last month, he took down North Carolina customizer Kendall Johnson. Both of the choppers Trotta designed for the contests, named Discovery 1 and 2, are on view in the Fort Lauderdale showroom. On average, Thunder Cycle puts about six months into each bike, and Trotta is involved every step of the way. "I meet with each department each day," he explains, sounding like the businessman he is. Trotta is trying to get used to the glut of custom builders currently flooding the market. Because of his high-profile touring and build-offs, he is often mentioned along with the other major names associated with the so-called chopperizing of America -- Billy Lane, Jesse James, etc. "Most of them are good guys," Trotta says. "A few are dickheads." He picks up one of those chopper coffee-table books. "Good guy, good guy, dickhead, good guy, dickhead," he says, pointing at their names and pictures. In Fort Lauderdale, people are so familiar with Trotta they often take his masterworks for granted. But when he makes appearances at out-of-town shows, which he does almost every weekend, people line up for a hundred yards to meet him. "I was in Kansas City when I saw this one bike, and I said to the owner, 'Hey, that almost looks like an Eddie Trotta bike,' " Trotta recalls. "He said, 'I came in one day and you were too busy, so I had someone copy your style for me.' " Trotta has since made himself available to the guy and about 50 of his friends. The televised revolution of custom bikes has left Trotta feeling a bit delirious. "In one week, we were on three shows. If people don't recognize me, they know the bike," he says. "I'll be crossing a border, and the guards recognize the bike. They talk about you like you're God." Maybe they think he's that other guy, the one who was busy creating snakes and designing choppers while the good Lord was making apples and gardening. Just consider what Trotta named his most recent bike for the Discovery Channel: Sinister, "because it's so dark and mysterious," Trotta says. "When we were working on it, I said, 'I want this bike to be so scary that kids will cry when they see it.' " Amen!