Post-Industrial Grease Monkey

We'd both called ahead—but she got majorly hassled by the pitbull PR machine, telling her she couldn't shoot pictures because the Weekly hadn't inked a cover-story contract.

It all ended well, though: we got some snaps anyway—and James got his face time later that week, all over Access Hollywood. The show's anchors gushed on James, his steely-eyed gaze but gentle nature, his rippled physique. Didn't actually talk to him. Sorta mentioned the new book.

But not a word about his metalworking, gas-tank-beating, hammer-welding, chopper-building hand skills.

They did say girls like him. You can see why girls would.