Number: 100mph

Handel Barz has been into "riding" for as long as she can remember. There's a few nights she can't recall at all, but they probably included some type of ride, too. Barz was Born to Ride.

It all began at a biker bar out West. Her biker parents found Baby Barz abandoned in a smoky roadside joint. They scooped her up, strapped her to the back of their hog, and headed home to the rest of their biker family -- four other daughters whose names can not be mentioned because they're, well, wanted in several states. (False charges, all.)

Barz grew up fast, hard and fast, real hard and fast . . . where were we? . . . oh, and she quickly found the advantage of wearing her golden locks in pigtails that improved the riding for both rider and ridee. (Hey, it's a word. This isn't Scrabble).

Soon, Barz had the best handle bars in town, and everyone -- and we do mean everyone -- took a liking to those bars. A little secret, folks: It's all in the grip.

Now, Handle Barz is into riding around local roller rinks, wrecking havoc and takin' names. Pity the poor fool in the path of her foot-wheels. The Barz leaves them seeing stars as she rockets them to the moon. She definitely has a handle on her sport.