Colour traditional-style tattoo of a green grinning monster driving a hot rod with flames and smoke, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Green hot rod monster on an upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A green, grinning monster with fangs and a long red tongue sits above a hot rod with large wheels, a visible engine and orange flames under the chassis. Bold black outlines define the forms, with green, red, orange and yellow fills and grey smoke swirling around the rear wheel. The design fills the upper arm in a vertical composition.

Traditional Upper arm Monster Car Wheel Flame Smoke Fangs Tongue

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dai Rowlands bought the old Ford from a scrapyard in Merthyr for eleven pounds and a promise he never meant to keep, then painted it orange with a tin of enamel he had nicked from the colliery stores. By the time the shift whistle blew on Friday, the chassis was dragging sparks down the pit road like a rope of fire, and half the village had come out to the bottom of Church Row to watch him fail.

Keep reading

Something climbed out from under the bonnet. Nobody agreed afterwards on what it looked like, except that it was green, the colour of bottled pears, and it had a grin that split its face from ear to ear with fangs in it. Its tongue was long and red and it lapped at the smoke rolling off the back tyres as though it had been starved in a cellar. Mrs Pritchard swore it winked at her. Gwyn Lewis, who had been down the Ferndale shaft for twenty-two years and had seen worse, took off his cap.

"Well, don't just stand there," the monster said, in a voice like a gate swinging in the wind. "Get in. I've only got the one run left in me and the pit's shut till Monday."

Dai did not get in. Gwyn did, because he had nothing left to lose, and the monster took the bend at the chapel so fast the grit flew up white off the road. When they came back round the top of the hill the car was empty and the monster was sitting on the spoil heap, licking coal dust from its claws, looking entirely satisfied.

Dai never found the enamel tin again. But every Friday after that, a green smear of a grin appeared on the frosted window of the Welfare, and the men who had been down long enough knew to leave the bonnet unlatched.