Custom

Rafeal "Flash" Vasquez is in the driver's seat of a sleeksilver Nissan he calls "La Cura," which in Spanish means The Cure. Trembling with hundreds of iron horses under its hood, the car nudges forward, block by block, turning heads and drawing crowds. Finally, it parks at the corner of Cambria and Franklin streets in the heart of North Philadelphia's Puerto Rican community. Vasquez, 23, steps out of the car's blue-steel interior and slowly lifts its hatchback. Almost instantly, the neighborhood of rowhouses, corner groceries and auto body shops is transformed into an open-air nightclub beneath the setting sun. Under the hatchback of Vasquez's heavily customized 1984 Sentra, in a handmade wooden cabinet, is a bank of 10 public-address-system-sized speakers, each electronically screaming the Latin strains of Frankie Ruiz, Raphy Leavitt and an assortment of New York rappers.

A DAM KAMENS, 42, of the Bella Vista section of the city, is chief executive of Amuneal Manufacturing Corp., a 30,000-square-foot design- and custom-fabrication factory in Frankford. His work is seen in high-end retail stores and high-design environments in New York City, Philadelphia and other cities. He joined Amuneal - which at the time made magnetic shielding - after graduating from college in 1993, and diversified the business. Q: How'd you retool Amuneal? A: We started out building and selling custom furniture.

The white-lettered logo "Pemfab" does not tell passing motorists much about what goes on in the one-story building on Indel Avenue, off Route 295, in the Rancocas section of Westampton Township. Only the four lime and white fire engines aligned neatly on the left side of the building behind a fence gives passersby a hint. Pemfab, short for Pemberton Fabricators Inc., is a small precision-metal fabricating company of 120 employees owned by Inductotherm Corp. According to Richard J. Gergel, vice president for marketing, the company is one of only a half-dozen nationwide specializing in the design and manufacture of fire- engine chassis and cabs.

An early-morning fire yesterday heavily damaged Gill Aluminum Products Corp., a manufacturer of custom windows and doors, in the Bridgewater Industrial Park, at 1311 Ford Rd. The fire, described as being of undetermined origin by Bensalem Fire Marshal Robert Ludwig, destroyed about half of the 20,000-square-foot building and left about 25 employees temporarily out of work. Firefighters arriving to battle the 1:12 a.m. blaze found smoke pouring from the roof of the one-story structure, Ludwig said.

Neatly folded hides from elk and deer are stacked in rows in Jona Naughton's studio. Tacked to shelves are the soft pelts of raccoons and wildcats. A fringed, elk-skin jacket pieced together by hand is draped over a worktable. A beaded-leather cradleboard, or Native American infant carrier, insulated with wolf fur hangs from a hook. A foxtail dangles from a quiver suspended on a fluorescent lamp. Not your typical Bucks County studio. Working in the tradition of her Mohawk/Onondaga ancestors, Naughton has created tribal clothing, quivers, pouches, pillows and cradleboards for more than 30 years from her Point Pleasant studio.

So, ladies, will you, or won't you? There's not much time to decide. Because Thursday is the big day, your quadrennial chance to take matters into your own hands and pop the Big Question: "Will you marry me?" By hallowed tradition and time-honored custom, Leap Year Day - the extra day added to February every four years to put the calendar in tune with the music of the spheres - is the occasion when women are granted permission to take charge of their matrimonial destiny by collaring their dawdling intendeds, confronting them with an explicit proposition, and taking nothing less than yes for an answer.

It's big, it's black, and it's got the mayor in back. "It" is Mayor Street's super-stretch conversion van, the luxury ride of choice for Philadelphia's top pol. You might have noticed the beast parked outside City Hall, blocking out the sun. Since taking office earlier this month, Street has used his own vehicles instead of the customary city-issued sedan. Street's current favorite is a sight to behold: It's a $55,000 Limomax customized van with six wheels, three axles, a raised roof and extended cab. It can seat up to 11 people and still have room for fax machines, sleds and inner tubes, a TV and coolers stocked with fresh fruit, pretzels and bottled water.

Few things in a home take up more space, get more use, or make a bigger style statement than a sofa. Too often, though, finding the right one can be a frustrating quest, requiring marathon treks through countless furniture showrooms, where the sofas are never quite what you had in mind. If it's got the right arms, it's got the wrong cushions. If the size is correct, the legs aren't. This one is too soft. That one too deep. But what if you could skip the search and conceive the sofa of your dreams?

The Estates of Washington Crossing, Upper Makefield To succeed at the Estates of Washington Crossing, the developer knew it would have to truly impress home buyers. After all, the Upper Makefield area is full of custom-built houses for buyers with plenty of money. So Toll Bros. Inc. poured abundant luxury into these homes to create a custom feel, with one advantage: Priced at $397,900 to $437,900, the houses fall below the cost of many custom-built homes in the area. "It's custom, but not at the custom price, because there are certain efficiencies we bring to the table," said Douglas C. Yearley Jr., project manager for the development.

One in an occasional series of portraits of manufacturers in the Philadelphia region. No matter what the weather, the cavernous spaces inside Chemglass Inc. in Vineland, N.J., warm to the glow of 2,100-degree molten glass. The 60-year-old company, whose 220 employees include dozens of specially trained glassblowers, turns out custom-made precision glassware for chemical and biological laboratories. Its handmade products range from thimble-size 5-milliliter flasks to 100-liter reaction vessels, big as barrels, that bristle with tubes and chambers, and look as if they have been ordered by mad chemists.