Listers,
I've had this little essay hiding in the crevasses of my desk for a
little while.
Since Chris de Wet hasn't entertained us for a total of three days,
since Joe is finished with the database and doesn't know what to do with
his spare time, and since all of you are probably out there watching
speed vision, I though this to be a good time for my report on painting.
Michael, this is the time to grab the blind folds quickly. Don't get
hurt reading this one.
Liv
The first painting lesson
The restoration of the valance was completed. The wire wheels had been
primered, and for practice, the boss thought it would be a good idea to
paint the shock absorbers a nice bright colour.
This day had bee chosen for my debut as a painter of fine automobiles.
As a lover of the arts, I was looking forward to the new learning
experience of spray painting.
First, the proper clothing had to be selected for protection of the
lethal fumes and the paint itself. I selected a shower cap to cover my
hair, old overalls, boots, the works. Never had I looked more
professional. If my dad could see me now, he always had such high hopes
for me. I was ready for the operation, Dr.Livia was on her way to the
operation theatre. Glove me please, I demanded from the crew , where
is the scalpel? The boss gave me the look that said : You are out of
your mind, woman, the one I know so well. He handed me a painters
mask, and pointed to the spray gun. A gun, thats what I always wanted.
Spray something bright, feel in control.
I was told to practice on the shock absorbers, and Im now allowed to
choose a colour. I opt for yellow, the colour of sunshine and
inspiration. Why not have a whole rainbow of colours under the hood? I
could have a field day at this. Its what I do best, combine rainbows of
colours in interesting arrangements. The paint is already mixed and in
the paint gun, Im ready to shoot.
The Spifire is parked in our little workshop. She has no wheels at the
moment, she is propped up on jack stands and cant be moved out of the
way. I have her covered up with sheets. I also dont want her to see my
attempts on painting her interiors. There is no sense in frightening the
little lady.
The garage/workshop is crowded, with the Fly taking up most of the space
in the middle. Numerous tools are spread all over the floor and lie
assorted on shelves. There isnt a lot of free space to move around. One
corner of the shop has been dedicated as the painting area for small
components. Thats where the operation will take place. Im ready for
action. Gun in one hand, I aim and shoot. At first I dont see any paint
on the shocks, where did it go? Now I wish, I would have taken those
air-brush lessons when I had the chance. But I get the hang of it soon
enough. The shocks are taking on the look of Christmas Crackers. Hey,
this is fun. One has to be careful not to create runs. Michelangelo, I
give you a run for the money. Ill gain fame and fortune after all. Im
now totally absorbed, letting the creativity flow. I blast the things
with light touches of air and paint, Canadian impressionists in the
making. Next thing, the clear coat, make the shocks shine in the neon
light. Im impressed with myself, I did a good job, so Im told.
Im allowed to continue on to the wire wheels, my beloved wheels, which
I have slaved over, when I was getting them ready for this job. Wilf had
sandblasted them. I had given them a final sanding, now they will be
painted a silver colour. They will add the sparkle and light to the
Firefly when she flies down the tarmac.
Im ready for job number two. At the masters command I pull the mask
over my face, I grab the gun, a quick double check on the air, the
compressor roars loud and appreciative, I fire. Im high on adrenaline,
or maybe on icocyanide. I let a whiff of paint descend on the rims, a
light coating of silver coats the spokes, lights up the air and my
spirit. Its not easy to get paint into all the little nooks and
crevices, without creating rivulets on the project, but its the master
painter at work here. How delightful is this? Instantaneous
satisfaction. I bend and crawl around the object of my attention,
dragging that aggressive compressor hose behind me. It seems to have a
life of its own, its constantly in my way. Its like a boa constrictor
in heat, trying to wind its way up my body. Im invaded by a serpent,
and Im almost ready to blast it with my gun, if the paint wasnt so
bloody expensive.
Different paint, different ball game. One has to feel how the paint
applies itself to the metal. Cant have runs ruining the total effect.
The gun gets heavy in my hand. Thank god for the ten pound weights I
have been lifting lately, strengths training finally pays off. The
python is curling up behind me, one must stay in control, breath slowly
through the foul air in the mask. Paint here, paint there, I hear from
a distance. I bend, I curl, I straighten, I shoot. Life has its reward.
My wonderful old fashioned wheels, no antique vehicle should be without,
are taking on a silvery shine of old sterling silver. The job is done.
I feel very professional, accomplished, and respected in the Haasper
restoration facility.
I put the gun back in the holster, tip my hat to the boss. I walk away
with that bold extra step, an air of exaggerated confidence, I casually
throw the mask to the audience.
Bring on the Jags, the TR 3s, the Morgans. This is a piece of
cake....Tomorrow, Im painting body panels..
Its high noon, time for lunch.
Do I need to emphasize, that Im totally committed in many different
ways?
Liv Haasper
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