I can repaint any time I like, but I can never leave.
Readers have asked how the Harley repaint is going. Well, thanks for asking – I finally finished up yesterday around noon and it was consigned to the booth for the final coat of clear. That’s how long it took to restore my work to the point it was at before all proverbial Hell broke loose back on March 31st.
The customer called me this morning to advise he was at the shop, had inspected the work, and the job looked great.
Then, an hour later, he called again.
He dropped the front fender on the pavement while loading it in his truck. So, I shall return on Monday morning to repair the dent and refinish that piece. Again.
I’m not even upset. You see – I anticipated this turn of events. Perhaps it’s a result of inhaling too much basecoat. Perhaps it’s a side effect of wet sanding with solvent – but, whatever the reason, there is no denying this growing, irrational, and unshakable conviction that the only way I will ever find release from this flame job is by outliving the customer.
Which, if he drops any part of this bike again, is an event that may just come to pass.
I get what you’re saying, Kate.
With me, there are exactly the same kind of customers. Hell, some are even worse than the guy with the motorcycle.
The boss always says, “It never ends…”.
And it doesn’t. I’m still at it, matter of fact. Back to it now…
Kate:
So what you’re saying is you’ll have to send him to hog heaven???
Ever notice, how the most common after-market accessory for a Harley is a pick-up truck?
Ahhhhh, Harley Davidson.
The world’s most efficient machine in turning gasoline into noise.
Horny Toad
…..when you’re angry, you’re funny.
I say it from the perspective of someone that only drops things when he doesn’t have time to pick them up.
In the 60s I rode Trumphs, Harley in the 80s. It was fun. Then when I grew up last year, I bought nice smooth quiet Yamaha FJR 1300A in Silver and it’s those only way to scoot. I still like Harleys okay, but in the real world on bikes, they are pretty old hat. I think the riders just like the noise.
I been around bike for a long time and I can relate to your post Kate.
Nice work Kate. As part of the build of a ’34 Ford street rod that I’m working on – which I will paint myself – I decided to paint my 25 yr. old Yamaha TZ250H race bike that has been nicely restored. It was fairly simple red, white, green stuff. Stage 2 was my son’s ’98 Acura. It was not exactly a rustbucket but needed some extensive prep work before before paint. It was the first large vehicle I’ve attempted and I did a black metallic base/clear. Wet sanding, buffing and polishing later it turned out amazingly well for a first major attempt.
He sold it last month for $10,500 and considering the fact that it had about 160,000km that was pretty good.
Now my neighbour wants me to spray his truck and my son wants his newer (2003) Acura done eventually and my daughter is about to inherit a Honda Civic that she wants to ‘girlify’.
Some day I’ll get back to the ’34.
You’re right about it being smelly and time-consuming, not to mention the isocyanates.
I may have an alternate business in the making here!
Ahhh! Nothing like morning in the country. The birds singing, the sun shining, a light breeze in the air; and the reek of clear coat wafting over the plains.
For me, it’s the heady aroma of herbicide riding the breeze …
Sometimes I think a spinoff blog for motorcycle enthusiasts would be a great idea… and a dog blog… one of the lil’ pups can run that one. 🙂
On a farm lived a chicken and a horse, both of whom loved to play together.
One day the two were playing, when the horse fell into a bog and began to
sink.
Scared for his life, the horse whinnied for the chicken to go get the farmer for help!
Off the chicken ran, back to the farm. Arriving at the farm, he searched and searched for the farmer, but to no avail, for he had gone to town with the only tractor.
Running around, the chicken spied the farmer’s new Harley. Finding the keys in the ignition, the chicken sped off with a length of rope hoping he still had time to save his friend’s life.
Back at the bog, the horse was surprised, but happy, to see the chicken arrive on the shiny Harley, and he managed to get a hold of the loop of rope the chicken tossed to him.
After tying the other end to the rear bumper of the farmer’s bike, the chicken then drove slowly forward and, with the aid of the powerful Harley (oxymoron), rescued the horse.
Happy and proud, the chicken rode the Harley back to the farmhouse, and the farmer was none the wiser when he returned.
The friendship between the two animals was cemented: Best Buddies, Best Pals.
A few weeks later, the chicken fell into a mud pit, and soon, he too,began to sink and cried out to the horse to save his life! The horse thought a moment, walked over, and straddled the large puddle. Looking underneath, he told the chicken to grab his hangy-down thing and he would then lift him out of the pit. The chicken got a good grip, and the horse pulled him up and out, saving his life.
The moral of the story? (Yep, you betcha, there IS a moral!)
When You’re Hung Like A Horse, You Don’t Need A Harley To Pick Up Chicks!