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I started writing this as a "Show Off" thread, but it became a little long, okay a lot of long and perhaps inappropriate for a "Show Off thread. I hated to just discard it after writing it, so it ended up here.
I had been working on a Camaro with miserably, delicate paint and was finishing up with the first coat of wax, when once again the paint was going to frustrate me and start getting swirled up even before I could turn it over to the owner.
I had finished the wipe off of the first coat of wax and decided to take a photograph, when through the lens I spied a scratch, rather a swirl that was verging on being a scratch. A scratch I just put on the car myself with an errant swipe of a contaminated microfiber towel.
Facing the fact I was going to have to re-do the entire driver's side, rear quarter panel, I pulled up my favorite cheapo step stool and began buffing with a 4" black pad with a shot of Ultimate Polish at speed 5 and moderate pressure. After a bit of buffing, I wiped off the polish and gave the pad a slight shot of Ult. Polish and dropped the speed down to 3 and eased up on the pressure and worked the polish until it was nearly dry under the heat of the halogen lights beaming down on the car from the halogen light stand located directly behind my cheapo stool.
Once again I grab the camera and started to take a photo of a nearly finished quarter panel. Then through the lens I spied, for a lack of the appropriate terminology, a drag off pigtail swirl. A little corkscrew swirl, just enough of a defect to really tick me off.
So once again I plant my butt on my cheapo stool and grab my buffer, set on 3, black 4" pad and buff out that accursed pigtail. Suddenly however, I start to get this sinking feeling. But to explain, several years ago I lost my sense of balance, perhaps not all of it, nor do I know for sure where I lost it, but I've been unable to find it. So I make certain accommodations in my life based on this aliment. One of those accommodations is that I don't have a nice, sturdy, wheeled automotive type, work stool complete with the lower handy dandy shelf for Meguiar's products. Losing one's balance means you stumble around sometimes and when you stumble about the last thing you need around you is appliances, furniture or work aides that roll around the room. Nothing leads to immediate humiliation faster then losing your balance and grab down to a rolling stool and find yourself suddenly nose-planted into the concrete as the stool rolls away from you. I have several dents in the garage floor to attest to this interesting acrobatic maneuver, often rated an 8 on a 10-point Olympic gymnastics judges' mandatory floor exercise scale.
Anyway i'm sitting on my cheap stool, did I mention my stool came from a gift certificate from Bed, Bath and Beyond? I know I mentioned cheapo and not automotive, but it also came from Bed, Bath and Beyond not really known for commercial, heavy-duty products. So with buffer in hand, running on 3, and the halogen lights burning holes in my shoulders as I correct a pigtail in the paint of this yet to be completed Camaro. I feel this sinking feeling setting in as my head seems to be moving downward and the buffer seems to be moving upward. I can tell you this from my many years of falling in a wide range of rather large life-threatening falls to a simple face plant in the garage, your life does not flash before your eyes. This is a fairytale concocted by the entertainment industry to develop plots for television shows lacking real depth and quality. What really happens is time nearly stops for you, yes as you fall time nearly stops just for you. As the rest of the world races towards that great time of the day known as "beer-thirty", time stops for the person who is falling. You gain this near mystical sense of motion and time. Time freezes and you’re able to analyze both your momentum and body position to understand something is going to hurt and it’s gonna happen in a very short time.
During that moment, when time ceased to flow in it's perpetual fashion, I knew these two things; 1) I had a buffer in my hands and it was running at speed 3 on a black Camaro with extremely delicate paint and 2) I had a set of halogen lights on a less than stable tripod stand directly behind me. As time nearly came to a complete stop for me, I knew I didn't want to purchase another set of halogen lights after they hit the ground while still glowing white hot and more importantly I did NOT want to scar this delicate black Camaro I had spent days and hours correcting. So as the cheapo, Bed, Bath and Beyond stool collapsed under my downward accelerating body mass, I decided to freeze in a Cirque Du Soleil acrobatic position and hopefully fall less than gracefully on the legs of the halogen light stand, thereby stabilizing it without making it topple and explode the hot glowing lamps. All the while protecting the miserably, incredibly delicate paint on this black Camaro.
And so it was, I became a monument to the ever-changing nature of the time-space continuum. Laying prone on my back resting fully on a leg of the light stand, while the still spinning backplate of the dual action orbital buffer in my hands is throwing the black, 4" inch pad off into the third dimension of the time-space continuum, while I'm rapidly catching up with the rest of the world in the correct position in the fourth dimension of the time-space continuum headed towards that time known as beer-thirty. (People who work until 4:00 PM often refer to 4:30 PM as beer-thirty)
Most importantly, that accursed pigtail has gone into the Never, Neverland of nonexistence. Please refer to the Mike Phillips thread discussing things that don't exist. http://meguiarsonline.com/forums/showthread.php?t=46920
So there I lay, butt resting on a collapsed, Bed, Bath and Beyond cheapo stool, back resting on the outstretched leg of the halogen light stand, head securely resting on a fresh dent in the concrete floor and my humble buffer running wildly sans it's 4" black pad. That pad, lightly coated with Ultimate Polish, which was now spinning off wildly and picking up dirt from the floor as it rolled into the distance. At least it wasn’t marring the delicate finish of the black Camaro. Suddenly however, I realize as my body enters the current time, there is an off switch….
So an hour later, I've buffed out the amateur swirls I’d put in the finish and re-waxed the rear quarter panel and was once again well on the way to completing this project. However, without my beloved, cheapo, Bed, Bath and Beyond, step stool.
I had been working on a Camaro with miserably, delicate paint and was finishing up with the first coat of wax, when once again the paint was going to frustrate me and start getting swirled up even before I could turn it over to the owner.
I had finished the wipe off of the first coat of wax and decided to take a photograph, when through the lens I spied a scratch, rather a swirl that was verging on being a scratch. A scratch I just put on the car myself with an errant swipe of a contaminated microfiber towel.
Facing the fact I was going to have to re-do the entire driver's side, rear quarter panel, I pulled up my favorite cheapo step stool and began buffing with a 4" black pad with a shot of Ultimate Polish at speed 5 and moderate pressure. After a bit of buffing, I wiped off the polish and gave the pad a slight shot of Ult. Polish and dropped the speed down to 3 and eased up on the pressure and worked the polish until it was nearly dry under the heat of the halogen lights beaming down on the car from the halogen light stand located directly behind my cheapo stool.
Once again I grab the camera and started to take a photo of a nearly finished quarter panel. Then through the lens I spied, for a lack of the appropriate terminology, a drag off pigtail swirl. A little corkscrew swirl, just enough of a defect to really tick me off.
So once again I plant my butt on my cheapo stool and grab my buffer, set on 3, black 4" pad and buff out that accursed pigtail. Suddenly however, I start to get this sinking feeling. But to explain, several years ago I lost my sense of balance, perhaps not all of it, nor do I know for sure where I lost it, but I've been unable to find it. So I make certain accommodations in my life based on this aliment. One of those accommodations is that I don't have a nice, sturdy, wheeled automotive type, work stool complete with the lower handy dandy shelf for Meguiar's products. Losing one's balance means you stumble around sometimes and when you stumble about the last thing you need around you is appliances, furniture or work aides that roll around the room. Nothing leads to immediate humiliation faster then losing your balance and grab down to a rolling stool and find yourself suddenly nose-planted into the concrete as the stool rolls away from you. I have several dents in the garage floor to attest to this interesting acrobatic maneuver, often rated an 8 on a 10-point Olympic gymnastics judges' mandatory floor exercise scale.
Anyway i'm sitting on my cheap stool, did I mention my stool came from a gift certificate from Bed, Bath and Beyond? I know I mentioned cheapo and not automotive, but it also came from Bed, Bath and Beyond not really known for commercial, heavy-duty products. So with buffer in hand, running on 3, and the halogen lights burning holes in my shoulders as I correct a pigtail in the paint of this yet to be completed Camaro. I feel this sinking feeling setting in as my head seems to be moving downward and the buffer seems to be moving upward. I can tell you this from my many years of falling in a wide range of rather large life-threatening falls to a simple face plant in the garage, your life does not flash before your eyes. This is a fairytale concocted by the entertainment industry to develop plots for television shows lacking real depth and quality. What really happens is time nearly stops for you, yes as you fall time nearly stops just for you. As the rest of the world races towards that great time of the day known as "beer-thirty", time stops for the person who is falling. You gain this near mystical sense of motion and time. Time freezes and you’re able to analyze both your momentum and body position to understand something is going to hurt and it’s gonna happen in a very short time.
During that moment, when time ceased to flow in it's perpetual fashion, I knew these two things; 1) I had a buffer in my hands and it was running at speed 3 on a black Camaro with extremely delicate paint and 2) I had a set of halogen lights on a less than stable tripod stand directly behind me. As time nearly came to a complete stop for me, I knew I didn't want to purchase another set of halogen lights after they hit the ground while still glowing white hot and more importantly I did NOT want to scar this delicate black Camaro I had spent days and hours correcting. So as the cheapo, Bed, Bath and Beyond stool collapsed under my downward accelerating body mass, I decided to freeze in a Cirque Du Soleil acrobatic position and hopefully fall less than gracefully on the legs of the halogen light stand, thereby stabilizing it without making it topple and explode the hot glowing lamps. All the while protecting the miserably, incredibly delicate paint on this black Camaro.
And so it was, I became a monument to the ever-changing nature of the time-space continuum. Laying prone on my back resting fully on a leg of the light stand, while the still spinning backplate of the dual action orbital buffer in my hands is throwing the black, 4" inch pad off into the third dimension of the time-space continuum, while I'm rapidly catching up with the rest of the world in the correct position in the fourth dimension of the time-space continuum headed towards that time known as beer-thirty. (People who work until 4:00 PM often refer to 4:30 PM as beer-thirty)
Most importantly, that accursed pigtail has gone into the Never, Neverland of nonexistence. Please refer to the Mike Phillips thread discussing things that don't exist. http://meguiarsonline.com/forums/showthread.php?t=46920
So there I lay, butt resting on a collapsed, Bed, Bath and Beyond cheapo stool, back resting on the outstretched leg of the halogen light stand, head securely resting on a fresh dent in the concrete floor and my humble buffer running wildly sans it's 4" black pad. That pad, lightly coated with Ultimate Polish, which was now spinning off wildly and picking up dirt from the floor as it rolled into the distance. At least it wasn’t marring the delicate finish of the black Camaro. Suddenly however, I realize as my body enters the current time, there is an off switch….
So an hour later, I've buffed out the amateur swirls I’d put in the finish and re-waxed the rear quarter panel and was once again well on the way to completing this project. However, without my beloved, cheapo, Bed, Bath and Beyond, step stool.
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