Rix6
New member
- Dec 18, 2011
- 464
- 0
Hello, my name is Rick.
I am an addict. I have been fighting a losing battle with black paint for two and a half years now. I live in a quaint little town in California where the roosters crow, the wind blows, and it rains dirt. Sticky, abrasive dirt.
After many, many years away from car forums, I recently joined the Autogeek Online forum to save shipping for a Flex 3401. Strangely, I failed there, and managed to subject myself to about $30 in shipping.
My wife is afraid to tell her friends and family how long it takes me to wash a car. :dunno:
I've been afraid to spend anything less. You see, my black paint taunts me.
oke: Looking at it makes it dirty. The most delicate touch scratches it. And on the road, the gravel filled beds of construction trucks are drawn to it like moths to the flame.
I'm tired of being ruled by wanton paint. I want my life back. I want to be able to touch my black car, to caress its soft, velvety curves without fear of consequences not easily corrected. I want to feel the warm sun once again, instead of hiding in the shade and washing my car at night, like some kind of vampire washing body panels by braille.
Tomorrow my weapon from the Old World arrives, via the land of orange juice and...rockets. The black mirror will shine once again. And a proud owner will see his own reflection smiling back at himself.
Once again, hello. And now I must go. The wife suspects I'm wasting time.
I am an addict. I have been fighting a losing battle with black paint for two and a half years now. I live in a quaint little town in California where the roosters crow, the wind blows, and it rains dirt. Sticky, abrasive dirt.
After many, many years away from car forums, I recently joined the Autogeek Online forum to save shipping for a Flex 3401. Strangely, I failed there, and managed to subject myself to about $30 in shipping.
My wife is afraid to tell her friends and family how long it takes me to wash a car. :dunno:
I've been afraid to spend anything less. You see, my black paint taunts me.
oke: Looking at it makes it dirty. The most delicate touch scratches it. And on the road, the gravel filled beds of construction trucks are drawn to it like moths to the flame.I'm tired of being ruled by wanton paint. I want my life back. I want to be able to touch my black car, to caress its soft, velvety curves without fear of consequences not easily corrected. I want to feel the warm sun once again, instead of hiding in the shade and washing my car at night, like some kind of vampire washing body panels by braille.
Tomorrow my weapon from the Old World arrives, via the land of orange juice and...rockets. The black mirror will shine once again. And a proud owner will see his own reflection smiling back at himself.
Once again, hello. And now I must go. The wife suspects I'm wasting time.
