How to do car body repairs : Dvd player repair tips.
How To Do Car Body Repairs
- Practical advice on a particular subject; that gives advice or instruction on a particular topic
- Providing detailed and practical advice
- (How To’s) Multi-Speed Animations
- A how-to or a how to is an informal, often short, description of how to accomplish some specific task. A how-to is usually meant to help non-experts, may leave out details that are only important to experts, and may also be greatly simplified from an overall discussion of the topic.
- A road vehicle, typically with four wheels, powered by an internal combustion engine and able to carry a small number of people
- A railroad car of a specified kind
- the compartment that is suspended from an airship and that carries personnel and the cargo and the power plant
- A vehicle that runs on rails, esp. a railroad car
- a motor vehicle with four wheels; usually propelled by an internal combustion engine; "he needs a car to get to work"
- a wheeled vehicle adapted to the rails of railroad; "three cars had jumped the rails"
Day 165 of 365: Stationary
This morning I read an article on Yahoo entitled "10 (more) reasons you're not rich". I didn't learn a damn thing from it. To be perfectly honest it flat out enraged me. There was nothing there I didn't already know. Still somehow...I'm not rich. Imagine that... Call me pretentious, call me grouchy. Actually...You could probably call me Sebastian Popanoplis right about now, and I wouldn't care. Right now, while I hate to admit it...whether I like it or not, I'm really feeling my age. I finally have a day off, and rest is about the only thing I really want to think about. Still, they have to shove this crap in my face. Suggest that if I just did it their way, just did it, just right, I'd be rich. MSN, FOX, YAHOO. Whoo Hoo, look at me. The list goes on. I've grown fully tired of folk with nice shiny new cars, body complimenting three piece attire aimed at looking keen, while they conceal the wax job, a bank wade the size of Road Island in their pocket, and an appointment with their personal hygienist to get their teeth whitened at two thirty, trying to tell me why it is I'm not rich. I already know why I'm not rich...Actually I don't, but I have a funny feeling it has something to do with honesty, or rather the lack there of. Why don't we look into something useful for a change? How bout a good chunk of seven hundred billion blown on parties. Wow, that really did a fine job of boosting the economy. The Dow only dropped 40 points. I guess it's old news. Old hat. It's done, it's over, nobody cares. Strange thing is....Down here at the bottom. Down here with our decade old vehicles, our half century old homes that would easily fit into the oval office, nicely tucked away in a back water part of town...We still care. We're still worried. And there is no sign of a positive back lash. I don't consider myself a bottom feeder. I pay my bills. I work hard, I consider plastic an evil thing, and I drive an old rig because, well...(a) I paid it off years ago, and (b) it is simply the finest, most dependable machine I have ever had the privilege of owning. I bought an old house desperate for repair because it was cheap, and the interest was flat and low (yes, again, veritable rate, evil. Got it). And I did so knowing full well that I could afford it. Gosh. Sounds like knowing all of that stuff could make me a pretty rich guy. Funny thing is...I'm not. Meanwhile they are...And you know they are going to ask for more... They'll ask for more money. Tie in nice little incentives like random tax write off's. And as long as it is written right, they'll give it to them. Another unimaginable number, so that thy might once again take retreat in the tropics, and throw capricious parties. Hooray. They gave it to us. Lets blow it... I decided long ago just who it was I would be voting for, come election day. I decided long ago that I would be voting for which ever hapless son of a bitch it was that had no chance of winning, and that is just how desperate I have come. I decided that knowing full well, that regardless of who wins this election it is going to be a long, and frustrating four years of neglect and incompetency. We simply have to many leaders far to busy trying to pad their pockets rather then actually leading. There are no leaders left up there on capital hill. The leaders are down here. I actually know a few. Real folk. Honest folk. Real leaders. Folk I would fallow into fire. I wouldn't fallow a single one of those retards up on capital hill into a Dairy Queen. As our global economy collapses, more and more dollars are forked thoughtlessly here and there. Fuel the campaign. Take a vacation. Ask for more. Fuel the campaign. Vote fore me (not that you really have a choice)! Don't see me? Here I am. How many dollars do they spend each day just trying to win our vote. Seriously. There is your 700 billion. Though I'll beat they wouldn't see it that way. Instead they'll just shove it in your face. I can afford it. I got peps. Our economy is in term oil, but that's ok, cuz I'm gonna get rich. And that's why I'm gonna vote for the loser. Not because I prefer to root for the underdog, but because I already get enough dirty looks as is. I'm gonna vote for the loser because I already know one day not soon far off...I'm gonna get to point at the television screen, smirk, and say..."Don't blame me. I didn't vote for the worthless f***er." Saturday, October 11th. 2008
'55 Star Chief convertible VII
Before exiting bed late this morning, a plan was hatched to get down to the Underground and sort out my borrowed studio, so that it was ready for first thursday and would thereby giving us several days to get away. So after eating a hurried, er-hm, lunch, we headed downtown. In the early afternoon we were in the Underground. A plan had been hatched earlier to sort out my borrowed studio. Getting it ready for First Thursday this early in the week would give us several days off, to get away and unwind some. In the studio, we found that we were short of a few supplies and tools and so we took a trip to a very large store. Yesterday, I thought I was done with taking photos of cars. I shot three cars, one of which seemed to provide a good bookend to my car series. I breathed a sad sigh of relief and told myself I was done and that was that. And then yesterday, on the way to a very large store to pick up some studio supplies, I saw a sparkle of chrome and a two-tone paint job pull across the highway into a burger joint half a mile away. I could not help but remark on it. Megan suggested that we should have a little look at it and drove us into the car park after it. We drove past the two-tone boat and stopped for a moment in the car. I was unsure about shooting another car, not really wanting to give in to the addiction again. I might not be able to quit again and it was getting to be an encumbrance, yet the car was undeniably stunning. Megan parked the car and I sat, debating what to do. The owners of the car clearly were having some troubles, as both the bonnet and boot were open (or hood and trunk if you prefer). I could tell the car was built on the same General Motors A-body platform* as the 1955-57 Chevys that I love, although I did not recognise it. I was very intrigued, yet unsure I had the nerve to walk across the car park to bother the owners as they carried out repairs. Megan, however, is very good at encouraging me and so donning my hat and dropping my shades, I walked over that hot concrete expanse to the car. Up close, it sparked beautifully in the strong sunshine. The maroon and white trim was understated and very neat, accented with acres of gorgeous art deco chrome trim, that on close inspection had the tiniest patina of age. The owners, a friendly retired couple, told me that it was a 1955 Pontiac Star Chief convertible, that they had owned for twenty-eight years. They had restored it themselves, using only original parts and they were more than happy to let me take as many photos of it as I liked, as soon as they had fixed the pump**. When I told them that there were no cars like this back home, they were surprised and offered to let me sit in it and get my photo taken. I politely declined, although I'm really not sure why. The owners then made sure to point out the Indian Chief hood ornament, that lights up at night. On close inspection, I was shown how it was a mesh of crackles, which I was assured was how all of these pieces are now. Even though the two of them are quite used to the attention their car brings to them during the months it gets out of their garage, I think they were quite pleased to receive it in such an exotic accent. As they walked away from their car to get some burgers, I heard them telling a friend where I was from and that they did not have old cars there. I got on with taking photos under the hot sun, with a smile on my face. After the unexpected excursion, we made haste to the vast store of idiocy for our delayed studio supplies and then flew back to the Underground. Over the course of the following six hours, I got the studio looking really good. In fact, the studio looks so good that we've decided to call it a gallery for a few days. Which means, with much excitement, that I can reveal I am going to be having a solo show at the Underground in October! *Megan keeps reminding me to call this a series, not an obsession but we all know the truth. You don't need to know how much research*** I've been doing during this series. **possibly. It was one of the tedious inside parts that lacks both paint and chrome. ***reading about cars on wikipedia and then finding photos of them on google (10-1252+3/1221)