ViperInBlack
Enthusiast
- Joined
- Oct 5, 2004
- Posts
- 973
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Barry Meguiar annoys me. Thanks for listening. I feel better now.
He has this show called "Car Crazy," and he manages to continually smile. It is not only his social expression but his resting expression. The smile never ends. Shades of Dr. Sardonicus. I feel the overwhelming urge to tell him about life as it really is so that he will share my misery. No. He just keeps on.
Anyway, he manages to find some of the truly wealthiest and most boring individuals who are able to own the finest vehicles extant.
His guests never seem to own just one car. They own garages full of them, and they are eccentric machines like vintage Tuckers with their own BowFlex. Just amazing vehicles that appear to lack any excitement potential and are as exciting as a gathering of soap wholesalers.
Barry, of course, smiles.
I have also seen Barry cry. He was kind enough to mention that some poor dude's wife had committed suicide and was undaunted when the guy attempted several times to redirect the conversation. Barry kept on and when the dude would not cry, Barry did. I could not find the remote.
I far prefer Mother's Car Shows which are a disjointed series of very cool cars from a confusing array of venus in obscure places with throngs of people who award completely indecipherable trophies. The recipient is always thrilled. The cars are always too cool. Chip Foose is usually there...looking worried as he always does. I do not beleive Chip has "fun" in the normal sense of that term. I think he was a stern and compulsive child even in his playpen.
Now, Mother's and Meguiar owe their almost obscene wealth to the creation of endless (and likely meaningless) waxes, polishes, sealants and brews for us obsessed with the concept of shine.
I recall admiring a guys 2002 Corvette Convertible in a Costco parking lot as he proudly ran his hand over the orange peel surface only to find a stone nick. I stayed with him until emergency services arrived. He failed to respond. He had a nice family and very nice funeral. The car is on e-Bay.
When I first got into cars, my mom shared in the interest. I would awaken late on Saturdays, and she would have washed and waxed my car. Now, that's a real mom.
The car always looked great, and as Newtonian physics have demonstrated: a shiny car is more likely to smoke tires going into 3rd gear. Don't trust me...trust Newton. He was the man.
Later in life, my mom would yell at the cat whom she felt showed her insufficient respect. Still...she could really wax a car, that woman.
Waxing and detailing your ride is not only essential to adaptive emotional development, it also renews the desire to drive the thing more often.
Waxing a car is one of life's few pure pleasures. Watermelon is the other. (It is the only food stuff where the observed cannot tell if you are eating it...or it is devouring you).
If you can find suitable music ("My Shirona" by the Clash is good), you can spend a couple hours with a bag of terry townels, a can of Maguiar's "..Gold," and you can easily convince yourself "hey, this looks even better than new."
With oil at $53 per barrel, waxing your car for $8 is one of the most economical highs you can get. Sticking your nose in the wax is another.
There is, of course, a style to waxing. It is not so much a technique as a weird little cocking of the head to see if you failed to remove any of the residue. This with a little squint and a heavy sigh can get you admitted for 48 hours for observation in most inpatient facilities.
I have long known that if you refuse to let others help, they immediately feel it is something for which they should beg. Trouble is, with a Viper, I really do not want anyone touching it. I really do not like family looking at my Viper because I think some of their mojo is absorbed into the paint. This is not the good mojo; it is the other kind.
"Born to be Wild", "Born to Run," "Born Under a Bad Sign" but not "Born Free" are great. They imply that I am pushing my red start button and am outta here.
These songs, however, pretty much **** for waxing a Viper. I recommend "Enter Sandman", "No More Tears," or even "Sweet Home Alabama," "Smells Like Teen Spirit" or "Layla." If your interests are more for opera and Gregorian Chants, you may qualify for the Kelsey Grammar "School of Driving Scholarship." Consider one of those Lexus or Audi thingies; the large tortoise looking roadsters.
Now, I realize loads have been written about prepping, conditioning and opening up paint with various potions. This all appears to have emerged during the same time that the Sopranos began having difficulties, and in the same State.
I say "Nonsense...if Crisco works for the chicken, it is fine for the Viper."
Personally, I clean my car daily, cover it at night in the garage, uncover, clean it, regularly polish it, stand in awe of it. When I tire of that, I try the old standby of driving it. The enjoyment is interchangeable.
Besides, I would not drive my Viper in the rain, the dust, when it is too cold or too hot, when it is too sunny, when it is too windy, too humid or if I am feeling resentment of my dog or Barry's smile.
I learn a great deal about cars while in my gym and watching DirecTIVO. It is where I first became concerned that Craig Jackson auctions off cars that he often knows little about. Also, he appears to have had a stroke so he talks out of the side of his mouth. Is that symbollism or coincidence? Actually, it does not matter, for the very next time I want a 427 COPO Camaro for $375k, he's the guy I would call.
I guess.
There is one automotive show that has set the high bar for annoyance. Seen it? There are two guys. One is bald, obese, short of breath and with cholesterol elevating so rapidly that I want to invest in it.
The other guy is small, has a Canadian accent (what causes that?) and has too much saliva for his mouth to contain. He talks rapidly and slobbers.
Together they blather, and you sudden realize that neither has had a date during this lifetime. When the show is over, the lights are down, and the crew is gone, they are simply placed in a closet until the following week. It is heartbreaking, really.
Spring and Fall are great times to wax. They are great times to drop the top and listen to the citizens "ooh and ah" and little kids explain to their parents the purpose of a Viper.
I know people put a lot of credance into which cleaner, polish and wax you use. But, I truly do not care if you use Turtle Wax. Just don't put it on my car.
He has this show called "Car Crazy," and he manages to continually smile. It is not only his social expression but his resting expression. The smile never ends. Shades of Dr. Sardonicus. I feel the overwhelming urge to tell him about life as it really is so that he will share my misery. No. He just keeps on.
Anyway, he manages to find some of the truly wealthiest and most boring individuals who are able to own the finest vehicles extant.
His guests never seem to own just one car. They own garages full of them, and they are eccentric machines like vintage Tuckers with their own BowFlex. Just amazing vehicles that appear to lack any excitement potential and are as exciting as a gathering of soap wholesalers.
Barry, of course, smiles.
I have also seen Barry cry. He was kind enough to mention that some poor dude's wife had committed suicide and was undaunted when the guy attempted several times to redirect the conversation. Barry kept on and when the dude would not cry, Barry did. I could not find the remote.
I far prefer Mother's Car Shows which are a disjointed series of very cool cars from a confusing array of venus in obscure places with throngs of people who award completely indecipherable trophies. The recipient is always thrilled. The cars are always too cool. Chip Foose is usually there...looking worried as he always does. I do not beleive Chip has "fun" in the normal sense of that term. I think he was a stern and compulsive child even in his playpen.
Now, Mother's and Meguiar owe their almost obscene wealth to the creation of endless (and likely meaningless) waxes, polishes, sealants and brews for us obsessed with the concept of shine.
I recall admiring a guys 2002 Corvette Convertible in a Costco parking lot as he proudly ran his hand over the orange peel surface only to find a stone nick. I stayed with him until emergency services arrived. He failed to respond. He had a nice family and very nice funeral. The car is on e-Bay.
When I first got into cars, my mom shared in the interest. I would awaken late on Saturdays, and she would have washed and waxed my car. Now, that's a real mom.
The car always looked great, and as Newtonian physics have demonstrated: a shiny car is more likely to smoke tires going into 3rd gear. Don't trust me...trust Newton. He was the man.
Later in life, my mom would yell at the cat whom she felt showed her insufficient respect. Still...she could really wax a car, that woman.
Waxing and detailing your ride is not only essential to adaptive emotional development, it also renews the desire to drive the thing more often.
Waxing a car is one of life's few pure pleasures. Watermelon is the other. (It is the only food stuff where the observed cannot tell if you are eating it...or it is devouring you).
If you can find suitable music ("My Shirona" by the Clash is good), you can spend a couple hours with a bag of terry townels, a can of Maguiar's "..Gold," and you can easily convince yourself "hey, this looks even better than new."
With oil at $53 per barrel, waxing your car for $8 is one of the most economical highs you can get. Sticking your nose in the wax is another.
There is, of course, a style to waxing. It is not so much a technique as a weird little cocking of the head to see if you failed to remove any of the residue. This with a little squint and a heavy sigh can get you admitted for 48 hours for observation in most inpatient facilities.
I have long known that if you refuse to let others help, they immediately feel it is something for which they should beg. Trouble is, with a Viper, I really do not want anyone touching it. I really do not like family looking at my Viper because I think some of their mojo is absorbed into the paint. This is not the good mojo; it is the other kind.
"Born to be Wild", "Born to Run," "Born Under a Bad Sign" but not "Born Free" are great. They imply that I am pushing my red start button and am outta here.
These songs, however, pretty much **** for waxing a Viper. I recommend "Enter Sandman", "No More Tears," or even "Sweet Home Alabama," "Smells Like Teen Spirit" or "Layla." If your interests are more for opera and Gregorian Chants, you may qualify for the Kelsey Grammar "School of Driving Scholarship." Consider one of those Lexus or Audi thingies; the large tortoise looking roadsters.
Now, I realize loads have been written about prepping, conditioning and opening up paint with various potions. This all appears to have emerged during the same time that the Sopranos began having difficulties, and in the same State.
I say "Nonsense...if Crisco works for the chicken, it is fine for the Viper."
Personally, I clean my car daily, cover it at night in the garage, uncover, clean it, regularly polish it, stand in awe of it. When I tire of that, I try the old standby of driving it. The enjoyment is interchangeable.
Besides, I would not drive my Viper in the rain, the dust, when it is too cold or too hot, when it is too sunny, when it is too windy, too humid or if I am feeling resentment of my dog or Barry's smile.
I learn a great deal about cars while in my gym and watching DirecTIVO. It is where I first became concerned that Craig Jackson auctions off cars that he often knows little about. Also, he appears to have had a stroke so he talks out of the side of his mouth. Is that symbollism or coincidence? Actually, it does not matter, for the very next time I want a 427 COPO Camaro for $375k, he's the guy I would call.
I guess.
There is one automotive show that has set the high bar for annoyance. Seen it? There are two guys. One is bald, obese, short of breath and with cholesterol elevating so rapidly that I want to invest in it.
The other guy is small, has a Canadian accent (what causes that?) and has too much saliva for his mouth to contain. He talks rapidly and slobbers.
Together they blather, and you sudden realize that neither has had a date during this lifetime. When the show is over, the lights are down, and the crew is gone, they are simply placed in a closet until the following week. It is heartbreaking, really.
Spring and Fall are great times to wax. They are great times to drop the top and listen to the citizens "ooh and ah" and little kids explain to their parents the purpose of a Viper.
I know people put a lot of credance into which cleaner, polish and wax you use. But, I truly do not care if you use Turtle Wax. Just don't put it on my car.
