There was a time, back before parenthood set in, when I would get up early a few Saturdays during the summer and spend most of the day applying multiple coats of polish to my car. It was, oddly enough, a zen-like, stress-relieving exercise for me.
The old Mustang needed some repainting on the front end after some local kids (or so I assume) decided to draw some pictures on the hood with a sharp object a few weeks ago, and I’ve been meaning to re-apply a few layers of protectant to help extend the life of the new finish and prolong the life of the old, so over the course of the last two days I’ve slathered it in all the best the Zaino Brothers have to offer.
The picture below doesn’t really do it justice (today was a grey, overcast day – when it’s sunny the car is a mirror!) but it does hide the myriad scratches along the sides, water spots and fading on the roof, and my horrible, horrible attempts at patching some minor scratches and paint dings. Still, I think it looks pretty good for a 13 year old car that’s been driven in all sorts of weather on all sorts of roads (many of them de-surfaced by DelDOT to provide a convenient source of tiny pebbles for my own and other motorists’ tires to fling around) and never seen the inside of a garage in its 150,000ish miles.
