All Ye Who Enter Here…

…be covered in a mysterious dust. I have learned that when you hold the sprayer too far away from the substrate to be pain(t)fully adorned and the stuff dries on the way from the nozzle to said substrate, it creates a nuisance called “finishing dust”, and it settles as a fine powder EVERYWHERE. I have been fairy dusted sans sparkles. I went from having the paint run and sag (yes, another term I picked up along the way) to drying prematurely. Damned be the Venturi principle and evaporation. But I am getting better at this, I think.

There may be hope for me yet.

As you can tell from the picture in the previous post concerning Project Six-Foot-Paint-Job, you can see that the grey primer made the semi-translucent white paint appear silver. After numerous more coats, the result is yet a lighter shade of the same. I already scraped on the amount of paint I bought and cannot afford to continue layering until I have the desired result. Off to Advance Auto to buy some rattle cans to take care of the problem. I come home with one can of Duplicolor Perfect Match in Oxford White for Ford (because it was on clearance) and two cans of the stuff in red. I had the foresight (for once) to expect the same problem with the uppers, which are to be Kandy Apple Red, in addition to worrying about not having enough of the good, expensive paint to finish the job. The loot came with a price adjustment (for the clearance item, which wasn’t on clearance after all) and a 10% store discount. I suppose the young kid behind the counter was fairly impressed with Momma Busa (ugh!) laying down some paint on a set of race glass on her “race bike”.

I come home and apply the first coat. Awesome. This stuff is actually easier to control than those blasted Preval sprayers. And it’s dry to the touch in 15 minutes. Awesome. I apply another coat and promptly run out of paint before the desired coverage is achieved. Argh! Now what?

Back to the store. One more can acquired; I walk out, shove the thing down the front of my riding jacket and hop back on the bike. Back at home, I manage to run out again. WTH?!? Didn’t it say 12 square feet of coverage per can somewhere?!? Crapola! This stuff is almost $7 per can, and it’s not even a full-sized rattler. Now I’m up $25 in the project budget. This puts me over the $200 mark. I need a new game plan.

I get back into my gear and scoot on down I-20 to the Home Depot to score some better priced rattle cans in bigger sizes. I grab four 11-ounce cans of glossy Apple Red, one can of semi-gloss white, and four cans of Black Night Metallic for the bellypan, which originally I was going to paint the same color as the uppers. Another $33 gone. I actually had to show ID for the metallic paint. I guess that’s the Huffer’s Delight Special. The girl probably thought that’s what I was going to do with it, since I came strolling up with an armful of spray paint and when I tried to pay, my card was declined. Ooops… I pulled the wrong one. No money in that account. She was getting noticeably uncomfortable when she told me what was going on and asked if I had another form of payment. Sure I do! I whipped out an identical looking piece of plastic, flashed it, then swiped it through the machine. Bingo! The girl with the Hello Kitty hooded backpack, the dirty pink motorcycle jacket wearing skinny jeans and combat boots who dropped four credit cards when she tried to pull the correct one to pay for her aerosol arsenal is going home with some Huffer’s Choice in red, white, and (ID required, please) metallic black.

Dumb & Dumber: The Mutt Cutts VanBack at home, in my makeshift paint booth, wearing my anti-huffing organic vapor respirator, blowing the evil stink out of the screened window via a floor fan faced outwards to suck instead of blow, I notice that I have all manner of little hairs sticking out of my paint job. Freaking cats… their fur gets everywhere. I also notice what looks to be carpet fibers, larger dust particles and some of my own hair stuck to my fairing pieces. Muthafff…..!!! If I don’t do something about this, and soon, my race fairings are going to look like the motorcycle version of the Mutt Cutts van in Dumb & Dumber.

I amuse myself for a while with a set of Mr. Slow’s tweezers, because I can’t find my stash of old ones. I thought I had them in my trusty tool box, but no deal. This doesn’t really work… I take one gloved finger and lightly rub the spot the hair has landed, and it promptly falls apart and turns into little tiny fragments which I can just brush off. Yeah, baby! It is as Joe has told me from his experience acquired during a short, but intense brush with automotive painting, your hand is a very finely gritted sanding tool. Works wonders when wet-sanding as a final smoothing of primer, before the first coat of color. It takes me a few minutes to give all three pieces their depilatory treatment, so I can continue painting.

I guess now I know why paint booths have huge exhaust fans and air filtration systems: To avoid paint jobs ending up looking something like this:
Furry Crotch Rocket

Now I wait about 24 hours to lightly sand the pieces with 1000-grit sandpaper to smooth them out and then spray a few coats of the Pearlized White AutoAir color and hope that this time I’ll get the desired result. I suppose, through the act of cheating with rattlers, this has now turned into a four-stage paint job. Primer, color-keyed basecoat, midcoat pearlized effect, clearcoat.

Stay tuned for more updates live from Casa Busa, proudly hosting the House of Huff.

Fender and Tail Pieces

The fender and tail section pieces are ready for their real color: Pearlized White. A little light sanding with 1000 grit may just make this shit look good. Keep your fingers crossed.

Later the same night…

Here are some progress piccies:

A little past the witching hour…

…the deed is done. Sealed in red. The basecoat for the candy color is drying. The pieces will be fit tomorrow and I’ll drill the holes for the windscreen and for the six DZUS fasteners that hold the bellypan to the uppers. A little touchup on both pieces and a clear coat later, the bellypan will be finished. One down. Four to go.

Yes, you are supposed to fit the pieces first, then drill the holes and after making sure everything fits just so with clearance all the way around, only then are you supposed to paint the stuff. However, I have to work around this crap weather we are currently enjoying in the fine state of Georgia and my work schedule, so we will just have to see how bad it really fouls things up to go not quite by the book.

One-Piece Race Uppers

The one-piece race uppers painted in yet another Ford color by the name of Duplicolor Perfect Match Cardinal Red. It took both of my cans. I don't think I'll be needing the other four that I got at the hardware store. That'll put $16 back into my pocket.

I’m beginning to think that this might just turn out to be a three foot job, but with my luck something’s going to go south at some point in the near future and ruin my day. But it’s best not to think of it, lest I jinx the whole affair.

4 Comments on “All Ye Who Enter Here…”

  1. Jack Riepe says:

    Dear Madame:

    I am not allowed to hold a can of paint anymore, since that incident in which I touched up my bike — and the new Subaru SUV parked next to it.

    Fondest regards,
    Jack • reep • Toad
    Twisted Roads
    The Bermuda Triangle of Biker Blogs

    • Miss Busa says:


      don’t feel bad. I have been told by Mr. Slow, in no uncertain terms, that I am to move my inhalation hazard outside, since, and I quote, “the entire house smells like a paint booth.” To which I innocently replied: “But I’m using the fan…”

      An hour later, over coffee, he offhandedly remarked that my stuff had orange peeled and it’s one heck of a crappy paint job. I ran upstairs and checked. Came back down and told him that it looked good to me. He just smiled. I hung my head and said: “And here I was proud of my accomplishment.” Mr. Slow mentioned that he would be awfully mad if he had let me paint his truck, because the quality is simply lacking. LOL

  2. Mr.Slow says:

    That’s not exactly how the conversation went, why does poetic license so often end up making husbands the bad guy?

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