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Working on it

Minor update

This past week I've finished the first stage of flatting down all of Fenchurch's primer-filler, applied fine surface filler to all the scratches and things that were too deep to flat out, flatted down most of the fine surface filler, redid the masking paper and tape on the body shell (the old stuff was peeling off), and sprayed etch-primer on the bits where I'd sanded through to bare metal on the body shell and several of the external panels.

While I was redoing the masking-off it was warm and dry outside, so I opened the big garage door to ventilate the place a bit. Within half an hour a bloke had wandered in off the street wanting to talk about old cars. "They don't make Minis like this any more do they?" he said. "It's a Morris Minor Traveller," I replied. "Yes, yes, I know." He continued asking stupid questions for a quarter of an hour: "it'll be an antique soon won't it?" "Is it owned by an Englishman?" "Is that your windscreen?" Eventually culminating with, "I used to own one like this, Ford Escort it was, doors fell off, I bet that'd be worth a bit nowadays wouldn't it?"


You make me feel so young..

Ford Escorts with doors that fall off are indeed worth something, they go for huge sums on Ebay- generally purchased by folks with red noses, white faces, orange hair, chequered trousers and enormous shoes. Accountants, I think they're called...
I just get a lot of people telling me that their grandfather had one just like it, which makes me feel so young..

Re: You make me feel so young..

I've had people tell me their grandfather had one. I've also had my next door neighbour tell me he had one but the front suspension collapsed, and my landlord had one until the woodwork rotted away. I expect to get a lot more of that kind of thing once she's on the road rather than locked up in a garage.

When I had a Land Rover I used to get strangers coming up to the house and asking if it was for sale.
You've obviously led a sheltered life - characters like this infest the population. At least he shoved off after a quarter of an hour. I had one who was convinced the piece of Victorian near firewood he'd been using as a paint store and toolchest for the last twenty years would make a fortune if only he could convince me to restore it for half the proceeds when it was sold. He phoned me repeatedly for three months to try and get me to change my mind!

Another time, keep the doors shut, or invent a noisy job or incoming telephone call!

He seemed a bit peeved that I kept on working and only answered his questions with yes, no, maybe type answers. He eventually wandered off mumbling something like, "well if you're not going to talk to me..."