While growing up, my father and I used to take care of his cars - washing them, waxing them, changing the oil and flushing the radiator etc. It was one of the few things we ever really bonded on as we either fought over everything else or he would simply lecture on and on about how I should be living my life while I internally rolled my eyes and would drift off into my own little world.

When I later got my own car, I continued car maintenance without him as he would spend his Sunday mornings out playing tennis, a sport I have since long given up on, while I would spend mine washing my car since I had the driveway all to myself. As time went on, neglect would settle in on what was once a new car and the finish would deteriorate into a well-maintained, but crappy-looking ride. As I am now on my fourth car, this one six months old, I'm still in a bit of a honeymoon phase of care: wash it at least once a month, wax it every three, etc.

Now, I've been living in my current apartment for, oh, five or six years now. My memory is a bit hazy on this subject because I'm at that time in my life where days blur into each other because I've got a pretty set routine despite having a variety of interests that barely have anything to do with each other. A couple of weeks ago I got notice over e-mail that our apartment would be painted. I didn't give it much thought. Bad idea.

Last Saturday, I walked out of my apartment and took note of the guys on ladders painting up above. My neighbor, Brie, was returning from an outing and asked me if I knew this was going on beforehand. I did, I replied. Evidently, she hadn't been reading her e-mails or simply never received this one. E-mail, as you may have noticed, has become notoriously unreliable these days thanks to all the spam filters running around and this message, due to the large number of recipients, probably got caught up in her ISP's filters. That's my guess, anyway.

I then made the mistake of walking out to my car.

There was a rather stiff wind blowing that day with cloud-cover blanketing all of Lalaland. The painters were using spray guns. With white paint. My car is Gray. Not just gray, but also a convertible with a vinyl top. A black vinyl top. Not a good combination.

I took note that three of the cars in our lot were covered, but none of the other dozen or so were as the wind whipped these covers around. As I walked over to my car, I saw that it was covered in a rather fine mist of paint. Other cars in the lot also had paint over them as well. Over every square inch of them. If this was my dad's car, he would have thrown a fit and broken out his guns. As it was, it was my car and, though I don't own a gun and my heart didn't exactly sink as I realize it is just a material possession (in fact, I've stopped naming my cars as of this one), I was pretty pissed off. I tried getting some of it off my trunk with some detail spray. After scrubbing for ten minutes, I was able to get a clean spot. A very small one. That's not good, I thought. I couldn't deal with it at that moment because I had a going-away party to attend. The car could wait.

Now, some Americans would take pictures and prepare for a lawsuit. However, when something is wrong, I try to right it myself as soon as possible and avoid all legal tangles because, well, that's the way I am. Could be my obsessive-compulsiveness - the same OCD that drives me to do well at just about everything I attempt - or it could just be plain idiocy. Either way I ignored all those logical, sensible steps we Americans are 'supposed' to do. Those who know me know that once I get started on a task, I do not stop until it is done, even if it takes months or, gasp, years. That's why I've been able to put together three vanity collections of my comics over the past seven years. Anyway...

The next day, I grabbed two buckets, car soap, wash mitt, and a bug-tar removing sponge and got to work scrubbing. Five hours of scrubbing later... yes, you read that correctly ... I was able to get about 90% off the paint, 75% off the windows, and a mere 5% off the vinyl top. The head worker apologized when I showed him the damage he and his crew had wrought. I was too tired to really yell at him, but firmly, and politely, told him he should have covered ALL the cars in the lot.

Little did my neighbors and I know that was just the beginning of our headaches with the painters. Other problems popped up as the workers dropped paint everywhere - on the driveway, on the stairs, on people's doormats, etc. Not to mention broken flower pots, broken dishes from moving exterior pieces without checking to see if they were attached to anything inside, aloe plants that had been cut, flower pots with paint... the list goes on. It got so bad, they got nicknamed 'The Wrecking Crew.'


The problem with getting exterior paint onto a car, especially a convertible with a vinyl top, is that the paint sticks like, well, paint. Now, on car paint, it comes off rather easily as I learned. But it's all the plastic and rubber where you've got problems. Same goes with the vinyl top, which requires some care. Every time you try and scratch or rub the paint off a molding and trim, the plastic gets permanently etched. Fortunately, the top is more durable. Unfortunately, it's also rather textured and can peel your skin off if you're not careful when attempting to rub paint out.

The next day, I changed strategies as the head painter apologized again. I guess he wanted me to forgive him, but he wasn't getting off that easily. I wanted him to see me out there working on that car every day that way it would stick in his head that they had done something very wrong. Very passive aggressive of me, I know, but I had already confronted the problem directly. So, this time around, I grabbed a toilet brush and some cleaner and got to work on the top and was able to get 75% of the paint out. The rest, however, was proving difficult.

I got word from my apartment manager that the owner and the painters were willing to work with me on getting my car fixed and was relieved with that as it meant I could stop working on the car myself and find someone else to do it. I was originally going to do that, but my obsessive-compulsiveness and will to finish what I started got in the way.

While trying to remove the paint from the car's finish, I found that using a constant stream of water helped. Three days after my first attempt at cleaning the car, I noticed condensation inside of my car. I thought there might be a leak in the top or something, but then realized that the carpet must have been wet. However, it hadn't rained. Then, it hit me, the convertible top drains from the outside to the INSIDE of the car, then goes out the bottom through drain holes. When these holes clog, they can flood the inside of the car. I had been using a lot of water - more than the car was designed to handle - and this had flowed right into the driver's side of my car. I reached down through a hole in the carpet to feel the insulation. Sure enough, it was soaked.

I immediately pulled all the insulation out of the driver's side and squeezed it dry. There had to have been a half-gallon of water in there. If you leave wet insulation inside a car, mold and mildew will eventually set in and stink up the car. Not good for someone who suffers from bouts with bronchitis. Another problem is rust, though I'll leave that explanation for you scientist types. After I dried the insulation, I put it back in.

However, the next day, there was still condensation in the car and the head painter was still apologizing, but I was pretty much ignoring him at this point as I had other things on my mind. I checked the insulation and, sure enough, it was damp again. After some more investigating, I noticed the front firewall also had insulation and this was wet. After getting home from a night of dancing, I decided to leave this area exposed as I left the windows open so it could dry.

It was 2 a.m. and I was half-thinking sleep and half-thinking I wanted this done ASAP. At first, I left the driver's side window open, but I noticed that as I did so there was a light shining from our apartment building right onto my car and it really made clear that my driver's side window was open and ready for anyone to come in and make it their home. So, I closed that window and left the passenger side open. As I walked back to my apartment, I looked up at the sky and thought, 'nah, it won't rain. This is Southern California.' There was a little voice in the back of my heading telling me I should check the weather just in case, but sleep beckoned.

At 5:30 a.m., I awoke in a panic as I realized it was raining. Correction, it was pouring. I got up and groggily stumbled around half-awake trying to get dressed. Sure enough, it was raining quite hard. I made my way back to the car, closed the window and inspected the damage. The entire passenger side was now wet. 'I must be cursed,' I thought. On the way back to dreamland, I just laughed. This was just absolutely ridiculous.

I spent Friday drying out both sides of my car - this time propping up the firewall insulation, which had a lot of water, and then left my passenger side window open and the seat facing the sun.

Saturday, I used a clay bar and detailing spray to deal with the remaining exterior paint overspray the workers had done and was able to get most of it out. I took note that using the bug-tar removing sponge scratched up some of the plastic and rubber trim and moldings to do it. Oh well. At least I know who did it. But there was still the top to contend with. I hadn't figured out what to do about the remaining 25% from the top, but otherwise, I was now rid of 99% of the paint from every other surface. The top was going to require some extra care - more specifically, a cleaner designed to clean convertible tops.

I spent Sunday morning reinstalling the insulation, waxing my car, vaccuuming the interior, and dealing with the top one last time. This time, thanks to a combination of the right cleaner and a lot of scrubbing, I was able to get 99% of the paint off. I could live with that.

As the last of the paint came off, I got this overwhelming sense of accomplishment over having conquered this situation. It reminded me of those times I had spent with my father cleaning his cars - that sense of pride that comes with a job well done. Now, if only I could get those scratches out of the plastic molding I had done while trying to remove the paint from them. But that's a task for a another day...