Ive been following this since day one not only because I have a love for old cars, but Mustangs are especially close to my heart. I love em.
(This story just makes my blood boil and I want to do bad things to these bad people. But, I'm getting older and my wife tries to keep me grounded and my BP down so I dont develop heart problems like my dad and his dad died from. Plus, even though Im an old boxer and still workout weekly, I dont think I could handle all of those mouthy little punk gangsters in the joint and would probably get shanked first week for my own big azz mouth. So, I'll just daydream what we could do to these shysters/businessmen. I do have some rather shady characters Ive met and put ink in their skin we could get to...naaaa...dumb ideas. Karma will take care of these people. Some day...).
All I can say about your ordeal is "dayum". What a bunch of fckers... (Reminds me of some soda commercial I think I remember where it seems like the dad comes in and drinks these 2 kids soda and one kid says to the other kid, "We got hosed Tommy, we got hosed..."
My brother is running my dads old paint and body shop today- only difference is the nice paint booth he has that my dad didnt have back in the old days. He does ok, but its not cheap working and living in southern California. He wont do restores unless its one of his own cars or one of his buddies cars mostly because they take too long and take up valuable room in his shop he could be making quicker money with. He prefers quick turn around jobs.
We grew up in the business. My earliest memory when we were kids is from my dad coming home late almost every night because he worked long hours at his shop and I always loved smelling the laquer and paint thinner from his clothes clear in my bedroom. When I was big enough to start helping out at the shop, I think I was about 6 or so- I naturally got all the shat jobs like cleaning up around the shop, pulling tape after paint jobs, detailing the cars after the paint jobs had dried, some body work, and I became the official paint mixing room tech, but never any actual painting outside of spraying 55gal drums and other stuff practicing. It was the 70s and in southern California at the time it seems like they were doing alot of acrylic enamel jobs then. The laquer jobs my dad only did on his hotrods and his personal restores.
After watching probably thousands of paint jobs from the paint rooms window, usually standing on a bucket, the first time my dad let me shoot one myself it was with him standing behind me yelling directions to me over the noise of the paint spraying and the compressor- he must have been brave or stupid too because it was his own 66' Mustang that I was painting. A car he had had ever since I could remember. I had help with the body work, bondoing, featheredging and sanding. But when it came time to go in the paint room he was behind me directing me but I got to do everything myself. I got to do the pre-paint cleaning and prep, tape it off, then mix the paint, set up the gun, etc. It was an acrylic enamel job- midnight blue metallic. (Seems like back then I remember a German friend of my dads who had a shop across the street was the only guy I had seen back then using a gravity gun and doing basecoat/clearcoat jobs, but I think they were still just a European thing then. Now I guess its all basecoat/clearcoat, no idea, Ive been away from the business for a very long time working in the tattooing and music businesses). Years later I finally got to drive it when I got my license and then he later gave it to me for my HS graduation. It still shined and looked great and it still looked awesome. My mom, who was divorced from dad, to trump him, gave me a new Blazer 4x4 for graduation. I put the Mustang in a storage unit when I moved to Oakland to go to art school in San Francisco and kept it covered and only drove it on weekends. Years later, like a *******, I sold it to fund buying the first of my Toyota Supra turbos.
Now today I have some extra cash and I wish I could get that old 66 back. That car was my family history. I wish every day that I could find it (John Schnatter, the owner and CEO of Papa Johns Pizza- he got a classic car back a few years ago that he unfortunately had to sell to start to his pizza business). I would restore it, but except for one thing- I would try and put a 302 or something in it instead of that wimpy 289 the original had.
But thats why I know how special this car is to you and your family. You have my hopes and wishes that you get your dream finished. It will be special when its done. Cant take that old money with you when you die. Enjoy that car when it is done. Man, would sure be nice to take a ride in it. Good luck.
My Mustangs today:
My 2001 GT. My brother painted it here in Oklahoma at a friends shop. Need to redo the hood. (No one else would notice the imperfections- but I know theyre there).
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The 98'. My brother did this flame job in one week last summer at his shop in San Diego. Alot of beer and alot of work. Won a couple of trophys at a few meets in Cali. (Not too many people can tell that on both sides the flames dont match. Waaaa).
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(This story just makes my blood boil and I want to do bad things to these bad people. But, I'm getting older and my wife tries to keep me grounded and my BP down so I dont develop heart problems like my dad and his dad died from. Plus, even though Im an old boxer and still workout weekly, I dont think I could handle all of those mouthy little punk gangsters in the joint and would probably get shanked first week for my own big azz mouth. So, I'll just daydream what we could do to these shysters/businessmen. I do have some rather shady characters Ive met and put ink in their skin we could get to...naaaa...dumb ideas. Karma will take care of these people. Some day...).
All I can say about your ordeal is "dayum". What a bunch of fckers... (Reminds me of some soda commercial I think I remember where it seems like the dad comes in and drinks these 2 kids soda and one kid says to the other kid, "We got hosed Tommy, we got hosed..."
My brother is running my dads old paint and body shop today- only difference is the nice paint booth he has that my dad didnt have back in the old days. He does ok, but its not cheap working and living in southern California. He wont do restores unless its one of his own cars or one of his buddies cars mostly because they take too long and take up valuable room in his shop he could be making quicker money with. He prefers quick turn around jobs.
We grew up in the business. My earliest memory when we were kids is from my dad coming home late almost every night because he worked long hours at his shop and I always loved smelling the laquer and paint thinner from his clothes clear in my bedroom. When I was big enough to start helping out at the shop, I think I was about 6 or so- I naturally got all the shat jobs like cleaning up around the shop, pulling tape after paint jobs, detailing the cars after the paint jobs had dried, some body work, and I became the official paint mixing room tech, but never any actual painting outside of spraying 55gal drums and other stuff practicing. It was the 70s and in southern California at the time it seems like they were doing alot of acrylic enamel jobs then. The laquer jobs my dad only did on his hotrods and his personal restores.
After watching probably thousands of paint jobs from the paint rooms window, usually standing on a bucket, the first time my dad let me shoot one myself it was with him standing behind me yelling directions to me over the noise of the paint spraying and the compressor- he must have been brave or stupid too because it was his own 66' Mustang that I was painting. A car he had had ever since I could remember. I had help with the body work, bondoing, featheredging and sanding. But when it came time to go in the paint room he was behind me directing me but I got to do everything myself. I got to do the pre-paint cleaning and prep, tape it off, then mix the paint, set up the gun, etc. It was an acrylic enamel job- midnight blue metallic. (Seems like back then I remember a German friend of my dads who had a shop across the street was the only guy I had seen back then using a gravity gun and doing basecoat/clearcoat jobs, but I think they were still just a European thing then. Now I guess its all basecoat/clearcoat, no idea, Ive been away from the business for a very long time working in the tattooing and music businesses). Years later I finally got to drive it when I got my license and then he later gave it to me for my HS graduation. It still shined and looked great and it still looked awesome. My mom, who was divorced from dad, to trump him, gave me a new Blazer 4x4 for graduation. I put the Mustang in a storage unit when I moved to Oakland to go to art school in San Francisco and kept it covered and only drove it on weekends. Years later, like a *******, I sold it to fund buying the first of my Toyota Supra turbos.
Now today I have some extra cash and I wish I could get that old 66 back. That car was my family history. I wish every day that I could find it (John Schnatter, the owner and CEO of Papa Johns Pizza- he got a classic car back a few years ago that he unfortunately had to sell to start to his pizza business). I would restore it, but except for one thing- I would try and put a 302 or something in it instead of that wimpy 289 the original had.
But thats why I know how special this car is to you and your family. You have my hopes and wishes that you get your dream finished. It will be special when its done. Cant take that old money with you when you die. Enjoy that car when it is done. Man, would sure be nice to take a ride in it. Good luck.
My Mustangs today:
My 2001 GT. My brother painted it here in Oklahoma at a friends shop. Need to redo the hood. (No one else would notice the imperfections- but I know theyre there).
[Broken External Image]
The 98'. My brother did this flame job in one week last summer at his shop in San Diego. Alot of beer and alot of work. Won a couple of trophys at a few meets in Cali. (Not too many people can tell that on both sides the flames dont match. Waaaa).
[Broken External Image]
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