10 Nov 2015

And Then A Squirt Of Magic….

Further to the post regarding my battle with a car windscreen suffering from baked-on wax, I received a comment from Ripper with the suggestion that I should try a product called Elbow Grease.


It actually took a bit of finding but I finally found a bottle at The Range and, believe it or not, amongst the plethora of cleaning products stacked six deep on the shelves there was but one of the above. I grabbed it and enquired of an in-store shelf product replenishment operative if they had more in store.
"That stuff? It comes in and goes out right fast. Can't keep up with it." That, to me, is as good an in-store recommendation as you're likely to get.

I took him to the checkout, being careful to keep him hidden in case I got mugged by a compulsive/obsessive cleaner in for their fix. I made it to the car and hid it under the front seat.

I managed to get home without incident and gave it a try on the remaining ten percent of waxy streaky windscreen.

The instructions I was given said to spray it on the windscreen and leave it for thirty seconds. Sadly, impatient fellow that I am, I only made it to twenty-nine seconds before wiping the screen and you know what? As hard as I find it to get excited about cleaning products, with zero to minimum effort, as if by magic, the wax streaks where gone. Quite amazing when I think of the three days of arm breaking rubbing with paste.

I did, however, encounter one small smudge that just wouldn't shift regardless of how much spray I used, how long I waited or how hard I rubbed. Sadly, it took forever for my internal headlights to flash with the stunning idea that maybe, just maybe, the irremovable smudge was inside. You know the answer and it's way too sad to type here…

As for the good Ripper, he has a second comment with more tips - one of which relates to internal window cleaning that I found interesting after my war of the smudge.

Lastly, Ripper's offered some ideas for bonnet and door painting. That machine is a thing of beauty my friend! I love the last one and it'd look kind o' cool on the car boot;

      100_0029_sm  100_0037_s    
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Quote;  Tim Vine.

“So I was in my car, and I was driving along, and my boss rang up, and he said, 'You've been promoted.' And I swerved. And then he rang up a second time and said, 'You've been promoted again.' And I swerved again. He rang up a third time and said, 'You're managing director.' And I went into a tree. A policeman came up and said, 'What happened to you?' And I said, 'I careered off the road.'"


Ripper said...

Thank you for the complimentary comments Mac, I'm glad I've saved you a lot of pain. Another great article, written as only you know how. Whenever I read one of your posts I now always expect the smile which goes with it and only a Foggy post contains them. If you find the Elbow Grease out of stock in local shops, its available on E-Bay. I usually order a pack of 6 bottles which makes it cheaper, since I use the stuff for a lot of things.

I guess you would already know that the bike is the iconic Triumph Bonneville, but a modern one. Its grandad was a 650 whereas this one is a 900. It may look classic but far from it, the bike has all the mod cons - gas suspension, LED lighting and indicators, electronic fuel injection remapped for a few more horses and hands-free keyless ignition, among other things. Its my ongoing project.

As a point of interest, the paint job is symbolic. The fire and flag on the tank symbolises Triumph's turbulent existence, the flag, though tattered shows they have had a tough existence but are still here. The phoenix on the left side panel is symbolic of the way that Triumph went into oblivion in the early 80's only to rise again from those ashes when John Bloor stepped in to keep the marque British. The chequered flag on the mudguards is representitive of their racing heritage, and the reaper? I just liked him, no other reason. In fact everybody likes him.

Mac said...

No problem my friend; all well deserved. And I’m happy to hear my ramblings raise a smile along the way. A smile a day keeps the doctor away as I believe they say.
Back in the sixties a small number of friends went through a bike phase but, despite their dreams, I seem to remember they didn’t advance much past the trusty BSA Bantam stage. The good ol' Beeza.
I vaguely remember one kid did, however, get an Ariel Square Four and he would hold us in awe with his tales of derring-do and hitting the ton on a ten-mile straight close to town. All these kids survived to tell the tale despite the lack of hard head-ware back in the day.
I do remember the Beeza boys were happy to pillion people about the place but the Square Four kid would never entertain passengers. Possibly the derring-do wasn’t quite as daring as the telling suggested...

Ripper said...

I know of the phase you speak of, I entered that phase at around 8 years old and haven't exited yet. I would be a very rich man if I had kept all the Brit bikes I have owned over the years but I spent my teenage years constantly in trouble for under age riding with no documents or licence. That meant I had to sell whichever bike I owned at the time to help pay the fines. Still, it wouldn't be long before I bought another cheap scrapper or insurance write off, rebuilt it and put it back on the road. I'm not sure about the derring-do but I have eaten tarmac on many occaisions, mostly whilst doing stupid things.

Nowadays my derring-do is done, but those days gave me the best foundation both for knowledge and experience on the road. My daughter has also followed in my footsteps, she stands just 4ft 11in tall and rides a 180mph superbike that even I would struggle with. Her husband works in a Ducati dealership and I've just bought my 5 year old grandson a 50cc mini-moto for his birthday. So you could say that it runs in the family here.

Mac said...

I copied this so many years ago from Nanny Knows Best,
and it still works on so many levels;
“Life is all about learning to cope with risk and disaster by trying to minimise or eliminate risk ourselves (which is of course impossible). Nanny is ensuring that future generations will grow up without the necessary survival instincts and skills for living a full and rewarding life.”