Today saw me sandblasting metal shoulder-to-shoulder in the midday sun with Dave, as we stripped the roof rack we picked up last week and primered it and the van’s roof in prep for painting.
The prop shop next door to Dave in (undisclosed location) has a compressor the size of a Volkswagen, which powered Dave’s sandblaster through 100 pounds of #30-grit sand.
It’s tedious, filthy work …
We took turns blasting the rack, and when it wasn’t my turn, I busied myself sanding the roof:
I managed to get the whole thing sanded, and then started painting, when I realized it was going to take forever to get anywhere: Too windy. By the time I quit, I had Rustoleum all up and down my right arm (and across the windshield), but it came out looking fairly snappy.
So we moved the rack inside the yard from the alley, and called it a night.
More photos later this weekend (and my most humble and profuse thanks to Dave! Even after showering, did you find sand in your scalp and ears too?)