Twin Serpents

My second trip to the auto parts store yields about $30 worth of cleaning supplies.  In addition to the paint-removing scuff wheel for my drill, I have the requisite can of WD-40, plus some Liquid Wrench (a spray, a lot like WD), Rust Remover (a goop for really bad spots/bolts/screws), and some hand cleaner (with a 'fresh' orange scent).

My goal this evening was to get that other seat out, but of course I didn't even get that far.  I only managed to pull out half of the rusty spring cage.  The seat frame remains solidly wedged/rusted to the rails, so some chemical soaking is in order this evening before I start banging on it again.  The seat frame is actually slightly askew on the rails, so that's the real trouble.  A bit of rust remover plus some judicious tapping should do the trick next time.  In any case, it's looking more and more like nothing in these seats is actually salvageable, so I'm not concerned about how this particular frame looks when it finally does come out.

 I found another rust hole in the floor pan, this one under the seat on the passenger side.  This is good news and bad news.  The bad news, of course, is that there's rust in the floor pan.  The good news is twofold:  1) the holes aren't big, and 2) repairing them will be a good way to practice my welding skills.

Welding skills?  Why yes, indeed Dear Reader.  In fact, in one of my past lives, I was actually a welder. This was back in the Dark Ages, of course, before the Internet or cell phones, back when a kid right out of high school could find work in a torque convertor rebuilding shop.  I've written about this before, briefly, in a story about my arrest back on Maufrais Lane.

I admit, this was a very long time ago, and it is possible that my skills have diminished somewhat in the interim, but even so I can rightfully claim to know how to weld and maintain that it is merely practice I need to become perfect.

Since the imperfections caused by poor welding can not only be noticed but can actually be magnified in the context of an auto body, it may seem that my claim is a bold one, bordering even on hubris, but if one is prepared to admit that such welding might be done successfully by a skilled craftsman, one might also have to admit that with enough practice, I might actually be able to pull it off.  

Now, if I sound a little defensive, it's because I've already encountered enough raised eyebrows and skeptical looks to make me doubt myself, however briefly.  While I do realize that the consequences of the absence of experience can be detrimental to the process, I am not now willing to admit that I am unable to gain the skill necessary to produce a beautiful finished product.  

In other words, just because I don't know how to do it well doesn't mean I can't learn.  In fact, I'm willing to bet that not only will I learn how to weld on this car, but I'll get damn good at it.  Of course, that level of skill will be reached at roughly the same time the project is brought to a successful conclusion, so the value of my ability may only be measured in this one car, but that's sufficient for me.

The careful reader will have observed that my arrogance extends not only to assumptions made about my soon-to-be-uncovered welding abilities, but also to the broader assumptions made about the success of the project as a whole.  While it may seem apparent, I must reveal that this is a simple, deliberate attempt to set myself up for humiliation should the result be anything less than my least bold prediction.  For the weak-minded and weak-willed like me, the fear of disgrace is as powerful as the lure of success, so I figure, why not employ them both in the service of my goal?

It is with these twin serpents looping about in my brain that I took the 13mm socket, and six inch extension and a ratchet and took out the first frame bolt just underneath the driver's side door.  It came out without even the slightest resistance, no WD-40, no Liquid Wrench, not even a lot of elbow grease.  It's just the first of something like two-dozen, so I am not celebrating yet.  

The smirk on my face is proof positive of the insanity which has overtaken me.