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Bird poop, if you didnt know, is bad news for your cars paint.
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Retired 73 year old: buying: clothes food tools lights beer glue screws shampoo dinners-for-others glass window shade cut toe nails, shaved, trimmed hair, showered, cleaned toilet, picked hair from floor, made cake, cleaned the dirt on the bottom of my glass table, touched up marks with a black marker, cleaned the furnace filter, signed up with britbox and watched poirot, marple, and a few other uk classics, tried to make cookies, tried to microwave parmesan, tried to fry egg whites in rounds, dusted again and again, decided to make a voltmeter 1/2 x2 inches, designed it, created the printed circuit board, sent the docs out for making, started the software for it, went to the hair dresser, drove my car, bicycled, played tennis, played pickleball, made food for the men's cooking club at the church, moved my wine-making stuff out to the garage, drank my wine, tried to fix my printer, studied on my next laptop purchase 4k, touch 17 inch screen doesn't exist for active pens..under $5K, vacuumed the floor, spent an hour a week with personal trainer at gym, visited 2 of my 4 sons for dinner, studied how to use almond flour, found out my answers on Quora are evening out at about 600 viewings a week, bought beer from the new brewer just around the corner, bought a few more games for my Samsung VR Gear glasses, That's about 50. brushed my teeth several times to see if my tartar is lightening, poured distilled water on my glass water stall to see if it left no marks, put away my winter shoes, washed clothes, broke a glass in the microwave, charged my dyson, charged my garmin, bought a dash camera for my car, charged my car, found wonderful things in my garage while looking for an hdmi cable, bought ingredients to make bread without any electric tools, drilled holes to mount my fan in the kitchen window, stocked the bathroom with toilet paper from the closet, things are getting less interesting..now at 63. i can still do it. moved my paintings around ready for the next party, got out the paint to touch up my kitchen, filled the salt container, turned on the 'tablet' in my fridge ( I turn it off to make it last as long as the fridge, but having a party soon. ), got a bottle of wine from my stock for an Ontario championship..Cab Franc 2019 from niagara grapes, went boating on an antique boat on the St. Johns River FL for 3 days, 2x airplanes, one maple-leave lounge, one 38 dollar wine glass at the Jacksonville airport (famous variety), dipped my legs in the atlantic ocean on amelia island, gained 7 pounds in florida. Lost 4 of those after return to Toronto, I do look at the american news channels on the internet for about an hour a day. Listened to audio book about hidden life of trees on Audible, tried tryptophan and melatonin at the same time to help sleep..garmin watch says marginal improvement, plotted my sleep over the last month: garmin says non-light sleep percent is related to stress, related to alcohol and not related to how long you sleep. Will continue next month, washed my sofa blanket and overstressed the washer while I was out... the washer had stopped and it was wet when I got back. Found that outdoor pickleballs are softer than indoor ones. My garmin watch stopped indicating notifications from my cell. Still can't get outlook to show on it. Interestingly, my samsung note 8 just got updated... it is so much nicer now. put out the garbage, the recycling, picked wood off the frozen lawn, turned over the chairs under the gazebo (wind storm), got paint for outside, talked to neigbours, taking vit C since colds are becoming a problem around me, found that 4x500mg chewies make a nice drink if left overnight in a glass of water. 91 to here. I will stop now...proving your point. Ahh. answering you, thanks…92.
To quickly get grease and oil off of hands and objects (like bike frames), use baby wipes. The aloe vera breaks down the oil and is gentle on the hands, and the wipe's texture allows scrubbing without scratching your skin or your bike frame. For a more thorough but more involved process, wash your bike with dish soap and rinse thoroughly. Use a soft sponge to scrub - wire brushes, steel wool, or brillo pads will scratch components and remove paint. Be aware that dish soap may also degrease your chain and require re-lubing. This can also be harsh on your hands (but works great for getting under fingernails!). I recommend dish soap for full bike washes and baby wipes for touch ups/wipe offs and for cleaning hands. Hope this helps! I have two bikes with white frames. :) (As a side note, alcohol swabs can remove squeaky residues from disk brake rotors!)
Undoubtedly, that would be the time a bear tried to rape and probably kill me. In the Spring of 1971, when I was just turning 16, my mother began badgering me about my Summer plans, and soon we had me signed up for a 7 week bicycle trip through the Canadian Rockies. I’d been on a shorter and far less rugged bicycle trip the previous Summer, during which I was dubbed Supergirl, due to my superior strength, speed and stamina. ,Emily Fisher's answer to Have you ever encountered something creepy during Halloween? But a lot can change in the life of a teenage girl over a year. I’d dropped out of high school the previous year, and by the time that Summer rolled around, I’d been sequestered in my bedroom for months, during all my mother’s waking hours, smoking 3-4 packs of Kools a day and refusing all food. That was the season of Blueberries and Swiss Cheese, the only food I’d eat, just a few nibbles in the middle of the night while my mother finally slept. (In 1971 my mother appeared to be the only one in the world familiar with the term “Anorexia,” with which she diagnosed me with glum satisfaction.) Alas, all those cigarettes without food or movement eventually took their toll on me, and by the time the date of the bike trip rolled around, I’d come down with the only really raging flu of my life. High high fever, with ferocious vomiting and diarrhea trading off, and here it was the day of the trip! When it came to illness, though, we were fucking tough in my family, and I dare say I still am. I’m sure my mother was understandably eager to have me gone, and since growing up during the Depression had rendered her incapable of wasting a penny, I was to be leaving that day, according to plan, no ifs, ands or buts. After calling the trip organizers and being assured the first 4 days wouldn’t involve any bike riding — as we’d be on the train from Montreal to Jasper, Alberta — my mother popped me on the plane to Montreal, figuring I’d be all better by the time I needed to mount a bike. Unfortunately, the information she’d received was incorrect; it turned out that as soon as we landed in Montreal, we had to ride the distributed 3-Speed bikes the 20 miles (32 km) to the train station. Fortunately, when it came to Sink or Swim, back then my body could still be counted on to always take the above water route. And what choice did I have, really? so I got on that damn bike and, dizzy with fever, rode the flu right out of me. The 4 day cross-Canadian train trip through magnificent countryside could be a story of its own, in which I paid little attention to my fellow bikers, having somewhat of a hard time finding things in common with white people in those days. Instead, I befriended the still-back-then red-suited porters, who came through as dark descended, in order to turn tables to beds in our little curtained off slots. That was when I lured them behind my curtain to smoke hash with me, because I never went anywhere without it, in the days people didn’t even recognize the smell of the stuff. ,Emily Fisher's answer to What are your best realizations while on drugs? 4 days of lazy clickety-clack went by with me spending most of it in the Observation Car, enthralled by the increasing wilderness, or what I could see of it through the thick haze of cigarette smoke that hung low in the car 24/7. That last day I never unglued my eyes from the windows, dreaming, as the landscape took over every bit of my heart. So that when we finally arrived in ,Jasper, Alberta - Wikipedia,, in the middle of Jasper National Park, I stepped off the train a new person. I'd climbed a lot of mountains in the East, but I realized now those were ,hills,, good muscle pumpers on my bike, yes, though hardly majestic. And it wasn’t really about elevation, as the parts of the Canadian Rockies we traversed that summer weren’t even as high an elevation as I’ve been living at these last 23 years in these very rocky mountains by the Mexican border. It was these mountains’ ,ruggedness, that got me, their ability to make me feel absolutely ,puny,. Fully free of the flu by then, I simply could not wait to pump the fuck out of my thighs on them! After riding our bikes from the train station to the hostel where we’d spend the night, we loosened our train-tightened limbs walking around town, all of us Easterners, and quite agog. That’s Jasper above, though I suppose that photo could be some Vermont or New Hampshire ski towns I’d been to as a kid. But ,this, couldn’t be, practically right in town: It was certainly the first I’d heard of glacial water being the same turquoise as Caribbean water! Yes, we were very far North, saw a lot of glaciers on that trip. Back at the hostel later on, the 2 group leaders sat us down and informed us it was time for our wilderness lecture, and that if we knew what was good for us, we’d take notes. First off was the general instruction to leave the damn animals alone, to neither feed them nor attempt to interact. Specifically they warned us that Moose ain’t Deer, are not afraid of people, can be aggressive and even deadly, particularly mothers with calves, and we were there the time of year that the calves were still young. Do not fuck with them, hell, don’t even look them in the eye! I don’t know if it’s changed a lot in these last 5 decades, but back then there were barely ever cars on the roads we biked on, and the animals we’d encounter rarely if ever saw humans. But on bikes, they told us, we’d be making less noise than walking through the woods, so we’d probably see moose every day, and should keep our distance. As far as I can remember, aside from general respect for the animals, and the moose warnings, all of the wilderness lecture was about bears. When it comes to wildlife encounters, bears seem to be a popular topic here on Quora. And the first thing that’s always mentioned is to NEVER VENTURE INTO BEAR COUNTRY WITHOUT BEAR SPRAY! The second thing is YOUR BEAR SPRAY MUST NOT BE IN YOUR PACK, BUT ON YOUR BELT, AT THE READY! And the third, BEFORE HEADING INTO BEAR COUNTRY MAKE SURE YOU’RE WELL VERSED IN HOW TO PROPERLY USE YOUR BEAR SPRAY AND HAVE PRACTICED GETTING AT IT QUICKLY! Our 2 leaders were very responsible, and determined for us not to head out there as wilderness ignoramuses, particularly when it came to bears, and yet, they never once mentioned bear spray. Know why? Because it wasn’t invented for another 15 years! So really, judging by today’s standards, no matter how much important information they gave us about bears — passing around pictures of Black bears and Grizzlies, making sure we understood the differences and how to behave accordingly — we would be heading out into unpeopled deep bear country thoroughly unprotected. I have a few very up close and personal bear stories from that trip, encounters in which I could feel their breath and smell them. I may have been in more danger during those than I fully understood, but the encounter towards which this is all building, left me no question that I might not live through it. So much about that trip is locked tight into my memory bank, but I cannot remember a single thing about any of the other twelve or so kids on the trip, though I distinctly remember some kids from a couple of weeks at day camp a decade earlier, and everything about kids from sleepaway camp. I suspect it’s because once the train was swallowed by those mountains, I never had the slightest interest in humans for the rest of the summer. I was living and breathing those rugged mountains, immersed in my first, and still biggest, exposure to giant predators in the wild. Aside from one week in the middle, after burning our thigh muscles all day long, riding 30-100 mountainous miles a day (48-161 km), we spent the nights in our sleeping bags, on cots in rustic hostels. Every day of riding was through woodsy mountainous expanses, peppered with wildlife, sometimes opening onto those turquoise glacial lakes. [The spectacular Lake Louise] I always rode alone, far in the lead, nowhere near anyone else, needing that oneness with my surroundings in a near mystical fashion. (Unsurprisingly, I suppose, I’ve always preferred psychedelics alone, too.) That one week in the middle was devoted to getting even deeper into the wilderness, away from roads, even. We were going to spend a week on horseback. I couldn’t now tell you where we were that week, though looking at a map, I’m guessing it was somewhere between Jasper and Banff, in the SW of the province, as that appears to be by far the most unpeopled part of our trip. The two trip leaders traded off with the emergency rig, a beat up old station wagon that usually met up with us at night, in the hostels, while the other leader brought up the tail end of the trail of bikes. Of course it was a different world without cell phones, Google, GPS. We each had maps, and headed off each morning with an approximate meeting time at a specific location. During our week on horseback, one of the leaders stayed with us the whole time, and we stayed together as a group, unlike our freewheeling days on bikes. The two leaders had scheduled times to check in with each other at certain phones while we were on the road with our bikes, but during the wilderness horseback week, that wasn’t always possible, and some of the places we went weren’t near any service road a car could get close to us on. No hostels, obviously, we’d be camping out every night that week. Since we couldn’t be in touch with the leader in the station wagon on the nights there was no service road close to where we’d camp, they made it very clear to the 5 girls on the trip that we needed to let them know if any of us were on our period, in which case we’d have to arrange to sleep in the car. Can you guess why? Yup, ,bears,. Bears would know, and seek out that scent. It would not be safe for menstruating girls to sleep outside. Best not to think of how creepy that is. But it was only 7 days, and there were only 5 girls, so it didn’t happen... until the last day, when it happened to ,me,. And wouldn’t you know that last night’s camping spot was to be some place nowhere near a service road, so where I’d be sleeping would be a good distance from everyone else. In those days, believe it or not, I could sleep anywhere, in any position, and I slept ,hard,. That’s just what I was doing, off by myself, a quarter mile or so from the rest of the crew, when I was quickly awoken, not by a sound, which probably wouldn’t have done it, but by being vigorously ,shaken,. I came to in a complete stupor, with no idea where I was or what the fuck was going on. What felt like a long stretch of utter confusion was unlikely to have been more than a minute, before I realized a bear had leapt on the car and was doing its damndest to get in. The noise! There was banging, there was chalk screeching on a chalkboard — I’ll be damned if bear claws on a car’s paint job don’t sound identical — and the shaking continued through it all. But the scariest sound was that of the roof caving in a little bit more with each frustrated jump on it, though maybe the visual of the denting from the inside was even scarier. I’ve always been good in emergencies, but 50 years later I honestly can’t remember much of my thought process, aside from using my flashlight to rummage around for something that could be a weapon. I did feel a little better when I came across the tire iron in the floor well in the back of the station wagon, kept it in my hand thereafter. During my rummaging, the bear’s antics continued, I could feel the temperature rising, and I take it back about the scariest sound being the roof caving in — because by then the bear had discovered the windows, and the pounding on those was far more terrifying than the roof pounding had been. I hadn’t really foreseen the bear actually busting through the roof, was more afraid of being pinned down by it (having been pinned down by a car roof as a young child). But now that the windows had come into play, rattling in their frames, breaking in seemed all the more possible. I clutched that tire iron tighter, and tried to think how in the fuck I was supposed to make myself look big when there was barely enough room to even sit up with the seats down in platform mode. There was no question the bear’s determination to get in that car was escalating, and I couldn’t imagine how much more of a beating those poor old windows could take. Every so often the bear would get off the car, I’d think it had given up, but then it would come charging back, throwing itself on the car the way it must have done that first time when it woke me. Until one time it didn’t come back. By that point I’d have loved to have gotten out and stretched my legs, peed, but I didn’t dare leave the safety of the car and my tire iron, which I envisioned having to be pried from my dead fingers. That was definitely the most disturbing thing that ever happened to me while camping, but it was a strange kind of danger, in that I was supposed to be safe from bears in the car, that was the whole damn point. It’s not like I’d feel endangered by bears behind glass at an open air zoo, but there was no doubt that bear could have eventually gotten in that car if it had kept trying. Downright disturbing. ———————————————————————- Interestingly, I was suddenly curious if it‘s only male bears attracted to human menstrual blood — maybe partially an hormonal combo? — or if any bear would be attracted, by the blood factor alone. So I looked it up. It’s not completely conclusive, but the parts I saw thought only ,Polar, bears are attracted to human menstrual blood. I can’t say what kind of bear was so determined to get at me, whether it was a Black bear or a Grizzly — I’m guessing Black — but I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t a Polar bear! I don’t know what to tell you — this absolutely happened, and as far as I know there was no food in the car. So they’re either just wrong, or something about it has changed in 50 years, or I’m a fucking freak. That turned out to be a thoroughly life changing Summer for me, the Rockies infecting me so deeply that I wound up moving to a tiny town in NW Colorado on their U.S. side within the year. I ate an awful lot of deer and elk in my years there, but never saw any bears. For ,Stefan Pociask,, as promised for far too long (which, undoubtedly, some will call this answer) EDIT:, Okay, what the fuck, I’d been promising this story to ,Stefan Pociask, for literally ,years,, finally get it done, and what happens? Within ,hours, a big Brown bear bursts into downtown Douglas, ,MY VERY, ,TOWN,! Downtown Douglas: This event, by the way, defies reason. ————————————————————- Photo Credits: Pinterest Canadian Rockies Reddit Canada Travel Specialists Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise Booking.com: The largest selection of hotels, homes, and vacation rentals Natural Resources Canada StrongFastParts - Top quality parts with super fast shipping! Anchorage Daily News GIF: ,Tenor GIF Keyboard - Bring Personality To Your Conversations
You may be a natural introvert but are trying to fit in with the social habits you see in others. When you can’t, you feel lonely. This is a losing battle if you really ,are ,an introvert! You need to figure this out and perhaps start by exploring what it’s like to enjoy things on your own. Instead of focusing on the fact that you’re alone, focus on what you are doing. Read books, paint pictures, take up writing or photography. Get in better shape physically (that will really help with any depression you may feel!). Get in touch with nature: walks in the woods, bicycle rides, swimming, for example. Perhaps try some therapy to learn how to value yourself more and enjoy your own company more. This doesn’t mean being totally anti-social but just embracing the loner in you. It’s a great thing to truly enjoy being with…you! Then you get to pick and choose when to socialize and with whom to do it. Here is a site with some advice for loners: 13 Rules for Being Alone and Being Happy About It
Thanks for the A2A. There are two issues here, the internal and external frame. The internal frame is probably fairly rusted unless it was preserved with Waxoyl or similar product when new. To preserve the internal surfaces you will have to completely tear down the bike and scrub the rust out with long-handled brass brushes, then treat it with Waxoyl. You need only do this if you are planning on continuing to ride the bike. The external rust is what I suspect you are most concerned with. In fact, that should be your only concern because I am pretty sure that a bike that fit you in the sixth grade is not going to properly fit you now. Your general plan will be to remove the rust, then prime and paint the rusted areas. If you do it yourself, this will give you, depending on your skill with the touch-up paints and how badly the bike was rusted anywhere from an acceptable to an O.K. looking bike. If this is the route you want to go, use aluminum foil to remove the rust. You will find that it works better than a file and will do less damage to the surrounding paint. Rub vigorously and the rust should pretty much melt off. Do not stop until there is no visible rust remaining. A better route for preserving your bike is to take it to a bike shop for a complete tear-down. If you want, they should be able to remove the internal rust as well. Have the frame sand-blasted (not using sand--generally they used crushed walnut shells or a similar organic material--at any rate the bike shop will know who to go to), primed using an e-coat or powder coating, baked, and then re-painted. The original bicycle factory may also be able to do this. Your bike will look like new, although the bike shop may also caution you about the frame integrity if the rust has gotten too bad. Cheers!
I recently read this story on my news feed that made me smile,- Title- I Posted A Huge Note For The Thief Who Stole My Bike. Then My Doorbell Rang My bike was stolen on a weekend in early March. It was half my fault, half my husband's fault, and 100 percent the fault of the person who stole it. Left with a lock, a front wheel and a heavy heart, I did the only thing I could think of: I decided to leave the thief a little note. Okay, it was a big note. Armed with yellow paint, I crafted an 8-by-3-foot cardboard sign and hung it across the entire front of my landlord's Brooklyn brownstone (with his permission). It said: "To the person who stole my bicycle "I hope you need it more than I do. "It was $200 used, and I need it to get to work. I can't afford another one. "Next time, steal a hipster's Peugeot. "Or not steal! PS: Bring it back." (For those of you who are not into bikes, Peugeots are fancy bikes that can cost thousands of dollars.) I felt a little foolish writing the sign. After all, if my husband and I had spent nearly as much time double securing my bicycle as I did writing the sign, I might not be in the situation. But I knew other people's bicycles had been stolen in the neighborhood, and the least I could do was acknowledge what had happened. I left it up for seven days. The following Wednesday evening, I got the first knock on my door. Standing outside were two young African American men, maybe 24 and 16. One of them was carrying a blue mountain bike fit for a teen. "Are you the one who got your bike stolen?" asked the guy, who introduced himself as Michael. "I had that happen to me as well, and I had this bike lying around, so I figured you might be able to use it." I was flustered by the offer and tried to deflect, saying I really appreciated it, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to use it. What was clear, however, was that it wasn't about the bicycle, it was about their desire to help. I accepted, touched by the humanity of the gesture. A snowstorm came the next day, and my husband suggested I take the sign down. I refused - my bike was stolen on the weekend, so the sign would stay up until the next weekend. The next Saturday morning, I got a second buzz on the intercom. On my doorstep was a petite, middle-aged Hispanic woman in a pink Gap sweatshirt and leggings. She said she lived in Jersey but worked in the neighborhood and made her husband drive twice around the block so she could fully read my sign. When she read that I needed it to get to work, she made him stop the car to see if there was anything she could do. "What kind of bicycle do you need?" she asked. "I don't know much about bicycles, but if I find one, I'll bring it to you." I told her that I had signed up for the CitiBike bike-sharing program as a stopgap, and since it was $14.99 a month, I could use that for now. I told her what mattered most was that she stopped. I thanked her again. "I looked up that Peugeot you wrote about and that's an expensive bike!" she exclaimed. "Yes it is!" I laughed in agreement. Then she leaned in and gave me a big hug. I was invigorated. This sign was changing things. So much decency was pouring out from such a simple gesture of opening myself up to the universe. The buzzer rang again the moment I got upstairs. "Take down the sign, Amanda!" my husband yelled after me as I turned to run back down the stairs. This time, it was an energetic, salt-and-pepper haired white guy. "Is this your sign?" he asked. "I passed it on the way to my studio, and took a picture, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought I should do something." "That's very kind of you," I said, and explained how I'd also received a kid's bike and a hug, and what mattered most was that people cared. "Well, I posted a picture on Instagram, and a few of us started talking, and I was wondering if I could buy the sign off of you for . . ." he pointed to the yellow-letters written on my sign " . . . for $200?" I laughed out loud and told him that if he indeed did that, I would most certainly buy a used bicycle with his money. "I'm an art dealer," he explained, "and there's definitely some craftsmanship in this sign." His name was Steve Powers, and I told him the sign was his, and that he could auction it for $40,000 for all I cared (as long as I was invited to the party). As we pulled the cardboard away from its string attachments, he said that there was an Instagram conversation going about it. He and Robert Young, an antiques dealer in Britain, had agreed to each purchase an equal share of my sign. The #KarmaCycle had gone global. It was quite a morning. First of all, I had $200 in cash that I actually needed if I'd ever be able to afford a new bicycle. But I was also part of a wave of goodness that felt beautiful and real and inspiring. I realized I didn't want it to just stop with me. I went up the street to Court Cycles, the local bicycle store run by JoAnne Nicolosi, a female mechanic and small business owner since 1987. I told her what happened, and asked if she could help me fix up the kid's bicycle that Michael gave me and help find it a home. It's just a regular department store kid's bike - but I figure someone out there can use it more than I can. So that's what we're doing. In exchange for fixing it up, I helped set her up on Instagram and Twitter so we could share the story of the #KarmaCycle, and maybe keep it going.
It is more involved than you think… if you want it to look good and last a long time. GATHER MATERIAL: ,Since I am assuming you don’t have professional spray equipment we will use aerosol cans. Go to an auto parts store and look at the automotive LACQUER (NOT ENAMEL) touch up paints. Purchase 3 small cans of color, 2 large cans of SANDABLE primer, and 2 LARGE cans of clear LACQUER. You’ll also need some 320 grit aluminum oxide sandpaper (black in color) and some 100 grit, 600, 800, and 1000 grit as well. If they have some stuff called “aircraft remover” get a small can of that too. Do NOT purchase “anodizing” paint even though it may look cool or you’ll need to add several extra steps. You’ll also need some throw-away paint brushes and some #3 (coarse) steel wool and some chemical resistant gloves. If you can’t find aircraft remover then you will need to find some ,methylene chloride ,based paint remover- one brand is ZipStrip. Do NOT get the citrus-based stuff. Read the label to determine what it is made from. COMPLETELY DISASSEMBLE: ,Remove the wheels, bar and stem, all cables, saddle and seat post, crank AND bottom bracket (where the bearings are), the headset (holds the fork into the frame, and every other part. If it doesn’t get painted it must be REMOVED. There are some special tools required and if you don’t have them you should ,STOP, and let someone else do the job. EVERY PART must be removed. STRIP THE PAINT: ,READ the instructions on the can of paint remover. Follow them. Usually, you first shake the can of remover, then SLOWLY open the can, put some of the stuff in a metal can, then apply it to the frame and fork with a brush and wait 15 minutes or more. Remove the blistered paint with the steel wool. Repeat as necessary. Rinse the frame and fork, allow to dry, then sand it completely with DRY 100 grit sandpaper. Get all of the nooks and crannies. Try not to touch the bare metal too much. NO, you can NOT just apply clear coat over the bare metal. Once the frame and fork are stripped then find a place to hang them for painting. MASK off any threads by applying petroleum jelly on them. Be careful not to smear it on any place that has to be painted. PRIMER: ,Shake the primer can for at LEAST 5 minutes. The pigments are quite heavy and need to be well mixed. If you don’t shake it well enough then most of the pigment will languish in the bottom of the can and won’t do it’s job. APPLY BOTH cans of primer according to the directions on the can, coat-by-coat, and allow it to cure untouched for at least 3 days. A week would be better. SAND: ,Sand the primer with 320 paper. If you got runs pay special attention to those since they will show up when the job is completed. APPLY PAINT: ,Apply enough paint to make the frame and fork a consistent color. No need for gobs of the stuff but you’ll find you need to use both cans. Follow the directions. If you get runs in the paint then I strongly recommend that you stop, and start over since they will be seen after you are done. Allow the paint to cure for AT LEAST 3 days. If you are applying decals this is the time to do it. Try not to handle the frame too much and if you are using water-slide decals be sure to let them dry another 24 hours. DO NOT sand the color coat before applying clear. APPLY CLEAR: ,Following the directions, apply BOTH cans of clear. Runs at this point would be disastrous so be careful and don’t rush. Wait 7 to 10 days for cure. WET SAND, with progressively finer grits of sandpaper. You don’t need to rub hard- just get the finish smooth and move on. Rinse the paper frequently and wipe the slurry off the frame before it dries. POLISH ,first by using rubbing compound, then scratch remover, then final polish. Reassemble. Add up the money you spent on materials and pay yourself $3 an hour for the job. You’ll discover it just cost you well over $200 to do the job. I suggest that you forget doing it yourself. Disassemble the bike completely and go to an auto body shop with the frame and fork. They’ll do a professional job with ,single stage ,paint for about the same money and it will look much better than your aerosol can job. It’ll still cost about $200.
E,verything is fair in love and war & poverty is just a state of mind,. A man cycled thousands of miles from Delhi to Sweden to reunite with his dream queen. I am going to tell a very fascinating, cute and thriller love story but which is real and bound to touch your heart. Their epic romance of Dr. Pradyumna Kumar Mahanandia (,PK,) from India and Charlotte Von Schedvin from Sweden is almost 40 years old. In 1949, PK was born into a poor weaver family of Odisha. He was a gifted artist but was born into what was considered an ‘untouchable’ caste in India. In 1971, he joined the College of Art in New Delhi, where he gained popularity for his portrait drawing skills. Four years later, in 1975, 19-year-old Charlotte, a student in London, who belonged to the royal family of Sweden, heard about his work and travelled to India to have her portrait painted. As the fate had conspired, during the course of making the portrait, he was possessed by her beauty and she, with his sheer simplicity. The two soon turned into lovebirds. They married shortly after. Every happy story has its own share of hiccups. ,Charlotte had to return to Sweden and PK wanted to finish his studies in India. So, they had to separate. When she offered to send air tickets later, he refused saying he would come to meet her on his own. After she left, the two kept in touch through letters. Determined to pay for his journey, three years later, PK sold all his possessions, bought a second-hand bike, and set out on an epic journey of ,4000 miles ,that would cover eight countries. He cycled through Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Germany, Austria and Denmark, surviving for many days without food, often having to stop to fix cycle punctures along the way. Four months and three weeks later, PK arrived in Gothenburg, Sweden. While entering, PK was questioned by immigration officers. But, they were surprised by seeing a man who rode a bicycle all the way from India to meet his love. They didn’t believe that someone of ,royal blood, from Europe would marry a poor Indian. He showed his marriage pictures as proof materials. Then, they sent message to Charlotte. She drove to Gothenburg and received his husband with utmost love and respect. PK’s struggle, challenge & dedication to his love moved a huge deadlock of Royal tradition, that prohibited non-white people from residing with the nobles. Her parents accepted him as a part of their family member. Since then, he has settled and lives with his wife Charlotte and 2 children in Sweden. They haven’t been separated since. Their love story is known to every household in Sweden. Today, Dr. PK Mahanandia is a celebrated artist in Sweden and serves as the Cultural Ambassador of India to Sweden. The Indian village which once shunned him as an untouchable, now welcomes gladly every time he visits. Noted Indian filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali has expressed his desire to make a film on his life. Aha!!, I know what you are thinking. How are they now? I don’t really think I need to say anymore. These playful pictures captures their happy moments. Long live these lovely sweethearts :). Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore once said, ‘My salutations are to them who knew me imperfect and loved me.’ When he wrote this, he did not know that one-day in Sweden a sweet woman called Charlotte would be born to live up to these immortal lines. Thanks for reading so far. Hope this story could ignite some passion and hopefulness in you. Good luck!! Thanks for the A2A and I have reproduced most of my previous answer related to this topic. If anybody is interested to see some more interesting pics, here you go:
Do it through barter. Start by going to a large flea market and spend your dollar to buy something useful that's broken which you are confident you can repair. Or something dirty that you can clean up. Once you've got it working, go onto some of the many bartering websites on the internet and do a series of swaps making sure you get something better each time. Try to get a tower of swaps going in the same class of item. For instance you might start with a kitchen appliance tower. Buy an old eggbeater for $1. Clean and lube it and touch up the paint on the handle, then trade it for a blender that's missing the gasket between the glass top and the motor assemble. Repair that by fashioning a gasket from a piece of plastic, and trade for an older espresso machine. Clean and fix that, then move to a transportation tower. Trade the espresso machine for a nonworking bicycle that you can fix. Trade the bicycle for a motor scooter. Trade the scooter for an old motorcycle that needs work. Trade that for a beater car, and that for a better one. Add value at each swap by fixing, cleaning, repairing. At some point move to a housing tower. Get a week's rental on a mountain cabin somewhere. Trade that for a 2 week rental somewhere else. You may be able to trade up to actual freehold real estate--unimproved land or some land with a trailer on the premises. Be sure to do the same due diligence as if you were buying it for cash. With hard work and some luck, you should be able to trade up to something you can sell on eBay for $5000+ within a month of starting the experiment. If you want to hedge your bets, on the very first day, buy 2 fifty cent items to start bartering. Here are a few of the many barter websites, and no doubt you can find others. SwapTreasures BarterQuest U-Exchange Tradeaway Listia
E,verything is fair in love and war & poverty is just a state of mind,. A man cycled thousands of miles from Delhi to Sweden to reunite with his dream queen. I am going to tell a very fascinating, cute and thriller love story but which is real and bound to touch your heart. Their epic romance of Dr. Pradyumna Kumar Mahanandia (,PK,) from India and Charlotte Von Schedvin from Sweden is almost 40 years old. In 1949, PK was born into a poor weaver family of Odisha. He was a gifted artist but was born into what was considered an ‘untouchable’ caste in India. In 1971, he joined the College of Art in New Delhi, where he gained popularity for his portrait drawing skills. Four years later, in 1975, 19-year-old Charlotte, a student in London, who belonged to the royal family of Sweden, heard about his work and travelled to India to have her portrait painted. As the fate had conspired, during the course of making the portrait, he was possessed by her beauty and she, with his sheer simplicity. The two soon turned into lovebirds. They married shortly after., Every happy story has its own share of hiccups. ,Charlotte had to return to Sweden and PK wanted to finish his studies in India. So, they had to separate. When she offered to send air tickets later, he refused saying he would come to meet her on his own. After she left, the two kept in touch through letters. Determined to pay for his journey, three years later, PK sold all his possessions, bought a second-hand bike, and set out on an epic journey of ,4000 miles ,that would cover eight countries. He cycled through Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Germany, Austria and Denmark, surviving for many days without food, often having to stop to fix cycle punctures along the way., Four months and three weeks later, PK arrived in Gothenburg, Sweden. While entering, PK was questioned by immigration officers. But, they were surprised by seeing a man who rode a bicycle all the way from India to meet his love. They didn’t believe that someone of ,royal blood, from Europe would marry a poor Indian. He showed his marriage pictures as proof materials., Then, they sent message to Charlotte. She drove to Gothenburg and received his husband with utmost love and respect. PK’s struggle, challenge & dedication to his love moved a huge deadlock of Royal tradition, that prohibited non-white people from residing with the nobles. Her parents accepted him as a part of their family member. Since then, he has settled and lives with his wife Charlotte and 2 children in Sweden., They haven’t been separated since. Their love story is known to every household in Sweden. Today, Dr. PK Mahanandia is a celebrated artist in Sweden and serves as the Cultural Ambassador of India to Sweden. The Indian village which once shunned him as an untouchable, now welcomes gladly every time he visits., Noted Indian filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali has expressed his desire to make a film on his life. Aha!!, I know what you are thinking. How are they now? I don’t really think I need to say anymore. These playful pictures captures their happy moments. Long live these lovely sweethearts :). Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore once said, ‘My salutations are to them who knew me imperfect and loved me.’ When he wrote this, he did not know that one-day in Sweden a sweet woman called Charlotte would be born to live up to these immortal lines. Thanks for reading so far. Hope this story could ignite some passion and hopefulness in you. Good luck!! If anybody is interested to see some more interesting pics, here you go:,