Ok for the past three or four days (here and there) my nephew Lil Indian (Trevor Lee is half Navajo and my family is not PC) have been prepping for paint. He turned his first wrenches on my Tanglebones just the other day, a proud moment for me.
We managed to get the primer coats done today, just before the rain hit, go us! Indian did most of the sanding, Uncle Kaveman (to him and his siblings, I've never had another name, they have no idea who Chris is...) did all the real technical spots, kid went clear to bare metal with unbridled enthusiasm, proud as a peacock. His favorite color is blue, and he went nuts when he saw the metallic krylon I found at ace. He got to spray the forest green I found in a ditch, I had him spray the chain ring, pedals and crank arms, along with one side of my 56t sprocket. So now most of the running gear is green, and has a few runs.
I teach him the way my grandfather taught me. Show him how, hand him the stuff, MAYBE, help him out a bit. Then, walk away. When he comes to me and says, "I'm done, Uncle Kaveman!" I ask him, "Really, are you satisfied with your work? Its as near to perfect as you can manage?". With some tasks, you of course double check and point out mistakes or improvements, the runs in my paint will stay, for now. When asked the question, his answer was an athurotive yes. The imperfections will stay, I pointed them out, and told him "Every time someone notices, I'll tell the truth, you did it. When folks complement the colors, I'll complain about the runs you left.". Yes, I'm shaming a fatherless eleven year old boy, exactly the same way at exactly the same age as my grandaddy done to me.
Before you say anything hear me out. My grandpa taught me how to rattlecan on his truck camper. My grandaddy made a very similar comment, in a much "coarser" tone. Three weeks later, I had saved up enough money to replace the paint I wasted, and a bit more for some sand paper, and started fixing the mistakes just like he had shown me to begin with.
When my sister left the mountain, she left the oldest with me. I've since managed to get him to pull his grades up, and started to teach him how to cook. Man-child will now move on to the sixth grade, and makes a fine sketti! But best of all, he's beginning to take on a work ethic, which is my only real hope.
Lil Indian went to bed tonight asking about the price of paint, and saying how the neighbors behind us owe him money for some such reason... It's working already... Some days, he makes me so proud, some, I want to stuff him in a box and mail him to my sister. Mostly he's a great kid, heart like a lion and so sharp he cuts himself. With any luck we'll spray the color coat tomorrow, I have no doubt that his next rattlecan job will be perfect, he's already very meticulous, I reckon his mistakes were due to his lack of glasses, I didn't want overspray on them, so it was just the cheapie sunglasses.
If he does fix his runs, because the idea bugs him, I'll pony up the paint for his pedaler, which he's already dreaming of...