Kinsler: Thus far, the rust is winning
So, a week ago I proudly listed the repairs I intended to perform on my beloved Geo Metro. These included a replacement brake line and some cleaning of the worst of the undercarriage rust.
But automobile rust is a stealthy opponent. As I tried to re-route the new brake line, I felt a drop of something liquid on my face, and then another. Turns out that my efforts on the brake line broke an unsuspected fuel pipe and that I was being soaked with enough unleaded gasoline to constitute a respectable human bomb. Though I managed to escape cremation, a look through my service manual told me that I’d have to remove the fuel tank to access the damaged fuel lines.
The fact that I was facing much more work finally soaked through my famously thick skull, and that meant that my next step would be to make more room in the garage. My quick brake job had suddenly turned into a substantial restoration project, and Natalie has had to park Snowflake the Honda out in the street while I worked on my little Metro.
As a native of Cleveland, a city where the police cars rust out, I am an old veteran of rust warfare. The object is to stay ahead of the corrosion process, the first step of which typically involves wire-brushing as much of the undercarriage as you feel like doing this year.
I believe I’m as good a lab specimen as any to prove that the powdered corrosion products of a Volkswagen that’s wintered in Cleveland Heights won’t hurt your lungs, much. And so we scrape the worst of the worst of what’s reachable on the underbody and offer a silent prayer for the rest.
The directions on a can of “rust converter” say that you have to remove any loose rust before you can, in good conscience, spray enough of the stuff on the rusted areas to make you feel better. (Rust converter is a sort of paint that changes the rust into a black finish that’ll protect against future rust.) It always looks better when first applied, and then you forget about it until something else rusts through and falls off the car.
I have drained the fuel tank and the summer breezes have evaporated all the gasoline from the garage. It’s a splendid, faithful little car, and I somehow think it’s my sacred duty to keep it going. Natalie has no comment.
Mark Kinsler, kinsler33@gmail.com, lives in a small, ancient house in Lancaster, where his every activity is carefully decided by a committee composed of Natalie (chairman) and the two skeptical cats.
This article originally appeared on Lancaster Eagle-Gazette: Kinsler: Thus far, the rust is winning
