Doing the bodywork was fun; well, painting was at least. I actually got to do some of the painting. When Jeff was done sanding, filling and buffing the rusted parts, we taped up the windshields and chrome parts. Jeff had picked out a beautiful metallic blue paint. We took turns with the paint sprayer. Jeff followed me around to dab up any drips. Then, he did a second coat by himself. Honestly, he was better at it then I; he didn’t leave any drips. Like a puma stalking its prey, Jeff slowly and steadily moved around the car with the sprayer. It was hard not to laugh as I watched him.

Once the painted dried, we examined our creation. It wasn’t perfect. For one thing, the door still creaked a bit. Before it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Now, it only sounded like something out of a horror movie, like when the lost teenagers open the door to the haunted mansion. Also, Jeff discovered that if he stuck a nail through a small hole in the middle of the steering wheel, he could honk the horn. The procedure only worked while making a left turn, though.

We couldn’t do much about the ripped leather upholstery; we could only patch it. Gotta love duct tape. At least we used black tape to match the color of the upholstery. Despite its faults, the car was beautiful. It certainly would turn a few heads.

When everything was completed, Jeff actually had some money left over. He decided to set it aside for the next worthwhile project that came along.

“Let’s make a toast!” I said.

“One second.”

While Jeff went into the house to get a clean glass for me, I gingerly touched the car. The paint was now dry. The car didn’t fall apart like I was afraid it would when we'd started the repair. So, I rubbed my hand against it as if I was petting my trusty steed.

“What do you think?” Jeff asked as he handed me a glass of soda. He then drank straight from the soda bottle.

“To you, Jeff,” I said. “You’re the man.”

“No, you’re the man,” he belched back at me.

I took out my cell phone and started sending a text message.

“Wha’cha doing?” Jeff asked.

“Katie said she wanted to see the car when we finished.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “She wants final approval. I could have predicted this. Okay, let me get a vacuum and some upholstery cleaner. If she’s going to be sitting in the car all dolled up, she’ll want the interior to be spotless.”

When Katie entered the garage, her reaction was somewhere between shocked and impressed. Who wouldn’t be impressed? The Firestorm was old, but it now sparkled like a sapphire. Katie poked and prodded, sat down in the seats and bounced. I held my breath, as if not breathing on the car would miraculously hold it together. She was not entirely happy about the upholstery, I could tell. There were no springs sticking out of the seats, though. She ran her hand over the seats several times, but the patches held up. Jeff had also done a good job of eliminating the dust.

“Very nice,” Katie said, completing her examination.

I could breathe again.

“You guys fixed this up yourselves?”

“Yes,” Jeff replied with self-satisfaction.

“Actually, it was mostly Jeff,” I added. “He’s the real brains behind this operation.”

Katie sidled up to me and wrapped both her arms around my right arm. “Well, it’s beautiful.” She kissed my cheek. “And, thank you, Jeff,” she said, giving Jeff a peck on his cheek. “Oh, what color is your tux?”

Yes, I did actually have the foresight to rent a tux. “Black,” I said. “It goes with everything, or so I’ve been told.”

She chuckled.

Next Chapter: Chapter Ten