It’s now (metaphorically written) February, 12th in the painting process of this original. Meaning, it’s (metaphorically written) dreary outside; it’s freezing cold, there are ice storms, daylight is short, nothing’s growing, and I’m hugging the fireplace. The trees are brown. The grass is brown. Everything and everybody’s hanging on for dear life. It’s just not nice.

I like the (metaphorically written) springtime of a painting—when stuff starts growing. It warming some; the birds are chirping their glee, the population of animals stretches their legs and wings. My neighbor isn’t cussing like a sailor with every step towards his newspaper by the street. All I wanna see is a sprig of something growing with color.

I like (metaphorically written) polishing a car more than working on its suspension if. That is, if I were to know how to do that.

Everything I’m doing in this painting is now mechanical. It’s the process of opening boxes of new things, attaching them, and putting other things over top of them. I’m (metaphorically written) making brackets. Trust me, it’s gotta be done.

I am taking photos of the processes as they happen. But, I’ve decided to post them after everyone can see my final result. Because, right now, (metaphorically written) there are parts and fluids in jugs scattered all over the garage floor. They’re on shelves and leaning against the wall. I don’t want to open the garage door for my friends to proudly proclaim, “Look at the Mustang now! I’d rather show the car in pristine condition … and then show photos of the chaos that ensued in order to get the car in proper condition. Does this make sense?

So, for my sake and yours, I thought I’d attach a lovely springtime-ish photo for all to enjoy.

Now let me turn on some Vivaldi and crank up the volume. I need to get back underneath this painting so I can reach the suspension. And, it will not be Vivaldi’s Winter movement of Four Seasons. You can bet your ass on that. Now, hit it, Andy!