two hundred seventy-four

(left side)

It's a rest day -- as in just-finished-a-week-riding-a-bicycle-455-miles-across-the-state-of-North-Carolina rest day.  My tour partner, Blaine recently acquired a 1980 delivery truck.  His goal is to turn the decrepit -- er, vintage machine into a no-frills mobile bicycle shop.  His business is called Kick Stand.  And he's one hell of an "up-cycling" bike mechanic.  He uses all sorts of old, odd, and found parts to customize bicycles.  Thus, the old truck is quite the fit for its new life.

The truck's most recent life was a parked billboard of sorts advertising a drive-thru coffee shop.  It needed a little dressing up for the new bike biz.  "Les, can you paint the right side up with old paint from the garage?  The new sign needs to advertise the Kick Stand business while at the same time match the left side.  The more f*cked up-looking, the better.  There might be some paint cans lingering behind the autopsy table on the left side of the garage."

The left side of the truck is currently showing the remains of a fading coffee sign: big blocky, sans serif, white decals that are cracked, fading, and washing onto the remnant of the oxidized industrial green auto paint.  The right side needs to "match" while spelling out the new business.  

No prob.

(right side)

There you go -- complete with the best aerosol primers and cover-all primer/sealers one can find in the belly of an old garage.

And the stars were thrown in for free.

Is this what they call "rat rod auto body painting?"