A car manufactured the same year I was born, a car I had always loved and now a car I own, this Toyota Starlet EP82 is going to be the death of me. It's either going to work me to death or I'm going to get my head chopped off for all the money I’m going to throw at it over the years; one way or another, this love child is here to stay.

Every project needs to start somewhere, and bodywork was definitely on the top of the list along with suspension (more on that in another update), especially when you have a couple mini rust craters on the roof. I neglected it for a while but when an angel and a devil is on the same shoulder whispering in my ear, it was time to get it into bodywork and paint. the angel was there to save me from the pain of water leaking from the roof from progressive rusting and the devil telling me go full baller on the paint.

Well a little about me before we get deep into the article, most of the car scene would knows me as Vizionz ’93 Photography, but my name is Byron. I've been a car head for as long as I could remember and that love manifested into me falling into automotive photography. My plan for this build has probably been done time and time again but with every evolution of this 4 stage project, it's going to be a daily driver with autocross and time attack (hopefully it stirs at bushy park again) mode during the weekends!

So off to my cousin, Chillie Clarke, to get everything done in quick time. This isn't the first time I've seen him work but definitely the first time I've seen him working on a car; and trust the attention to detail is second to none. A cigarette in the mouth, sanding block and a bucket of water to wet sand the body with, he was already in his give when I got there on the day and nothing would stop him.

 Touching the sanded primer/ filler spots around the car all I can feel is nothing but an extremely smooth surface, smoother than the previous paint on the car even; definitely took me for a loop! The rear right of the car that never lined up with the trunk is now aligned. The rust spots on the car that I always cringed at whenever they were in my sight, I can't remember which side had which spot, and did I say already it was buttery smooth. The only thing reminder of the car I know I first bought is the door handle I broke on the right passenger door.

 It was time for another layer of primer; a cigarette and a steady hand is all it takes as the scent of the primer permeates the garage. Walking around the car one last time, I pay attention to all the spots I know that  would’ve never been noticed till he did his work.

 A spot of guide coat would bring an end to the day, just to pick up the sanding block and another cigarette again the next day. Till the next update, I'm just going to let you know now, it's going to be a bit sexier…

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