He runs a finger down the side -- only grit makes a mark on his cracked tips. A smile gently breaks on his weathered face as he moves away to light up his work space. As he comes back, a large white pail filled with water with various cleaning tools float in his left hand. In his right hand is a spray bottle filled with soapy water.
The man gently dons a cleaning glove, specialized for the task at hand. On one side is a smooth microfibre towel while the other side is tacky and gray. A quick spray on the glove and multiple sprays on the body begins his day. For a few hours, the man continued what seems like a mudane routine; spray glove, spray surface, and wipe till he feels little to no resistance. At times, he would adjust an ear to the surface, listening for a sound, or a lack of sound as his mission is to ensure a smooth clean surface.
Sweat started to bead down his neck. Lucky for him, he works indoors so the harsh climate does not hamper his efforts. As he continues with his routine, he would occasionally switch hands as his body starts to ache. At certain points, he would pull a small green chair, in which he would squat seemingly uncomfortably to reach lower areas. As he finishes the last panel, he stands up and throws the cleaning glove into the once-clean-but-now-mucky water bucket. A grimace appears on his face, him not knowing what his true emotions are at the moment. Happiness at one task being completed, or frustration and a sense of hopelessness as he realized that this was only one step of many.
Ah, the joys of detailing a car.
(Time: 9 minutes and 59 seconds!)
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