No one ever accused me of being a car-detailing fanatic. You know the type: washing the car every week, polishing and waxing until it looks new, spending hours scrubbing every crevice of an alloy wheel designed by BMW or BBS to make the task impossible. I respected these people for their devotion to pristine paint, but that wasn't me.
I’ve never been those guys whom people seek out for advice on the best equipment, chemicals, or fabrics for removing every speck of dirt, and eliminating every scratch and swirl. I know guys who love that stuff, but that wasn’t me, either.
Nope. I was the guy who washed the car, dried the car, and maybe twice a year applied a coat of good wax, then stood back and marveled at how well the water on the surface beaded. I didn’t go crazy with multiple paint-correction passes before the final application of wax. I knew how to do it, and I could handle paint clay and various polishes, but I was simply not that motivated.
Even when I prepared my race car for the 2012 BMW CCA Oktoberfest Concours—the only concours I have ever entered—I couldn’t commit to the mindset needed to make the paint on a used track car really sparkle. It was clean, and it looked good from a distance—but concours cars aren’t judged from a distance. I did finish second, but full disclosure forces me to admit that there were only two cars in my class.
Such was my state of mind before two 2015 events: Classics at the Biltmore and Oktoberfest 2015. But no longer.
The absolute beauty of the vintage and classic cars at the Classics at the Biltmore Concours d’Elegance, hosted by the BMW CCA Foundation in June in Asheville, North Carolina, was breathtaking. The work and the money that went into making those cars—some more than a century old—look better than they did when they were new was mind-boggling.
And it takes a lot to boggle my mind when it comes to cars.
As the son of an expert professional mechanic, and as the only mechanic my one-man race team can afford, I certainly appreciate the mechanical and fabrication skills required to restore and maintain a vintage—sometimes one-of-a kind—car. It’s the same thing many of us Club members do today with our daily drivers and track cars. Parts for a 1995 BMW may be slightly easier to find than parts for a 1911 Buick, but other than that, it’s not much different.
What really stood out about those concours cars was the extraordinary paint. The flawless, deep, rich paint made the difference between an interesting old car and a truly spectacular piece of automotive art. I was not only moved, but inspired.
And then at Oktoberfest 2015 in New Jersey, thanks to one of the event’s vendors and sponsors, I experienced a revelation or maybe it was an epiphany. During Oktoberfest week, I spent some time picking the brains of the Griot’s Garage folks in the vendor area, and at their seminars, and while they worked on a car at the track—not just any car, as it turned out, but Satch Carlson’s Z8 roadster. I had seen that Z8 before Oktoberfest when Satch stopped by on his way across the country; it looked a bit road-weary at that point, having covered more than 5,000 miles in a little over a week. Now, in the hands of the Griot’s guys, the transformation of the paint was remarkable.
I learned two things during Oktoberfest: You can’t fix paint defects unless you can see them; and once you find the defects, it’s not that hard to fix them—at least, not as hard as it used to be. So once back home in Kansas City, I thought I’d put my learning to the test.
Scratches and swirl marks can be hard to see, especially on a white car like mine, indoors, with poor lighting. The accumulation of scratches and swirl marks eventually deadens the look of the paint. I learned that shining a very bright flashlight—mine is 700 lumens—and perhaps augmenting old eyes with a magnifier makes those defects show up like the Grand Canyon. Once I could see the problem, I could eliminate it.
Following the steps prescribed in the Griot’s Garage guide for people who have ignored their car’s finish for too long—I think the official title is A Detailer’s Handbook—involved a nice soapy wash with a microfiber mitt, drying the car with a microfiber drying towel, “claying” the car to remove all the dirt and grit without scratching the paint any more than it already was, using a random-orbital machine to apply progressively finer polishes until the defects disappeared, and finishing with a wax or sealant, also applied using the random orbital.
What makes this approach tolerable—and almost enjoyable—is applying the polishes and waxes with a random orbital machine—even more so with Griot’s Best of Show System machine, which is more ergonomic and gets results faster than their old versions. With this stuff and a good, bright flashlight, even a notorious non-detailer like me can achieve noticeably good results without feeling like I had spent the day lifting weights at the gym. Making multiple passes with various products strictly by hand is hard. It may have worked for the Karate Kid, but I just need nice paint, not a martial arts championship. Machines rule!
I’m not trying to make this a commercial for Griot’s, although I really like their products. Other companies make quality detailing products and equipment; many of our members swear by Zymöl and P21S; in fact, one of our members, Paul Cain, is the guy you see in the P21S ads that run in Roundel and other national magazines. So your choice of product is less important, for those of us who just want our paint to last longer and look great, than finding the motivation to do a thorough, high-quality paint-correction-and-preservation job. In my case, I have the guys from Griot’s to thank for the motivation—and those gorgeous concours cars for the inspiration.
I admire our members who enter the Oktoberfest concours, for their dedication and perseverance as they strive to achieve perfection in car-cleaning, paint quality, and originality. I marvel at how great their cars look. My M3 and X5 will never look as good as those cars—but that’s okay. When I look at my cars and see bright, vibrant paint without the scratches and marks that used to be there, I’m happy.
Of course, when I look at Satch’s Z8, I’m still a little jealous. Those Griot’s guys really know how to make a car look really, really good. And hey: it’s a Z8.—Scott Blazey
