It's about dang time.

Today, much to my surprise, my children's bewilderment, and my wife's delight (to the tune of "you need to do something with that thing or get rid of it"), I spent the hours of 5:00-7:00 a.m. removing paint from my old Beetle.

Let me unpack that. Why to my surprise? I haven't worked on this car since summer 2002 (coincidentally, my daughter was born said summer).

My children's bewilderment? They had no idea that the Beetle was a car until a few months ago. To them, it was a big storage bin/high-tech garage shelving system. I'm not kidding.

My wife's delight? I guess I already unpacked that, but I'll also soften the statement by saying she's always been very understanding about the Beetle.

5:00-7:00 a.m.? On a Sunday? I have three kids and some conviction about selfish pursuits during their waking hours. I realized lately that if I ever make progress on the Beetle, it'll have to be in the wee hours on the weekends (I already spend the wee hours of the rest of the week biking, swimming, or lifting weights (after all, it takes a lot of work to look this average)).

Old Beetle? It's a '71 VW Beetle convertible that I restored in high school, and which was in a fire when I was in college. A few years later, I towed it out to Colorado to work on it. After much inhalation of paint-stripper fumes and many skinned knuckles, we moved back to Missouri to start a family and put a halt to all of our hobbies.

There's a back-story to why I still have this car, there was a near-death experience for me and my friend Jeremy while towing it to Denver (if you'll pardon the hyperbole), and there may be other bits and pieces to add besides the actual physical transformation of the Beetle itself.

Speaking of which, here are some photos.

Before:

During:

After: