Unless you've been hiding under a rock for the past week, you've undoubtedly heard and seen video clips about the Camp Fire that erased the town of Paradise, CA. I went to high school there and my folks have lived there since 1978. Like 90% of the other residents of the town, they lost everything. The images and stories of those who made it out are absolutely surreal. Unfortunately, many weren't so lucky and perished in the fast moving inferno that obliterated the town in just under 9 hours.

After high school, I stayed in Paradise for another year before moving away to go to college. It was during that year that I went to work at a tiny, single bay shop called Speed's Car Care. Prior to that, I'd never heard the word "detail" as it pertains to this industry. I had no experience, other than taking care of my family's cars and trucks but, the owner, Robert Speed, gave me a shot and took me under his wing. He taught me everything there was to know about detailing at the time and he was a ball buster! Perfectionist doesn't even come close to describing his expectations. His methods bordered on psychotic, I swear to God! He wasn't abusive and he paid really well, but in return, he demanded your very best efforts and a flawless product with no room for errors or do-overs.

By the time I decided to move away, I had become proficient at paint correction and every facet of detailing. Everything was done with a rotary. MF's, DA's, and the multitude of products available to us today didn't exist. There was rubbing compound (that I swear had chunks of pumice stone in it), polish (that was slightly less grittier), and paste wax. This was from 1981-82. Terry cloth towels, cloth diapers, and chamois were what we used for wiping. I can't remember the brand of the polishers, but they were stainless steel or chrome and soooo heavy! Ahhhh, good times!

I don't know what happened to Mr. Speed and his shop but the knowledge and training he gave me planted the seed that eventually led me to doing it full time and loving what I get to do when I get out of bed each morning.

It breaks my heart to see the destruction of the place where I got my feet wet in this business, and it makes me even sadder to see my 80+ year old parents homeless and facing a seemingly impossible uphill battle to once again have something they can call home.

Just felt like sharing my story. Thanks for reading.