1 day Ago By Peter Bleakney
Article content What does a McLaren Senna, an Airbus A380, the Mars Rover, and my 2001 Volkswagen GTI have in common? Um...
well, they all have round wheels and can move under their own power. Oh, and paint by AkzoNobel. Akzowhatnow ? AkzoNobel is a multinational coatings corporation that’s pretty much everywhere, if one the average person knows nothing about.
I ranked among these, until friend and Canadian Sales/Account Manager Mark Hine showed an interest in my original-owner Mk.4 VW GTI in rare-ish Matchstick Red. While merely an old hot hatch a decade ago, my GTI has blossomed into a bit of a unicorn, largely because most Mk.
4 GTIs have rotted away into ferrous heaven, or have been modified to within an inch of their lives. Seeing an original rust-free Matchstick Red 2001 GTI is akin to spotting a Kardashian at Kmart. AkzoNobel has a large training centre and state of the art paint shop in Etobicoke, Ontario.
This is where collision centres and body shops that have signed on to use Sikkens paint (and other AN products) send their technicians for product training, advanced tri-coat application, colour tinting, and more. The fact that my VW’s paint was looking a tad rough made it a fine candidate for a bit of TLC, courtesy of AkzoNobel. What’s it take to put a new sheen on an old GTI? The initial plan was to repaint the delaminated roof, the rear bumper, and the mirror caps (a bit worse for wear); the rest of the paint on my Brazilian-built V-Dub was still in decent shape.
So up to the pristine AkzoNobel paint facility we go, and Mark and I pull the rear bumper. This is where the one-thing-leads-to-another scenario started playing out. Painter extraordinaire and technical consultant Dave Woolley is head instructor at the AkzoNobel training centre.
Having been a motorcycle drag racer in a previous life, he knows all about focus and commitment. Wooley likes my little GTI but is concerned about the gradient fading of the 23-year-old finish. Their state-of-the-art digital paint scanner immediately identifies the hue as VW’s Matchstick Red, but there’s too much variation in the original paint to match a repainted bumper, roof, and trim.
Perfection is the name of the game up here, so Mark and Dave decide it’s all or nothing. I’m in. Over the next few weeks, Mark pulls the front bumper, strips much of car’s paint to the bare metal, and starts the process from scratch.
I know little, but am about to learn. Dave Woolley brings me up to speed on some basics. “In my opinion, a good painter is like a conductor of an orchestra.
They are in charge of the whole paint line, all the processes that are happening, they manage the preppers, and look at workflow. They understand colour. And when they go in the booth they can apply the paint, but they can also fix any issues that might crop up.
If a problem continues, they’re going to know if they can continue painting or stop and pull it out of the booth. They’ll be able to make that decision really quickly just from their experience and knowledge.” Woolley will be conducting the orchestra and spraying my car with Sikkens paint.
Turns out they have a plan to let me join the orchestra once the spraying starts, but I ain’t gonna be a soloist — more like the dude in the back with the crooked tie hitting a triangle out of time. But there’s still plenty to do first; in this game preparation is key. The bumpers are sanded, the blemishes filled.
Any bare metal gets epoxy coated to seal against moisture, followed by a high-build primer which is then block sanded to sculpt an even surface. Since this project is a preservation and not a restoration, we’re masking the headlights, windows, etc., as opposed to pulling all that stuff out.
One of the most common questions Woolley has heard from customers over the years is, “Why does a paint job cost so much?” You get what you pay for, of course, but done right the preparation is exacting and very time consuming. As might be expected, this AkzoNobel training centre is uncannily bright and clean. And when machine sanding, you think there’s dust flying around? Nope.
A costly Festool vacuum system with HEPA filter sucks most of those pesky particles away before they hit the air. This symphonic opus is building up to the last movement. Soon the conductor (Dave Woolley) and concert master (instructor Dave Banwell) will be donning their tuxes (paint suits and respirators) and entering from stage left — that being the door to the paint booth.
Instead of batons and violins, their instruments are SATA paint guns. The booth is minimally pressurized to keep any contaminants from entering when the door is open, although this contaminant (moi) sneaks in later. Woolley and Banwell coordinate who is going to paint which part of my GTI and where they will overlap — the latter taking patience and skill.
T’was a thing of beauty watching the maestros wield their guns with such symphonic fluidity. Later on, Banwell threw down two coats of clear coat and, ta-da — applause please. But wait.
What about the untalented triangle player? I show up later for the painting of the bumpers (we’ll call this the coda), and in an act of pure benevolence, I’m given a piece to paint that even if I screw it up beyond all salvation won’t make a lick of difference — the front license plate plinth that, you guessed it, is completely concealed by said plate. And here’s a hot tip: always paint the bumpers the way they are oriented when mounted on the car: horizontally. If you spray them hanging vertically the metallic flakes will settle in a different position within the paint droplets, and the piece won’t match the rest of the car when reattached horizontally.
Time to don my coolio AkzoNobel paint suit, gloves, visor and get hooked up to the respirator hose. With Woolley’s expert tutelage, I get a feel for the gun. Pulling the trigger halfway starts the airflow; beyond that the paint enters the stream.
It’s a smooth, sweeping motion starting with just air, then paint, then easing back to air when past the surface. Woolley certainly has a knack for instruction, getting me at ease with the process right from the get-go. “I enjoy it.
I’ve been in the trade 35 years on the floor as a collision tech and painter, and I would take the apprentices under my wing when they came in, so this job fits me. I love it.” After a final polish, Mark and I reattach the GTI’s bumpers, mirror caps and a few other bits, and step back to admire the final result.
I doubt my Matchstick GTI looked this good when I picked it up from the VW dealer 23 years ago. What wasn’t going to go back on this car were its beat-up old license plates. This old hot hatch with the new paint was worthy of a custom plate, so I settled on MK 4 GTI.
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