The nose of Space’s surfboard was slightly damaged and required some attention. His friend, an expatriate named Jean Francois (everyone calls him J.F. or even Jeff for short) offered to help as he had the materials and was close by. We arrived at J.F.’s house to discover that his fiberglass resin had gone bad (it can do that?), we’d need to head into town to pick some up. In a nightmare of urban planning, the solvent supply store was located in a residential complex not unlike Space’s. The owner of the company had bought to houses side by side – one to be used as his residence and the other for chemical sales. There were steel drums and canisters all over the place and large signs warning of the dangers of spark. The whole place reeked of paint thinner and I was getting light headed. This guy, smiley and personable as he was, was the definition of “nightmare neighbour”; his place was a disaster and he was probably turning the complex into a cancer cluster and causing birth defects for miles around. But business zoning by-laws simply do not exist and even if the neighbours objected there was nothing that could be done to stop him. It’s another confusing aspect of Taiwanese culture that puts money and economic interests above all else.
When he opened the canister of epoxy I was instantly transported back in time; smells have a way of doing that, of bringing back vivid memories of the people and places you associate with them. And just like that I was brought back to my childhood home with my eldest brother working on one of his many automotive disasters…he calls them “projects”. As usual the repair of rotted steel body panels requires plastic filler otherwise known as “bondo”; he loves the stuff just like Red Green loves duct tape. The smell is unmistakable.
The visions of my brother working on the cars were all too real, but I suspect that the intense colours when I made a conscious effort to breathe deeply.
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