Captainkirk's Duster project

Sometimes I talk to myself. Oh, not in a Son-Of Sam-kinda way, but rather, the way you would discuss things if you were someone else as equally intelligent and as passionate about Mopars and such as you are. Most of you know what I mean.
Like tonight's conversation, for example; while lying on the concrete with drill and wire wheel in one hand, sandpaper in the other, and implements of destruction (Sorry, Arlo!) laying about me such as scrapers, putty knives, etc. rust and undercoating falling in my eyes, my hair, and generally making a total mess of my garage workshop; the conversation going something like this:
So, you really enjoy this....ummm, restoration stuff?
No, not really. In fact, this particular task I'm doing I can probably say with confidence, I truly hate!
Then, why are you doing it?
Because I have to.
Says who?
Says nobody, really. It just needs to be done.
Who's gonna know? Fast motor, nice paint job, a splash of chrome...who cares what the underside looks like?
I care.
But you just said you hate this. Why do it if you don't enjoy it?
Because I must.
You make no sense. Who's gonna know?
I will. And so will you.
Silence ensues. We both know I'm right. Even if I covered the rust with shiny black undercoating, still I would know. WE would know. And frankly, that's something I don't think either of us could live down!
And so, it continues......:clock: