The wrought-iron fence was the first thing we exclaimed about when we were house hunting. I remember running my fingers over the embossing on the gate, trying to trace its Ohio, turn-of-the-century origins beneath years of gloppy paint. Not only did the fence allow our friends to make Addams Family jokes, but it got them safely to our door without using the brass address numbers, which were so subtly hung inside the porch, it would have taken a World War II airplane spotter to find them.
The instant rust started to eat through the previous owners’ hasty touchup, I armed myself with a metal scrubbrush, cans of rust preventative, cans of primer, and cans of glossy black paint. All of which had spray nozzles the size of a caper. A long weekend and a bad case of tendinitis later, I trivialized the phrase “Never again!”
Two years passed. The rust ignored my prophylactics. Then a news release arrived in my inbox, hawking True Value’s new Rust Preventative Enamel that was Paint and Primer in One, with capital letters everywhere. The stuff was called X-O Rust Professional.
I love the label “professional.” The amateur-grade stuff, in bitter paradox, requires far more expertise to make its shoddier products effective. Shamelessly, I offered to test X-O for this blog, mentioning that long, venerable, again-rusting fence. They took the hint and sent six cans. My conscience didn’t even ping: If the stuff failed miserably, I was ready to say so. I had not enjoyed tendinitis.
Still, I stalled: It was too hot, too cold, too rainy. I was too busy. I was suffering flashbacks of my first attempt. Last Sunday, though, was too glorious to procrastinate any longer—plus my husband was painting his truck. Not to be outdone, I picked up one of the cans and a spray-thingie I’d bought to make it easier on my hand and forearm.
Didn’t even need it. Nice big nozzle. Nor did I need the dropcloth I’d dragged from the garage; the spray was perfectly controlled. I painted happily, thinking of the near-century that fence had watched. Had whoever forged the iron known how long it would last? How much ice would coat its fleur-de-lys, how many spiders would spin webs across its spindles, how many kids and dogs would push its gate wide?
The job that had once taken me all weekend was done in an hour. Next spring, I’ll let you know how well it stood time’s newest test.
