It's hard to recount the sequence. After I admittedly went ape-shit on the demolition (and partner in crime went monkey-shit) we had one of those Tazmanian Devil moments where we stopped spinning around in a whirlwind long enough to catch our breath and figure out we didn't know where the hell we were. After two seconds of forethought, we figured we weren't anywhere near finishing the demolition, so we continued to gut the Airstream. This is where Taz predictably tornadoes out of control simply because it's what he does best - not because it's what's best to do.
A little bit later, the interior looked much cleaner. We spent a few late nights ripping out asbestos tiles and vinyl tiles glued on top of asbestos tiles to get to the underlying plywood. Brie then went to task degreasing and bleaching the walls and wood while I rented an edging sander to tear up the black mastic used to glue the asbestos tiles down. The results...
Asbestos tiles...
Tiles removed. Black mastic on top of plywood...
Mastic removed. Sanded plywood with 52 years of grit and grime. The plywood almost looks like tile itself, yes?
