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joelalorian · 7 months ago

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Wonder in Winterland - Part I

Hallmark!Joel Miller x f!reader | wc: 2790 | masterlist

Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.

Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie. Will post on Sundays throughout December.

Dividers courtesy of saradika-graphics. This magical moodboard is all thanks to @brittmb115!

Part I

A thousand miles from nowhere, you grew weary of driving despite the scenic view of snow-dusted evergreens looming like sentinels along the barren stretch of highway. The old pickup your dad left you ate up the miles like an asphalt sandwich, its engine rumbling almost louder than the outdated radio as it struggled to stay tuned to the local stations. The scent of pine mixed with motor oil hung in the cab, a reminder of just how old the truck was and the amount of time you spent trapped in it so far.

If not for the irrational fear of flying, you’d already be in San Francisco, enjoying a cocktail at Pier 39, watching the sea lions as you killed time before your long-time client’s wedding.

Instead, you were twenty-seven hours into the cross-country trek with too many hours left to go and you had to pee so bad you could practically taste it. Shifting uncomfortably, you casted a glance at the towering mountains lining the valley, the sun fighting to peek through the lingering fog as it rose above the peaks. When traffic ground to a halt, a frustrated groan slipped past your lips, and you threw the transmission into park.

Popping the door open with a loud creak, you took the unexpected break as a sign to stretch your legs. The brisk air outside bit at your skin when you stepped out, breath forming small clouds that disappeared into the winter wind. You weaved between cars to the soundtrack of beeping horns and impatient shouts until coming upon the cause of the delay.

A trailer full of Christmas trees sat partially overturned, half its cargo scattered across the highway like some messed up holiday party. Among the chaos stood a man – tall, broad, and clad in a thick, well-worn flannel jacket that looked as rugged as the mountains behind him. The breeze caught his dark curls, tossing them across his forehead as he worked to pile the fallen trees back onto the trailer. Wholly unbothered by the flustered drivers glaring and honking at him, the man worked with steady, unrushed focus.

“Need any help?” you called out, slipping on a pair of leather gloves as you approached.

The man’s head snapped toward you at the sound of your voice, and he paused, brow loosening and a small smile pulling at his lips as warm brown eyes drank you in with a curious, amused glint. “I’d hate to ruin your pretty little outfit, darlin’.”

Your eyebrow arched. A playful smiled tugged at your lips as you stepped closer, snow crunching under your heeled boots. “You think my outfit’s pretty?”

His expression faltered for a split second, replaced by something warmer. “I think you’re pretty. The outfit’s just window dressing.” His grin widened as he added, “I’m Joel, by the way.”

Your laugh bubbled out, light and unexpected, cutting through the cold rhythmically. Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his cheeks tinged pink – not from the chill, but from something else entirely. Just as your gloved hands were about to clasp in a handshake, some asshole laid on his horn with a shout.

“Can you two get a room or something? Some of us have somewhere important to be!”

Turning to glare at the offender, you opened your mouth and the New Jersey in you came flying out. “Can it, dick cheese! Get off your fat ass and help if you’re in that much of a hurry!”

A bark of laughter drew your attention back to Joel as he shook his head in merry disbelief before going back to moving the trees. This time, you didn’t ask if he wanted help and bent to grab one of the smaller trees to lug it toward the trailer. The cold bit at your cheeks, breaking through your coat that was clearly more for style than warmth. The fresh scent of pine filled your lungs, as you hefted the tree back to the trailer.

Joel stood a few paces away with a larger tree slung over his broad shoulder, watching with an amused tilt of his head as you struggled past him.

“Aw come on, doll. You don’t have to do that.” His voice held a soft, almost pleading quality, but hidden behind that was a flicker of admiration as you ignored him and carried on despite the struggle. His expression shifted – half a smirk, half something deeper – as you hefted the tree onto the trailer and turned to fetch yet another one.

The pair of you continued working, Joel’s eyes flicking toward you now and then, lingering a little longer than they should. Around you, the chaos of impatient honking and shouts became nothing more than white noise.

A few others – including the mouthy asshole from earlier – seemed to get the hint that the roadway would clear quicker if they helped and within ten minutes, two of the travel lines were clear and traffic started to flow once again.

“Thanks for your help. You should probably get going, you look like you’re freezing,” Joel said as the last tree landed on the trailer and he pulled the tie down straps taut. “I’m gonna be here a while waiting for the tow truck. Can’t fix the trailer without some equipment.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Joel.” You shook Joel’s hand again, the heat from him worming its way through the material of your gloves, curling around you like the heat from a distant fire.

“You, too, darlin’.”

You hesitated, staring at each other for several long moments, not wanting to leave but you didn’t have a good enough excuse to stay. Flashing one last charming smile, you waved and sauntered back to your truck, which sat alone in the still blocked third lane.

The moment your truck refused to start, panic set in, swirling like winter wind in your chest. You hopped out again, popping the hood with more frustration than sense. Steam wafted from the still warm engine in thin, mocking wisps as you stared at the confusing labyrinth of parts comprising the engine compartment, entirely clueless. The frigid air nipped at your fingers and numbed your toes – why didn’t you dress appropriately knowing you’d be driving through a winter wonderland for half the journey.

The crunch of boots over the mix of ice and gravel sounded behind you, causing a shiver to wander down your spine. “I believe it’s my turn to offer a hand,” Joel said, his voice a deep rumble, sending a ripple of something straight to your core. When you turned, he was closer than you expected, his warm brown eyes softening as he took in your helpless shrug. “Let me take a look.”

He leaned over the engine, his broad and calloused hands moving deftly as though coaxing the old truck into cooperation. You caught yourself staring at the way his jaw clenched in concentration, the salt and pepper scruff along his jaw catching the light when he titled his head. Each frustrated grunt from him made your stomach flip, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. Your thoughts began wandering in a certain direction as you eyed the breadth of him…

After a few fruitless minutes, Joel straightened, wiping his palms along the dark denim covering his legs before running one hand through his dark curls. The movement left his hair deliciously mussed, and you ached to run your own fingers through it.

“Can’t do much out here in the cold. Jimmy’s got the tools and parts we’d need back at his garage. Lemme just call him to give ‘em the heads up he’ll need to tow it back.”

As he spoke into his phone, explaining your plight to Jimmy, you realized how much you appreciated the way he said your name, drawing it out like something worth savoring. The way he stood close, his shoulders hunched slightly, broad body breaking the wind to protect you from the cold as much as he could, didn’t go unnoticed either.

“He’ll be here in a few,” Joel said once the call ended. “You can wait in my truck if you’re cold. I’ll give you a lift into town after.” Joel led you toward the shiny black four by four parked half on the shoulder, opening the door for you like a true country gentleman. Holding out a hand, he helped you climb up into the passenger seat as the sound of large tires on the rumble strip sounded behind you. “Up you get. That’ll be Jimmy. Feel free to start ‘er up and put the heat on. We’ll be done in no time.”

Your hands grasped the ring of keys and immediately stuck the right one into the ignition. The truck growled to life with a simple turn of your wrist and heat poured from the vents, carrying the heady scent of fresh-cut trees and sandalwood through the cab – his scent, you realized, and it was unexpectedly comforting. You adjusted in the seat, your fingers brushing over the fabric of a thick Carhart jacket slung over the headrest, as the warmth of the truck seemed to seep into your very core.

You had just pulled the jacket off the seat to wrap around yourself when Joel opened the driver-side door and climbed in, his movements fluid and unhurried. He glanced your way as he settled into the seat, the corners of his lips twitching upward when he noticed you bobbing your head along to Bing Crosby crooning over the radio.

“That was quick!” you exclaimed.

Joel’s chuckle was low and intimate. “Just needed the right leverage,” he said, resting his hands briefly on the heated steering wheel. His large, strong fingers flexed as though testing their strength after the labor. “Jimmy’s hooking up your truck now. He’ll be right behind us.”

You nodded, gaze drifting to his profile to drink in the sharp lines of his jaw and the pink tinge on his cheeks. Snow started falling outside as Joel shifted the truck into gear and began driving. As he steered the large truck down the highway, you caught a faint, amused glint in his eyes when he asked, “So, road-tripping for the holidays?”

The pair of you made easy conversation as he drove. You told him about your travel plans, and he told you about his farm. The miles passed in a blur before he signaled to take the next exit.

“Winterland?” you whispered upon seeing the welcome sign indicating the town’s name, the word slipping past your lips in wonder.

The small town of Winterland was like stepping into a Christmas card come to life. Lights twinkled on every storefront, reflections dancing off the snow-covered sidewalks. Wreaths adorned old gas-style lampposts, and the faint sound of holiday music drifted through the air from scattered outdoor speakers. Joel slowed the truck as he drove down Main Street, and you leaned closer to the window, the scene outside stealing your breath.

Joel glanced at you, warmth lighting his expression as he watched your awe unfold. “It grows on you,” he murmured, his voice almost too quiet to hear over the hum of the engine.

“You have got to be kidding me!” The urge to stomp your foot like a child nearly impossible to fight, you settled for a frustrated huff instead. “Nearly a week? Really?”

Jimmy the tow truck driver slash mechanic slash owner of the only gas station in town shrugged regretfully, one hand placed on the paunch pulling taut on his coveralls, the other stuck in his pocket. “Between the holidays and the weather, that’s the best my supplier could do. Parts for old trucks like that aren’t common, hon.”

“Can’t you order the parts from Amazon or something? They have two-day delivery!”

“Sorry, ma’am. I checked already and they’d have the same problems delivering the parts. That’s the downfall of small mountain towns, unfortunately, and it doesn’t get much smaller than Winterland.” Jimmy tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace on his grizzled face.

“Damn. Thanks for trying, Jimmy. I know you’re doing your best and I appreciate it.” Bumping your fist against the counter twice, you spun on your heels to leave only to turn back around. “Uh, is there like an inn or hotel or something nearby? I’m going to need a place to stay if the truck is going to take a week to fix.”

“That we do. The Millers run a small bed and breakfast down the road. It’s the only one in town. I’ll give you a ride in a minute.”

You waved him off. “That’s ok, I’ll just walk. It’ll give me the chance to take in the town.”

Jimmy eyed you doubtfully, questioning your clothing and footwear, which were clearly not suitable for the winter weather in the mountains. “If you say so, doll. You know it’s still snowing out, right?”

Five minutes later, you regretted brushing off Jimmy’s offer of a ride. Between the salt on the sidewalks, the falling snow, and the biting gusts of wind, dragging your rolling suitcase while trying to keep warm was a huge pain in the ass. That and you swore your toes were nothing more than little ice cubes attached to your feet.

When you finally reached the bed and breakfast, cleverly named the Evergreen House at Winterland, the scent of cinnamon and fresh-cut pine greeted you like an old friend. The cozy warmth of the lobby wrapped around you, the crackling fire in the hearth casting dancing shadows on the walls that mesmerized you.

Everything about this town, including its buildings and people, reminded you of Christmas. What was it like in the summer, you wondered.

“Hi there,” a friendly voice greeted you from down the hall and you glanced up to find a beautiful, dark-skinned woman walking toward you. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a thick ivory sweater, feet clad in fuzzy slippers, your own chilled, damp body quaked with jealousy over how comfortable and warm she looked. “You must be the new guest Jimmy told me to expect. I’m Maria.”

Replying with your name and a smile, you added, “I hope you have a room for me? I’m at a loss for where else to look if not.”

“Of course! We have the best room for you and plenty of food and drink to keep you sustained for as long as you need. What brings you to town?”

Maria led you up the rounded stairway as you shared the story of driving across the country and the old truck refusing to start after a delay on the highway. You spared her the details, though. She stopped in front of dark wooden door, a hand-carved sign on it reading “Blue Spruce”, and opened it to reveal a cozy sitting area and a large bed. “This is your room. We named all the rooms after Christmas trees. It was my husband’s idea – his brother owns the tree farm on the outskirts of town.”

Putting the pieces together, you asked, “Your husband is Joel’s brother?”

“You know Joel?” Maria inquired, brows arching curiously. She seemed delighted by that fact, judging by the smile slowly spreading across her lips.

“Well, yeah, I met him out on the highway. He’s the reason for the traffic jam and why I ended up here in Winterland rather than stranded somewhere else along the road.”

“Well, isn’t that serendipitous!” Maria replied with a clap of her hands. “Joel and Sarah are coming for dinner tonight. You’ll join us, of course.”

Maria’s excitement was infectious, and you smiled in return. You couldn’t help but wonder who Sarah was – a girlfriend or wife, probably, as your luck tended to go – and if Joel’s reaction to your unexpected reunion would be as enthusiastic as hers. Maria left you to get settled in and rest for a bit before dinner. You changed into something more comfortable for napping and barely laid down before something scratched at the door with a low whine.

“What in the world?” you murmured as you shuffled toward the door. A golden retriever sat waiting for you, tongue lolling and a Santa-themed bandana around its neck. “Well, hello there. Who might you be?”

The dog trotted right past you like he owned the place, and you spotted the name Barkley printed on the bandana as he went by. “Barkley, huh? The Miller family really went all in on the Christmas tree charm, didn’t they?”

Barkley jumped on the bed and whined, clearly begging you to let him nap there. Giggling softly, you shut the door and climbed back under the covers, falling asleep with Barkley snuggled right up to your side like your own personal radiator.

tbc

#hallmark christmas movie inspired #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #fluff and humor #ppcu fanfiction

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hiro--aoki · 10 months ago

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TWD X TUMBLR Chapter One: Where The Story Starts

TW: No trigger warnings out of the usual twd stuff, you know the drill

A/n: and. here. we. go.

Next Chapter

“Hello? Hello, can anyone hear my voice? Over”

Everyone’s heads turn towards the radio. There hasn’t been a transmission since they bombed Atlanta. Everyone rushes over, Amy getting there first, dropping the sticks she had gathered for the fire.

She grabs the radio with a shaky hand, nearly dropping it, “Hey. Hello?”

“Can anyone hear my voice?” The person on the other end continues.

“Yes, you’re coming through. I can hear your voice. Over.” She says, excitement filling her voice.

“If anyone reads, please respond.” The voice continues.

People start to crowd around Amy and the radio. Her faces falls, as she realises, she isn’t coming through to the person.

“Broadcasting on emergency channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on highway 85. If anybody reads, please respond.”

“We’re just outside the city- “But Amy’s interrupted by radio static.

“Damn it.” She mutters, “Hello? Hello? He couldn’t hear me; I couldn’t warn him.”

“Try to raise him again,” Dale offers, “C’mon son, you know best how to work this thing.”

Dale gestures to Shane. Shane slams his hatchet down onto the wooden log the radio is resting on, before kneeling and taking the radio from Amy’s hand.

“Hello, hello. Is the person who called still on the air?”

Everyone listens for a moment, only to hear static yet again.

“This is officer Shane Walsh, responding to person unknown, please respond.”

Another moment of nothing before Shane puts down the radio, “He’s gone.”

Lori breaks the silence, “There are others, it’s not just us.”

“We knew there would be, right?” Shane replies, “That’s why we left the C.B. on.”

“Lot of good it’s been doing. I’ve been saying for a week, we ought to put signs up on 85 and warn people away from the city.” Lori points out.

“She’s not wrong, Shane.” Lily calls out from her spot with Carl, Kayden and Delilah.

“Folks got no idea what they’re getting into.” Amy adds.

“Well,” Shane says as he stands, “We haven’t had time.”

“I think we need to make time.” Lori says, firmer than before.

“That’s a luxury we can’t afford. We are surviving here; we are day to day.”

“And who the hell would you propose we send?” Dale asks, trying to calm the atmosphere.

“I’ll go. Give me a vehicle.” Lori says countering again.

“I’ll come too.” Lily adds.

“And me!” Delilah demands.

“Nobody goes anywhere alone, and I’m not letting you take two children as support.” Shane answers, leaving no room for arguments.

Lori stays silent for a minute, before mumbling a “Yes sir,” as she walks back to her tent.

Carl goes to follow, holding Kayden’s hand, bringing her too.

“Hey, hey, hey, take a seat kiddos. You’re alright, c’mon.” Shane stops them.

Carl and Kayden stand there for a minute, before Carl continues walking ignoring Shane’s command. Lily follows, stopping them.

“Kay, can you help ‘Lilah, sort the firewood?” She asks.

Kayden nods and runs over to Delilah who is sorting through the sticks Amy had found, as Delilah explains which ones are good to burn, and which ones aren’t.

“Mom?” Carl calls out to Lori.

Shane walks out of the tent first, “Sup, buddy, she’s in there, go on.”

As Shane walks away, he passes Lily who mumbles, “I’m not a kid.”

“Hey,” Lori says to Carl, “I don’t want you or Lily to worry, mama’s not going anywhere, okay?”

Carl nods, with his innocent grin.

“Go finish your chores.” She smiles.

“Okay.” He waddles off to help Delilah and Kayden.

_______Later That Day_______

Amy, followed by Delilah, carries a bucket of fungi to Lori.

“Get a lot?” Lori queries.

“How do we know if they’re poison?” Amy asks as she tips the bucket towards Lori to show her the contents.

Lori holds out a bowl, and Amy tips them in.

“Uh, there’s only one sure way I know of.” Lori says, as she starts to fumble around with a mushroom.

Delilah lifts one to her mouth.

“Don’t.” Lori warns.

Amy crouches down next to the fire, “Ask Shane when he gets back?”

“Yeah.” Lori stands, picking up the bucket.

As she starts to walk to the forest, she calls out to Dale, “Dale. I’m headin’ out.”

She then turns to Carl, “Sweetheart, I want you to stay where Dale or Lily can see you, okay?”

“Yes, mom.” Carl says as he continues to play with Kayden.

“You too! Don’t wander too far; stay within shouting distance, and if you see anything, holler. Okay?” Dale says, his protectiveness showing through his tone of voice.

“Yes mom.” Lori mumbles sarcastically as she walks into the forest.

After she disappears into the forest, Lily calls out to Carl, Kayden, Sophia and Delilah.

“Do you guys wanna hear a story?”

This excites them easily, even Delilah, and they all scramble to sit in front of her.

“Have you heard the story of the big bad wolf and the three little pigs?”

“This story again? You told this one a few nights ago. I came here for energy, creativity, a masterpiece, if you will. This is why Glenn is our story teller. Get your mind in the game, Lils.” Delilah complains.

“You got a better idea, ‘Mrs Rhee’?” Lily asks, with a grin.

“What about a story about a dinosaur?” Carl asks.

“In outer space.” Kayden adds.

“And maker the dinosaur a fairy warrior princess!” Delilah smiles.

_______Meanwhile_______

Rick climbs out of the tank, pushing and shooting walkers away, while he follows the instructions the two voices over the radio had said.

He quickly finds the alley, seeing something moving, points his gun up.

“Woah! Not dead! Not dead!” The Korean says.

“C’mon, hurry.” The lady says.

All three run down the alley to a ladder. The lady climbs up first, then the guy.

“What are you doing?!” Hurry up!” The man hisses at Rick.

The walkers below growl and grunt as they climb higher onto the building.

The three of them reach a ledge. They lean against the railing as they catch their breathe.

“Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood. You the new sheriff?” The mystery man asks, taking in Rick’s uniform, “Come riding in to clean up the town?”

“Wasn’t my intention-“

“Yeah whatever.” The lady interrupts.

“Well, yee haw, you’re still a dumbass.” The man adds.

There’s another moment of silence before Rick offers the man his hand, “Rick. Thanks.”

The man looks at his hand for a second before shaking it, “Glenn, you’re welcome.”

Rick then offers his hand to the lady.

She shakes his hand, “Artemis.”

“Oh no,” Glenn says, as he peers over the railing at the walkers, who are blocking one two ways off the balcony.

The three of them glance up at the ladder that takes them further up the building.

“Bright side: it’ll be the fall that kills us.” Glenn says.

This earns a look from Rick.

“He’s a glass half full kinda guy.” Artemis chuckles.

This time, Glenn climbs up the ladder first, then Artemis, and finally, after stealing a glance at the decaying nightmares, Rick.

Taglist:

@kookiekult @smutinlove @far-cry-from-finality @zomb-1-egutzz @shadowybasementmiracle @vaniniweenie

@frankcastleautism @hisdahlia @carlslvr @zzombiegirl @lunarnightt @carlmipololo @herrera2k @txrasbae @sleep-queen

#the walking dead #twd #twd x tumblr #artemis everdeen #lily grimes #delilah walsh #kayden walsh

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hirocimacruiser · 6 months ago

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Subaru REX

Let's go to Rex.

REX 660

In 1990, the engine grew to 660cc, ushering in a new era for minicars. The Rex decided to use this new spaciousness as "high-quality spaciousness" that would energize all its occupants and make daily life more comfortable. It is fun, gentle, and makes you want to drive it every day. It is a car that is more appropriately described as "good performance" than high performance. Although it is small, the "660 Rex, a sedan-made car" offers the comfort of a full-fledged passenger car. This is the kind of shape that the future Mini should have.

660 REX 3DOOR SEDAN

Photo: 3-door sedan Feria!! ECVT Noble Cute Metallic

We love people. That's why the 660 Rex is designed to be "perfect for everyday life."

660 REX

Amazingly smooth. 3 valve 4-cylinder "CLOVER4".

660cc CLOVER4

A representative example of the Clover 4. It has the quietness and smoothness that only a 4-cylinder can offer. The smoothness at high revolutions is something that can only be achieved with a 4-cylinder. The ease of use in the practical range has also been further improved with the 660cc engine.

Maximum output (net): 42ps/7000rpm

Max torque 5.3kg-m/4500rpm

660cc EMPI CLOVER4

EMPi (Electronic Multi-Point Fuel Injection) is used. It realizes more powerful driving that allows you to ride comfortably even on fast-moving highways. Another point not to be overlooked is its good fuel economy.

Maximum output (5MT vehicle, net): 48ps/7200rpm

ECVT vehicle: 46ps/6400rpm

Maximum torque (5MT) 5.4 kg-m/5600 rpm

ECVT vehicle 5.5kg-m/4000rpm

660cc EMPI SUPER CHARGER CLOVER4

Equipped with a supercharger that provides excellent response and mid-range torque. With EMPI and an intercooler, the power is an undeniable 64ps. It has a sports heart that allows you to enjoy driving to the fullest.

Maximum output (net): 64ps/6400rpm

Max torque 8.6kg-m/4400rpm

Subaru is the only light car with a 4-cylinder engine. The Clover 4 is a 4-cylinder engine that is even more attractive now that it is 660cc. The increase in displacement is not a simple bore increase, but an increase in stroke with an emphasis on ease of handling in the mid-range. Experience the greatness of the 4-cylinder 660cc when starting off in the city or driving at high speeds on the highway.

*660cc class as of January 1990

The smooth and powerful four-cylinder engine is best paired with the smooth and easy-to-use super automatic ECVT.

ECVT is a mechanism that automatically changes gears infinitely using a pair of variable diameter pulleys and a special steel belt. There is absolutely no unpleasant gear change shock. With the same easy operation as a normal automatic transmission, you can enjoy an incomparably comfortable ride.

There is no creep phenomenon, where the car starts moving on its own even when the driver is not in the car. Low fuel consumption. The fuel consumption is so good that you would never think it was an automatic. Excellent reliability and durability. The steel belt is guaranteed for 5 years or 100,000 km.

For more reliable operation of ECVT vehicles, the following features are provided: ●Key interlock ●Shift lock ●Reverse alarm ●ECVT select indicator.

●Smooth ride. There are absolutely no unpleasant gear shift shocks, so it's smooth from starting to top speed.

● Sharp start. Powerful driving with direct acceleration. Selecting the Ds range makes it even sportier. ● Safety is also a big plus. When waiting at a traffic light, etc.,

ECVT Electro-Continuously Variable Transmission

Electronically controlled electromagnetic clutch type automatic variable speed transmission

A high-grade mechanism that greatly increases your sense of security.

●In accordance with the new standard of an overall length of 100 mm more, not only the bumper but also the bonnet has been enlarged. The strength of the side doors has also been increased. A highly rigid body that gives a sense of trust in the way it drives. ●High-quality ride comfort, four-wheel independent suspension. ●All vehicles have front disc brakes and radial tires.

Two 4WD options that greatly increase your sense of security.

All Easy Drive ECVT vehicles are equipped with Subaru's original Twin Visco full-time 4WD system, which provides a stable driving experience. Selective 4WD is also available, allowing you to easily switch between 2WD and 4WD with the push of a button.

Subaru REX

Sedan - Made. It's quiet, spacious, safe, and just so comfortable.

A soft texture. A sense of security that wraps you up. Wide windows and a large living space. The interior of the 660 Rex is spacious and open. The spaciousness of the rear seats in the sedan in particular is something to be proud of. Note also the quality that has been carefully crafted down to the last detail. The subtle texture of the seats is so beautiful that you'll want to get up close and touch them. It's an interior that makes you feel extremely high-class.

PIC CAPTIONS

Fully mechanical power steering

Genuine engine speed-sensitive power steering that is light at low speeds and provides firm feedback at high speeds. (Factory option on AX-i CX-i, 3-door sedan/5-door sedan Feria, and Feria ECVT models)

Air conditioning that lets you enjoy fresh air 365 days a year

From cooling in the summer to dehumidifying heating in the winter, you can freely control the airflow to your liking any time of the year. You can enjoy a refreshing drive at any time. (AX-i, CX-i, Feria)

Clear sound at any time, AM FM cassette stereo

It is equipped with a cassette stereo audio system, a one-touch traffic information receiving switch, and a digital clock function.

(AX-i, CX-i, Feria)

Easy mirror adjustment, electric remote control door mirror

The door mirror angle can be adjusted with a single touch from the driver's seat.

(AX-i, CX-i, Feria)

Easy entry and exit with passenger seat walk-in slide

When the passenger seat backrest is folded down, the entire seat moves forward, making it easier for passengers to get in and out of the rear seat. Equipped with a memory device.

(All 3-door sedans)

Rear wiper/washer

Combined with a heated printed rear defogger, rear visibility is always clear. (AX-i, CX-i, Feria, Supercharger, 4WD)

#subaru REX #subaru kei car #kei car

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shroudandsands · 10 months ago

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Prompt #1: Steer

Tires thudded over the curb. The engine backfired. Bullets clanked against the frame. And Dugald was driving like his life depended on it.

He had never expected to be put behind the wheel, honestly. At least- Not in the first few days of knowing the driver. Or the car. It felt impersonal, you know? You didn’t drive someone else’s car until they trusted you with it or they were dead. And neither were particularly applicable right now- But he supposed the latter might happen if he didn’t make the next turn. The Thorton skipped over another curb, the side scraped against a wall, the owner hollered her complaint over the sound of returning gunfire. He white knuckled the steering wheel. Another bullet ricocheted off the frame. Another was sent in return. He looked in the rearview mirror. Scavs. It had to be scavs. One clear memory in his head- of a few, at least- and it was in a high speed chase that he could remember how he felt about scavs. Probably not an uncommon feeling towards them. I mean, who could like butchers who’d sell you for every bit of metal you have in you- right down to the fillings in your teeth? He thumped over another curb as he swung the truck around into an alleyway. Honestly it wasn’t surprising that his only memories of them were negative. The sound of the mirrors scraping against brick and metal was just as evocative of their chop shops as the actual sound of them screaming behind them. How much was he worth? Hell, how much was this gal worth? Between the two of them they probably had a pretty decent score. At least he had a feeling the car wasn’t what they were after.

The car groaned, same as him, as he swung it wide around the corner and back onto the road. Potholes thumped the suspension as he pointed the nose towards the distant promise of an easier time, an easier escape- The only highway ramp not currently blocked by NCPD or some Maelstrom popup… Gathering. Gathering was the best way to put it, he thought. Really the only problem with all the thoughts before, of course, as he stomped on the pedal and listened to the automatic transmission whine in horror at what he was making it do- Well. This thing wasn’t exactly going to go zero to sixty fast enough to escape the scavs’ slipshod dragsters. Whether from shitty parts, old age, or factory limiters- “WALKER-” She dropped back down into the passenger seat as a grenade soared past the car and landed in a heap of garbage. It exploded as he swerved around it- much to her and the car’s complaint- and he felt another backfire take them down a gear. The look she gave him was wild, frenzied even, and frankly he didn’t appreciate the unspoken complaints about his driving. Not his fault he wasn’t carrying any guns at the moment. Not his fault that the car couldn’t go above sixty and take corners without screaming in agony. What had she been doing to this thing? Or, rather, hadn’t been doing? It’s not his fault that he couldn’t make it go faster. Not…

He looked in the rear view. They were getting closer. The Thorton was blowing smoke. Slowing down. If he could get on the highway it still wouldn’t be fast enough in the straightaways to get out of their territory. He was pretty sure they were about to blow a tire, too, to make it all that much more palatable. They’d be able to catch them in a heartbeat. It’s a Thorton. He stared in the rearview.

Chop shops. Metal. Chrome. Thortons. He looked down at the steering wheel. It was a Thorton. Scavs weren’t after the car- In a fit of memory-induced insanity-

Dugald gripped the console with both hands, his fingers slipping into grooves meant for technician tools. Augmented hands and arms would have to do for the moment as he groaned… and tore the module right off and into his lap. Within the same second, in a memory as rote as blood flowing from a wound, his arm slipped open in all but the same way to expose a monofilament blade that sprung cleanly from his forearm and out under his palm. And then he jammed it straight into the ECU plug. Sparks flew. Chop shop. Metal. Chrome. It was a Thorton. The only difference between any damned model of the thing was the limiter the factory put on it and the armor the customer slapped on it. Limiters could be removed. Engines could be tuned. Not in real time, no, never in real time. Not for anyone sane at least. Not for anyone who wasn’t currently being shot at and thoroughly invested in staying as alive as possible for the next 30 minutes- give or take a few. Oh but that’s what he remembered. The Scavs. The chop shops. Oh he remembered it all.

It was right as they hit the ramp that the Thorton screamed- no, roared- to life like a truck of its caliber likely never had before. The volume of if deafening, the rattling of it frightening, the speed of it exhilarating; and all the while Dugald stared dead at the the road while his arms twitched in time with the engine’s pistons. From zero to sixty. Sixty to one hundred. One hundred to one hundred twenty. Pretty sure they just put some sports cars to shame. Jerking the car between what few other drivers were still out on this side of the city. It was easy enough to tell when they weren’t being followed anymore. The fireball of a collision not even a quarter mile behind them. But he kept it going. Taking highway turns like they were hairpins, taking ramps like they were jumps, throwing the Thorton down the highway like a rocket that might just explode if he stopped it. He didn’t check on the state of his passenger. The speed would shut her up for now. His driving would shut her up for the next hour after that.

It wasn’t until they were out of the city lights that he finally let it slow back down to a crawl. Or, rather, that the car finally gave up. No amount of coaxing- no amount of manual control, really- could get it back to speed. She was tired. So was he. …Aaand he was being yelled at.

He leaned back in the seat as he retracted the blade back into his arm. He didn’t bother listening.

#FFxivwrite2024 #/AU/Cyberpunk #/Memories/The Worn Edge #it's not a free day but it IS a sunday #so starting off this year with an AU #dug driving like a maniac

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zackprincebooks · 6 months ago

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Silent Night

Happy Holidays, @adhdprincess! I'm your Secret Santa. I don't know a lot about The Last of Us, but I tried to have some found family fluff for you!

During a stop on their way to Wyoming, Joel, Tess, and Ellie find a gem on Christmas Eve.

Read here on Ao3!

Clouds hover dangerously over the highway, threatening travelers with heavy snowfall. Joel keeps his foot on the gas as they pass rusty road signs and burnt-out cars. He’s already driving late at night; he doesn’t want to drive late at night, during a snowstorm.

In the backseat, Ellie snores.

“Let me drive.”

Joel’s hands tighten on the wheel, not bothering to look over at Tess. “No.”

He can hear the frown in her voice, “you’ve been driving for six hours and it’s about to start snowing. Let me drive.”

“It’s only a few miles to the next shelter; I can handle it.” He’s lying; it’s at least another twenty before they get anywhere near relative safety. Occasionally, the radio in the cupholder crackles to life when they get within range of a transmission:

“Shit, we’re already seeing flurries over here.”

“I give it half an hour before everything’s covered.”

“Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas!”

“Is it Christmas Eve already? Damn, I hope I was good this year.”

Their laughter fades into the static as Joel, Tess, and Ellie pass out of their range. Ellie grunts and rolls over, attempting to lay down on the seat while restrained by her seatbelt.

“Let me drive,” Tess repeats, “at least long enough to let you sleep.”

“I’m not tired. I once stayed up for three nights straight. I can handle it,” Joel repeats. He’s almost grateful, in a way; Tess’s badgering forces his exhaustion to the back of his mind. “You can take the first watch when we get to the shelter, and you can drive tomorrow.”

The silence between them is tense. Joel can hear the gears in Tess’s head turning as she considers the deal. Her fingers clench and unclench around her sleeve from where her arms are folded over her chest.

“Fine. Fine. As long as you help me dig out the car tomorrow morning.”

Ellie keeps snoring as the white flakes start falling. ---------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure this is it?” Tess looks between Joel and the “shelter” they were assigned.

Joel checks the coordinates he was given with the coordinates on the ancient GPS. “According to the coordinates, this is the place.”

Rustling from the backseat indicates the awakening of Ellie. She finally managed to squeeze herself against the window, and a large swathe of the window is clear from where Ellie rested her cheek. “What happened?” Ellie rubs her eyes and yawns. When she spots the shelter, her eyes blink widely. “Oh.”

Calling it a “shelter” is demeaning. The mansion looms large in front of them; all brick with white columns and black shutters. It possesses a two-car garage that matches the black shutters. If the house was decorated with lights, it would look like it came out of a Christmas card. There’s even a fir tree in the middle of the yard, covered with snow.

They sit in disbelieved silence, staring at the house. The gears in Joel’s mind are whirring. There might be a snow blower in the garage so they can dig out the car tomorrow morning. Hell, if Joel and Tess can get the garage door open, they can park the car and they won’t need to dig it out at all.

“If the fireplace is operable, we can actually have a hot dinner,” Tess muses. “We could make coffee. Real coffee.”

“It better be operable, or else we’ll freeze tonight,” Joel mutters as he opens the door. “C’mon, let’s see if we can open the garage door. I’d rather not have to deal with scraping off the snow tomorrow.”

Slipping and sliding on the thin layer of snow, Tess hits the code for the garage side-door they received. It takes a few hits from her shoulder for her to finally wrench it open. Joel waits outside with Ellie until he hears Tess call out, “clear!”

Holding their flashlights aloft, they enter the garage. There’s only one car parked, leaving enough room for them to park for the night. “A Maserati,” Joel mutters, wiping off some of the dust and the rust, “wonder if the husband was going through a mid-life crisis.”

The electric opener is a dud, but the manual controls still work. With an assist from Tess, she and Joel are able to lift the garage door. “This will make unloading the car a lot easier, too,” Tess muses.

Ellie frowns. “It feels…too good to be true. What if there’s an ambush?”

“If there was an ambush, we would see their tracks in the snow,” Joel says as he gets out of the car and opens the trunk. “I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it’s a Christmas miracle, or something.”

They close the garage and unload the trunk via flashlight; Joel holds his flashlight in his mouth as he passes a sleeping bag over to Ellie. He hears her go into the house proper and let out a loud “WHOA!”

Well, if they were going to be ambushed, now would be the time.

But no one pops out from inside cabinets or behind the fridge or down from the ceiling. Tess follows behind Ellie with a long, low whistle.

“Let me see what all the fuss—” Joel shoulders his way between them with a backpack slung over one arm. “All right, that’s pretty cool.”

An antique chandelier hangs in the foyer; as pretentious as it sounds, foyer was the right word for it. Two stairways with dark wood banisters curl their way down to the foyer, carpeted in red and gold. Their flashlights glance off of quartz countertops and stainless-steel appliances, all coated in a thick layer of dust. The food on the table is long desiccated into thick, gray mush that doesn’t come off even when Ellie holds the plate upside-down.

“Ewww,” she whines, putting the plate back down with a loud clatter. The sound echoes in the empty house.

Joel’s flashlight shines on a photo of the family that once lived here: a mother and a father, with a daughter wearing a hoodie from a college downstate and a teenage son in a soccer jersey from a local team. He grimaces and turns the flashlight away to focus on the marble fireplace in the living room, underneath the cracked flatscreen TV.

Tess is elated. “It’s big enough for us to make dinner on it, and we might be able to use any cookware they left behind. We could use our fuel cans, but a wood fire would be bigger for a fireplace of this size.”

Joel can read between the lines. “I can get some firewood chopped if you get dinner prepped.”

“You’re not going alone,” Tess counters, and Ellie raises her hand.

“Fine.” He points to Ellie. “You get the kindling, and I’ll get the logs.”

They step out into the snow, their collars turned up and wrapped with scarves. Joel finds an ax leaning up against the back of the garage with a pile of wood stacked in a metal rack. While there are a few logs already chopped, it won’t be enough to sustain them throughout the night.

The sound of an ax chunking into logs fills the cold winter air, interspersed with the sound of Ellie snapping sticks into manageable pieces. Every now and again, they each stop to lift their heads for the sound of something approaching; Ellie cocking her gun and Joel lifting the ax. He keeps eyeing the tall vinyl fence, imagining long fingers crawling over top as a clicker vaults the fence.

But nothing comes. For a moment the wind calms and they both stop, enjoying the stillness of the night. Ellie leans against the tree, her pile of kindling tied with one of her scarves. She’s not quite the same age as the boy from the photo; living a life she’ll never get to experience. Ellie won’t go to high school and play soccer, visit colleges with her parents, graduate with all her friends, and pack her ratty little car as much as it can hold before starting her life away from home.

The sound of the porch door opening startles them both as Tess pokes her head outside. “Hey, I’m almost done with dinner prep; how are we looking on wood?”

“We should have enough for tonight,” Joel says after counting, “but we might need to chop more tomorrow if we want a hot breakfast.”

“I want a hot breakfast,” Ellie and Tess say at the same time. Joel sighs, hefting the ax again. -----------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel and Ellie are done gathering wood, they’ve taken off their coats and slung them over the backs of chairs in the living room. Tess has thrown out the ossified plates to make room on the table to prepare dinner. If this was a real Christmas dinner, they would have roast turkey or ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh rolls…

There’s canned beef stew with potatoes and carrots, canned tomatoes, and canned fruit cocktail. “I didn’t find anything in the cabinets that we could eat; everything in that pantry belongs in a museum,” Tess grumbles, “but at least there’s running water. It’s not hot water—” she clarifies when Ellie’s and Joel’s eyes light up, “—but it’s running water.”

Clean, running water. This house almost feels too good to be true. “And you cleared the rest of the house?”

“Yes; it looks like everyone left in a hurry. I found maps in an office upstairs with directions and instructions. The gun locker in the office and the safe in the bedroom are both empty. But they have some nice clothes upstairs that we can take as it gets colder. Speaking of which,” Tess starts opening the can of beef stew, “let’s get the fire started.”

Warmth and light roar to life, illuminating the living room for the first time in years. Joel and Ellie drag some of the fancy Turkish rugs over to the fireplace to use as extra padding for their sleeping bags on the marble floor, huddled around the fireplace for warmth.

Tess brings a Dutch oven with the beef stew and canned tomatoes inside; Joel stifles a laugh when he sees that she’s clutching it with Christmas oven mitts, decorated with elves and ornaments.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she grumbles at both of them. From behind Tess, Joel sees Ellie hide a smile into her shoulder. “These were just the first that I could find.” Without a hook in the fireplace, she awkwardly puts the Dutch oven on top of the burning fire. Soon, the living room is filled with the smell of beef stew cooking, and Joel is starting to salivate.

As Joel starts pulling out their portable, metal dishware, Ellie stops him. “If they still have running water here, can’t we use their dishes? They probably have nicer dishes than we do.”

They pause as Tess and Joel look over at the display cabinet full of fine stoneware; blue with gold trim and leaf designs. “I guess there’s no harm in it,” Tess hedges, and Joel puts away their metal dishes. “Maybe it would make it feel a little more like Christmas,” she mutters as Ellie sprints to get them plates and bowls.

Sitting on their sleeping bags, hunched over bowls of stew, plates of fruit cocktail, and bottles of filtered water, Tess, Ellie, and Joel eat their Christmas dinner.

Joel has eaten this canned stew hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. It’s a standard-issue can of stew concocted to provide the maximum amount of calories required for an adult human in the apocalypse.

This is the best it has ever tasted. The beef is somehow tender and flavorful, the tomatoes burst in his mouth, and there’s something nostalgic about the carrots and potatoes. Even the protein powder dumped into the broth gives it a creamy texture. When it settles into Joel’s stomach, it warms him from within. Even Ellie and Tess are muttering their approval.

They stack their empty bowls together before moving onto the canned fruit cocktail. Tess tried to distribute the fruit and syrup equally, which meant they all wound up with a single miserable cherry on top of a pile of chopped apples, pears, and pineapple. But every bite is juicy and sweet, cut slightly by the tartness of the cherry. Joel resists the urge to lick the puddle of syrup left behind by his “dessert.”

He looks up at Ellie and Tess, who have also cleaned their plates. Ellie sadly looks at her plate, moving her fork around to catch leftover bits of apple. She passes it to Joel and he takes it to the kitchen with the rest of the dishes.

“Don’t forget about our deal,” Tess calls to Joel, “I’m taking the first watch tonight.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Joel grumbles as he washes the dishes in the sink. The ice-cold water makes him flinch, but running water is so foreign and forgotten that it’s a luxury no matter how hot or cold. Joel spends at least ten minutes washing dishes just to feel the water cascading over his hands. His fingers are numb by the time he returns to the fireplace with the dry dishes. Ellie is already curled up in her sleeping bag, watching as Tess adds another log to the fire.

When Joel crawls into his sleeping bag, it’s warm. “Merry Christmas, Tess. Merry Christmas, Ellie.”

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

From the cocoon of her sleeping bag, he hears a muffled, “Merry Christmas.”

#gif #secret santa #gift exchange #gift fic #the last of us #ellie the last of us #joel the last of us #tess the last of us #writeblr #writerblr #ao3 writer #fanfiction writer #fanfiction

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avteclimited · 2 years ago

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Unleashing Performance and Efficiency: AVTEC's Cutting-Edge Powershift Transmissions

In the dynamic world of automotive engineering, AVTEC has established itself as a trailblazer with its innovative powershift transmissions. These advanced transmission systems have revolutionized the driving experience by providing seamless gear shifting, enhanced performance, and improved fuel efficiency. Let's delve into what sets AVTEC's powershift transmissions apart and how they are shaping the future of the automotive industry.

AVTEC's powershift transmissions are the epitome of engineering precision and excellence. Meticulously designed and crafted, these transmissions offer lightning-fast and precise gear changes, ensuring optimal power delivery to the wheels. The seamless integration of advanced technology and high-quality components results in exceptional performance and a smooth driving experience. AVTEC's powershift transmissions are engineered to handle varying driving conditions with ease, providing drivers with confidence and control on the road.

AVTEC's powershift transmissions are designed to maximize fuel efficiency without compromising on power and performance. By minimizing energy losses during gear shifts, these transmissions optimize fuel consumption, leading to significant cost savings and reduced carbon emissions. Whether it's zipping through urban traffic or conquering challenging terrains, AVTEC's powershift transmissions deliver the perfect balance of efficiency and performance, ensuring a thrilling and economical driving experience.

AVTEC's commitment to quality and reliability is reflected in the durability of its powershift transmissions. Rigorously tested and built to withstand demanding conditions, these transmissions offer exceptional longevity and require minimal maintenance. AVTEC's dedication to providing reliable products ensures that drivers can rely on their powershift transmissions for years of trouble-free operation.

AVTEC's powershift transmissions have redefined the automotive landscape, offering unparalleled performance, efficiency, and durability. With their seamless gear shifting, impressive fuel economy, and robust construction, AVTEC powershift transmissions continue to attract the attention of automotive enthusiasts and industry professionals alike. By pushing the boundaries of engineering excellence, AVTEC is driving the future of automotive technology, one gear shift at a time.

https://avtec.in/avtec-automotive-engines-and-transmissions.php

#Auto components manufacturers in India #Powershift Transmissions #Precision auto components #Automatic Transmissions #Engine parts manufacturers in india #Powertrain Gears and Shafts #Off-Highway Transmissions

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identifying-cars-in-posts · 2 years ago

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Tell us about your current and past motor vehicles

gladly! this is gonna be a long post

this was my first car, she was a 1984 mercedes 300D turbodiesel. her name was clifford, named after a button on the dash from a defunct security system. in-line five diesel engine, sounded like a truck, was built like a truck, LOVED this car. i paid $600 for her in 2016. she had 308k miles when i bought her, and she went to the scrapyard with 314k the next year when the hood latches broke while i was on the highway and sent the hood into the windshield. i was okay but the repairs were just too much for a $600 car. she was awesome though, a real head turner even with her peeling clearcoat and plumes of diesel smoke

then there was the corolla! 1999, manual transmission. the best car i’ve ever owned. not my favorite but definitely objectively the best. bought off a friend also for $600, around 210k miles. surprisingly fun to drive, very reliable. drove from north carolina to massachusetts in that car, and then across massachusetts every week. her name was wanda, which carried over from the previous owner. drover her for a little over a year before the brakes failed and i rear ended someone

i replaced the corolla with an ‘05 mazda3 i called the tick, after the cartoon character. also bought from a friend. kept it through early 2021 i think, drove it through most of early quarantine. i didn’t love this car personally, in large part because the transmission and starter both went out on me within the first two months of ownership and the friend i bought it from was entirely unsympathetic. i sold it to my shitty roommate lol

and then for some reason my mom gave me a sports car. she bought a new honda civic and handed down her 2004 subaru wrx wagon, with the manual transmission and everything. she’d named it the millennium falcon so i called her falcon. this car was a blast to whip around. that turbo boxer engine sounded amazing and this thing RIPPED on the highway. the biggest issues with it were that it really didn’t have all that much character on the road, and it took premium gas, so fill ups were EXPENSIVE. i sold her after having her for a few months because the clutch went out and i was quoted $2k to replace it because that’s what happens when you have a sports car. sold it as is to a guy with two other wrxs who wanted to fix it up and use it as a work car

this is the current baby! bit of an older picture because she looks uhhh worse these days but this is clifford jr the 2001 jeep cherokee xj. i’ve learned so much with this car, done a bunch of the work on her myself. she’s a fixer upper im reaching my limit on but she’s served me remarkably well and is my favorite car i’ve owned. not fast, not good on gas, but god she’s got some character. just rolled over 256k miles

like i said i’m reaching my wits end with the jeep, every time i fix something two more things break, and i can’t afford for her to keep being a money pit. so i’m starting to save for something else, ideally a late 80s honda or toyota, or a panther body sedan, like a ford crown victoria or mercury grand marquis

#not a car id #asks #anon

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sngl-led-auto-lights · 19 days ago

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Why do cars now not get better gas mileage?

That's a perceptive observation—while engine technology has advanced significantly, the average fuel economy of new vehicles in the U.S. has stagnated since 2014 after decades of improvement. Here’s why, distilled into key factors:

⚖️ 1. Vehicle Size & Weight Have Skyrocketed Shift to Trucks/SUVs: Over 80% of new vehicles sold in the U.S. are trucks, SUVs, or crossovers—up from 50% in 2013. These are inherently heavier (+800–1,500 lbs vs. sedans) and less aerodynamic.

Safety Regulations: Airbags, reinforced frames, crash structures, and advanced driver aids add 200–500 lbs per vehicle vs. 2000s-era cars.

Feature Bloat: Panoramic roofs, power seats, advanced infotainment, and sound-deadening materials add mass.

🚀 2. Performance Expectations Have Increased Power Over Efficiency: In 2000, the average vehicle had 172 HP and 0–60 mph in 10.5 seconds. Today: 246 HP and 0–60 in 7.5 seconds—despite added weight.

Turbocharging Trade-Offs: Smaller turbo engines (e.g., 2.0L 4-cyl replacing V6s) boost power but often underperform EPA ratings in real-world driving due to turbo lag and driving habits.

🔧 3. Emissions Controls Reduce Efficiency Gasoline Particulate Filters (GPFs): Mandatory in Europe and some U.S. models post-2020 to trap pollutants—they restrict exhaust flow, increasing backpressure and lowering MPG by 2–5%.

Lean-Burn Engine Limitations: Stricter NOx regulations prevent the use of ultra-lean combustion modes that could boost MPG.

🔌 4. Hybrids/Electric Focus Divert Innovation Automakers invest heavily in EVs and plug-in hybrids to meet regulations. Gains from these vehicles offset stagnant gas-engine MPG in fleet averages, but pure gasoline engines see fewer breakthroughs.

Example: Toyota shifted R&D from next-gen gasoline engines to solid-state batteries.

🌪️ 5. Aerodynamics Hit a Wall Despite advanced modeling, drag reduction gains are marginal:

1980s sedans: Cd ~0.35

2024 sedans: Cd ~0.27 (optimal)

SUVs/trucks: Cd ~0.30–0.40 due to height and frontal area. Further improvements are costly and limited by design trends (tall hoods, aggressive grilles).

📈 6. The CAFE Standards Loophole Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) gives trucks/SUVs looser targets vs. cars. A "large pickup" only needs 25 MPG by 2026 vs. 52 MPG for a sedan.

Automakers exploit this by shifting production to light trucks—artificially lowering fleet efficiency.

⛽ 7. Real-World vs. Lab Testing EPA test cycles (last updated in 2008) underestimate real-world driving:

Aggressive acceleration

Higher highway speeds (75–80 mph vs. 48 mph test cycle)

Use of AC/heat

Modern engines optimized for tests often underdeliver on roads.

💡 Why It’s Not All Bad: Hidden Efficiency Gains Engine Tech: Direct injection, variable valve timing, and 10-speed transmissions do improve efficiency—but gains are consumed by weight and power demands.

Hybridization: Mild-hybrid systems (e.g., Ford F-150) add 2–4 MPG without plug-in complexity.

High-Efficiency Exceptions: Vehicles prioritizing MPG (e.g., Toyota Prius, Honda Accord Hybrid) achieve 50+ MPG—proving it’s possible without compromises.

🔮 Future Trajectory Stricter CAFE 2026 rules may push fleet averages to 52 MPG (vs. 35.2 MPG today).

Turbo-hybrid systems (e.g., Ford Maverick: 37 MPG pickup) and PHEVs bridge the gap.

Weight reduction via aluminum/steel composites remains critical but expensive.

�� Key Takeaway

Cars are more efficient per pound and per horsepower than ever—but consumer demand for large, fast, feature-heavy vehicles and regulatory trade-offs have hidden these gains. The push toward electrification will likely accelerate net efficiency, but core gasoline engines face diminishing returns without a revolution in materials and aerodynamics.

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seat-safety-switch · 11 months ago

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"Oh cripes, it's the painters," yelps my humble assistant before she dives for cover and starts frantically texting for backup.

It's too late. The boys from the bodyshop up the street have already appeared in the junkyard. Their keen eyes are meticulously scrutinizing the Pick-N-Pull's extremely limited quantity of intact Hyundai Scoupe bumpers. They are looking for a donor that is good enough to clean up, spray in their fancy "spray booth" while wearing their "respiratory protection," and sell to some poor bastard working without rest for the faceless void of rage that is the Uber Eats algorithm.

Why is this bad for the rest of us, especially myself, who owns exclusively cars before the Hyundai Motor Corporation was even brought into existence by the marriage between the Goddess Sonata and the Ancient Emperor, 1985 Pony CXL? Mostly because the painters are kind of obnoxious about the whole thing. Like many other individuals who spend their working hours sitting in an enclosed room and huffing paint all day, they consider themselves to be artists. Also, we have somewhat of a personal rivalry. Let me explain.

Now, as we all know, painters and bodywork techs drive very ugly cars. You likely can guess why. After a hard day of work putting shiny things on dull things, making the shiny things dull again, and putting more shiny things on the previously shiny things (that are now dull,) there's absolutely no way that they want to spend a few more hours making their shit-box daily driver pretty. They've seen how cars get wrecked by the flippant outside world. It would destroy them emotionally. Rather than love and lose, they choose to harden their hearts, like resin baking off on a freshly fogged panel under a heat lamp.

Of course, painters are also not mechanics, and they're certainly not shitbag mechanics like myself. Their grungy, shitty cars often fall apart from some trivial mechanical failure that I would jump over, Super Mario-like, without even noticing. Many of the painters, such as Shaky Tim, have seen me in even worse cars that run flawlessly.

Due to my profligate junk-dealing and scam-pedalling all over town, they have had many opportunities to watch me barrel over a centre median, drive the wrong way into traffic, blow a band out of an automatic transmission – and be back on the road in a few minutes thanks to my magical connection to the shitbox vibe. This causes envy on the part of the painters, especially when I refuse to fix their cars or even stop to lend a reassuring word. And I certainly don't give them money to paint my car: all that beautiful new colour would get wrecked the next time a brake line ruptures at highway speeds. Last a week, tops.

"Oh look, it's him," the head painter sneers, with an affect that I still think is approximating a fake French accent. They must have put some new cartoons on at the jobber shop. "Do you even know what to do with those body panels?"

"I know what not to do. I'm not gonna pay for 'em," I bark, and go back to yeeting an entire '67 Imperial passenger-side over the fence out back because it won't fit in my pocket. The gaggle of squirty-boys grimace in pain as the door bounces off the barbed-wire on top, and falls into the ditch behind the junkyard with some grotesque scratches across the paint.

With all the money I'm saving, I suggest to the aggrieved painters, I can probably even afford a can of new Tremclad.

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laimabynight · 2 months ago

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✭ Camilla 'Georgia' Soledad ✭

Georgia—not her real name, but the one the city came to know—was born as Camilla Soledad in 1975, daughter of second generation Mexican immigrants and granddaughter of a man who could coax poetry from carburetors. Her childhood may not have included riches or roses, but it had rhythm—thanks largely to her abuelito, whose workshop smelled of oil, iron, and quiet rebellion. It was there, with grease under her nails and her grandfather's stories in her ears, that Camilla’s obsession with machines was forged—steel, speed, and the roar of engines in her veins.

Of course, passion alone doesn't buy you horsepower. As a teenager tangled up with a questionable crowd in East L.A., she was surrounded by cars she couldn’t afford and egos she could outwit. Her family’s dented compact car was off-limits for joyrides (unless you counted Sunday errands), so she got creative—offering her mechanical talents for pocket change, fixing busted transmissions and tuning engines for local street racers too lazy or too clueless to do it themselves. Word spread. She didn’t need a car to earn respect—just a wrench and a wicked instinct.

At twenty, she finally bought her first ride: a beaten-up Nissan 240SX that looked more rust than road. But Camilla, with the patience of a surgeon and the intensity of someone who had something to prove, brought it back from the brink. The car became her armor, her identity. She slapped on a fake Georgia license plate one night for a race—and the name stuck. After that, she was just Georgia: elusive, razor-fast, and not someone you wanted behind you at the start line.

She tore through the underground circuit with quiet fury, burning rubber through midnight alleys and forgotten highways. She wasn’t the loudest racer—but she was the one they watched. Then, of course, came him: the man with a jawline like a curse and eyes that didn’t blink, sporting a Cowboy attire. He challenged her to a race. She almost beat him, too—if not for the inconvenient presence of a lamppost and a brief conversation with her own mortality.

She should’ve died that night. Instead, she woke up with bones intact, a pulse that stuttered strangely, and a hunger that wasn’t for gasoline. Her mysterious rival—impressed, amused, or just bored—had decided her story shouldn’t end with a crash. He gave her immortality. Or maybe he just gave her a new engine.

Art by Polyanitsa

#vampire the masquerade #camilla 'georgia' soledad #she came to be because I played Need for Speed at the time lmao

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t-am-i-the-asshole · 2 months ago

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AITA for not buying my stepdaughter a new car after she's repeatedly gotten into accidents?

My step daughter is not a good driver. She was not a good driver when she was a teen and certainly not as an adult. When she was first learning to drive, she did very fast hard breaks, she repeatedly left her car's lights on or left her car unlocked.

When she first got her permit at 16, we gave her two rules. We would help buy her first car but she'd be on her own for car insurance, gas, and up keep. If she wanted a car, she needed to be the sole caretaker of it and it was on her to ensure she was taking good care of it. Her brothers had the same rules.

3 months into her being 17, she got in her first accident. It was her first time driving in the ice and she slid. Her car hit another car. It was not a serious accident, but it caused roughly 1k in damages. Her car drove for another 2 months, but the transmission went out eventually. She bought it at 160-ishk miles so none of us were surprised it didn't last very long.

When she was 19, she was in another car accident. While on the highway, a semi-truck tried to merge wile riding next to her, she sped up and during it, another car tried to merge right as she sped up. The car was totaled. Outside of wiplash and minor wrist injuries, she was okay. Because of this accident, we made her get her own insurance because our payment went up.

Three weeks ago, she was involved in another accident. Again on the highway, she was passing an on ramp and a car coming on hydroplanned and lost control of a ladder in the back of it's pick up truck. It again totaled her car: it could not leave the scene and we had to get her to bring her back to her college. The other driver broke his collarbone and she has wiplash, a shoulder injury, and some facial damage that should heal in the next bit. The police officer told her that it was not her fault, but obviously we have to wait for the insurance to make that call.

Once she got home from the ER, she asked for us to help her purchase a new car. She said that it's not practical for her to constantly walk everywhere until she could afford a new car. She makes $21 an hour as a CMA at a nursing home so it won't take her long to buy a cheap car. From her apartment, she is about 1.5 miles from college, .25 miles from a grocery store, and 4 miles from her job. I think for the time being, she can walk, ask for rides from friends, or use an app. We don't have public transportation, but lots of side walks. She can walk the entirety from her apartment to class, most to a store, and on and off from her job.

My husband wants us to purchase a new car and have her pay us back. I don't think this is the right move. To date, the only time we have ever helped buy a car is when they all started driving, and we only paid half. She only saved 2k for her first car, so we only gave 4k for a new car. One of her brothers saved up 10k, so we gave 10k. If we start doing this now, we will walk down a very expensive walk.

I have gotten mixed reactions from others.

Thoughts? Am I the asshole?

#aita #am i the asshole #polls #tumblr polls #poll blog #copied from reddit #reddit #poll

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slashthrashandcrash · 1 year ago

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My tire blew out today. The towman, for whatever reason, kept getting my location wrong and the road rangers were my knights in shining honor when they stumbled upon my car on patrol. Then, the tow arrived and was driving after me after they put in the spare tire, calling out that his ride was still free. Now, if this was late at night and the highway was suspiciously empty, which slashers / killers do you think would be after me and how could I fight them off? The tow guy is, of course, no help

This sounds so funny as a time sensitive question like "I'm not saying I am stranded on a desolate road with no help for miles but if I were how could I possibly fend of a serial killer that's banging on my car window? Please respond, asking for a friend."

Danny/Ghostface would certainly be an option if he was already on the move between towns or states, just a nice young man wanting to help get you somewhere safe and accidentally making a few wrong turns...then next thing you know, you're set loose to run free through the woods while he tails you, knife in hand. Your best option is to hope you find the main road before he finds you, but even then you'd have to pray there's even another motorist driving at this hour who'd be willing to stop at your distress. Just because you were stupid enough to get in a car with a stranger doesn't mean they are lmao.

The Sinclair brothers are a classic, of course -- that's kind of their whole schtick is helping out poor stranded motorists, offering to fix up their car while they come on into town for a spell, maybe check out the local wax museum to kill some time. Gotta be honest, your odds probably aren't that great since it's a 3v1...you might just have to grab a tire iron and start swinging if you want a fighting chance.

Michael can drive but he's a fucking menace on the road, he'll be ramming into you and trying to slam you off into a ditch or the median. You need to either outpace him or hopefully lose him with a few sharp turns, otherwise you'll be battered and trapped when he gets a tire to blow out or your transmission to die. Being wounded in a metal cage is the last place you wanna be when he comes stalking over to your wreckage. Although, he might more so be targeting the tow driver behind you, they usually wear those navy coveralls...

And there's a few more typical slashers who have a similar con to the Sinclairs; the Firefly family, the Sawyer family, whatever the cannibal inbred family's name was in The Hills Have Eyes -- these cases? 100% fucked. If you don't floor it and get the hell out of dodge the first second you spot any of 'em on the side of the road, you've practically sealed your fate. And it won't be pretty, or sexy, or fun. For you, anyways.

For a bit of gaslight gatekeep girlboss, Tiffany Valentine. For no reason other than you're practically alone on the quiet roads and she's bored. Just a quick little fender bender and then her nail file across your throat. Frankly, you should be honored to be killed by her, just let it happen, say thank you with your gurgling dying breath. Throwback to Urban Legend, but also Brenda. Who doesn't love a good story about flashing highbeams in the rearview mirror? You're golden if you remember how the legend goes and how the girl survives (even if the killer isn't the one in your backseat), or better yet, just don't flash your lights when you see her driving in the dark in the first place.

Purely DBD killers though, I'd really only pick out Legion, namely because they would have plenty of reasons to target you. They want your car, your money if you have it, and hell, they'll go ahead and take your life while they conveniently have it. The bad news is it's 4v1, the good news is they're all stupid teenagers. You have a 50/50 chance of being able to either outsmart them or just fend them off long enough to escape, but don't be surprised to find 4 different blades in your gut because you refuse to cooperate with their robbery.

#ask #anon

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