#Brake Drums Set | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drunkenskunk · 6 months

Text

Meanwhile, en route to the Icebreaker...

All was quiet on the Dragon's Tooth. The old IPS-N clipper being used as the home-away-from-Hell's-Gate for the Strategic Response Team was currently on its braking burn towards the Icebreaker Borealis, and the ship's clocks had all been set to the station's local time. As a result, it was close to “one in the morning,” and nearly everyone on board was asleep.

A hatch suddenly opened onto the mech bay. Scarlet stepped through the open door, wearing only a tank top and sweatpants. A part of her knew she shouldn't be walking around in here with bare feet, but she was worried about making too much noise. In fact, she was worried about a lot of things...

Before she knew it, she was standing before her mech: Big Red. An old Everest, battle scarred and rough around the edges, she'd been slowly tinkering with and upgrading the ancient beast over her last several months on the team. What stood out the most was the armored “boombox” she'd had custom fitted to the right shoulder. It housed the barrels, rotor assembly, and firing mechanism of the Leviathan heavy assault cannon, fed by a pair of armored ammo belts and connected to the immense ammo drum mounted on the back. It wasn't the newest addition, but it was certainly the most obvious, especially when compared to the other assault mechs in the militia's rank-and-file.

The war machine was still harnessed and braced in its alcove, completely immobile and powered down: exactly as she'd left it several hours earlier. That wouldn't have been notable, had it not been for the unexpected... calamity from earlier. And it was why she was here right now.

See, Scarlet had ordered some explosive vents for Big Red some time ago; after all, heat buildup during the last few fights was becoming a bit of an issue, so she might as well put that heat to some good use, right? But for one reason or another, she had kept putting off the installation. This was likely because everything had become Completely Fucked in Calliope ever since the arrival of all those warship fleets in system. She'd been way too busy running “all hands, repel boarders” combat drills with a lot of the Hell's Gate militia, on the ever-increasingly-likely chance that they'd need it.

Now that the SRT was on their way to the Icebreaker, she had plenty of time, and Agarin even offered to help her get them installed. Getting the physical parts slotted into the mech went as smooth as every other installation in the past, and everything seemed to be going fine. And then she powered up the mech to install the firmware updates.

The instant the fusion core spun up, the machine started moving all on it's own, ignoring any commands and struggling against the restraints and maintenance catwalks holding it in place. Big Red's distinctive purr – a clicking sound with an unknown source the mech would occasionally make – had turned into a ferocious, almost animalistic roar that Scarlet was sure must have echoed throughout the entire ship. The whole machine bucked and writhed uncontrollably, very nearly ripping the umbilicals out of the bay, and if Scarlet hadn't been strapped in by the assault harness and connected through the cranial jack at the base of her skull, she was sure she would have been tossed right out of the open cockpit like a ragdoll.

Just as she felt like her options were running out, Agarin had hopped into the open cockpit with a grace that she thought shouldn't have been possible for someone so damn tall (did that tail of his help with balance?). He was intent on interfacing with the mech using some of his implants and technical know-how in the hope that the two of them working together could get the machine to calm down... but as soon as the handsome dragon man plugged himself in, everything just got worse.

In truth, Scarlet could barely remember everything that happened. Big Red misidentified Agarin's presence in the system as an attack, battering him through the connection with words like INTRUDER, INTERLOPER, and HOSTILE, repeated over and over again... and because she was hard-wired into the machine as well, her mind was also hit with the same mental assault.

Combat recordings from dozens – maybe hundreds – of past engagements flooded both of their minds. Indescribable death and carnage on an unthinkable scale that she had never before witnessed. Screams of the dead, entire worlds on fire, and the machines who burned them. Pilots murdered by the score, one after the other, their names and faces blending together. Recordings, information, tactical data, and images force-fed directly into her brain through the cranial jack, overloading her senses and layering on top of one another until the horror and anger and pain of it all melted into nothing but noise.

The whole experience only lasted for a few minutes, but it had felt like hours.

What she did remember clearly was Agarin doing some kind of Clanner Space Magic to ask her a simple question: “Do you trust me?” And while she responded with as an enthusiastic “yes” as she could possibly muster right then and there, it was like the mech had also been given pause by the question. Before she knew it, the connection in her mind began to fade, and the mech powered down of its own volition.

That was several hours ago. She stared up at the wedge-shaped head of her mech, and the distinctive mass of cracks around the left optical unit. She half expected it to start moving again to look at her, but the trio of cameras remained shuttered, and the head was still and immobile.

“Can't sleep?” came a voice from behind her, and Scarlet practically jumped out of her skin. She wheeled around and was face-to-holographic-face with Siren, the Dragon's Tooth NHP pilot. She had her arms folded across her chest, and she was looking at Scarlet with a curious expression. Was that amusement or annoyance?

“Wh- I- well... no.” Scarlet stammered out eventually. She brushed some errant strands of red hair out of her face. “I'm just... y'know, I'm still... still just a bit on edge from earlier, yeah?”

“And you thought checking in on your haunted mech in the middle of the night would take the edge off?” Siren asked, tilting her head with her mouth cracking into a smirk.

“Hey, c'mon, Big Red ain't haunted, I just...” she tried to wave it off dismissively, but Scarlet briefly looked over her shoulder to glance up at her mech – as if checking to make sure it was, indeed, still not moving – and then quickly turned back at Siren. “Look, I know we're headin' to the Icebreaker for that party bein' thrown by the Kingdom Aniline or whoever, but you know what things've been like lately. Fer all we know, we're headin' into another fight, an' I... I just wanna make sure he's good t'go, and isn't gonna freak out. Don't want any more surprises.”

“Sorry marine, I'm not letting you boot up that thing again while we're in transit and without proper support,” Siren shook her head. “I heard about the Vent Crab Incident back on the Gate, and I'm not letting you blow any holes in my ship.”

Scarlet screwed up her face in frustration. Apparently that fake Muse post Pearce made a while back (do mechs even know what they're doing or do they just see crab flowing down a vent and think “absolutely not”) was still floating around the Omninet. And, sure, she had accidentally blown up a vent crab (and several bulkheads) with a mech scale rifle round that day, but she didn't even have a Muse account!

“I promise I'm just gonna run some diagnostics,” Scarlet said, holding up her hands in what she hoped was a disarming gesture. “I'll keep him in low-power, won't even spin up th' reactor. Just wanna be sure everything is fine, so I can put my worries to bed an' get some sleep.”

Siren was quiet for a minute, scrutinizing the mech pilot. The holographic NHP eventually sighed and shrugged.

“Alright, go on. But I'll be keeping an eye on things, and I'll have my hand on the kill-switch the second I even get a whiff that something is about to go wrong.”

“Hey now, you don't ha-” Scarlet began, but Siren held up a blue shimmering finger.

“These terms are non-negotiable, marine. Now go on, check on the spooky boy, I'll keep watch from here. But do try and be quick about it. I've got some friends in a game of Fleet Command 5016 on standby, and I don't want to leave them hanging for too long.”

And with that, the Siren hologram winked away.

Scarlet turned on her heel, scampered up the access later, and popped the cockpit hatch as quick as she could, just on the off chance Siren decided to have a change of heart. Once she got settled in the command couch, she flipped a series of switches to start the mech in low-power mode. While the monitors and consoles around her began to hum softly, warming up into a diagnostic boot sequence, she reached behind her head, feeling around for the metal jack behind her seat. She moved her ponytail out of the way with her free hand, and slotted the jack into her cranial port with the other.

The connection was immediate and made her grit her teeth, just like always: a sharp electric buzz at the base of her skull that blossomed into icy fingers prodding inside her brain. The sensation wormed its way down through her neck and flooded her extremities until everything tingled uncomfortably, as if her whole body had fallen asleep for half a second. Then the sensation passed, and a relative equilibrium was achieved between Scarlet and her war machine.

“Alright big guy,” Scarlet said, trying to blink away the sparkles on the edges of her vision. “Tell me what ails you.”

The low clicking reverberated through the cockpit in response, and words quickly typed themselves out on one of the monitors.

<<HOSTILE ARCHITECTURE DETECTED>>

“Hostile architecture?” Scarlet said aloud. “Wait, y'mean the new parts?” She figured that was probably the problem, but she still wasn't entirely clear as to why.

The mech rumbled. A different monitor on the other side of the cockpit flipped on, and began to playback a recording. This was one of the many recordings that had been force-fed in her brain earlier, but it took Scarlet a minute to realize that was what she was looking at. After all, seeing an image on a monitor was a slightly different experience than a video feed overlaid with tactical and sensor data flowing around it like water, and transmitted directly into her mind through a cranial jack. Especially when there had been so much other information to parse.

The recording looked like it was the camera feed of a broken mech lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by rubble. It was hard to tell from the quality and angle of the recording, but she was pretty sure the mech this recording came from was much bigger than an Everest. Even so, the mech itself wasn't the focus: it was the inferno all around. It was like the whole world had been set on fire, and through the heat haze, she could see crude juggernauts marching past in formation. The recording shook with every stomp of their heavy boots, and streams of liquid fire surged from titanic flamethrowers.

More words began to type themselves on the other monitor, drawing her attention:

<<Rec:4533u//Hercynia-MycolFields//Varano,J.(Clover)//DECEASED>>

Scarlet turned back to the recording, with slightly better understanding. This was from 483 years ago? She knew this mech was old, but she had no idea it was that old. Hell, she didn't think the Everest frame was that old. Was that why it looked so different, and... so much larger? Had this machine not always been an Everest? The techs back on Hell's Gate had always joked that the “Rage Machine” was an ancient piece of shit, but... did anyone actually know how old this beast was?

And then there was that word that stood out to her for some reason: Hercynia. That was... Agarin mentioned something about that, after he got Big Red to calm down earlier, hadn't he? Her memory was still a bit fuzzy about that. Hercynia was... it was a planet somewhere, wasn't it? She wasn't entirely sure.

“Hang on, somethin' else is botherin' me. What are those?” Scarlet leaned forward, squinting her eyes, trying in vain to get the grainy picture on the monitor to come into focus. “Those mechs stompin' around, they kinda look familiar, but... hell, if I didn't know better, I'd say they were the same kinda frame Andros Capella was drivin' when he came out of that fire gate.”

Big Red seemed to shudder at the mention of Andros Capella... though, it was probably more accurate to say it sent a shudder up Scarlet's spine, directly through the cranial jack.

“Heh... yeah, I feel ya, big guy. You wanted a crack at him, same as I did.” Scarlet started to chuckle, and patted one of the consoles. “Well, look on the bright side: Pearce murked him, what? Four times in the last fight? An' Cassilda punched him t'death the first time. We'll probably get a crack at him ourselves, eventually.”

The clicking sound briefly grew in volume, before settling back down again.

“Alright, so these mechs yer showin' me. What are they, anyway?”

Another monitor above her and to her left winked on. It showed a wireframe of the mechs in the recording, clearly generated from what looked a mixture of official schematics and tactical data. Again, words began to type themselves out, drawing her attention.

<<U-MEF//GMS-UPA.1//Mk-1.Genghis//Worldkiller>>

“Wait, Genghis? That doesn't look like a-” but she cut herself off before she could finish her thought, as another one intruded. The Harrison Armory license she'd accessed to order the explosive vents was for the Mk II Genghis. Mark 2. She'd always wondered about that. Scarlet looked back up at the wireframe: this squat, brutal looking monster of a mech definitely cut a significantly different silhouette than the smaller, slimmer, sleeker frame of the Mk II... but the more she looked, the more she could see the resemblance.

Before she had a chance to ponder that any further, all the monitors cleared themselves, as a string of more words on the first monitor appeared.

<<Protocol 1: Link To Pilot>> <<Protocol 2: Uphold The Mission>> <<Protocol 3: Protect The Pilot>> <<ERROR//PROTOCOL CONFLICT//ERROR>> <<HOSTILE ARCHITECTURE DETECTED>> <<PROTOCOL 3 IN JEOPARDY>>

“Y'know what... after seein' all that? I don't blame ya for takin' that stance,” Scarlet reached up to scratch at her head. “I wouldn't want somethin' from those big fuckers in me either.”

Big Red rumbled again.

“Protect the pilot...” Scarlet muttered under her breath. “Well... I dunno if it'll help things, but... that's the whole reason I got these parts. I wasn't thinkin' of where they came from, but what they could do fer us, y'know?” She gestured with her thumb above her right shoulder. “That big fuck-off assault cannon we got from the Drake license generates a lot of heat, and I'm not sure I know how to squeeze in any more heat sinks without sacrificin' some structure.”

The screen winked clear, and another string appeared in its place.

<<...PROCESSING...>>

“Hell, if you don't believe me, believe what Agarin told ya earlier. We're all part of a team. Agarin, Fern, Cassilda... hell, even Pearce and that gaggle of NHP's he's been collectin' like playing cards. We all look out fer each other. We all make sure we come out the other side of every fight in one piece. An' that's all I was tryin' to do, yeah? Use whatever I can to keep myself alive, so I can find my Five Minutes, an' keep all them alive.” Scarlet let out a heavy sigh. “I... hell, I don't know if I'm makin' any sense. Am I makin' sense?”

The clicking steadied, and Big Red rumbled in sympathy.

The monitor flickered, and one more message scrolled past:

<<Protocol 3>> <<I will not lose another Pilot>>

“Yeah, don't you worry 'bout a thing, big man,” Scarlet patted one of the nearby consoles. “I'm not goin' anywhere.”

With that, she flipped the switches to fully power down the mech. The connection at the base of her skull went cold, as the monitors winked off and the hum of the consoles fell silent. She reached behind her head to disconnect the cerebral jack, and she sat nestled there in the command couch, waiting for the pins and needles sensation of neurons firing at stimuli no longer present to subside.

And as she sat there, surrounded by silence and darkness, a memory crossed her mind. An errant thread, begging to be pulled.

The memory was one of the visions she'd seen, when the team had been caught in that paracausal labyrinth deep beneath the surface of Botzmann. She still wasn't quite sure of how any of that shit worked, or how a cascading NHP was responsible, but it was like reality itself had been cut up and stitched back together; even time didn't make sense, experiencing pasts that never were, and impossible futures that still might be. And while Scarlet was lost, separated from the others, she had stumbled across a mirror. No words were said, but she somehow knew what it was the moment she saw her reflection looking back at her.

This Scarlet stared at her with tired, empty eyes. She was old and grey, with hands covered in blood... but none of it her own. A trail of death and carnage followed behind her. This was a Scarlet that had never found her Last Five Minutes, because she'd deliberately avoided finding them at any cost. This Scarlet was so good at keeping herself alive, that she had become the last one standing.

This was who she feared she could become.

“Yeah...” she said aloud, to no one in particular. “Guess I'm not goin' anywhere.”

#Lancer #Lancer RPG #lancer ttrpg #in golden flame #vex wasn't lying that one sure is plumed in golden flame #Strategic Response Team #Dragon's Tooth #GMS Everest #short fiction #my writing

79 notes · View notes

probablyasocialecologist · 5 months

Text

Manufacturers and auto workers must push for shifting production to socially responsible goods, ideally through direct control of the means of production. There is precedent for this approach: The Dodge Revolutionary Union Movement (DRUM), a 1960s radical group of Black anti-war and anti-imperialist Marxist auto workers had no interest in making cars to turn the Big Three automakers a profit: “DRUM wanted workers to have all the pie and to produce goods only for social needs.” While their vision was never realized, they had an unprecedented foresight into the destructive role the auto and gas industries would have in colonization and fascism, nevermind climate change. The manufacture of buses, trains, light rail, and even bicycles provides jobs across all skill sets; these public goods move many more people using far fewer resources and energy, without burdening individuals with the debts and risks that come with personal cars.

#climate change #cars #public transport

54 notes · View notes

diabolus1exmachina · 1 year

Photo

Porsche 356 Borghi Abarth (1 of 1.

This is the Porsche 356 Borghi Abarth, it’s a car with a fascinating backstory being the only one of its kind ever made – and it was only built because the 1953 Porsche 356 it’s based on burned to the ground in an accident. The car was built not in Italy but in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Italian coachbuilder Aldo Borghi had relocated to the South American country at a time when Argentina was booming economically and set up a coachbuilding and automotive race preparation shop.

Aldo Borghi was born in Italy, he trained as a young man in the art of automotive coachbuilding, specializing in the use of aluminum alloy to create strong, lightweight bodies. He later moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina, or more specifically he moved to the town of Tigre which is just slightly north of Buenos Aires but which is often included as being part of the large South American city.

In Argentina Borghi set up his own garage specializing in coachbuilding and developing sports cars for the bustling local racing scene. A number of significant cars came out of his workshop including the Alfa Romeo 2900 “Ballena” and the Alfa Romeo Spyder 6C 2500 “Paquito”, and he restored the Alfa Romeo 3000CM Carroceria Boano after an accident.

In 1965 he was brought the burned out hulk of a 1953 Porsche 356. Exactly what had happened to the car is lost to history but Borghi was able to salvage the floorpan, engine, transmission, and a number of other parts.

He then built a new body for the car entirely from hand-shaped aluminum, influenced by the styling of the Rocco Motto Abarth racing cars. The owner was delighted with the transformation and the car was notably lighter thanks to the loss of its original steel body.

Building a new body for a car that’s been badly burned isn’t an easy task, fortunately Aldo Borghi was more than up to the task.

He created an entirely new outer bodyshell in aluminum alloy by hand shaping each of the panels needed, using the styling of the aforementioned Rocco Motto Abarth racing cars as his guide. The end result would be a car with fastback styling, a sleek front end, wider rear wheel arches, and an engine bay that was considerably more roomy than the Porsche original.

The lack rearward visibility is perhaps the only major gripe, but there’s not a lot of need to see what’s behind you when you’re winning anyway.

Thanks to the loss of its heavier original steel body, the new car – named the Porsche 356 Borghi Abarth – was considerably faster than its forebear. The Porsche Super 90 engine was later upgraded to produce approximately 110 bhp, with power sent to the rear wheels via the original Porsche 4-speed manual transmission.

The car rides on steel wheels, with Porsche drum brakes at each of the four corners, and of course it has the independent front and rear suspension of the original 356.

Inside the car you’ll find a tastefully executed interior with leather seats that have plaid cloth inserts. This same combination is used on the doors, and the roof lining and rear of the car are finished in quilted leather.

Up front there’s a wood-rimmed classic steering wheel beside the gear lever, with three gauges front and center in the dashboard showing your speed, revs, and fuel level with the tachometer naturally in the center for optimal visibility.

#Porsche 356 Borghi Abarth #Aldo Borghi #Alfa Romeo 2900 #Alfa Romeo Spyder 6C 2500 #Alfa Romeo 3000CM #Porsche 356

132 notes · View notes

dustedmagazine · 18 days

Text

The Anomalys — Down the Hole (Slovenly)

Once a band comes out of hibernation, there’s no telling what they’ll do. The Anomalys, a rough-cut garage band out of Amsterdam, re-emerged in 2022 after a 12-year hiatus, older perhaps but not noticeably wiser, cranking ferocious, block-simple punk rock out of the standard rock line-up.

The band draws members of King Khan’s European circle of acquaintances—Remi Pablo on furious, rapturous drums and French punk guitarist Looch Vibrato of MAGNETIX and Louder Than Death. The band leader, known as BONE, plays another guitar. There is no bass, though someone’s making heavy use of the fat strings on his guitar.

This is the sort of music best honed live, and the Anomalys have spent the last two years playing a shit-ton of shows. “Anxiety,” an early single, rolls maniacally forward like a freight train with blown brakes coming down a hill. The energy is high, but it’s funneled through a narrow channel, a repeated surf riff that juts upwards like a question, then answers itself plummeting down. The drums meanwhile go off like firecrackers on a string, stuttering a beat in between regular crackling explosions. There are no vocals on this cut, it doesn’t need them. Two and a half minute of frenzy crashes into a wall.

“Despair” is the other single, and if you’re sensing a downer theme, take heart. It gallops and hurtles and pulls up sharp in raging, head-bashing spasms, running as fast and hard as a rock song can go. The band may have been paralyzed with dread and jitters when they conceived these tracks, but you’ll receive them as a double jolt of adrenaline.

The Anomalys begs comparisons with brute force punkers like Gino and the Goons and, though they’re less goofy, Personal and the Pizzas, but though they’re not in the subtlety game, they’re not sloppy either. “Coke Head” hitches a screaming guitar riff to pounding, annihilating drums, and it’s as tight as it is on fire. You can hear it in the sudden stops, blinding bits of white space in a blitzed out barrage of noise. They’re as clean as a white-out blot, everybody pulling up at once.

I reviewed Glitch a couple of years ago, noting that, “The sound is loud and primitive, sped up like a locomotive with its back cars on fire,” and that, at least, hasn’t changed. Down the Hole is better though, tightly held together even as it careens most wildly. Glitch woke up the beast, but Down the Hole sets it free to rampage.

Jennifer Kelly

#the anomalys #down the hole #slovenly #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #garage punk #king khan #amsterdam

7 notes · View notes

randomvarious · 4 months

Text

1990s Breakbeat Playlist

Well, it's Mother's Day here in America, so be sure to show mom how much you love and appreciate her by giving her this 90s breakbeat playlist as a very special gift! 🥰 This week I've added a couple tunes from Ninja Cuts: Flexistentialism, a 1996 sampler that was put out by Ninja Tune, one of the greatest electronic labels to ever specialize in breakbeat, breaks, downtempo, trip hop, hip hop, and more.

And the first add happens to come from the legendary founding duo of Ninja Tune itself, Coldcut, who deliver pure, totally frenzied, retro-futurist, Cold War-styled havoc and panic in a song called "Atomic Moog 2000." This uptempo, psychedelically funky sweatfest first appeared on Flexistentialism in 1996 before appearing the following year on the Atomic Moog 2000 12-inch, and it's also *not* to be confused with an entirely different version of the song that was included on Coldcut's first Ninja Tune album, Let Us Play!, in 1997. Strap in for this one, folks, 'cuz it's a pretty fuckin' wild ride! Around 77K Spotify plays.

And immediately following that one is something a bit jazz-loungier called "Do You Believe in Love?" by Ashley Beedle presents the Uschi Classen Band. The last update I made for this playlist back in November of last year included a Beedle tune too—his phenomenal "Sun Barrio Break Mix" of Takada's "Ola-Le"—and now he's back with another one, with this one-off song he did with fellow Londoner Uschi Classen. True-blue hip hop junkies might notice the tone-setting sample at the beginning of this one too: Smokey Robinson's "Theme From Big Time," which was then used the following year by Company Flow for their underground cult classic, "8 Steps to Perfection." And I'm thinking El-P probably got the idea to use that sample from this very Beedle/Classen tune itself, because "Do You Believe in Love?" appears to be the first song that ever sampled Smokey's "Big Time" theme in the first place. Currently at around 73K plays.

Coldcut - "Atomic Moog 2000" Ashley Beedle Presents the Uschi Classen Band - "Do You Believe in Love?"

But in addition to those two gems, I've got a couple more on the YouTube version of this playlist too, both of which can't be found on Spotify. First among these is another one from the guys from Coldcut, specifically their alias/side project, DJ Food, which still exists, but doesn't contain either member anymore. In 1992, DJ Food released the third volume in their something-along-the-lines-of-a-DJ-tools-series, Jazz Brakes, and on there is a sweet and funky, hand-drum-and-flute-laced groove called "Ninja Walk," which would also then appear on the triple-vinyl version of Flexistentialism some years later too. This one's nearing 57K plays on YouTube.

And then for something that has nothing to do with Flexistentialism at all, we have a remix of alternative multi-instrumentalist Lisa Germano's "Lovesick" that was done by London's Underdog in 1997. The official version of this remix is of way more of a trip hop bent than it is breakbeat, but the version that I'm supplying you all with this week is the one that appeared on Parisian Kid Loco's fantastic DJ-Kicks mix in 1999. This one appears to be blended with the beat from the preceding song in that mix, whose official version I can't even find on YouTube, called "Culture Consumers," by a short-lived duo called Tongue. Like much of the rest of that mix, this song makes for some truly heady and totally stoned trippery, but it also comes with some pretty dissonant guitar noise too! Currently around 72K YouTube plays.

DJ Food - "Ninja Walk" Lisa Germano - "Lovesick (Underdog Rmx)"

And this playlist is on YouTube Music too.

So with this update, the Spotify version of this playlist is now at 16 songs that total 90 minutes, but over on YouTube, we've got 36 songs that clock in at 198 minutes! So if you want a lot more 90s breakbeat goodies that are a bit rarer and harder to find, you should definitely give that YouTube one a look!

More breakbeat next week 😎.

Enjoy!

More to come, eventually. Stay tuned!

Like what you hear? Follow me on Spotify and YouTube for more cool playlists and uploads!

#breakbeat #dance #dance music #electronic #electronic music #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music #playlist #playlists #spotify playlist #spotify playlists #youtube playlist #youtube playlists #youtube music playlist #youtube music playlists #Spotify

9 notes · View notes

enchanted-lightning-aes · 1 year

Text

Woodsy Stake-Out

[ID: a green badge of a stack of folders with text that reads ‘Sambucky Summer Camp Bingo, Mission Fic, ESTD. 2023 / finish ID]

Title: Woodsy Stake-Out

Square Filled: Mission Fic

A/N: a ficlet of a couple of guys planning a stake-out in a car for @sambuckylibrary. where sam and bucky arrive to a serpent society hide-out in the woods. thanks to the ppl who provided suggestions and inputs in this (x). however, i had to choose a specific idea and rolled with it. ^^

Word Count: 945

T.W: food, i guess

***

Owls hooted as crickets chirp at the expanse of a forest. The wheels of a car skidded onto a route, only stooping to a halt. Parking some miles away from a guarded electric fenced gates ahead.

"Well, well, they probably expected company," Bucky remarked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Operating in the woods must be their new way to maintain a low profile." Sam shifted in his seat, propping an elbow against the window's edge. "No wonder we couldn't track them down in the city. If it wasn't for Joaquin, we'd be sitting ducks."

Bucky nodded, grimacing. "And if we don't get their weapons soon, they'd take down the city."

"Breaking into tech companies and labs, stealing the components they need." Sam crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Shit. I hate how we couldn't get the drop on them sooner."

Despite himself, he made an affirmative little noise.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, examining the building from afar. Getting glimpses of some hench-people moving crates and packages over the field.

The Serpent Society has set up a base in the woods. Developing weaponry that could take down an entire city to the ground. Especially since it contained parts from alien tech, which could be dangerous used by people with wrong intentions.

Bad news all around.

Fury had paged them and called them for this mission. Giving information as much as he could obtain. They needed to be outside their base, observe them from afar before taking action. And they needed extreme caution, considering how Viper was a clever sort of adversary.

If they weren't having a mission, they would be helping Sarah with the boat. However, duty called and they had to delay repairs.

"So, we're doing a stake-out in this car?" Bucky asked, wiping his knife blade with a thin cloth.

Sam nodded, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. "Yeah, we're gonna be here for a couple of hours.

Great, Bucky thought, his pulse kicking up a notch. Leaning back on his seat.

What had he gotten himself into? Even though, he willingly signed up for it? He had believed they would kick some Serpent Society ass and be on their way. Mission accomplished and all that jazz. However, he had to do a stake-out instead.

Not his usual brand of missions.

And with Sam? Including being. . . Alone? With him, specifically? Fury must have paired them together to torture him in the most twisted yet sweet way possible.

It didn't help that Sam's arm rested by the brakes, just some inches further from his.

He could do worse than Sam. . . He might have been stuck with Torres, who would have chatted throughout the entire thing. Or Scott Lang, who would have did some weird diversions.

Yeah. Bucky could have had worse options, getting spared from it. But he couldn't help how his heart insisted in 'thump', 'thump', 'thump' at the minimal. . . space between them. A little too close just for a couple of guys.

Being cramped in this small space in this car. . . wouldn't bode well for his psyche.

However, if he could jump from an airplane without a parachute and survive, he could also survive this. With his composure and dignity intact.

If there was one thing Bucky was still good at, it would be keeping it cool. He did it back in the forties. And he could defuse his feeling of awkwardness with some quips up his sleeve.

"And I thought the bad guys would find better lairs or something."

"Yeah, I guess they couldn't afford it."

"Wow, that's lousy."

"Tell me about it. But they have good enough security to keep us out."

"A smoke screen ought to knock 'em out, right?"

". . . wait, you brought some?"

"Of course, Samuel. Gotta be prepared for Hydra affiliated scums, ya know."

"Touché. I've also got some snacks in here."

When Sam pushed his seat back, he yanked a backpack beneath it. Zipping it open and revealing packets of chips, cupcakes, and soda cans. He reached for a soda and popped it's cap open.

"Thank you," Bucky murmured, sighing deeply. "If we're gonna punch those assholes, we need all the energy we can get."

"True that," Sam replied, his lips quirking up at a corner. "I wished I'd sleep better before we left. I feel like my bones are gonna sink."

He tensed up and arched a brow. "What the. . . You didn't sleep well? That explains why you look exhausted."

"Uh huh." Sam sounded resigned. He shrugged. "Got a job to do, anyways. Sleep can wait."

"Hold on, I'm gonna go in there. And while you stay here."

"What? No! We're supposed to do this as a team."

"I know, I know. But you don't have enough energy and I do. I can destabilize those weapons before the Serpent Society could level them at the city."

"This sounds like a terrible idea."

"Pfft, as if most of them didn't work."

Bucky patted Sam's shoulder, peering into his dark brown eyes soft from concern. Sam's tight posture loosened and he sagged against his seat, nodding slowly.

"Alright. But be careful, Buck."

"Hey, I'll be back in a while. You'll see."

Sam chuckled, his expression fond. Bucky reveled in it, reaching for his door's handle.

As he pushed the door open, he started marching towards the trunk. Opening it and grabbing a duffle bag, which contained his gadgets and trusty equipment. Slamming it shut as he carried it.

With this plan, Bucky could finish this mission within an hour or so. He should probably have back-up, however, he probably could deal with it. Without much trouble.

***

#sbsummer23 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam wilson x bucky barnes #ships: sambucky #sambucky fic #enchant: fanfics

20 notes · View notes

kirk-says-wah · 18 days

Text

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐲 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟒

You can also read it here

Pairings: Kirk/Lars, James/Lars, James/Jason

TW: guns, violence, blood, fire

Silence draws a thin layer over the interior of the car, and Lars drums his thumb against the wheel anxiously.

The events over the last few days are whirring in his head, spinning round and round like a carousel, only it seems like he won’t be getting off any time soon.

“She seems pretty worried about you.”

James’ voice is low, quiet, maybe it’s with concern, but Lars chooses to ignore it. He knows James is referring to his mom, and he suppresses rolling his eyes.

“She’s always worried,” he says, slowing down as traffic starts to build up. It’s late, so this kind of traffic is weird, but Lars doesn’t think anything of it. “It’s kind of annoying.”

He’s kind of hungry, and briefly thinks about picking up dinner. But really he’s just tired. Even with the nap he had earlier. The whole ordeal of nearly getting caught by his father makes him feel like he could sleep for a week.

“Maybe she doesn’t think you’re cut out for this life,” James says, a hint of humour to his voice, but it just makes anxiety pool in Lars gut, like someone’s treading it through his body in heavy boots. He swallows thickly, scratches at his cheek, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s not that.”

A beat goes by, and Lars can feel James’ eyes on him. The car comes to a stop, the line of traffic ahead blocking the road, and Lars wishes he could just get out and walk back. Anything is better than having James pry into his life, makes him feel like his skin’s being pulled back.

James shifts in his seat.

“Why do I feel like you’re not telling me everything?” His voice is cold, sour.

Lars doesn’t answer, choosing to look out the window. He can tell this conversation is leaning into a subject he’d rather not breach. It seems though that James won’t leave it alone.

“Has this got something to do with you not remembering stuff?” James asks, inquisitive, but it just pushes Lars further away, and he sets his jaw, not wanting this conversation to happen.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, even though it sounds petulant, something akin to anger flaring under his skin, makes him feel like he’s being flayed, nostrils flaring, his mouth in a tight line.

“Lars-“

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps, ignoring the way James flinches. “And least of all with you.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” James spits, turning gingerly in his seat, holding onto the dashboard for support.

“You already said this relationship means nothing,” Lars hits back, turning to face James, his foot held firm over the brake.

“No, I said it means nothing to you.”

“Look, we don’t even know each other, James,” Lars points out, exasperated.

“Well have you told Kirk?”

Well, Lars doesn’t know how that’s any of his business, and he scoffs.

“No, and I’m not gonna.”

James stares back at him, eyebrows furrowed, and Lars feels pinned. He can’t help but squirm, putting the handbrake on when it’s clear they’re not going to be moving.

“What?” he cries, making a face. “It’s not important.”

“How do you know?” James rasps. “You said it yourself, you don’t even fucking remember!”

The traffic finally starts moving and Lars gets the car going again, shaking his head.

“Why would my dad have a picture of you if it wasn’t important,” James says, which is a good point, but Lars doesn’t want to have this conversation.

“Please, just leave it alone, James.”

James rubs at his forehead, the atmosphere stifling.

“Fuck man, I feel so hot and cold with you. First you kiss me-“

“-you kissed me first-“

“- and then you make me talk about shit from when I was a kid-“

“-which was important-“

“- and so is this!” James cries, voice raising. “Stop fucking leaving me in the dark or you can fuck off. I don’t want to get caught in a trip wire because you’ve not gave me all the clues. We’re doing this together or not at all-“

“I was in hospital, okay?” Lars shouts, glancing at James. “Is that what you want to hear?”

James doesn’t answer and Lars’ eyes sting. He can’t fucking breathe, and his eyes flash.

“I spent fucking years in there, and I can’t even tell you fucking why,” he says, white knuckling the steering wheel.

“But how would my dad have a picture of you?”

“They must have let me out at some point, I don’t fucking know,” Lars says. The traffic crawls forwards, and they pass the remnants of a car crash. It doesn’t look too serious, but there’s people arguing at the side of the road, the back end of a Prius dented inwards. Lars would find it funny if he was in a better mood. The traffic picks up and Lars increases his speed, trying not to let his anger drive the car.

“But the real question is, why?” Lars says. “Why the fuck was he following me? I didn’t even know you.”

“I don’t think it was about us,” James says, his voice softer now.

“There’s something we’re missing,” Lars says, because there is. He’s not sure what, but there seems to be a shit load of history neither of them know about. He wonders if this Cliff will be able to fill them in, or if he even wants to speak to them. Maybe he didn’t leave their father’s on good terms. Or worse, he’s dead. That would be shit, because they’d be left with no answers, which means they’d have to try and save Jason without all the answers or ask one of the mob bosses. Lars shivers at the thought, his mind flashing back to the end of his finger lying on that table in the restaurant.

“No shit,” James grumbles, and that at least gets a smile out of Lars. Thought it doesn’t last very long, the sense of dread uncoiling in his ribcage. Uncertainty lies thick on his tongue, like a bad taste, and he can’t help but voice his thoughts.

“I think Kirk’s lying to me,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. He can’t deny it, something just doesn’t seem right. He’s always trusted Kirk, but his story just didn’t add up, and Lars wouldn’t be himself if he wasn’t just a little bit suspicious. He was raised by his father after all. It’s practically beaten into him to watch your back at every turn.

“What do you mean?”

“The car accident. Something doesn’t make sense,” Lars says, because it’s true, he’s sure Kirk’s hiding something.

“But why would he lie to you?”

“Maybe I’m just being stupid,” Lars says, turning onto James’ street. It’s quiet, only one or two cars parked on the curb.

“That sounds like you,” James says, and Lars huffs a laugh, the air turning fragile. He sighs, pulling up at James’ house.

“I wish things were different,” he says, not bothering to look at James. He doesn’t want to see the look on his face, he doesn’t want to see whether James feels the same because then it would make it real. He likes him, even when he feels repulsed at the idea of ever loving someone other than Kirk.

“Cmon,” James says, “we should go and get some sleep.”

Lars sniffs, looking over to give a small smile, glad of the one James give back.

James looks nice in this light, even with the bruises littering his face. His eyes gleam a stark blue that Lars can’t help but feel enraptured by.

Lars sucks in a stuttering breath before climbing out of the car, only, within seconds, a sharp sound pierces the air, and a force against Lars’ chest has him hurtling backwards, straight off his feet, his back smacking against the pavement.

He can’t breathe, panic flurrying up through his veins as his hands shake towards his chest, coming away coated in red.

His vision swims, and he goes limp, eyes landing on the sky above him. Suddenly there’s a face in his eyeline, James, his hands pressing against Lars’ chest, but Lars can hardly feel it, coughing a blood spills from his mouth.

“S’okay Lars,” James says, though his voice sounds fuzzy past the ringing in Lars’ ears.

Lars just looks back at him, pain searing his nerve endings, but he can’t move, can’t think, can’t feel.

His hands are sticky. This is it.

This is how he dies.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #don’t cry #kirk/lars #james/lars #james/jason #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #kirk hammett/lars ulrich #james hetfield x lars ulrich #james hetfield/lars ulrich #james hetfield/jason newsted #james hetfield x jason newsted #james hetfield #metallica fic #lars ulrich #kirk hammett

2 notes · View notes

wheelsgoroundincircles · 5 months

Text

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

#Ford Highboy Coupe #Ford Highboy #Ford #car #cars #street rod #hot rod

212 notes · View notes

thebowerypresents · 1 month

Text

King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard Unleash Three-Hour Show on Forest Hills Stadium on Friday Night

King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard – Forest Hills Stadium – August 16, 2024

Prior to the Paris Olympics, if someone had mentioned Australia and Raygun in the same sentence, you’d have been forgiven for assuming it the reference was to a song or album by the madly prolific (and sci-fi adjacent) Australian rock outfit King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. While that country’s reputation still recovers from the breakdancer who couldn’t dance, those assembled at Forest Hills Stadium on Friday turned their attention to the Australian rock band that can, and does, do it all. Their three-hour set — the first of two weekend appearances at the venue — kicked off with the live debut of the blues-heavy “Field of Vision,” off the recently released Flight b741, the six-piece’s 26th(!) LP.

The group’s music covers a wide array of genres, and their shaggy fans of all ages were as comfortable in tie-dyes as they were in the mosh pits erupting throughout the night, first for a speedy, ear-splitting rendition of “Gamma Knife.” Fitting for the season, those mosh pits were shaped like hurricanes, with bodies increasingly moving faster toward the center, except for the inevitable one or two standing still in the eye of the storm. Friday’s show gave the band as much room as they needed to display all facets of Gizzardom.

“Mr. Beat,” a sing-along, evolved into a jam that could be played out into infinity. With the sun still shining, the music was firmly on the boogie end of the spectrum with an equally playful rendition of the harmonica-heavy, aptly titled “Boogieman Sam.” But as day turned into night with a red sun setting into Manhattan’s hazy skies, the set turned toward the sextet’s heavier jams of the brown-acid variety.

First came the stellar four-song string of Gizzy mind-palace classics, “I’m in Your Mind,” “I’m Not in Your Mind,” “Cellophane” and “I'm in Your Mind Fuzz.” “God is real. God is a black hole,” announced someone from the stage as they kicked off the speed-metal “Self-Immolate,” complete with an extended, slow-burning drum solo from the inimitable Michael Cavanagh. The tune itself immolated amongst a barraging backdrop of animated, burning flames. Their songs off 2019’s Infest the Rats’ Nest remain the high-water mark for intensity and rocking the fuck out, and it was a bold and impressive feat to tear through that material at the midpoint of a three-hour set, leaving it with their human drummer still intact.

“Gila Monster” was another fan favorite, off last year’s sprawlingly titled PetroDragonic Apocalypse; or, Dawn of Eternal Night: An Annihilation of Planet Earth and the Beginning of Merciless Damnation. The fans enthusiastically intoning, “Gila, Gila, Gila” felt powerful enough to summon some kind of monster from somewhere in the city, assisted by vocal effects and chants that could’ve rattled out from the depths of a didgeridoo.

The band welcomed a fan named Gabby to sing a vocal intro to “Nuclear Fusion” that Ambrose Kenny-Smith dubbed “fucking haunting.” Just as impressive as their never-ending discography, King Gizzard & the Wizard Lizard play wildly different sets each night, an audacious feat on its own but especially so when playing three-hour shows.

Somewhere along the way, Friday’s set reached the all gas, no brakes mark and never let up, finishing with “Rattlesnake” and “K.G.L.W.” Welcome to the city that never sleeps to the world’s most prolific band. —Dan Rickershauser | @D4nRicks

(King Gizzard & the Wizard Lizard play the Stage at Suffolk Downs tonight.)

(King Gizzard & the Wizard Lizard play Thompson’s Point in Portland, Maine, tomorrow.)

(King Gizzard & the Wizard Lizard play the Dell Music Center in Philadelphia on 8/27.)

(King Gizzard & the Wizard Lizard play Brown’s Island in Richmond. Va., on 8/28.)

Photos courtesy of Silvia Saponaro | @Silvia_Saponaro

2 notes · View notes

ponyosmom35 · 1 month

Text

Driving lessons

Bittersweet chapter twenty four

steve harrington x fem oc

synopsis: Steve feels bad for being rude to Indie and decides to finally do something she'd been asking for a long time: driving.

master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Steve’s car idled in the empty parking lot, the soft hum of the engine filling the quiet space. The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Indie sat in the passenger seat, nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she glanced over at Steve. She’d been avoiding this for a while, too hesitant to ask her parents to teach her how to drive, especially after everything that had happened with Barb. The last thing they needed was another worry, another reminder of what they’d lost.

But Steve had offered, without her even having to ask. It was one of the things she liked about him—he always seemed to know when she needed something, even if she wasn’t sure herself. Still, now that they were here, her nerves were getting the better of her.

"Ready?" Steve asked, his voice a little too upbeat, trying to mask his own nerves. He was playing it cool, but Indie could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed anxiously on the steering wheel.

"Yeah," she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure. "I think so."

Steve gave her an encouraging smile, then unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, circling around to the passenger side. Indie took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach as she slid over into the driver’s seat. This was it—no turning back now.

Steve climbed into the passenger seat beside her, shutting the door with a solid thud. He handed her the keys, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment before he pulled back. Indie stared at the keys in her hand, feeling the weight of them, the responsibility they represented. She could do this. It was just driving. People did it all the time.

"Alright, first things first," Steve began, slipping into a tone that was somewhere between confident and anxious. "Seatbelt, mirrors, and foot on the brake before you start."

Indie nodded, repeating the steps in her head as she buckled her seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors. She placed her foot on the brake, her leg feeling oddly stiff, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, vibrating beneath her, and for a moment, she just sat there, her hands gripping the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

"Good," Steve said, nodding approvingly. "Now, just... you know, take it easy. Slow and steady wins the race, right?"

Indie managed a small smile, though her nerves were still buzzing. She eased off the brake, pressing the gas pedal just enough to get the car moving. It lurched forward, and she felt a jolt of panic, but she quickly corrected, trying to maintain a smooth pace.

The car rolled slowly across the lot, and Steve let out a breath, visibly relaxing in his seat. "There you go, nice and easy."

Indie concentrated hard, her eyes glued to the empty space ahead. The parking lot was deserted, just a wide expanse of cracked pavement with faded lines marking out parking spaces. It was the perfect place to practice—no cars, no pedestrians, just them and the open lot. Even so, every little jerk or wobble of the car sent a spike of anxiety through her.

They continued this way for a while, with Indie carefully navigating the car in wide loops around the lot. Every now and then, the car would jerk forward or slow down too quickly, and Steve would tense up beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for the dashboard as if he could steady the car through sheer willpower.

"Okay, now try making a turn," Steve suggested, pointing to a spot ahead where she could practice. "Just remember to ease off the gas a little before you turn."

Indie nodded, focusing intently as she approached the turn. She eased off the gas, just like he said, and turned the wheel. The car made the turn, a little awkwardly but without too much trouble. Indie felt a small surge of pride—she was getting the hang of it, slowly but surely.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Steve said, grinning at her. "You’re a natural."

Indie laughed nervously, though she wasn’t quite ready to believe him. "I don’t know about that. It still feels pretty... weird."

"That’s normal," Steve assured her. "It’ll get easier the more you do it."

They continued driving around the lot, and slowly, Indie started to feel a bit more confident. She was still jerky on the pedals, and every now and then, the car would lurch unexpectedly, but she was getting better. Steve was doing his best to stay calm, though Indie could see the way his fingers occasionally gripped the edge of the seat, his nerves still on high alert.

"Alright," Steve said after a while, his voice a little steadier now that they’d been at it for some time. "You wanna try going out on the main road?"

Indie hesitated, her confidence wavering. The parking lot was one thing—empty, quiet, no pressure. But the main road? With other cars, other drivers? That was a whole different level of scary.

"I... I don’t know," she admitted, biting her lip.

Steve looked at her, his expression softening. "Hey, you’re doing great. But if you’re not ready, we can stick to the lot for a bit longer."

Indie considered it, but something in her wanted to push herself, to prove that she could do this. "No, I think I can do it. Let’s go."

Steve nodded, giving her an encouraging smile. "Okay, just remember to take it slow. We’ll go out for a bit, and if it’s too much, we can come back."

Indie took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Alright. Let’s do it."

They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Indie’s heart was pounding in her chest, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ached. The car moved forward, and she tried to keep her focus on the road, on the cars around them, on everything. It was overwhelming, the sheer amount of things she had to keep track of all at once.

"Just stay calm," Steve said, his voice a little higher than usual. "You’re doing fine."

Indie nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. The road seemed to stretch out before her, endless and daunting. She pressed down on the gas a little harder, trying to keep up with the flow of traffic, but the car shot forward faster than she expected.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" Steve exclaimed, his hand reaching out instinctively toward the dashboard again. "Easy, Indie!"

Indie quickly eased off the gas, but the car wobbled slightly as she overcorrected. Her heart was racing, panic rising in her chest. But she couldn’t let herself freak out—not when she was the one behind the wheel.

"I got this, I got this," she muttered to herself, trying to calm her nerves.

"Just relax, okay?" Steve said, though his own nerves were clearly frayed. "You’re doing fine, just don’t rush it."

Indie took another deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. They continued down the road, and despite the initial scare, she started to feel a bit more in control. She wasn’t going too fast, and she was managing to stay in her lane without any major issues.

But then, as they approached a stoplight, Indie misjudged the distance and braked too suddenly. The car jerked to a stop, and Steve nearly hit the dashboard as he was thrown forward by the sudden halt.

"Jesus Christ, Indie!" Steve yelped, his voice cracking with panic.

Indie’s heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear anything over the roar of blood in her ears. She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes—this was a disaster. She was going to get them both killed.

Steve clutched his chest, breathing heavily. He looked over at Indie expecting to see her flushed

But then he heard it— her soft giggles echoing in the car.

He turns to her in horror “whats so funny?”

"Steve the scream queen is back," Indie said, trying to suppress her own nervous giggle.

Steve snorted again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re killing me here, Indie."

"I’m sorry!" she said. The tension that had been building in her chest slowly started to ease, the panic giving way to something lighter, something almost... fun.

She glanced over at Steve, expecting to see anger or frustration, but instead, he was laughing. Despite the near-accident, even though she’d almost sent them both flying through the windshield, Steve was laughing.

They continued driving, and though Indie was still nervous, it wasn’t quite as overwhelming as before. Steve’s laughter had somehow made it easier, made her feel like maybe she wasn’t as terrible at this as she thought. And even though he was still clearly on edge, she could tell he was trying to relax, trying to make it easier for her.

After a while, they decided to head back to the park. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over everything. Indie felt a mixture of relief and accomplishment as they pulled back into the parking lot. She’d done it—she’d actually driven on the road, and they were both still in one piece.

"Alright, you did it," Steve said as they came to a stop. He let out a long breath as if he’d been holding it in for the entire drive. "But you’re never driving again."

Indie burst out laughing, her nerves finally giving way to a sense of accomplishment. "I wasn’t that bad!"

Steve gave her a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You almost killed us like, five times."

"But I didn’t," she countered, still grinning. "And you’re still here, so I must’ve done something right."

Steve shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Just remind me never to get in a car with you again."

They both climbed out of the car and walked over to the hood, where they sat side by side, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, the air cool and calm. Indie felt a sense of peace settling over her, a stark contrast to the chaotic drive they’d just had.

Steve leaned back, resting his weight on his hands as he stared up at the sky. "You know, despite nearly dying, that wasn’t so bad."

Indie laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. "Admit it, you had fun."

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at her. "Maybe a little."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sky change colors as the sun slowly disappeared. Indie felt a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt in a long time, a feeling that everything was going to be okay, at least for now.

"Thanks for this, Steve," she said softly, breaking the silence. "I know I wasn’t great, but... it means a lot."

Steve glanced over at her, his expression softening. "You did fine, Indie. And hey, I’d do it again if you needed me to. Just... maybe not tomorrow."

Indie laughed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Yeah, maybe not tomorrow."

They stayed there until the last traces of sunlight had faded from the sky, the world around them slipping into twilight. Eventually, they both knew it was time to go, but neither of them wanted to break the moment, the easy connection they’d found in the midst of chaos.

As they finally stood up and made their way back to the car, Steve gave her one last teasing smile. "Just remember, you’re banned from driving until further notice."

Indie rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the smile on her face. "Whatever you say, scream queen."

Steve snorted, shaking his head as they climbed back into the car. Despite everything, Indie couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, things might actually be okay. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

“Come on lets watch the sunset” he nods

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fic #stranger things season 5 #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine

5 notes · View notes

lordofthenerds97 · 1 year

Text

Wasting Away: Chapter 6

Rating: M for eventual chapters, mild cursing, and nonexplicit sexual content Pairing: Eddie x Reader, Past Billy x Reader, and onesided Steve x Reader if you squint Summary: You were broken. Falling apart. Trying to put yourself back together. Whatever the hell they wanted to call it. All you knew was you were hurting. The Upside Down had been the bane of your existence for a long time. But now you had a reason to hate it. Will your hatred be enough to help take down the latest in a long line of monsters? TW FOR THIS CHAPTER: • Mild Panic Attack • Survivor's Guilt • Mentions of Therapy Masterlist

The bell dinged above you as you walked into the small mechanic’s shop. You paused for a moment, the smell of motor oil, grease, and fumes hitting your nose.

“Hold on!”

You barely registered the voice calling out to you as you looked around. Things had changed since the last time you’d been in there. The shelves had been moved around, other racks had been added, and there were even displays set up. The small and miscellaneous parts had been organized and were hanging in their proper places with the price tags displayed neatly above them. “Damn,” you muttered. Before Mack’s wife, Helen, had retired, the place was more well kept than what Mack himself would do. But you hadn’t ever seen it like this.

The last time you’d been in there with Billy, you had to help him dig through multiple bins to find the right wrenches and screws he needed.

Mack’s small shop had definitely gotten an upgrade.

“Hey sweetheart,”

You looked up from the shelf at the sound of the familiar voice. “Eddie?”

He had poked his head through the door leading to the actual shop, grinning at you. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” you said dumbly. You were pretty sure the expression on your face matched the tone of your voice.

He chuckled. “What, do you think Mack managed to do all this himself?” he asked as he stepped behind the counter. His hair was tied into a messy bun at the base of his neck to keep it out of his face as he worked. He looked at the oil filter you were holding. “That all you need, doll?”

You smiled. That explained all the upgrades. But then his question registered, and you pursed your lips. “Actually, no…”

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as he leaned against the old counter beside the register. “I’m at your service.”

Taking a breath, you looked at him hopefully. “I need to see about ordering some specialty parts, and how much it’s going to cost.”

That caught his interest. “Really? What are you working on?”

You sighed. “A pet project…one that’s going to take a long time to finish.”

Hearing the tone of your voice, Eddie softened. “Alrighty. Whatcha need?”

Realizing he wasn’t going to push you for more information, your eyes lit up and you smiled at him. You wanted to tell him about the “surprise” that Dustin and Steve had set up for you. But if you were being honest with yourself, you were still trying to wrap your head around what they had done. “A few things. Let’s start with a four barrel Holley carburetor.”

Eddie grabbed a notepad from the opposite side of the register and began writing. “Uh huh,”

“Rear drum brakes for a ‘78 Chevy,”

“Mhm.”

“Probably a new vacuum modulator.”

He continued to scribble as you listed off a few more parts. He listened patiently as you went down the list. You couldn’t help but wince as you continued telling him what you needed. It was a long list. And it was going to be expensive.

“That should be it.”

He looked at the list and let out a low whistle. “Damn, sweetheart. Looks like you’ve got a hell of a project going on.”

You let out a snort. “Bit of an understatement,” you muttered. In actuality, you were pretty much rebuilding the entire thing from scratch. And at the moment, you were thanking God above that Billy had taught you so much about his car. “Gonna take me a while.”

Eddie pursed his lips and read over the list. “Well, I think I might have a spare modulator laying around. Just changed a few out and we ordered some extras. ‘78, you said, right?”

You nodded.

“Cool. Drum brakes were going to be on our next order, we just ran out. That Holley is probably gonna not take the prettiest penny.”

You nodded. That wasn’t a surprise.

“All in all sweetheart…you’re looking at about $2,500, give or take.”

That was actually a little less than you had been expecting, considering the amount of parts you needed to get. “Not bad,” you said.

Eddie looked at you. “Are you gonna want to order now or wait a bit?”

You paused for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought. “I’ll get the modulator, the filter, and preorder the brakes for now.”

He nodded. “Gotcha. Both sets?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. I’ll make sure we order those today. They should be here the end of the week.”

“Nice.”

He grabbed a binder from under the counter and flipped through it, looking for what you assumed was the part numbers. He mumbled to himself as he scanned the laminated pages and tapped a few things into the register. “Three hundred twenty five and thirty-two cents.” he said, looking up at you. “That okay?”

You nodded, setting your small bag onto the counter to dig through and find your wallet. “How long have you worked here?” you asked.

He shrugged. “A year or so. Mack liked to keep me in the back for a while. He needed an extra set of hands in the shop. Said he couldn’t find any mechanics worth a shit.”

You snorted. “Sounds like Mack.”

“Not to sound like a stereotype,” he said, looking up at you as you handed him four hundred. “But where’d you learn to work on cars?”

Your throat tightened momentarily. You cleared it before you spoke. “Billy,” you said. “He was determined to teach me everything he could. Said he wanted me to know what was going on and to make sure that I wouldn’t get swindled. It helped that he was always working on his car. I learned a lot.”

He nodded. “Good. Thankfully Mack isn’t like a lot of other mechanics, but I’ve seen plenty of assholes in my time try and take advantage of a woman who doesn’t know shit about her car. I’m glad you know what you’re doing.”

You laughed. “I don’t think I know exactly what I’m doing, but I think I can wing it for the most part.”

Eddie chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, I don’t think this pet project is something you should wing. Sounds important. And expensive.”

“Eh, we’ll see.” you said with a smile. “Thanks Eddie.”

“No problem.” He grinned at you. “Aside from working on your special project, what else are you up to on this fine afternoon?”

You sighed and took the bag that he offered you. “Trying to catch up on homework. I managed most of what Dusty brought me when I missed a few days last week. Now I just have to try and stomach the assignments I have tonight.”

Eddie snorted. “I understand. Seems to me like teachers should spend more time teaching us what will actually get us by in this world instead of the infinite numbers of pi.”

“Seriously,” you said. “I’m trying to keep up with what I have, plus trying to keep my grades up while I look at different colleges.”

He raised an eyebrow and resumed his casual stance leaning against the counter. “College? I didn’t think that was an aspiration of yours.”

You shrugged. “Honestly, it’s more to keep my parents happy than anything. I don’t particularly want to go to college, but hey, there’s always something to learn.”

“Any idea on what you’d want to study?”

A sigh escaped your lips. “I don’t know…I love science though. If I did actually go, I’d probably pick something in that area.” You laughed before adding on, “Honestly, you’d probably think I’m crazy if I told you the type of reading I do for fun.”

His expression turned serious. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen and heard a lot out of you, and I haven’t ever thought you’re crazy. I doubt there’s anything you could say that would make me think that.”

What if I told you there was an alternate dimension that has portals in Hawkins and has repeatedly split the fabric of the universe apart? What if I told you that it wasn’t an explosion that killed Billy, it was a telepathic monster made of the flesh and bones of the humans it had him lure to it’s lair?

You fought back the intrusive thoughts and tried to laugh. “You really wanna know?” you asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. “If you’re interested in it, then its got to be something worth knowing about.”

You snorted and laughed. “Fine. I like reading about nuclear physics and quantum mechanics.”

His expression was more than a little shocked. “You wanna run that by me again, sweetheart? Just to make sure I heard you right?”

“Um…nuclear physics and quantum mechanics?”

Eddie shook his head. “How the hell did you get into that?”

The Upside Down. Finding a way to stop it.

You shrugged. “There’s a lot in this world we don’t understand. But one day I’d like to be able to. Plus, when you actually read and research, it’s not that hard to understand.”

He nodded. “I think if someone sets their mind to something, then nothing is impossible.”

“Exactly!” You grinned at him. Then an idea popped into your head. “Hey, what’re you doing Saturday night?”

He shrugged. “Not a lot. Coffin has a gig at 12, but before that I’m probably just going to be sitting at home. Why? What’s up?”

“My parents are having some old friends over. I don’t really want to be there, but I promised my mom I would try. She said I could have a friend over too. Would you…would you want to come?”

“Are you asking me on a date, sweetheart? And meeting your parents already?” he teased.

You laughed. “Talk about moving fast.” you said with a chuckle. “Honestly, I need someone that’s not going to make me feel like jumping off the roof instead of socializing.”

He nodded. “I understand. Getting yourself back out there after being isolated for so long can be hard.”

“Yeah…and right now I want nothing to do with anyone.”

Eddie laughed. “I understand that too. What time?”

“You’ll come?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah sweetheart, I’ll come. But you gotta let me know what I’m walking into.” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person.”

Reaching beside him, you grabbed the notebook and pencil he’d been using earlier. “Really nice couple. Known my parents for a long time. They have a kid, but she’s actually pretty cool. Kind of reminds me of Dustin.” After writing down your address, you slid the paper back to him. “They’re gonna love you.”

He raised an eyebrow when he saw the street name, realizing you lived in one of the more upscale areas of Hawkins. “Sounds like fun.”

You beamed at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. “They’re supposed to come at six. But if you want to come a little earlier, I can introduce you to my parents.”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

~*~*~*~

“Honey? You home?”

“Yeah mom!” you called as you shut the front door behind you. You slipped out of your converse and put them on the rack. “I just went by Mack’s.”

She came around the corner to meet you, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Did you get what you needed?” Her expression was hopeful and you smiled.

“Not all of it, but I got a good start! Eddie was really helpful. Shocked at how much it was gonna cost, but helpful.”

“Oh, the mechanic? He changed the oil in the Jeep for me last week. Seems to be a nice kid.”

You nodded. “I go to school with him.” you said. “Actually…I think I might be making friends?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah…funny story, actually.”

Your mom grinned and took the bag from your hands. “Come on. Tell me about it.”

You chuckled and followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed two cans of coke from the fridge and handed you one before settling in her chair and looking at you expectantly.

“So you know the Hellfire Club? The DnD club Dustin and the guys joined?”

She nodded before rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the rumors circulating about it.”

You snorted. “I’m sure they’re al saying that it’s a cult and they’re worshipping the devil.”

Your mom laughed. “Pretty much.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Me either. Anyways, continue.”

You cracked open the soda and took a sip. “Eddie is the Dungeon Master. I’ve heard Dustin rant and rave about him. He and Mike have been trying to get me to join a campaign soon, which is happened next weekend by the way. Dustin was hanging around with me during lunch last week and out of nowhere Eddie drops down at our table being all loud ‘n shit. Scares the bejesus out of me and sends me into an attack.”

The concern on her face warmed your cheeks.

“Dustin kind of blanked…it was actually Eddie that coached me through. Surprised me, really. And he even checked on me after school to make sure I was okay.”

She nodded. “I don’t know much about him, just some small talk after he changed the oil, but he seems like a good kid.”

You nodded. “Dustin has nothing but good to say about him. People at school? Not so much. But he’s actually really great.” You bit your lip, not knowing how much you should divulge. “He lost some family…that’s why he’s with his uncle. Someone he was close to used to have panic attacks…he was the only one who could get them through.”

Your mom hummed quietly. “I’m glad he’s helped you.”

“Me too.” You smiled slightly. “He’s brought me breakfast at school to make sure I’m eating. I guess Dustin was a little tattle tale.”

She chuckled. “He’s just watching out for you, honey. I for one, am glad he is.”

You rolled your eyes. “With how many people are ‘watching out for me’, I feel like I’m under a microscope.”

She snorted. “You’re too pretty to be a specimen.”

That actually made you laugh. “Thanks.”

“Oh, did you get a chance to talk to Steve about Saturday? I saw him in the store earlier, he was asking about you.”

“Actually…I thought about asking Eddie to come?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that as a statement or a question?”

You shrugged. “Well, what do you think? I feel pretty comfortable around him, and I know he can help me through a panic attack.”

She hummed again. “I’d say I want you to think about it.” she said honestly.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, “You’ve been pretty private since the accident. You barely talk to Steve, and I know Nancy and Robin don’t come around as much as they used to. Dustin has pretty much been the only one who can talk you into doing something.”

Your frown only deepened.

Sensing that she was dancing around the point, your mom sighed. “Do you want me to put it bluntly?”

You nodded.

“Honey, you haven’t been social with anyone since Billy died. Do you think you’re trying to put something on Eddie that he doesn’t need to carry?”

Then it hit you. Your immediate reaction was to get angry. You were pretty sure the expression on your face reflected that. But you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom.” you said. “Billy isn’t replaceable. I loved him.” You held up your left hand, “I was going to marry him after I graduated. If I was ever going to think about dating someone again, it wouldn’t be this soon, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be anyone from this shitty town.”

Tears were flowing freely at this point and you didn’t bother to hold them back. You didn’t think you’d be able to even if you tried. “I know I’ve been a terrible friend for everyone, Max most of all, but I’ve been trying. And since I’ve started trying, I’ve been having more and more panic attacks. I’m putting myself out there again. Sure, I know them, but that doesn’t make a difference. I love all of them, and I would lose my goddamn mind if anything happened to them. Especially after the accident. I can’t lose anyone else. That’s why I was trying to keep my distance. That’s why I closed myself off to them.”

She could tell that you were starting to hyperventilate. She reached for your hand, which you latched onto. Your chest tightened as you continued pushing the words out. “Eddie definitely reminds me of Billy, which is why its hard to be around him sometimes. But he’s his own person. No one can ever take Billy’s place.” You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down. If you kept going at this pace, you knew it would end in another panic attack. And that was something you were desperately trying to avoid.

“Eddie didn’t judge me when I fell apart in front of him. Instead, he helped me get myself together and made sure I was okay afterwards. I don’t feel like I have to hide my feelings around him. He’s had a similar loss and understands what’s going on up in my head. I’m not okay more than half the time. But Eddie has gone out of his way to make sure that I’m okay around him.”

You let out a choked sob and began to curl in on yourself.

Stop, you scolded yourself. This isn’t helping anyone. Take a deep breath and shove those feelings back into their box.

You’d had inklings of feelings similar to your mother’s. You needed your own verbal assurance that Eddie wasn’t taking Billy’s place in your life. His death had left a massive hole. In your heart, in your head, in your life. There wasn’t anything that anyone could do or say that would ever fill it. You knew that.

She got up from her seat across from you and walked around the island, kneeling down and grabbing your other hand. “Look at me, baby girl. It’s okay.”

You focused on her for a moment before taking a deep breath and struggling to pull your mind out of the dark pit it was trying to crawl into. It sent a shiver down your spine as you fought it, but you managed to haul yourself back to reality.

You sniffled and took one of your hands out of your mom’s to grab a napkin from the island. “Sorry,” you mumbled.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

You looked back at her, eyes wide as you searched her face. You knew she had a valid point in her thoughts about Eddie. From an outsider’s perspective, you couldn’t blame her for having that suspicion. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” you asked cautiously.

She was quiet for a moment before she nodded. “I think I do.” While she wasn’t completely in your shoes, she could understand the need to be around someone who had experienced something similar in the past and made it through. “I do. And honestly, I’m glad you feel okay with him. I never really understood why you were pushing everyone away instead of leaning on them for support. But now I do. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to help you with that sooner.”

You shrugged slowly. “It wasn’t something I really talked about…not even with Allie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s something you need to talk about in your next session. I’m not a specialist, but this definitely sounds like something that’s hindering you.”

She was right, of course, which made you sigh. “Okay.” you agreed. You looked up at your mom, exhaustion seeping through you. “But for now can we make some popcorn and watch a movie?”and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, holding you as sobs racked your body. As you slowly calmed down, your head began to clear. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Your mom shook her head. “Nothing to be sorry about, honey. I’m the one who should apologize. I know it hasn’t been easy for you at all. But I’m so happy you’re finding a friend in Eddie. And if he understands, then I’m even happier.”

You gave her a soft smile and wiped your eyes again. “Thanks mom.”

Taglist: @yourdailymemedelivery@1-fuzzy-squirrels@shiggay@chrisevansmarvelmcu@mrsyixingunicorn10@rebelcthulhu @ethen-often @liv-raines@inthemindofaweirdo@mystrangerfics@mattysheelies@hargrovesprincess@ssstutteringbbbill@fuchsia-knight@gooddoggodrogo @jaaxely@sebastiansloserclub@acthenerd@dollface-80 @prettyboyhargrove@uncle-keery@sydneyisnotawriter

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington #original characters #eddie is a softy #stranger things eddie #stranger things 4

19 notes · View notes

hirocimacruiser · 9 months

Text

Mugen Power CF48

Heat dissipation from the wheel itself

Brakes are used to convert the kinetic energy of "running" into thermal energy generated by friction between the disc (drum) and the hub. The key is to convert kinetic energy into thermal energy, which has a deceleration effect.How much heat is released? Mugen focuses on the heat dissipation from the wheel itself, which is the heat transferred from the brake disk through the hub to the wheel. Mugen CF-48 has a large surface area to increase the heat dissipation effect. The disk part has a fin shape.The surface of the disc is equipped with an air cowl.The cowl generates a turbo effect together with the fins, increasing the heat dissipation effect and reducing the car's total air resistance.

Balanced and exclusive design

When a car travels at a speed of 100 km/h, the wheels rotate approximately 15 times per second. If the wheels are not set in the center, they will run 15 times per second. No matter how much weight tolerance you have, However, the method of determining the center using a general-purpose wheel or a Statholdt, which causes this pre-shimmy, may cause the center to be close to Imm. By matching, it is designed to ensure that it is always set on the wheel or center. The size of the center hub varies depending on the car. Unless it is a special wheel, it cannot be set directly on the center hub.

Matching by exclusive design

FF cars generally have a large offset value. This is subtly related to the suspension design. Each car manufacturer has a different suspension design with a different concept, so the wheels have offsets that match that concept. When the value is achieved, the performance intended by the suspension designer is demonstrated.The MUGEN CF-48 has been designed with subtle flavorings for each size based on thorough research into suspensions for Honda vehicles. The 13-inch wheels are designed for mild driving, while the 15-inch wheels are designed for sporty driving enjoyment.

Lighter weight and dedicated design

As of April 1984, among the cars sold by Honda, the one with the heaviest wheel load is the Biggar Hatchback TXL. The design was based on this assumption.If it were to be developed as a general-purpose wheel, the main load would have to be 740 kg. 740 kg vs. 315 kg, the difference is huge. The ideal wheel is required to be as strong as possible and lightweight.The MUGEN CF-48 is designed exclusively for Honda vehicles, so it can be used to create the ideal wheel without sacrificing safety at all. One step closer to lightweight wheels

Simultaneous development with race-specific

The Mugen CF-48 was not simply developed as a road wheel for commercially available cars; it was developed to participate in the N2 specification Honda City Turbo one-make race, which has been held at the Suzuka Circuit since 1984. At the same time, development is progressing as a dedicated wheel for racing city turbos. Race wheels were developed using the same concept as street wheels, and their heat dissipation effect, balance, lightness, and matching are all tested on the circuit. The know-how gained from competitive competition, where you are sometimes forced to drive beyond your limits, is directly fed back into the street wheels.

Lighter center part due to exclusive design

The wheels must be light. The higher the speed, the more the weight of the wheels will affect the driving performance.Designing them exclusively for Honda vehicles also has the advantage of reducing weight. All Honda vehicles have a unified P.C.D. value of 100mm. The wheel center part of Mugen CF-48 is sized for this purpose. No consideration was given to the P.C.D. value of 114.3mm, which is the case with general-purpose wheels. As a result, the wheel center diameter has been reduced by approximately 15mm. This resulted in a weight reduction of approximately 250g. The most important tuning method in motorsports, which is removing unnecessary parts and reducing weight, is on display here.

If you are interested in motorsports, you probably remember the name Mugen. Mugen, which was established in 1973 to strengthen the participation of Honda vehicles in motorsports, has to date won numerous titles in two-wheel and four-wheel motorsports around the world. The Honda V6 engine for the F-2, which achieved a high score of 6 wins out of 7 races in Japan's top racing series, the All Japan F-2 Championship in 1984, is produced by Mugen. Mugen continues to participate in motorsports in search of even more advanced technology.

Mugen Co., Ltd. 2-15-11 Hizaori-cho, Asaka City, Saitama Prefecture 351 TEL 0484 (61) 4131

#Mugen #Mugen wheels #CF-48 #Mugen CF-48 #JDM

4 notes · View notes