#Saddlebag bumper

[saber-cycle]

GL1100 Saddlebag Bumpers by MC Enterprise

High quality light weight triple chrome-plated saddlebag bumper with 11 lights made for durability by MC Enterprise. Unique design allows for adjustable width. Complete with wire loom and lights. Requires MC or other bag rails for mounting. Fits MC 474, 474-2 and 474-5 rails. These quality bumper sets were likely returns but are brand new. They are SECONDS because one of them has 2 right sides…

[quirkthieves]

Will you kill me if I ask you to do all of the bulletpoints in IN-DEPTH HEADCANON QUESTIONS for Hii. I need to know everything about my wife at the earliest convenience

how does your muse get local news and updates on current events? are they up to date with all the latest goings-on or do they prefer to avoid it altogether?

I think Hinata probably spends a lot of time casually browsing her phone or watching TV, but I wouldn't say she's super "in the know". A lot of it is stuff that requires more than 30 seconds of attention, too, so she's prone to brushing it off as unimportant or boring.

did your muse grow up with any particular television shows? do they have a favorite, or a memory tied to these shows?

Kemono Jihen takes place in 2016, so... we can reverse engineer her childhood shows as coming from the early 2000s...

I think she would've REALLY liked Inuyasha. She loves historical dramas, romance, action, and it involves yokai-- the perfect blend of attention grabbers for a little girl who liked being cool.

how much effort does your muse put into their costume for halloween parties and other dress-up events? do they have any go-to costumes?

She doesn't really go to parties, on account of the leech. That being said, given the opportunity, Hinata's more the type to be vaguely-thematic and hot than a full on costume.

does your muse stay up to date with the latest fashion trends? describe their style. where do they typically buy their clothes?

She does! Hinata enjoys fashion and keeping up with trends a lot, and as described by Aimoto, she leans more on the "punk/rocker" end of the spectrum. Heavy leather influence. I don't think she'd buy from shops that are on the "mall goth/baby bat" end of the spectrum like Hot Topic, though. There's also definitely some sporty influence; im sure her casual clothing contains plenty of athleisure.

who was their first celebrity crush?

...Inuyasha, naturally

what would your muse's bio say if they were on a dating app?

name, age, and probably something like "can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen"

what kind of phone does your muse have, and how customized is it? does it have a basic case or something more unique? is the screen cracked? do they have a popsocket or other accessories on it?

probably a two or three year old smartphone. Definitely cracked screen, but she probably replaces the case when it gets scuffed. The phone case has a pattern like a yakuza tattoo, and a broken loop for a charm.

smartphones and other tech along those lines can be pretty sensitive to heat, so I have a feeling she has to replace it more than most.

who was the one family member your muse always looked up to, if any?

Hinata is the second youngest of 5. Her eldest sister was the coolest person in the world to her, and she emulated a lot of her rough-and-tumble attitude. Although, like with the rest of her family, they no longer speak.

if your muse drives a car, have they personalized it in any way (bumper stickers, things hanging from the rearview mirror, etc.)?

...Can I say she has a motorcycle? The saddlebags are just as leather and studded as the rest of her. Somewhere, there's a bumper sticker that's been worn off over the years, that used to read something not braking for pedestrians.

if given a choice between having a night in or spending the night out on the town, which would they most likely choose and why?

A night in. A night out means making sure Robara behaves, which is just stressful.

In her post canon, she's a bit of a homebody, just due to circumstance.

what are your muse's favorite scents, and what do they associate them with?

Leather, charcoal, and whatever the fuck the inside of an ULTA smells like. You know the smell, though. Makeup fragrances.

I don't think she likes many organic smells, though.

what kind of shopper is your muse? are they a slow, methodical shopper, a list-maker, or a grab the items and go kind of person? how long do they usually spend getting their groceries? how long do they spend clothes shopping? do they use changing rooms?

Grab shit and GOOOOOOOOOO she has an awful habit of just throwing shit in the cart, or if she doesn't want it, sticking it on the nearest shelf. Cuts in line. Haggles with coupons. Leaves the changing room a disaster.

if something bad happens, who will your muse call first?

:)

what social cause is your muse most passionate about and why?

Hinata doesn't.... really care about society outside of the personal goals she has. Social causes are pretty meaningless drivel to her. That being said, she's passionate about the treatment of children, so... that? Don't ask her about theory, she doesn't know. What she knows is she'll kick your ass.

if your muse was made into an action figure, what would their five catchphrases be?

"I'll be a demon or the devil!"

"Suck in those balls!"

"Fightin's what I'm made for!"

"Whether vegetables or people, with an expert, people say you can line the cuts back up like it never happened."

"It's crunch time!"

what are your muse's biggest fears, and what caused them?

Hinata is terrified of losing those closest to her, a fear cultivated by Robara's constant threats towards anyone who got close-- and the perceived inability he had to take care of himself, putting his and others' lives in her hands.

She's also terrified of getting pregnant and giving birth to a "monster". She believes that no matter what, she's somehow become "tainted" and any child she has will turn out like him.

what's the one thing your muse constantly does and wishes they could stop doing?

Hinata's got an awful habit of breaking shit when she's mad, and that's really not conducive to owning things, typically. Phones and TV's can be expensive! And she's mad quite often.

does your muse know how to fight? describe their fighting style. if someone was threatening them and about to attack, how would they respond?

Fighting's what she's made for, right?

Hinata is a powerful combatant, both barehanded and with a weapon. She doesn't play defensively, and her onslaught is only made more dangerous by the flames she wields. If you fuck around, you will find out when you get football tackled to the ground and have your face rearranged in a non-euclidean manner.

Her haste and irritability isn't the same kind of weakness it is for Kaede-- Hinata clearly can be a discerning combatant and is willing to levy strategy to her advantage. It's just that there's a reason so many big predators relentlessly pursue and wear down their prey.

will your muse eat at fast food restaurants? if they're on a time crunch, what type of food will they grab?

She's not opposed to fast food at all! In fact, working for Inari and being on their own so early has made Hinata and Robara quite used to grabbing a quick bite. Hinata prefers things that are high in protein and can easily be eaten with one hand, so things like burgers are pretty set for her food choices.

did your muse's parents pass down any quirks or habits that your muse now does? what are they?

Believe it or not, but Hinata is a strong proponent of telling people to eat their veggies. And she doesn't eat until everyone else does, because her parents only ate after the kids did.

While not from her parents, Hinata's swaggy walk is the result of falling in with some yakuza after leaving home.

does you muse like road trips, or would they prefer to fly in a plane?

Plane, 100%. Longer trips that you can't just sleep off? No way! Plus, driving sucks.

what are their thoughts on roadside attractions and tourist traps? when visiting new cities, do they prefer to see the most popular sites, or pretend to be a local and blend in?

Hinata is the type to do the most popular sites, if only because she wants to appear like a normal couple and do normal couple things, which means buying in to the illusion of popularity as far as activities go. Again, though, her attention span is short and her patience is shorter, and even when Robara isn't a worry, her manners are just godawful and prone to getting her kicked out.

what does your muse's bedroom look like? is it cluttered or clean? do they use the overhead lighting, or use lamps and other things to provide a better ambience? do they make their bed every morning or leave it unmade?

Hinata's bedroom is surprisingly well-decorated, with lots of trendy and thematic elements-- but it's usually in a state of disarray, since she's not the type to get too hung up on organizing things. Not always messy, though. The cleaning tends to be a cycle of missing a few days, doing it all in one big burst, etc, etc. She's not the type to let anything become particularly unsanitary conditions-wise.

The bed gets made, but she complains the whole time about how pointless it is.

is your muse a 'this is a really nice box, i should save it' kind of person, or do they tend to throw things out no matter what?

It's pretty evenly 50/50. Being on her own instilled a bit of resourcefulness, but once things start getting cluttered, Hinata's the type to chuck things out with reckless abandon, regardless of if they've actually been kinda useful.

[klcthebookworm]

WIP Wednesday

Vash and the Insurance Girls were not about to let a five-year-old and eleven-year-old travel on their own with a war machine on two wheels. The children have too much to learn about Gunsmoke and they have much to learn about the Earth the children have left. The title of this novel is Three of a Kind.

Dark clouds to the left caught Vash’s attention. They roiled and expanded and moved toward them, pushing in faster than he felt comfortable with. “Hold up.” He braked the car and Hannah stopped the motorcycle. “Meryl, you got your binoculars handy?”

He expected her to pull them out from under her cape, but she dug them out of the small bag at her feet on the floor board. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she handed them over.

“Storm clouds.” He focused on the black mass and saw lightning jump between the clouds. “And we’re in a washout.”

“What’s that?” Milly asked.

Hannah’s head swiveled to look at the almost vertical canyon walls. “But the car can’t. No rocket boosters. Scan for a ramp.”

“Scan?” Vash handed the binoculars back to Meryl. “Your motorcycle has scanning sensors?”

“She does. It’s going to flash flood here, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, found something. Follow me.” She tightened her grip on the handlebars as the motorcycle surged forward. Vash followed after it.

Milly lean forward. “Those are rain clouds? Not a sandstorm?”

“But it’s all desert here,” Chuck said.

“We have water,” Vash explained. “It’s just not on the surface. But a downpour will flood until it seeps back underground. And we are in a channel that the water will funnel through with scary force.”

“Scanning sensors, is that more lost technology?” Meryl asked.

“More or less,” Vash said. “I think Octovern managed to save theirs from the Great Fall but limited it to medical uses.” The black motorcycle found an incline slanting against the canyon wall on the right that looked slightly less steep than the rest of the wall. The thick black clouds were directly overhead now. “I hope we can get up that without getting out and pushing!” Ominous rumbles covered the engine whines as the car struggled. Vash gritted his teeth and gave the car more gasoline.

“Yank ‘n crank!” Hannah yelled.

A claw on the end of a rope shot out from under the rear of the motorcycle’s seat. It latched onto the car’s front bumper, and the motorcycle revved with flames boosting the surge. The extra help got the car up to the canyon rim, only here the rest of the plain was blocked by another sheer wall up to a mesa and a barricade of large stones that had created the incline when they fell.

Vash parked the car as close to the mesa as it could get and jumped out to wrestle the collapsible roof into place. Hannah pulled a tarp out of the motorcycle’s saddlebag on the back wheel, draped it over the motorcycle, and strapped it tight to cover.

Milly and Meryl both got up on the seats and helped yank the roof to the windshield. Fat water drops splashed. Chuck started rolling up the back window he was sitting next to. The roof moved with a groan. Hannah scrambled into the front seat and helped Meryl yank and locked the roof. Lightning split the sky, but they got it into place. Milly rolled up the passenger side back window.

Vash slid back into the driver’s seat, collided with Meryl but she shifted back and he took over rolling up the door window. Hannah rolled up the passenger window. The glass met the roof as the rain pounded down.

Milly and Chuck both pressed against the back seat door window facing the sky. “Wow, it’s coming down like when you blew up Mr. Cliff’s freezing machine,” Milly said.

Meryl leaned back in the center of the front bench and looked up at Vash. “I’m glad you were with us. You saved us from drowning on Gunsmoke.”

“A compliment, insurance girl?” He smirked at her.

She didn’t smirk back and the sad/hurt expression he had seen before flickered over her face, but she smoothed it away before turning to Hannah who had settled next to the other door. “Now that we’re settled in, will you explain the war you keep talking about?”

“Limburger,” Chuck said.

“Limburger is just a part of it,” Hannah said. She pulled off her motorcycle helmet and set it on the dashboard. “There’s more sentient species on different planets. Humans on Earth; Mice, Rats, and Sand Raiders on Mars; and Plutarkians on Plutark. Plutarkians ruined their own planet so they send out advanced teams to buy or steal the natural resources of other planets that Plutark needs. Once the local population finds out what’s happening and starts fighting back, that’s when they send in troops. Dad and his bros fought on Mars until they got caught. They escaped and headed back to Mars, but got shot down on Earth.”

“And met Mom.” Chuck pulled off his helmet too.

“Right, and found out advanced teams from Plutark had already started buying up Earth’s resources. So they stayed to fight Limburger and the other Plutarkians on Earth.”

“And then came Hannah and then Mom and Dad fell in love and then came me,” Chuck said.

Milly blinked as she turned to him. “Wait. That’s not the right order.”

Hannah sighed. “We have the same mother. Dad started acting like my dad when he was Uncle Throttle. He adopted me when he and Mom married,” she tapped a green gemstone stud earring high on her earlobe before the cartilage started, “but he’s not my biological father.” She crossed her arms and slid lower in the seat.

[mordenheim]

Fictober 2020 28:  “Do I have to do everything here?”

Padlock and Crowbar slipped through the moonlit shadows out of Ponyville.  They had a good tip that the Pumpkin family had a bumper crop this year and between their sugar pie pumpkins and their carving gourds selling like mad they were flush with bits. The two burglars crept into the mostly barren pumpkin patch, watched over by a tall, gangling scarecrow.  It's pumpkin head was dried out and partially rotted, giving it a sunken, wrinkled appearance.  A tattered old flannel shirt stuffed with fragrant sweet hay made up its upper body and two thick, sturdy branches  for its legs.

It guarded over a pitiful patch at the moment.  Dead, dry vines with only a few stunted pumpkins nobody really wanted left.  There were still a few more days until Nightmare Night, but it looked like the old farmers were out of stock well in advance despite the fine crop.

Crowbar, a big gray unicorn, frowned at it as they passed.  The thing gave him the creeps.  Holding his prybar in his magic, he gave the pumpkin head a few experimental pokes before giving it one solid whack, knocking off a chunk of rotted orange flesh.  Padlock, the smaller brown earth pony mare hissed at him, yanking his ear with her teeth to get him back on track.

Casting a glance over his shoulder and brushing his green mane out of his eyes, Padlock saw the scarecrow facing away from them, back towards town as they did their best not to trip over the thick vines or uneven ground of the pumpkin patch.  Crowbar grumbled under his breath as a light, misty rain began to fall, adding an unhealthy damp chill to the already cool evening.  Clouds rolled in, obscuring the night and forcing him to ignite a faint glow from his horn so they could see where they were going.

All of the lights were off in the farmhouse as they crept around to the back door.  Crowbar levitated a set of lock picks out of his saddlebags and set to work on the door.  After a few moments, Padlock grumbled at the metallic clink of a snapped lock pick and shoved him out of the way.

“Do I have to do everything here?  I swear.”  She hissed, her breath forming a misty cloud between them in the damp air.

Glancing over his shoulder, Crowbar blinked as he saw the scarecrow was no longer facing towards Ponyville.  The thing was turned towards them and a dull orange glow had ignited inside of its pumpkin head, illuminating its collapsing features as well as the hole the big unicorn had knocked in its head.  “Uhhh...  P.. Padlock?”

Not looking up from her work, the earth pony gave him a shove with her free hoof. Grumbling as water dripped onto her nose from her soaked mane the mare concentrated on the sound of the tumblers clicking into place. She didn't pay any attention to the sudden rattle like a stiff wind bowing through dried leaves still stuck to hundreds of vines, or the soft scrabbling of hooves against tilled earth and stone, figuring the big lummox was just giving her some more room.

There was a soft click and Padlock gave a grunt of satisfaction as she felt the lock release.  Putting away the picks in the case she held it behind her for Crowbar to take.  When she released it, however, the case fell to the earth with a thud.  

Slowly turning, she was stunned to see no sign of her accomplice.  Calling out for him in a hissing whisper she trotted into the field.  She hadn't gone very far, about halfway to the old scarecrow when she got her hind leg tangled in a vine and fell sprawling to the dirt.

Cold, damp, and thoroughly annoyed, she kicked her leg a few times, but the vine only seemed to wrap more tightly about her hoof.  She cussed through her teeth, then gasped as a thick vine whipped around her mouth, gagging her.  Her eyes widened in horror as she looked up to see the glowing features of the scarecrow glaring down at her.   There was a creak of wood and a rustle of hay as the figure slowly raised its arms.  Vines and roots burst from the ground all around Padlock, lashing tightly about her body, squeezing the breath from her lungs as they entangled her legs, slamming her down hard against the damp, musty earth.  She whimpered in fear as she struggled to break free but could barely twitch a muscle.  Biting down as hard as she could she attempted to chew through the vine in her mouth.

She had just bit through the vine and started to tug at one around her foreleg when the scarecrow dropped its arms.  She felt a great rumbling and cried out in pain as she was crushed against the soil.  She pulled and struggled, giving out a breathless scream as she was slowly dragged down beneath the cold, dark earth.

The following morning, the Pumpkin family could barely believe their eyes!  A miracle had occurred overnight!  The field was lush and thick with heavy green vines.  Huge carving pumpkins lined one field, round and fat and orange.  The lighter-skinned sugar pie pumpkin field was practically overflowing with the gourds as well.  With this much produce to sell, they would live like kings through the harsh winter and have a great head start on spring planting.

The only thing they found out of place was the fallen, broken remains of what looked like an old scarecrow.  Pumpkin Pie picked up the old, half rotted jack o' lantern head and placed it in a spot of pride on the low stone wall near the gate before gathering up the broken mess that was the rest of its body.  Shrugging, she supposed someone was either trying to play a prank or do them a kindness.

“Honestly though,” she asked aloud, gazing towards a Ponyville mostly obscured by morning mist.  “What good is a scarecrow in a pumpkin patch at harvest time?”

[wetsteve3]

There were two brothers way ahead of the curve in the late 40′s. Harley Davidson didn’t offer hard bags for their motorcycles until 1952. “Royalite Plastic” bags first appeared on the 1952 “K” model Harleys and then on Big Twin models in 1954. Back to the two brothers, Resto’s dad and brother came up with this mock-up and offered it to the Harley Davidson Motor Company sometime around 1949. The HD Motor Company decline the brother's hard bag idea, due to the effort and popularity they had in their leather bag line. Harley Davidson offered about five different leather saddlebags for 1950. Back to the hard bags on the 1948 Panhead, the brother's Handcrafted these bags using Cadillac fender and bumper shapes as the core. Then incorporating the Caddy’s glove box door and lock.

[nancypullen]

A Tuesday in June

It’s starting to feel like summer around here and I have mixed feelings about that.  I love the growing season but knowing that oppressive heat is on the way fills me with dread.  No, dread is too strong of a word.  We’ll just say that I’m not looking forward to sizzling days that cause me to sweat in places that shouldn’t sweat.  I don’t like feeling drippy.  On the other hand, hummingbirds, fireflies, the scent of magnolia drifting across the front porch. It might be a fair trade.  The full Strawberry Moon is due in a couple of days and Mother Nature is taking care of business. No matter what insanity humans are busy inflicting on each other, seasons still change, seeds sprout, and nests are built.  Time marches right on. I went out to pull a few weeds today and spied some healthy looking baby tomatoes. Crossing my fingers for a bumper crop.

It was sweaty work, but there was just enough of a breeze rippling over the lavender to send the fragrance my way, so it made the chore a bit more pleasant.

We managed to get the deck stained yesterday.  We did all of the small work and top rails in the morning before Mickey went off to work, 

then finished the steps and floor after 6 o’clock when he finished his last call.   By the time rinsed the brushes it had been agreed upon that we’d take quick showers and just order Chinese for dinner.  Talk about a perfect day!  We haven’t moved any furniture back onto the deck just yet, we’ll give it another day.  I snapped this right after we finished, the painter’s tape was still at the tops and bottoms of the rungs, but it already looks better.

I’ve seen a couple of spots that I may touch up, but my general feeling is, “See ya’ in the fall, paint brush!”  Home improvement projects and summer weather don’t mix. Speaking of summer weather, I received a message that water aerobics will be back in session.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  Gosh, it would feel so good to be in the pool and enjoy the sunshine and get some exercise.  I just don’t know that it’s possible to practice safe pandemic behavior while everyone is bouncing around, huffing and puffing.  Besides, the odds are pretty good that the majority of attendees still think this is all just a hoax to make Trump look bad.  Like he needs any help.  As much as I’d love to go, I think I’ll have to sit back and see if it turns into a petri dish over there.  Maybe I need to put a blow up pool in the yard and just enjoy that.  I’ve got nothing new to say, the days all run together and I’m either pulling weeds, cooking meals, or looking for new dead people.  I finished the card about conjugal visits -

Look at that crooked ribbon. Dang it.  Maybe the recipient won’t notice. And again, I apologize if any of her relatives should ever see that card. I’m sure your MeMaw was a lovely person (and I hope she had a sense of humor). I’ve been reading A LOT. I just finished a book that I thoroughly enjoyed, Giver of Stars by JoJo Moyes.  It’s fiction based on some very interesting history. The women in the book were Packhorse Librarians, part of a fascinating program. Their horses splashed through iced-over creeks. Librarians rode up into the Kentucky mountains, their saddlebags stuffed with books, doling out reading material to isolated rural people. The Great Depression had plunged the nation into poverty, and Kentucky—a poor state made even poorer by a paralyzed national economy—was among the hardest hit.The Pack Horse Library initiative, which sent librarians deep into Appalachia, was one of the New Deal’s most unique plans. The project, as implemented by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), distributed reading material to the people who lived in the craggy, 10,000-square-mile portion of eastern Kentucky. The state already trailed its neighbors in electricity and highways. And during the Depression, food, education and economic opportunity were even scarcer for Appalachians. They also lacked books: In 1930, up to 31 percent of people in eastern Kentucky couldn’t read. Residents wanted to learn, notes historian Donald C. Boyd. Coal and railroads, poised to industrialize eastern Kentucky, loomed large in the minds of many Appalachians who were ready to take part in the hoped prosperity that would bring. "Workers viewed the sudden economic changes as a threat to their survival and literacy as a means of escape from a vicious economic trap," writes Boyd. This presented a challenge: In 1935, Kentucky only circulated one book per capita compared to the American Library Association standard of five to ten, writes historian Jeanne Cannella Schmitzer,. It was "a distressing picture of library conditions and needs in Kentucky," wrote Lena Nofcier, who chaired library services for the Kentucky Congress of Parents and Teachers at the time.   That’s an excerpt from this article in Smithsonian Magazine:

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/horse-riding-librarians-were-great-depression-bookmobiles-180963786/?fbclid=IwAR2jsMSNabwlpbjwQpgo_mSv3uc1xp1iF07NH59Zir2bgkJbo0QCTcFk2hM It’s worth a read. The women who were determined to get books into the hands of the people of Appalachian Kentucky were nothing short of amazing. Going off on horseback, alone, into places where they weren’t always viewed favorably, exposed to the elements, wildlife, SNAKES, moonshiners, and treacherous trails because they believed so much in the mission of literacy.  The book that I read, Giver of Stars, was a wonderful tale and I highly recommend it.  I picked up a Kindle copy from my library (using Overdrive). Getcha’ one. That’s about it.  We’re chugging along, doing our best to have a little fun while staying safe. Lots of projects, lots of reading, too much food.  Like everyone else we’re just marking time and looking forward to brighter days.  Keep going, folks. We can do this!  Adopt the pace of Mother Nature, nothing before its time. Stay well, stay safe, and treat yourself now & then.  You deserve it. XOXO - Nancy

[tisfan]

Moving Violations

Square: G5 - Carjacking Title: Moving Violations Warning: None Rating: Teen Characters: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Tags: kidnapping, carjacking, car chases, car crash Summary: This evening was not going according to plan. Now he was going to have to call the god damned police and file a fucking report and then call his insurance and file another report, and then he was going to have to call Pepper and-- Link: A03 Word Count:  2,545 Posted for @winterironbingo *also include relationship if not just winteriron

The conference was over, finally. Tony dragged his suitcase out to the car garage. He would have had the concierge do it, but it was late, the bellhops were all busy, and Tony didn’t want to wait. He wanted to get in his car, stop somewhere for an extra triple large coffee, a donut the size of his head, and get the hell out of Dodge. Or New Jersey, honestly, which was worse, and there he was anyway.

He popped the trunk, pushed his suitcase into the back, and was just straightening up when someone pushed a hard, metal thing against his back. “Gimme the keys, motherfucker, and don’t try anything funny.”

God damn it. This was not what he’d had in mind, checking out of the hotel immediately after the conference instead of waiting until morning, like everyone else. Suppressing a sigh, Tony slowly lifted his hands, letting the keys dangle.

Now he was going to have to call the god damned police and file a fucking report and then call his insurance and file another report, and then he was going to have to call Pepper and--

The car thief snagged the key fob, then shoved, pushing Tony forward into the trunk. The locking mechanism scraped against his midsection, tearing his shirt and bruising his skin. “Get it--”

There was a second man, a black ski mask pulled down to hide his face. He reached into the trunk and cut the safety cable that unlocked the trunk from the inside.

“Get in,” the first guy said, prodding Tony with the -- gun, probably -- metal thing in his back, giving him a matched bruise.

There was not a lot of room in the trunk, with the spare tire, his suitcase, and it being a sports model and not some soccer mom’s SUV.

This... was even worse. And just when Tony thought it couldn’t get any worse, Ski Mask reached in and groped at Tony’s clothes, what the fuck. “Hey, fuck you, what the--” Ski Mask shoved at Tony’s face, making him crack his head on the back of the tiny space, and came up with Tony’s phone. “Damn it, give me that!” The guy tossed it onto the floor of the parking garage with a snort, and then slammed the trunk shut, narrowly missing another crack on Tony’s head.

“Come on,” the first guy said, rushing around to the driver’s side. “Three more minutes until the window closes.”

“Not getting paid enough for this job,” Ski Mask said, but he was also getting in the car. The doors slammed, the car jerked into reverse and skidded out of the parking lot. Whoever was driving was good, Tony noted, shifting gears precisely, and handling the car well. At least, he wasn’t getting slammed around inside the tiny space.

(more under the cut)

Just to make sure, he tried pulling on the release lever, but it did nothing. Tony felt around, trying to get an idea for what was available. He found a screwdriver in his jacket pocket, and a pair of wire cutters. He couldn’t reach his pants pocket, cramped as it was, but since they’d tossed his phone, he didn’t think there was anything useful in there, anyway. A bunch of business cards, some conference swag -- pens, fidget toys, a couple of novelty condoms.

He felt around in front of him. Trunk, liner carpet-- oh! The tail light. He could... he could work with that, probably. He felt around for the screws holding it in place.

It was all kinds of awkward, trying to maneuver his arm into position to work the screwdriver, but he managed to get the cover off. He felt for the wires. There should be... yes, there. They were mounted into place, but a couple of snips with the cutters took care of that.

Now, he could make the tail light do what he wanted. He listened for a moment -- wherever they were taking him, it was on some kind of highway. Good. He tapped the wires together, carefully, making the light blink. Short-short-short-long-long-long-short-short-short. Pause. Short-short-short-long-long-long-short-short-short. Not many people knew Morse code anymore, but SOS was still pretty universal. Hopefully someone would notice and call them in.

Night driving wasn’t one of Bucky’s favorite things. Drivers tended to ignore motorcyclists with almost aggressive tenacity even during the day, and night was worse. He’d just missed being hit with a car that had rolled up behind him, swerved around, and then pulled back in the lane without adequate clearance.

Crazy, early drunk, Bucky decided. He dropped his speed again, letting some room get between him and the car.

Idiot left his blinker on, too, continually flashing.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and--

Wait, what? The tail light was blinking, rhythmically, and not in the simple click-click that most turn signals did. Bucky’d seen a few kits in his day, that made the tail-lights do an almost marquee scroll, which was really distracting late at night, but this wasn’t doing that, either.

Might be a short; it wasn’t any of Bucky’s business anyway. If the guy got pulled over for a burned out taillight, so much the better.

The light went dead for a moment, then started up again. The other rear light stayed steady, the whole time.

Flick, flick, flick. Flash, flash, flash.

What? Something nagged at him for a moment, and he lost the car as it wove around a tractor trailer. Bucky opened the throttle, speeding up.

SOS? Couldn’t possibly be. He only knew Morse Code because he watched entirely too many old war movies with his buddy Steve.

He pulled in behind the car again, watching, counting.

Yeah, that was… that had to be deliberate.

Bucky considered pulling over and calling 9-11 on his phone, when the car changed lanes twice. Bucky had to speed up to keep it in sight, and then it was headed off one of the exits, one of the complicated things that had two side paths, plus a jughandle. If he didn’t keep his eye on the car, he wouldn’t know where it went. Who even knew if the cops would take the story seriously?

Bucky followed them off the interstate.

“If this is someone’s idea of a prank,” Bucky muttered, “I am never gonna try bein’ a good samaritan again.”

Not that he had a plan. He was on a motorcycle, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he could clip them and make them stop without practically killing himself in the process.

The tail lights flickered a few more times, then stopped, as if the person -- if it was a person -- was getting tired.  

At least there were traffic lights now. The car would have to slow down. Bucky grumbled, then decided to risk it. He took the next right hand turn, then an immediate left, slipping around traffic, taking advantage of his smaller vehicle and probably making all sorts of moving violations, but he managed to get ahead of them.

“Oh, this is so stupid,” he told himself, but as he came up on the car from the side, he slowed down, aimed the bike, and jumped off, letting the motorcycle smash into the passenger side door.

Inside the car, the passenger-side airbag exploded. The car swerved sharply and went into a spin, smashing into the guardrail. When it finally came to a stop, one tire was flat, and the bumper and whole side of the car had been liberally crumpled.

The driver’s side door opened, and a man floundered out of the car. “What the fuck!” he demanded. “What the--” He spotted Bucky, and his lip curled into a snarl. “What the absolute fuck, you asshole!”

Bucky’s sharp gaze raked the man, taking in dark clothes, aggression, and-- a gun holstered under one arm. Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

He staggered, letting his body pull him at a rolling gate. Playing drunk. “Dude, where’d you--” he acted like he couldn’t find his helmet’s strap, struggling with it. “Saw th’ car in front of you, and the car behind you, but not you…” He got the helmet off, still closing the distance. “What the hell’d you do to my bike?”

Two more steps, and Bucky threw the helmet at the guy, smashing him in the face with the fiberglass, hand automatically reaching, and-- grabbed the gun. “Don’t fucking move, asshole,” he yelled, putting the barrel right over the guy’s bloody nose.

The guy’s eyes went big and round in shock. “What-- Okay, man, okay, Jesus fuck, what the fuck am I going to do now?”

“Dude, tell your friend that he cannot possibly shoot me before I shoot you,” Bucky advised, stepping to one side and keeping the first guy between himself and the passenger. “He looks a little banged up to me, he’s likely to shoot you in the back before he gets one off on me.”

“What are you, some kind of cop?” the guy demanded, but he waved at his buddy, who was still trying to get untangled from the airbag enough to turn around and draw a bead on Bucky.

“Cops wish they were as cool as I am,” Bucky said. “Have him pop the trunk.” He hoped it wasn’t too damaged to work, and that whoever was inside it was okay. He really had not thought this through at all. Provided he lived through it, though, it was going to make a great story to tell Steve and Sam.

Slowly, with much cursing and complaining, the other guy managed to find the lever to pop the trunk.

“Hey pal, you okay in there?” Bucky tried to look over the driver’s shoulder to see what was actually in the damn trunk.

“I’ve been better,” said a voice. There was some more cursing and several pained grunts, and then a man unfolded from behind the driver, climbing laboriously out of the car’s trunk.

“If you can walk, there’s a whole ton of zip ties in my cycle’s saddlebag. And then I’ll call the cops?” He shifted the gun again, aiming at the guy’s knee. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t want to kill you, but my moral code’s a little wobbly on the subject of kneecaps.”

The victim looked around and then stumbled his way over to Bucky’s bike, rummaging in the bags and then coming back with the zipties. “Should I even ask why you have-- oh shit, you’re hot.” He froze, staring at Bucky.

Bucky spluttered. That was not at all what he’d expected. “I’m an electrician,” Bucky explained. “And I had a bunch of cable-wraps to do today. Come on, Dude in Distress, let’s zip these fuckers up before someone decides to try me. This is my favorite jacket, I do not want blood on it.”

The guy shook himself back into motion. “Right, right. Sorry.” He walked around behind the driver and started zip-tying the guys’ wrists. “It’s been a long week, and I’m dealing with an adrenaline dump; my filters are pretty much gone.”

Bucky stepped away, once they were both ziptied and on the ground, swearing and cursing, but probably not going anywhere. “Jesus,” he said, then lowered the gun and flicked the safety on. “Not how I intended to spend Friday night-- oh, crap, look at my bike!” Bucky’s voice spiraled up, the victim wasn’t the only guy who was dealing with a sudden flush of hormones. He wobbled back another few steps, shaking from head to toe.

“Whoa, hey, relax, it’s going to be okay,” the victim said. He reached out a tentative hand and gingerly patted Bucky’s shoulder, then again with more confidence when Bucky didn’t immediately throw him off. “I will absolutely make sure it gets fixed. Or replaced. Whatever’s easiest.” He looked around. “What did you do, drive right into the side of the car?”

“Basically, yeah,” Bucky said. He reached for his phone, tapping the Emergency Call button. “You need an ambulance-- what’s your name? I’m Bucky.”

“Tony,” the guy said. He prodded carefully at his face and arm and one leg. “I think it’s all superficial,” he said. “Just... cops.”

“Right, okay,” Bucky said, and when the phone chirped, with the “911, what is the nature of your emergency,” Bucky gave almost no details. “There’s been a… attempted kidnapping and car accident--” he peered at the street signs and gave an address.

“Sir, can you stay on the--” Bucky hung up. They’d both get grilled at the station, or the hospital, if medics decided they needed treatment anyway.

“Tell me you’re not some sort of swag drug dealer or something in a meet up gone bad,” Bucky said. “I’d really like to be the good guy, here.”

“Uh, yeah, I think we can safely say you’re the good guy,” Tony agreed. “I haven’t done drugs since college and I’ve never dealt. I don’t know what these two were after, but it wasn’t, you know, revenge for my nefarious and criminal ways. Hey, can I borrow your phone for a sec?”

Bucky handed it over, looking at the guy. He was dressed in a suit that had probably been nice before he’d been shoved in the trunk of a car, with tousled brown hair and a perfectly shaped beard. If Bucky had to say he had a type, Tony would have checked off a lot of boxes.

Tony dialed the phone. “Pep? What, no, I’m not-- It was fine, but I-- Pep! Code ninety-nine! ...Thank you. Yes. No, I’m fine. Mostly. Well, they jumped me in the garage and stuffed me in the trunk but the hottest guy in New Jersey managed to make them crash the car and-- No, I’m serious. The police are on the way; I need you to scramble the team. Yeah. Yes, really, I’m fine. Yeah. I’ll call after the police. I know, I know, you don’t have to-- Yeah, okay, I know.” He hung up without saying goodbye and handed the phone back to Bucky. “Thanks. My assistant,” he explained. “She likes to be kept up to date on my schedule.”

Bucky snorted. “So, this is, what, like someone’s extra meeting?” He saw light flashing in the distance, the wail of sirens getting closer. Very carefully, he took the gun out of his jacket pocket and put it on the pavement. “This is gonna be a very long evening,” he told Tony. Although given that he had a code for being kidnapped that his secretary knew, he was probably used to it. “Don’t suppose I can buy you a shitty cup of coffee after it’s done, or something?”

Tony looked at Bucky again, startled. “Wait, really? No, don’t answer that, you made the offer; no takebacks. Yes. You can buy me coffee. I’ll buy the doughnuts.”

“Square deal,” Bucky said, giving Tony a wide grin. “If I get out of this with less than a dozen moving violations, shitty coffee is gonna be all I can afford. By the way-- the Morse Code? That was clever. I was following them for like ten miles.”

Tony grinned back, offering Bucky a hand. “Thanks. And... Thanks.”

“I’d say anytime, but I’d rather you not make a habit of getting carjacked.”

“I dunno,” Tony said, giving Bucky an obvious once-over. “It might have been worth it.”

[capaldisrighteyebrow]

Unorthodox Auto Repair - A Reylo Fic

That time this video came up in chat and @mnemehoshiko made me have cracky Reylo thoughts about fixing car dents with dildos.Thanks to @spacedarcy for reading this over and helping me fix that pesky problem!

Links: FF | AO3 (ETA: Link added!)

Rey has a split second to make her choice: take the fall or chance an impact. If she swerves now, she'll have to lay down the 200 kilogram bike—not the best option under any circumstance, but a full-blown Bad Idea when sporting a mini dress and heels instead of proper leathers and boots. Damn Rose and her insistence that her bachelorette party should feel like Vegas despite taking place at the Tico family farm.

Option two doesn't give her much better odds: if she brakes now, she may not have the distance to spare before hitting the jackass sitting at the crossroads without so much as parking lights. Her only saving grace is that her heels paired with the unfamiliar country roads have tempered her lead foot. She's kept the engine between her thighs at an even purr instead of coaxing it to the delicious growl she loves to hear, because she does want to show up to Finn's wedding alive come morning.

Gritting her teeth, Rey makes her choice.

In the Porsche's insulated cabin, he almost doesn't hear the screeching tires. By the time he does, it's too late. The car lurches forward from the hit, though it only moves a few inches while parked. Ben scrambles up from his reclined seat, the stars he was observing through the windshield utterly forgotten, and throws open the door.

This night just keeps getting better and better, he thinks sourly. First, the disastrous corporate banquet; now, this.

The air smells like burnt rubber as he circles round to the back of the car. An accented voice scares away the songs of nearby nocturnal creatures concealed in the cornfields surrounding the intersection.

"Shit," the voice exclaims as the girl flips up her visor and starts to remove her helmet with shaky hands. "Fuck."

He casts a cursory glance over the two vehicles. The headlight of the motorcycle shines on his back end, the only light for miles and miles just inches from his bumper. There's a dent, but nothing looks cracked or scratched on his end; her bike's front wheel didn't fare as well. The popped tire sags, making it look like the aging Triumph is bowing to his car.

Insurance details can be hashed out after manners have been met. "Are you okay?"

She swings her right leg backward, dismounting the bike. The black fabric bunched at her hips falls down to her upper thighs, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take in how much skin stretches between the hem and her black pumps. Legs. Legs for days. Toned and smooth and. . .the absolute last thing he should be focusing on right now.

"I didn't ask to see my life flash before my eyes," the girl answers after running her hands over the front of her leather jacket and up again to grip the back of her neck, "but yeah, I'm fine."

Now that manners are dispensed with, his voice takes on a harder edge, "Are you drunk?"

"I've had drinks," she throws back, "but that's not the problem."

He holds the shock of anger in his fists, squeezing it up his arms and through his neck, before finally gritting it out around his teeth. "You rear-ended my car."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, kicking up dust from the road as she steps toward him, an accusatory finger pointed at the loosened knot of his tie. "I bumped into your black car that didn't have any fucking lights on in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere at night," she counters. "If anyone was a hazard on the road, it was you."

He's both impressed and horrified by her words. The sharks he swims with usually conceal their teeth around him; seeing them bared and ready to bite is oddly refreshing. "Are you always this eloquent at three in the morning?"

"Only when my best friend is getting married tomorrow, and his fiance will kill me if I end up in jail," the girl goes on.

"I didn't say I was going to call the cops," Ben remarks. He has every right to. Taking his car in to be looked at by the dealer for underlying damage will cost him more than what her bike is worth. Still. . .the truth she hit upon nags at him: he is at least partially responsible for the accident. Parking at an intersection without hazards—even on a back road no one should be cruising through on a still-dark Saturday morning—wasn't the best choice on his end.

Her eyes snap up to his, hopeful. "You mean that?"

Ben groans inwardly. Considering the age of her bike and the sudden calmness in her tone, he assumes it means she has no insurance. He doesn't care much; money has never been a concern on his radar. But her bike is inoperable, if not totaled. How is she going to get it fixed without coverage? What would have happened had she been thrown from the bike and injured?

He puts aside the what-ifs to focus on the present. His jaw eats around the lie as his hand waves off the entire accident, willing to sweep it under the proverbial rug seeing as neither of them are hurt. "There's no damage."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you blind? Or do you really not see that dent?"

"It's nothing major," he corrects.

She's already shaking her head at him, not accepting his words even though she's the one that benefits from him not making a fuss. This girl seems determined to hold on to something he's ready to move past, to forget.

She crouches next to his bumper, hands smoothing over the impact site, whispering her apologies. "I'm so sorry, gorgeous. I'm gonna fix you up in no time."

"Are you talking to my—?"

"Shh," she hisses. "Let me think. I can get this dent out. I know I can."

She'd give anything to have her tools. Normally, she keeps the essentials in her saddlebag at all times, but she'd needed the space to transport party supplies tonight. For a moment she considers offering to fix the dent at her shop on Monday—even goes so far as to visualize the sleek, black 911 model nestled into the single station she calls a garage—but brushes off the thought.

The G-Man, whom she's upgraded from jackass due to his offer to forego a paper trail, would probably laugh at such an offer. He's dressed in navy Tom Ford pants and a tailored white shirt that knows every curve of muscle in his upper arms and chest intimately. This is the kind of man who doesn't work for the government so much as is the government. He doesn't come to businesses that break half a dozen OSHA laws unless he's there to give a citation.

Better not to invite trouble, Rey agrees with herself. Even so, she can't leave his beautiful Porsche looking like this. If only I had something with suction. . .

"Ah!" she cries, startling his spine straight in her eureka moment. Spinning dangerously on her heels, she bends over to dig through her saddlebag. It's a crazy idea, but the physics of it should be the same no matter if the pull is coming from a traditional suction cup or from the more unorthodox tool she has on hand thanks to Rose and her ridiculous party favors.

Her hand finally closes around the soft shaft of silicone and she whips it out into the country air.

At first, Ben isn't sure he's seeing what he's seeing. It can't possibly be that.

She straightens and holds the electric blue dildo aloft like it's some award. A delighted laugh at her ingenuity turns into a fit of giggles as she considers the obscenely large phallus, pressing the base to her hand several times as if testing it out. Whatever simulation she's running, it passes. "This should do the trick."

He intercedes before she can reach his vehicle. "Wait," he tells her, "You're going to fix my car with a. . .with that?"

Her smile falters slightly as she looks from him to the intimate toy—how anything so imposing can be called a toy, he can't begin to fathom. Flipping the dildo so she's holding the tip, she shows him the end with the concave cup. "It's just like a plunger," she explains. "It'll work just fine. These things have some incredible suction."

He's at a loss for words, but his eyebrows must speak for him because her eyes cringe shut and she runs her tongue along her bottom lip. "Not that I would know," she mutters, clearing her throat.

"This really isn't necessary," he protests. "I can have a mechanic work it out tomorrow."

"I am a mechanic," she returns with a proud smile. "And one that won't charge you a fucking pound of flesh for an easy fix."

Without another word, she brushes past him and kneels down on the road, clenching her jaw against the bite of the asphalt on her bare knees.

"It's just. . ." he begins again, gesturing at the thing he can't seem to name without his cheeks threatening to catch fire. "Why do you even have it?"

She shrugs as she lines up the base of the dildo with the center of the dent. The thing is so large that even her two hands don't cover all of it. "It's from the party. No need to worry," she adds, "I haven't used it yet."

Rey remembers learning about spontaneous human combustion in school and thinks it might be happening to her right now, starting at her ears. Haven't used it yet? she repeats to herself with an internal groan she wonders if he can hear. You don't plan on using it at all, Rey. It was a gag gift.

She goes silent with embarrassment and hopes he thinks she's concentrating on her task. There's not a chance in hell that she can meet his eyes right now to check. Instead, she secures her hold around the dildo and presses it firmly against the dent. She feels the air compress beneath it, gives the dildo a slight twist to lock it in place, and then yanks back with a determined pull.

The dent pops out with a hollow thunk, and it's over. Easy, peasy. She's probably just saved him a grand with a five second job.

His remark is a dumbfounded whisper: "I can't believe that worked."

She's still flushed from her previous comment, but she can't help grinning at the skeptic. "I said I could fix it. I'm good at fixing things. Always have been."

"Even with your skills," he starts, "I don't think there's a way you can fix that tonight."

She follows his gaze to her busted front tire, and Rey scrunches her nose at the sight. It really is a miracle that she wasn't bucked from her seat when the rear of the bike popped up. Having opted for two wheels all her life, Rey's had her fair share of scary situations and taken one or two trips to the ER; tonight marks the first time she's ever been truly afraid of not walking away.

"I'll have to call for an Uber," she remarks, tucking the dildo under her arm to retrieve her phone. "Finn will give me a tow to my shop in the morning."

As she unzips a pocket on her leather jacket and removes her phone, Ben scuffs the asphalt with his cap-toe Oxfords. Getting an Uber to come all the way out here at this hour is going to take forever and cost her an arm and leg. He would extend an offer to drive her home, but he can't think of a way to express it without coming off sounding like a creep. They are relative strangers, after all. He doesn't even know her name.

"I'll wait with you," he says instead, leaning against the side of his car and tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. "It's the least I can do."

"You might be out here until dawn," she comments as she scrolls through the app to contact a driver.

"I insist."

Her thumbs stop moving across the screen. The girl peers up at him, cocking her head to the side. "If you're willing to wait that long, why not just give me a lift?"

Ben thanks the stars that she is the one who asks, and he pushes away from the vehicle. "I'd be happy to, if you're comfortable with that."

She looks from him to the car, an odd sense of longing in her glance. In the eyes of a mechanic, the sleek Porsche must be an awfully big temptation. The hunger in her gaze isn't focused on him, that's for sure. He fleetingly wonders if it's possible to be jealous of his own car.

"On one condition," she states, then changes her mind, "No, two."

Tentatively, he nods in agreement. He did say he wants her to be comfortable with him driving her home. "Make your demands."

"Show me your ID."

Of all the things she could have said, that isn't what he anticipated. "My what?"

"Your license," she repeats. "I don't make a habit of getting into cars with men at three AM. You could be a serial killer."

His eyes go wide and his jaw slack in mild horror—these are the conclusions women leap to?—but he's already digging into his back pocket for his wallet. In a moment, he produces it and slips his driver's license out of the clear window, holding it out to her between two fingers while questioning her logic, "Even if I was out to kidnap beautiful women, how would having my license keep you safe?"

She shrugs, snapping a picture of it and tapping out a message he presumes she's sending to a friend. "It wouldn't," she answers, "but at least if I go missing, the police will know where to look first."

"A bit morbid, don't you think?"

"I like to think of it as pragmatic," she responds, finally reading his name from the card, "Ben Solo."

He watches the way her mouth forms his name, how her pink lips kiss together before curving around the vowels. "What's your other condition?" he inquires as he plucks his ID from her hand.

She moves past him and ghosts her free hand an inch over the car's shell, headed for the passenger side door, as she makes her second request: "I want to hear her roar. I may never get the chance to ride in one of these again, and. . .it'll kill me if I don't find out what she can do."

He mirrors her movements as she speaks, meeting her on the opposite side of the car. He was right about the hungry look in her eyes as they feasted upon his car. "I think I can make that happen," he agrees with a wide grin, adding, "But he prefers to be called 'Kylo.'"

"Ben and Kylo," she repeats with a smile. "We had a rough start, but I'm glad to have met you both. I'm Rey."

[vridetv]

Meanwhile back at the asylum... 🦄 The Genuine Harley-Davidson hard shell saddlebags are very difficult to find hence the term unicorn bags. I was missing 2 specialty bolts that are hidden under the license plate bracket we’re the red side reflectors are. According to the mounting instructions they are referred to as “Carriage style” saddlebag support mounting bolt and in the parts list: Screw Flat head M10x1.25x20 long. These are not available from HD & are not your run of the mill common bolt stocked at your local hardware store. I was able to find a car bumper bolt that was very close in size but not metric only imperial. (Not a big deal cause it takes a nut & not threaded into anything) After cutting a half inch off the length & grinding down, then filling the dome flat, I was able to accurately replicate the original ones from HD. Just in case you ever need a set yourself I took a before & after pic and the package it came in. https://www.instagram.com/p/CgiUdAdpNXp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[saber-cycle]

GL1100 Trunk Rails by Add On

Triple-chrome plated saddlebag rails for 80-83 GL1100 Interstate and Aspencade with steel mounting brackets. Sculptured gussets are welded to the top of the rails. Accepts M/C Enterprises and other light bars and M/C 469 bumpers. No hardware. We have three (3) in stock. Click for More Info

[mybaggerbags-blog]

Here you will locate our select, top of the line Harley Davidson parts. Bagger Bags Website offer everything from exceptionally broadened Saddlebags and most recent style bumpers with quality substitution fairings, saddlebags and visit packs, and even equipment. We endeavor to furnish our clients with the most elevated quality parts, so we offer industry-driving returns and guarantee program. All parts labeled Bagger Bags are designed and manufactured by us. You will find an abundance of Harley aftermarket Parts from engine parts to bling for your ride. Our goal was to create a store that offers something really different than all those other guys.

[watchilove]

Aston Martin’s first SUV subjected to extensive track development programme, realising performance levels that match existing Aston Martin sportscars. Real-world test regime ensures DBX test programme becomes most extensive of any Aston Martin in history. DBX to have true breadth of character with the practicality and comfort of an SUV matched with sportscar levels of performance. Aston Martin DBX confirmed with 4.0-litre twin-turbo V8 producing 550PS / 700Nm. Becomes highest performing V8 engine in current range.

With DBX’s unveil drawing closer, Aston Martin’s first SUV has entered the closing stages of the most comprehensive test regime of any Aston Martin and today, the luxury British marque can confirm the beating heart of the most versatile product in its illustrious history.

With extensive everyday real-world driving and high-performance track evaluation taking place at locations worldwide – including the brand’s two key engineering centres at Silverstone, UK and the Nürburgring, Germany – Chief Engineer Matt Becker’s team have focussed their development work to ensure the broad dynamic capability required of DBX.

While conducting durability testing at the demanding Nürburgring race circuit, DBX has delivered cornering speeds on par with the brand’s most focussed sportscar Vantage, while achieving braking figures greater than the marque’s Super GT, DBS Superleggera. This brutal combination of performance for an SUV has already seen Aston Martin’s engineering team regularly achieve sub 8-minute Nordschleife lap times during their regular testing regime.

DBX will feature a 4.0-litre twin-turbo V8, tuned to deliver the exhilaration of a modern GT. While recognisable from its application in the brand’s existing Vantage and DB11 sportscars, DBX’s V8 engine surpasses the performance credentials of these V8-powered models delivering 550PS and 700Nm of torque.

Aston Martin DBX

High speed testing has already proven DBX to repeatedly exceed 180mph, with final top speed and acceleration figures being set within the closing stages of the testing process.

As highlighted in today’s video release, DBX’s vocal chorus has also been honed by the brand’s dedicated acoustic team. With a focus on creating a broader, more solid acoustic note, DBX’s exhaust system has been tuned to reflect a deep bass with increasing mid-tones, creating true auditory exhilaration, particularly in more sporting drive modes.

DBX’s testing programme continues apace, with Matt Becker, Aston Martin’s Chief Engineer commenting: “We have concentrated our work to ensure that the calibration and tune of this 4.0-litre twin-turbo V8 delivers both the everyday usability and refinement expected by SUV owners. However, we have also focused heavily on matching that with the engaging driving dynamics that are commanded by our brand and inherent in every Aston Martin and early indications of the car’s overall performance have been incredibly promising.

The next few months will be extremely important to us, as we continue to hone the powertrain credentials and a dynamic setup that will help make this the most exciting SUV on the market”.

DBX is set to be unveiled this December.

  AstonMartin DBX accessories

DBX set to offer broad range of accessories in 11 individual packages

Range of accessories ensure that DBX can be tailored to specific lifestyle needs, such as golf, skiing, cycling, field and adventure sports.

Practical load space size and shape ensures DBX can carry luggage, equipment or pets with ease

Aston Martin DBX luggage set

DBX may be a luxury SUV with sports car performance, but today, Aston Martin has announced a range of accessories that will transform DBX into a car that will not only enrich the lives of its owners on the road, but in every other aspect of their everyday lives.

Set to be available at launch, 11 optional accessory packs will help tailor DBX to a broad range of pursuits and hobbies. If skiing is a passion then the Snow Pack provides a ski bag, roof-mounted ski rack and snow chains. This pack goes above and beyond the winter necessaries. Reflecting the indulgence that you would expect from an Aston Martin, the Snow Pack also includes a boot warmer. In the same way that DBX’s heated seats – offered as standard – are a cosy delight when climbing into the car on a cold morning, the boot warmer makes the first ski run of the day that little bit more pleasurable.

Aston Martin DBX pet pack

Available for grand tours or long weekends away, the Touring Pack comprises a four-piece luggage set, cabin saddlebags, lockable storage under the front passenger seat and an emergency first aid kit. An even more extensive six-piece luggage set is also an option, with two large suitcases, two small suitcases and two holdalls, each one stitched and trimmed in the elegance of Aston Martin.

Aston Martin DBX pet pack

A Pet Pack includes a partition to give animals their own space in the boot of the car, keeping them from roaming inquisitively about the cabin. There is a bumper protector to keep the paintwork pristine when scrabbling paws are clambering in and out of the vehicle and in to the luxurious 632-litre boot space. If muddy puddles have been an integral feature of a day’s activities, then the portable washer is an ideal solution for keeping the countryside on the outside of the car.

Aston Martin DBX pet pack

If you simply wish DBX to provide a little extra cosseting on the school run or on the way to the office, then the Essentials Pack bundles together useful accessories like a centre console organiser, a rear seat entertainment holder and a heated cup. If the school run is likely to be particularly rowdy, then the Essentials Pack could be paired with the Interior Protection Pack, which provides seat covers, a rear bumper protector and all-weather mats throughout the car.

Aston Martin DBX saddle bag

Of course, DBX is set to be equally adept at adapting to more social situations. The Event Pack will provide a modular picnic hamper, picnic blanket and event seating to cater for every occasion from Royal Ascot or Goodwood, to an impromptu al fresco lunch. Aston Martin is a British brand and naturally understands that the weather doesn’t always align with the best-laid plans. As such, the Event Pack also includes extra umbrella storage.

Aston Martin DBX picnic set

The options available within each of these carefully selected packages, encompass everything from exquisite details such as illuminated tread plates, polished carbon fibre tail pipe finishers and valve caps with Aston Martin wings, to larger options for carrying bicycles or surfboards on the roof. Suffice to say, Aston Martin has worked with its trusted brand partners to ensure that it is offering the best solutions to customers, whatever the usage, journey or destination.

While many options remain bundled together, Aston Martin will offer a variety of individual accessories too, including three special-edition Maxi-Cosi child and baby seats. All are recommended for use with Aston Martin’s official 3wayFix ISOFIX base, trimmed in leather and are available for use with babies (45-75cm), toddlers (67-105cm) and children (15-36kg).

Aston Martin DBX baby seat

Aston Martin Lagonda President and Group CEO Dr. Andy Palmer said ‘From the outset it was envisaged that DBX would become an integral part of customers’ everyday lives. With the lifestyle packs I think we have been able to ensure that DBX is a vehicle that not only enables but also enhances experiences.’

Pricing for each of these specific optional accessory packs will be made available upon the launch of DBX.

Aston Martin DBX

Aston Martin DBX luggage set

Aston Martin DBX baby seat

Aston Martin DBX saddle bag

Aston Martin DBX picnic set

Aston Martin DBX pet pack

Aston Martin DBX pet pack

Aston Martin DBX pet pack

Aston Martin’s first SUV powers into final stages of development – Aston Martin DBX Aston Martin’s first SUV subjected to extensive track development programme, realising performance levels that match existing Aston Martin sportscars. 

[chiaroscuro-life]

jan 12 2017

I was walking home from work – it was quite dark, as it normally does get around 7:30 here in Charleston. I was just walking along, a Panic At The Disco song had just finished and I was waiting for the next one on my playlist. Sia’s “Alive” started playing, and it was during the really soft part in the beginning when she sings

“I was born in a thunderstorm…”

And right on cue, there came a huge BOOM from behind me – a kind of roaring one akin to Sia’s thunderstorm – I almost kept walking because I thought one of my earphones had busted, or maybe a semi was passing by – but like the easily distracted son of a bitch I am, I turned around in time to see a little white sedan barreling toward me, smoke pouring from under the hood – it turned out the explosion had been the bumper and two side wheels that had been blown almost completely off. It rolled – maybe skidded – toward me and came to a rest, steaming as if it had just rolled out of a parking lot at Hell’s gate - I was kind of reminded of that scene from Back to the Future where Marty crash-lands into the barn - I started running toward it, my school bag and shoulder bag bumping wildly around me like saddlebags on a pack horse, headphones flying every which-way. Out of the corner of my vision an old man was walking towards us – I could barely remember anything; all senses had been muted by this overwhelming thought of WHOISINSIDEWHOISINSIDEGETTHEMGETTOTHEMGETTHEMBEAHEROGOGETTHEMSEEWHOITISCARCARCARSMOKESMOKEWHEELSGONEBUMPERGONEGETTHEREGETTHERE

I really have no words to describe it except for a crashing sense of urgency and a kind of thrill – here I was, about to pull a hero move like all the stories talk about – I would pull the poor person from behind the wheel – every lesson about being a bystander crashed through my head – everyone else thinks someone else will help so they don’t have to - I leaned down to the window, and even in the darkness I could see it was a young girl, crying hysterically, shaking – I motioned for her to roll the window down, and even through her hysterics she did. I bent down and kind of yelled at her “are you injured? Are you hurt? Are you ok?” and she shook her head, terrified, so I told her to come here, get out of the car on this side so you don’t walk into the highway, are you ok? What happened? And she could barely speak, she was shaking, she couldn’t remember – something about a blue pickup truck – that old man had reached us, stuttering something terrible; he looked like that kind of person that approaches you randomly and starts garbling about something, the kind of person you avert your eyes from and walk a little faster away from. I said (quite stupidly, I’ll admit), should we call somebody, and she said yes, yes, definitely, and I was kind of wary of the geezer looking at us, so I said aloud I’m calling the authorities- Damn. Authorities. What was I, some kind of stuck-up snoot, authorities – goddamn, someone give me an encyclopedia and a wedgie – I glanced over at the intersection to see who all was watching, and barely registered the old man walking back to his pickup truck – maybe I should have paid more attention to him (it wasn’t until after I left the accident that I began to put the pieces together: disoriented old man, old pickup truck, stopped in the middle of a busy road) but instead I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. I should probably thank God that my phone still had battery – I had been saving it all day so I could listen to music as I walked home – the lady on the phone sounded like every lady you hear on 911 – young and bored and seemingly disinterested about the hubbub on the other end – I am writing this down because I tend to forget things easily, especially in a moment of excitement. The girl was on the phone, jabbering to someone – I kind of hoped it wasn’t 911, because I was already on the phone, and me being the stupid idiot was thinking about how I didn’t want to disturb any more people – it’s that stupid self-deprecation talking again, fuck you Sarah – but at least it gave me something to do so I wasn’t standing there awkwardly as the girl was panicking – I really am such an idiot – the fire sirens were ringing in the distance, and they got so close I couldn’t hear the lady one the phone – she asked me for a description of the car that had hit Heather – that was her name – and I stupidly said it was an old pickup truck that sped off and headed towards North Charleston, still completely oblivious of the old man who was still sitting in his truck in the middle of the intersection ( I will never know if it was him but I’m pretty sure I pulled a fucking Where’s Waldo moment and completely missed it) but the firemen pulled up, kind of looked at us and said, “are you ok” and she was standing there, completely unhurt, and it was kind of awkward for 2 seconds until they said we’ll take it from here so I said thanks – wow, nice social skills – and Heather turned to me, her demeanor had taken a complete 180 and she said, quite articulately “well, I can’t ever thank you enough” and I can’t remember what I said in return but I know it came out as garbled as the old man’s voice – yeahyourewelcomebyeokbyeyeah – and walked off. Fucking walked off like I had tripped over something and just continued on my merry way – maybe I looked back once at the flashing lights – as I walked by the pharmacy I saw a father with his young daughter, maybe six years old, standing outside their car, watching from a safe distance, like car accidents are dainty spectator sports – it made me feel sick that everyone I saw watching just sat and stared, making no sound, no movement to help her, not even calling out, just watching, like the earth had come to a standstill and I was the only one pulling the strings to make things move – no one rolled down their windows; I saw two teen girls in a car at the intersection who were just staring stock still, open-mouthed, gazing intently at us and I felt a bristling sense of anger towards them – did they not care? Were they more interested in the morbidity of a car collision than actually helping? I take pride in myself for walking off (maybe not like a boss, but acting like it was no big deal) when in reality I do not remember the rest of the walk home because my heart was pounding, my eyes were streaming, and I felt like crying or screaming so loud to slow down the racing feeling I had – look at me, somebody, praise me for what I did – but that thought died as quick as it came. I knew that when I got home, no one would care what I had done. It was just a small blip on a field of millions of other blips. Maybe it’s the insecurity talking, but I don’t feel like I did anything too special. Yeah, I called 911, but it wasn’t like half Heather’s face was hanging off or like I had to drag her away from a burning car seconds before the gas tank exploded – Most people call that FUCKING INCREDIBLY GODDAMN LUCKY, given how things can go from bad to worse in nanoseconds. Would I have felt this way if I had saved a mangled body from twisted metal? Is that what it would take for me to finally feel good about myself? I guess this is God’s way of saying fuck off with your self-loathing and appreciate this opportunity for heroism and glory I’m giving you – I am glad it didn’t turn out worse, but I still felt worthless quickly after that. Heather was fine, I didn’t do anything except shout a bit and punch some buttons – others would say I was a hero. I don’t really feel like I deserve that, and that’s not about me being humble. I genuinely feel like I didn’t help enough. I know it’s stupid. I do. But it’s that self-hatred coming back to play, the knowledge that it would all go away – even Heather will forget about it someday. I got home, and Sarah yelled at me to do my schedule like she always does, and I felt like screaming at her I SAVED A FUCKING LIFE but also still not feeling like I did so it was an internal war topped with the thrill of the accident wrapped around my heart. She wouldn’t even take me seriously if I did say anything, and that part weighs on me like a 30 ton rock. No one takes me seriously. I was quiet. Is this what my father feels like? He does amazing things out of humility and for the better of others, and asks for no credit, no recognition, though he deserves it. Sarah has worked her black voodoo on all of us. She constantly siphons our self-worth and will to live completely away – as a matter of fact she just shouted at me why I wasn’t working more and I said it was because of my classes – the ones I needed to become a nurse – and she kind of scoffed at me in that kind of way that made you think you were not important – “you can’t afford to work. Really?” and I snapped back at her and she left me alone. I fucking hate everything a lot.

[robertkstone]

Ram 1500 is the 2019 MotorTrend Truck of the Year

Americans ask more of our trucks than we do of any other vehicle. In any given week, the average half-ton pickup might find itself commuting like a sedan, hauling a bed full of bricks and sand, towing some Jet Skis, navigating muddy ranchland, or exploring off-road trails. It’s no wonder that we bought 2.8 million of the things last year.

The best-selling pickup in the United States last year—and indeed in every year for the past four decades—has been the Ford F-Series. But our 2019 Truck of the Year should give pause to prospective Blue Oval loyalists (or buyers of any truck, for that matter) because there isn’t a truck out there that so precisely hits the diverse needs of the segment better than the 2019 Ram 1500.

The fifth-generation Ram 1500 is the latest in a long line of evolutionary leaps for Fiat Chrysler Automobiles’ bread-and-butter truck. The newest version, more than any other, seems poised to meet the needs of the 21st century truck buyer, with more variety, capability, comfort, convenience, and value than ever before.

Advancement in Design

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but there’s no arguing that Ram retains its reputation for stylish functionality. “Best-in-class: sophisticated without going over the top,” editor-in-chief Ed Loh said.

The 2019 Ram 1500’s clean-sheet redesign throws out many of the design cues we’ve come to expect from a Ram pickup—while still being unmistakably Ram. Gone are the crosshair grilles, mini-Mack fenders, and even the traditional Ram badge in most places. Instead, the 1500 provides buyers a choice of seven grilles and three head- and taillamp designs. Its 15 wheel designs feature stronger six-bolt hubs, ranging from an off-road-friendly 18 inches to an urban cowboy 22-inch style. And that’s on top of your typical pickup choices of extended or crew cab and bed sizes of either 5-foot-7 or 6-foot-4. A regular cab and 8-foot bed are expected next year.

“I love the styling,” road test editor Chris Walton said, eyeing the Ram 1500 Rebel. “It’s like the Viper of Rams.”

The interior updates, from the volume-grade Big Horn all the way up to the luxurious Limited, are even more impressive. Every Ram cabin has the tools needed for both work and play. The Ram’s configurable center console turns the space into an office, with room inside to swallow a bag and laptop, space for your phone and drinks, and a center console lid that can function as a desk.

When it comes to technology, Ram provides three versions of its Uconnect infotainment system, including a choice of an 8.4-inch or Tesla-like 12.0-inch touchscreen. “The center stack layout is a combination of Volvo (screen), Audi (switches), and Jaguar (rotary shifter),” Walton said. “The clever center console (phone charger/pocket, sliding bins, and side pockets) is something Honda would do. Ram has done its homework on picking the benchmarks for both design and packaging.”

Although a Silicon Valley–aping infotainment suite will certainly draw eyeballs in showrooms, the cabin’s functionality and furnishings are even more impressive.

Crew cab versions feature a flat floor in back and seats that flip up, allowing you to store valuables in the safety of the cabin. RamBins, hidden underneath the rear floormats, have grown in size to better accommodate hitch receivers or ratchet straps. In a first for pickups, the new Ram 1500’s higher trim levels have a rear bench seat that reclines up to 8 degrees and is heated and cooled, as well. Ever been chauffeured in a truck before? Now you can be.

We were particularly impressed by the level of fit and finish. Every trim, from the base Tradesman up to the Limited, furnishes at least one two-tone cabin treatment, injecting a bit of personality and style into the cabin at any price point. Unlike some of its competitors, Ram took the profitable luxury market seriously by offering two flavors of luxury trucks—the saddlebag-equipped (seriously) Laramie Longhorn and the thoroughly modern Limited.

“GM has to be kidding, going up against this with the High Country and Denali,” features editor Scott Evans said. “This is a luxury interior. Look at this wood! This leather! The metal, stitching, design, attention to detail! The leather on the grab handles! Cadillac could learn a thing or two by spending an afternoon in this cabin.”

Hyperbole aside, he’s right. The Ram’s cabin ain’t just good for a truck. It’s good, period.

Engineering Excellence

Looks can be deceiving, and you’d be forgiven for thinking the 2019 Ram is a bit old school in its approach. Freed from the obligation (and expense) of chasing maximum payload and towing capacities with all-aluminum construction, the Ram team instead invested in a shotgun approach to improve capability, efficiency, and performance. Underpinning it all is a new high-strength steel platform, 4.0 inches longer and about 17 percent lighter than the old chassis. The aerodynamic sheetmetal is largely built from steel but with the strategic use of lighter metals for a total weight decrease of about 200 pounds.

Like the previous version of the Ram 1500, our 2019 Truck of the Year continues to come standard with a coil-spring rear suspension (now with frequency dampers), which slightly sacrifices towing and payload capacity in favor of a better ride when compared to leaf-sprung competitors. A four-corner air suspension with five ride heights and load leveling is available, giving the best of both worlds when it comes to ride and performance.

“It’s really a surprise on the road,” testing director Kim Reynolds said after a stint in an air suspension–equipped 1500. “It’s way more refined and sophisticated than the GMs. Steering is fluid and quality-feeling.” The standard suspension won praise at the expense of its competitive set, too. “The coil-spring suspension is better in the Ram than the ride in any of the GM trucks,” MotorTrend en Espanol managing editor Miguel Cortina said.

Despite the minor diet, maximum payload is up to 2,320 pounds, and max towing capacity rises to 12,750 pounds, besting Chevrolet, GMC, Nissan, and Toyota’s half-ton offerings (though shy of Big Daddy Ford’s max towing by 450 el-bees).

Things get even more impressive under the hood. Embracing global realities, two of the three available Ram 1500 engines come with supplemental electric motors to improve fuel economy and performance. These mild-hybrid powerplants, dubbed eTorque, use small starter-generators and a tiny 0.43-kW-hr battery stashed in the rear wall of the cab to aid the stop/start system and provide torque assist to allow the engines to lug around at cruising speed in four-cylinder mode longer and without having to downshift.

The eTorque system is standard on the base 3.6-liter V-6, which makes 305 hp and 269 lb-ft of torque, and is also available for a small premium on the top-level 5.7-liter V-8, which turns out 395 hp and 410 lb-ft of torque. A non-eTorque 5.7-liter V-8 generating the same output as the eTorque version slots between the two electrified mills. (Because these motors aren’t assisting when the engines’ are generating peak power and torque, they don’t affect those figures.) An eight-speed automatic is standard across the line, as is rear-wheel drive. Four-wheel drive, limited-slip or locking rear axles, and three final drive ratios are also available.

The base eTorque V-6 is a lot of engine for the money. It makes its torque higher in its rev band, but it makes good use of the power it has. “It feels powerful even though it’s a V-6,” associate online editor Kelly Pleskot said. Evans agreed, adding that it “doesn’t have the torque of the V-8s, but it has plenty of power; the deficit only manifests itself when passing on Arizona’s 75-mph freeways.”

In back-to-back driving of our otherwise identically equipped V-8 Ram 1500 Longhorn and Limited models, Evans was one of the few judges who could feel the Limited’s eTorque assist at work. “I find the eTorque drivetrain a bit smoother through the revs and shifts and when accelerating up steep grades,” he said.

The fuel economy benefits of the eTorque V-8s show up in our data, but towing performance is a bit of a wash; all of the Ram V-8s, eTorque or not, performed nearly identically in both instrumented tow tests (where the Rams towed between 6,600 pounds and 11,400 pounds) and in our Davis Dam frustration test, which saw our V-6 Ram tester tow 4,020 pounds and the V-8s tow 7,780 pounds.

Performance of Intended Function

Despite the many hats we expect our trucks to wear, at their heart, they are beasts of burden. To that end, the 2019 Ram 1500 excels.

The most important part of any pickup is its bed, and Ram continues to deliver. The bed rails have been raised 1.5 inches to increase cargo volume, and the optional RamBoxes grow in size with minimal impact on bed space.

Some previous Ram innovations carry over, including the segment’s best combo bed extender and cargo divider, which stashes against the cab when not in use, and a CHMSL-mounted camera that looks down into the bed so you can triple-check your tie-down work while on the move.

The one area where the Ram’s bed could be better is its use of tie-downs, or lack thereof. GM changed the game this year—providing 12 standard tie-downs in the new Chevrolet Silverado and GMC Sierra (three in each corner) and the ability to expand with movable optional tie-downs. Ram offers the standard four (one in each corner), plus another four optional moveable rail-mounted tie-downs. Ram would do well to follow GM’s lead here.

The ability to access the bed is arguably as important as its construction. Missing GM’s standard bumper steps, Ram makes up for it with its option sheet. One of the air suspension’s many benefits is its access height mode, which lowers the bed’s step-up height to match that of the bumper step. For those who skip the air suspension, Ram also offers a kick-down rear step that stashes up and away behind the rear bumper.

Ram made towing improvements, too. For those who simply want to hitch up and go, Ram makes life easy. The rearview cameras have high resolution, making it easy to hitch up without a spotter. Trucks equipped with blind-spot sensors have an extra party piece, too; after you hitch up and make a couple of turns, the blind-spot sensors will determine the length of your trailer and increase the size of the alert zone to include the trailer length.

IFTTT

[therantingtales]

One thing I neglected to mention in my previous post, about my spot at the Kalaloch Campground, was just how close it was to US-101.

When I pulled into the site, I noticed a little opening that looked perfect for the tent. As I went to inspect it, I realized it was maybe 100 feet from US-101. You can see in the above picture a break in the trees, just past that was the highway. Even with 18 wheelers jake-braking down the highway, I’m a heavy sleeper. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep if I was worried about cars spinning out of control and landing on top of my tent.

My first stop on the morning of the 11th was something I’d noticed on my way to the campsite the night before. About 5 miles north of the site was a sign for The Big Cedar Tree. It was only one-tenth of a mile from the trailhead parking lot, and it was indeed a big cedar tree.

Kalaloch – Big Cedar Tree

Kalaloch – Big Cedar Tree

Kalaloch – Big Cedar Tree

Kalaloch – Big Cedar Tree

Next on my list was the Pacific Way Bakery & Cafe, just over the border between Washington and Oregon in Gearheart, OR. Gearheart is the childhood home of the world-famous chef, James Beard, so I thought how lovely it would be to pick up some bread from this well-known bakery. What I didn’t know and found out after three hours of driving was that the bakery closed at 2 pm. I got there at 2:30. Ravenously hungry and frustrated I thought I’d try the cafe. But after standing by the host stand in this white tablecloth establishment for several minutes, I felt an air of old money snobbery that made me change my mind. I hopped back in the car and found a Taco Bell in nearby Seaside.

It’s important to note that US-101 is very curvy with fantastic views of the Pacific Ocean. So driving was a combination of mental and physical gymnastics with the commentary in my mind of “slow down slow down, curve, oooooooh pretty, no pay attention to the road!” Oregon became the first place on the road trip where I encountered aggressive drivers. I’m sure the fact I was following the suggested speed limits for curves and my out of state license plate added to their frustration. However, one of them damn near ran me off the road. Here’s how I described the encounter to my mom later that day.

Well maybe they were both California drivers. One in a beat up station wagon I didn’t think could go faster than 50 was riding my bumper when I was going 5 over the 55 speed limit. The next one way worse… I slowed down for a curve and he didn’t. And then started honking at me, so I honked back, then threw my flashers on while maintaining 40. He crossed the double yellow and flew around me honking. I honked back and flipped him off.

(My response was not the most appropriate, but I was not going to be intimidated.)

I pulled over at the next overlook (Neahkahnie Viewpoint) after the encounter to reset. It gave me a great opportunity to take some pictures of the coast with the road weaving around the mountainside.

Neahkahnie Viewpoint

Neahkahnie Viewpoint

Neahkahnie Viewpoint

Neahkahnie Viewpoint

From there it was just an hour more of driving to my reserved campsite at Cape Lookout State Park. When I arrived at Cape Lookout I was exhausted and quite loopy. I gave the woman my name, and she couldn’t find my information. After a little panic and much confusion, I realized I arrived a day before my reservation. To make matters more nerve-wracking, the campgrounds were completely booked. However, the woman came to my rescue (took pity on me?) and opened up a small overflow lot for me to camp in for the night. The overflow lot was ideally situated right behind the dunes with the ocean just on the other side. Soon I had new neighbors (you’re welcome guys!) and I headed up the dune to watch the sunset.

The next day I would be able to move to my reserved site after 2 pm. Even though it had only been a few days since I left Seattle, the white-knuckle rookie driving I’d done down the coast encouraged me to take the extra day, and just be a beach bum.

Something we don’t see on East Coast Beaches – Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

Cape Lookout State Park

September 12th was a perfect beach bum day. I left the overflow lot and enjoyed a huge breakfast at Denny’s in Tillamook then spent some time in the Day Use area of the park while waiting for my reserved campsite to be ready. Once I set up at my reserved campsite, I spent the rest of the day on the beach reading.

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

Cape Lookout – Day Use Park

I made friends with the neighbors over breakfast on the 13th. They were seasoned Pacific Coast campers with tons of great advice. The husband referred to my car as a “Nice Rig.” Both Baby (yes, named after the ’67 Impala in Supernatural) and I blushed. They also recommended I take a break from the white-knuckle driving by hopping over to I-5 in Crescent City. That recommendation from well-traveled folks made me feel better about my struggles with the curves on US-101. We also talked about their son who’d just finished a thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail, and how flooding on the southern portion of the trail had made a difficult path even more challenging. This information would come back into my mind as I was bumping along a washed out road in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

On the 13th I was determined to get out of Oregon. I had reservations that night at the Crescent City / Redwoods KOA Holiday, 20 miles into California. The nights were turning cold, so I stopped to get a knit cap and some Cuddl Duds leggings and undershirts. Along the way, I stopped at the Heceta Head Lighthouse. When I pulled into the parking lot, there was a gentleman on a motorcycle waiting for his wife to come back from touring the lighthouse. In his saddlebag was a large, half hidden, bag of popcorn. Just behind him was a couple of big birds getting ready to make their move. I warned him that he was about to lose his entire bag of popcorn just in time as the birds swooped in. He took to making sure the bag was better secured as I made my way to the trailhead to the lighthouse.

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse

As was a continuing theme, I got to the lighthouse after they’d stopped doing tours, but I browsed the gift shop and enjoyed the views along the trail to the lighthouse. After about 45 minutes at Heceta Head Lighthouse, I continued on my journey down US-101. I stopped briefly at the Sea Lion Caves just south of Heceta Head but opted not to take the tour because it was getting late in the day and I wanted to make sure I was at camp before dark. As I continued on, I came across one of the most regrettable things about traveling a two-lane highway during the school year – being stuck behind a school bus dropping kids off at the end of their day.

Between the curves and the school bus, my total driving time for 295 miles was about six hours. One interesting side note is the road has a number of signs that inform drivers that it is “Illegal to delay 5 or more vehicles,” since there are no passing zones on US-101, so there are designated places for slower drivers to pull over. I took use of these zones whenever possible. I don’t care for being the lead car on an unfamiliar road.

I arrived at Crescent City / Redwoods KOA Holiday about 20 minutes after the sun began to set and desperately needed to pee. Since the office was closed, I needed to grab my packet from the bulletin board, and then I rushed to the bathroom. Much to my chagrin, there was a bathroom code. I finally figured out while doing the pee-pee dance that the code was on my packet. With that issue resolved, I tried to read the map to figure out where my site was. It took a few missed turns and loops before I found my site, nestled on the curve of the camp road next to two occupied campsites. I could barely see the boundaries of my site and as far as I could tell the tent pad was right at the curve of the road. I was not having that, so I ended up having to put it on a slightly slanted part of the ground with the picnic table between me and the road.

The campsite made a lot more sense in daylight and realized where I was supposed to set up the tent was further back into the woods. It’s all good, it was still a wonderful site I’d love to go back to. Sleeping under the redwoods was really nice.

My car was where my tent should have been. Never show up to a new campsite after dark! Crescent City KOA

Crescent City KOA

On the 14th of September I decided not to take the advice of the campers in Cape Lookout because I wanted to drive through the redwoods, and if I’d gone over to I-5 I would have completely missed one of the best parts of the Pacific Coast. But, I’ll save that part of the trip for next time.

Until Then!

The Pacific Coast; Washington and Oregon One thing I neglected to mention in my previous post, about my spot at the Kalaloch Campground…

[woanvo-vuomdo]

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