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[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

It's Loud - Daniel Ricciardo

<word count - 965>

You walked through the McLaren garage, hand in hand with Daniel. There were a few things you noticed as you went. There was a lot of papaya and it was loud. Very loud. You hated loud noises, so this was one of the worst places for you to be.

To be fair, it probably wasn't the best idea to date a racing driver if you didn't like noise, because they pretty much live in loudness, but hey, you were here and you wouldn't want anything but Daniel. 

"Is it always this... Loud?" You shouted over the noise as you stood in the back of the garage, leaning against the wall. "Pretty much, it's hard to find quiet around here," he nodded. He didn't think bringing you into the garage was a great idea, since he knew what you were like, but you had insisted. 

"Where do I sit?" You asked, hoping it would be quieter wherever you would be. You were alright for a short while, but the longer time went on, the more it irked your brain and ears. "You will be just here," he said, patting a chair.

"OK, sounds good," you said, sitting down as Daniel handed you a pair of headphones. They damped the noise a bit, but not as much as you would have hoped. "I'm going to go and get ready, but if you need anything, ask anyone and they will be happy to help," he smiled.

"Alright, go and smash it," you said.

"It's not about timings today, it's about seeing what setup the car needs for this track, but I will," he said, leaning down and kissing your cheek. You watched as he walked away through the sea of papaya, and you just sat there, looking at all of the screens that were hanging around.

It wasn't long before FP1 started, and Daniel was driving out into the pit lan and out onto track. You watched as all the data for him and Lando popped up on screen, and there was so much to think about.

There was also a lot of noise. The engines roaring as people shot past, the people talking over the radio that you could hear through your headphones, the drills of the pit crews either side of you doing tyre changes. 

You had gotten through around three quarters of FP1, but it was all beginning to get too much. There was no break, no rest from the cacophony that felt like it was attacking your brain. You thought your head was going to explode if you stayed there for much longer. 

You took your headphones off, leaving them on the chair, and walked out the back of the garage. 

You strode straight through the near empty paddock and straight into the McLaren motorhome. It was like pure serenity in there. It was quiet, and it was calm. There was no loud buzzing, or engines roaring, or drills squealing. There was nothing.

Just the quiet voice of the commentators that were on the TV, broadcasting the race. You sat there and stayed there, enjoying the peace. 

Meanwhile, Daniel had just pulled back into the garage and was getting out of his car. For a while, he talked with the team about how the car was feeling, and some setup changes he wanted to run in FP2 later to see how that could change the lap times. 

There was another couple of hours until FP2, so the team went on a quick break. He wandered over to your seat, but he only saw the headphones you had left behind. "Hey, did anyone see where Y/N went?" he asked one of his engineers.

"Yeah, she headed out the back," he said, but that was all he saw. He was watching the session, after all. "OK, thanks," he said, walking out of the back entrance and wondering where you could have gone.

He walked through the paddock, looking in every possible place he thought you could be. As he passed the motor home, he peered through the window and spotted you, sat on the couch, watching the timing boards.

"Hey, I've been looking for you everywhere," he said, sitting down next to you and sinking an arm around your shoulders. "Well you found me," you smiled, leaning into him.

"Why'd you go?" he asked, even if he already knew the answer. He felt bad that he was the reason you were here, but you had insisted. Didn't make him feel much better, though.  

"It was too loud. I only left when there was fifteen left, so I stayed for most of it," you explained. "Sorry, I should have told you where you could go. You alright?" he apologised.

"Don't worry about it, this place was easy enough to find. And yeah, I like it in here. This couch is really comfy too," you said. You loved watching Daniel race, but you found that you preferred watching on a TV rather than in person. "Are you going to come and watch FP2?"

"Yeah, but I think I might come for the second half so I can be there when you get out of the car," you told him, a smile spreading across his face. "I like that idea, I missed not seeing you,"

"Daniel, you never see me when you get out of the car," you laughed. 

"I know, but I missed out on that today," he pouted, kissing the top of your head.

"Sorry I missed it, it was just a bit much..." you said, looking down at your fidgeting fingers that were rested in your lap. "Hey, don't worry about it. As long as you are chilled and happy, then I am also chilled and happy," he smiled.

"Now, it is time for some lunch,"

A/N - Is this the best thing I have ever written? Definitely not. Did I feel bad for not posting for a short while? Yes, yes I did. I had this written and ready, but I was at a festival and had absolutely 0 WiFi, so I couldn't post it until now. Love you all 💖

|masterlist|

[dragonnan]

Nightmare

May 15

This one was published back in 2021. While it isn't a dreaming type of nightmare, I think it still qualifies.

Please let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged :)

He could have taken the helicopter but, quite frankly, he had needed the drive in order to structure what he would say to them. Though, even as he pulled the sleek vehicle into the drive; gravel snapping and popping beneath the narrow tyres, he was no more prepared than he'd been when he'd left London. After turning off the engine he hung back for a beat – hands gripped around the wheel.

Whatever gods exist please let them not be home...

The house door opened and Mycroft swallowed – eyes closing for just a moment.

Before they could step out into the yard, however, Mycroft schooled his face and exited his car; feet settling onto the dusty drive. He should have changed into something more fitting; his polished black shoes were going to be scuffed beyond recovery.

“It's been three days; we've heard nothing – not even from that assistant of yours...” Words trailed away as Mycroft neared the door – those keen grey eyes taking in his features. Then, finally, his mother swallowed. “I'll go fetch your father.”

He followed inside. The trappings of the holiday still bedecked the walls and tucked in corners – red and green and things that glittered. The ghost of that wretched holiday nearly enough to spin his gut. Had it really been just three days? Having hung back in the sitting room, surrounded by the ruin of Christmas, Mycroft waited until he heard the back door open and shut – until he heard the tread of work boots cross the floor and the hiss of the tap as his father washed up at the sink. He'd been out in his workshop, then.

When he eventually made his way into the kitchen, his mother was setting the kettle to boil. There was a rum cake on the table – a holdover from their broken celebrations. Mycroft was quite certain he would never again deign to eat another slice of rum cake.

He felt caught in a current – his limbs disconnected from the floor below as he watched his parents carry out familiar movements cast in the die of decades – repeated and worn into the shape of the spaces around him until the very molecules in the air had been carved to fit their steps. It was nearly a head-rush that would have staggered him had he not been clinging with one hand on the door jam – that sensation of events playing themselves out to infinity. That sickening slip of déjà vu that wanted him to carry out his own predetermined patterns. He had taken these steps before... sat at the table, unburdened dire news which would fracture their family with regards to the youngest of them... that pall of death that had followed Sherlock from the very first time Mycroft had forced air into his stilled lungs in a filthy doss house. Seventeen years old and ODed on a tainted dose of cocaine from a disreputable dealer. Had he been the one, then, to stay that boney specter – to demand favor that would, eventually, demand its due?

Was this to be the payment demanded? To stand to the side while the blade of the guillotine fell?

Or was he the one required to let slip the rope from his fingers?

“Mycroft?”

His father's voice and proximity sent a rush of inhaled air through Mycroft's nose – head jerking back a fraction until his dark musings returned him to the room he'd fled. The tea was ready and Mummy stood next to the table while his father was less than a foot away – concern on both of their faces.

He stiffened his shoulders and walked to the executioner's block.

Once sat, he took his cup in hand and even sipped the warmth – his body so cold that it felt like a blaze sliding down his throat. He was aware that he was handling this all very badly.

His mother, likely sensing the impasse holding his teeth together, finally spoke to life the fear wrapping them all.

“Sherlock will not be allowed to go free.”

Mycroft's eyes fluttered shut, then, and he shook his head.

“No.”

“But you did not travel for over an hour to tell us that. We knew there would be a punishment of some sort. It's worse than that. Isn't it.” Her own tea remained untouched. At the edge of his vision, Mycroft watched his father take hold of his mother's hand. When had their home ever been so silent?

“He is to be held in solitary until the week's end. He is to have no visitors; myself included. On Friday, Sherlock will be escorted to my private airfield. There he will board a jet, to be taken to a location, deemed by M16 to be of high-value, which I am not at liberty to disclose... even to you. Such is the nature of this mission that, upon successful completion, Sherlock's debts will be forgiven and his slate wiped clean.”

Throughout this Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on his cup – watching the surface steam as it dissipated above the rim. When he finished, he considered another sip before noting the tremor in his hands that were held gathered in his lap. He breathed, measured in a count of eight, until they stilled.

Mummy, however, dithered with the cup in her free hand – the porcelain skidding on the old tabletop. Her voice, when it came, was stripped to a jerking hush. “Will he...?” Whatever remained of her question locked up tight behind her throat and when Mycroft lifted his head it was to watch a tear seep down one pale cheek.

But, then, he knew what it was she was asking. And maybe his silence, in reply, was more than enough answer because she turned into Siger's embrace and, with shaking shoulders, began to weep.

Some time later, Mycroft was halfway through his third cigarette, while overlooking the back garden. The burning fag jutted from between two fingers where they rested on the black metal gate. How recently he stood in this very place.

It had grown quite chilly, the past several nights; dipping down as low as six degrees. There was even the chance of snow flurries in the morning.

Finishing the cigarette, Mycroft tapped the ash tip against the fence before tucking the butt in his pocket. It struck him, then, that he would never steal away for a smoke with his brother ever again.

He didn't remember when he moved. He only knew that he came to himself as he was pounding his fists against one of the rough stone posts that stood on either side of the gate. The blood in his ears was pumping so loudly that he could not hear what tore from his throat – could only feel it in the vibration of his vocal chords. In truth he would have remained lost in his rage far longer had not arms wrapped around him from behind. In that moment Mycroft knew his father's embrace.

He sagged, then, in those strong arms. Stronger than the older man appeared to anyone who didn't know him. He held his oldest child as Mycroft tipped his face down into his spread hands and began to sob. Rough, jagged pieces of glass that left behind bleeding wounds where they ripped through his chest.

How long they stood there was lost to time. Mycroft only knew that at some point his father had laid an arm across his shoulders and was guiding him inside with soft words while Mycroft had all he could do to place one foot before the other in a mostly straight path.

When next he was logging events it was to blink owlishly at the stout mug of something steaming and alcoholic resting on the coffee table, before him. He lifted it and took a sip. Ah – father's special hot toddy spiced with cardamom. He had taken several sips before finally taking in more of the room. His eyebrows lowered when he noticed that the only other person in the room was his father – the older man sitting in his favorite chair next to the fireplace. His face was haggard and eyes rimmed red. At Mycroft's glance, Siger tipped his head towards the hall.

“She's lying down. It was... it's too much. We almost lost him, so recently, and now...” his throat bobbed and he subsided – long fingers twisting together. Mycroft held the warm mug in his hands – his fingertips tapping against the rim. Only then did he feel the sting rising in his knuckles. Blood filled every crease – though it was obvious the injuries had been cleaned and treated with a topical ointment. His eyes closed and he felt the flash of burn from his dried out stare. He was aware of losing time repeatedly and, were he not so emotionally flattened, it would have been troubling.

He held the mug in his hands until it cooled – setting it aside once he finally noticed the absence of heat.

“I've failed him.”

The words whispered free before his mind had fully formed them. Yet, the moment they were voiced he knew the truth of them. He had failed. The only mission in his life which truly mattered and he had failed... abysmally.

And his brother would pay for that failure. And there was nothing he could do to repair this.

He expected no response from his father – what was there to say? He was aware of Siger looking towards the low flames in the fireplace. His eyes were wet.

And so they remained; each trapped in their own misery.

An hour later his father stood, approaching to rest a hand against his cheek, for a moment, before going off to bed.

He had only intended to deliver his news before returning home but Mycroft found he scarcely had the energy remaining to slip his shoes from his feet before curling on his side.

He was asleep before he even finished the mental note to call Anthea in the morning.

The following day was possibly worse than the evening which had preceded it. His mother was, by turns, furious and horribly silent. Even his father, normally a stoic man, had a tremble in his jaw and more than once wiped beneath his eyes. It was a journey through hell as Mycroft forewent breakfast in his urgency to flee.

There were six additional texts from John as well as two voicemails. Certainly no point in perusing them – it was readily apparent what the man had to say and Mycroft deleted them without bothering to listen. He had no answers for him and the ones he could have provided would be a disservice to his brother's friend. There were too few things he could do for Sherlock. This, at the least, was a mercy he could offer.

There were many affairs he had to put into order. As it was they were not entirely new – having been established the last time Sherlock had confronted a madman. The difference, of course, was that Mycroft's involvement, back then, was to provide the greatest assurance of his brother's survival. Now...

It struck him, all at once, in a sort of breathless fashion so strongly that he was forced to pull to the side of the road. His hands clasped on the steering wheel and he felt a wild pounding through his chest and it was some outer observation of himself that recognized panic. That part of him, though, was incapable of offering more and even his sense of time was wiped away until he finally, eventually, came back to himself layered in sweat that felt icy against his temples. His mouth was tacky and dry so he opened his door to walk around back to the boot where he had a cooler among other supplies. The water almost hurt when he first swallowed – his throat was so parched. In short order, however, he'd emptied it and screwed the cap back onto the depleted bottle – tossing it into the cooler before retrieving a second and taking it back to the driver's seat.

It was an additional ten minutes before Mycroft felt confident to drive. But as he pulled out onto the roadway it was with a hum of determination that had begun to build from the moment Sherlock had pulled the trigger to end Magnussen's miserable life. He would not allow Sherlock to face this alone. Not while blood still pumped though his veins. No, he may not be able to alter this fate. However, he still had the autonomy his position afforded.

Even if it meant walking with his brother into the flames.

His uncle would have accused him of excessive drama. Rudy, though, had long viewed sentiment as little more than a tool for manipulation. And, in that moment, Mycroft found he didn't care one whit what Rudy Vernet thought.

He needed to contact Anthea again – an adjustment to protocols which had been previously established. She would not thank him, once she became aware of his intentions. However, she would, he hoped, understand. There was no other way.

In three days he would watch his brother board a private jet.

An hour later, Mycroft would take a temporary leave – boarding a commercial flight under an alias known only to Anthea.

He was quite certain he would never see London again.

He found no regret in this choice. In fact, for the first time since Christmas, he felt peace.

He only had one last task to accomplish – something he had promised his brother before Sherlock was locked away in a private cell. Contact dialed on his mobile, Mycroft was unsurprised when it was picked up scarcely after a single ring.

“Mycroft – what the hell is going on? Where is Sherlock...?”

“John. My apologies. Sherlock has been detained and I'm afraid he has not been allowed contact. However I...” he licked his lips; suddenly aware of a dangerous tremble which he forced aside before it could slip into his speech, “I was able to procure... a moment.”

“Moment? What...”

“To say goodbye. John.” Not fully silent, on the other end, Mycroft was able to note the sudden deep breaths. One last mercy, perhaps. “As recompense for the shooting, Sherlock is to avail himself to MI6 as a field operative. It was deemed a far better fate than to waste away in a cell.”

The breathing caught as John composed himself. When his voice returned it was subdued.

“How long?”

Mycroft rubbed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Indefinitely.”

He had no trouble imaging John's eyes shuttering closed. “I see.”

They disconnected shortly afterward.

As grayed hills gave way to London streets, Mycroft pulled the tatters of self back around his shoulders. This was for the best. After 6 months, John Watson would receive a substantial deposit into his bank account – more than enough to see to his child's upbringing and education. He would know only that Sherlock had arranged for the funds via his trust. He would wonder – likely assume, correctly, that Sherlock was no longer alive. He would mourn and he would move on. After all, he had done so, once before.

As to Mary; Mycroft would have her under watch. Anthea would see it through personally. Should the former assassin ever show any indication of returning to her former life... should she ever present a danger to John or their child... it would be handled. His parents...

And here Mycroft faltered in his manic plans.

And not only his parents. He had responsibilities that only he, and very few others, were aware existed.

He... he could not do as he desperately wished.

There was only a vast emptiness of winter pale hills beyond the windscreen. The promised flurries had begun to fall shortly after five that morning – the roadway gilded with sparking flakes that frosted the browned grass and clung to the branches of trees. As the flakes began to thicken, building into a proper snow, Mycroft switched on the fog lights in spite of the fact he shared the road with no other vehicles.

Before the weight of it all could drag him beneath the rising waves, Mycroft mentally took hold of himself. He had allowed emotion to wrest control of his faculties. He had... indulged a fantasy. But that was all it would ever be. It was over now. It was all over, now.

It was time to move forward.

His parents would never forgive him. This, though, was something he had been prepared to face. And it wouldn't be the first child he had taken from them.

Before his maudlin thoughts could overtake him, yet again, Mycroft dialed a number on his mobile once again. There was no sound of a ring and only moments passed before he heard the click of a connection. “Anthea. I need you to make arrangements. It's for John Watson... and Sherlock.” He licked his lips; moving into a lane that would take him into the city and on to Whitehall. He remembered, with sudden and breathtaking vibrancy, a tiny face with watery blue eyes, peering up at him from the folds of the blanket cradled in Mummy's arms. And he knew, as well, that he gave himself away with the tremble that broke in his voice.

“It's time to say goodbye.”

Comment on AO3

Tagging: @totallysilvergirl

[harrison-abbott]

LONDON - Travel Poetry

I touched down at Stanstead at seven a.m.

The got the train into the city, and thus we

Passed the provincial towns in the Metropolitan

Area, where around an extra 6 million people

Live, which technically aren’t part of the

Great capitol. … Lots of people I know totally

Hate London. Whenever I go there I’m

Astounded by it’s sheer scale and mania,

And, I’ll admit, I always reap exhilaration when

I visit. … I got off at Liverpool street and

I went wandering about. I went to see

William Blake’s grave. Which isn’t in a proper

Cemetery, per se: it’s quite an odd grave in

That it’s just off the street, and built over with

Concrete. Then there is just his name,

With his bones somewhere underneath, and

I remember the immense sound of drilling nearby:

As some men were working on a building

Site close by and it was as if 21st century

London was nothing like anything in a

William Blake poem. After that I found the

Nearest subway station, and went down

Into the tunnels, with their toothpaste-white

Tile walls and their rocket-launch echoes.

As I’m always a bit slow when it comes to

Public transport, I had to ask this Irish couple

If I was waiting for the correct train coming.

They indeed confirmed that I was in the right place.

So I said to them, “Thanks. I’m always a bit

Of a numpty when I’m riding the metro.”

And the Irish man said to me, “Oh, it’s all right.

You speak English fine.” And I blinked.

I didn’t want to point out that I was from

Edinburgh, Scotland, as didn’t wish to offend

Him, but, I suppose I was heavily bearded

At that time – and most folks don’t suss me

As Scottish when they see me.

Through the oldest underground routes

In the world I flumed. I went to Hyde Park

And sat there for a while, watching the civilians

Walking their dogs, and it made me wonder

How wealthy you would have to be to live

In this metropolis; the same time as I watched

The crystalline outlines of the skyscrapers

On the horizon. Those images that bespoke

Immense wealth, international prestige.

That night I was staying with my friend who

Lived near London Bridge and so I headed

Over there, walking down towards the Thames.

It was crazy walking in that central part

Of the town where almost every street name

Had some connotation that you knew from

Hearsay or songs or culture in general.

Everywhere was famous. This was where

The plague happened, where the great fire

Happened, where the great fire broke out;

This was where the Blitz happened.

Nearly 70% of the city was burned down

In 1666. And, during the Blitz, around

43 000 civilians were bombed and killed

By the Luftwaffe planes; which was half of

Britain’s civilian toll for World War II;

Which made one in six Londoners homeless,

And destroyed at least 1.1 houses throughout

The town. And, none of those facts had killed

London. This was the place where

Bill Shakespeare wrote, performed and directed

His plays. It was where Pete Townshend was

From, where Charles Dickens form world –

‘twas a place that’d changed the world.

I got to London Bridge, and crossed it,

Watching the thick, soupy water down below,

That raced with pumping menace. It was crazy

That the Thames wasn’t in the top 100 longest

Rivers in Europe. And yet it was this complete

Brute when you looked at it, dizzily from atop

Its bridges. I reached the far side of the bridge

And headed along into the main street, and just

Then there were two flashy cars that sped by me.

As in – glitzy sports cars – and they were

Racing against each other. And one of them cracked

Into the back of the other’s boot, because the

Other had ‘won the race’ and sped past him.

Their tyres ripped rubbery snarls on the road

And there was a big dent in the forerunner’s boot.

It was basically a car crash. And it happened

About ten yards away from me, right there on

The sidewalk. But, nothing else happened either

Than that both vehicles went tearing across

London Bridge to continue their race.

I walked on and I went into a supermarket

To buy some beers ahead of seeing my friend.

Everything I saw around the shop was about

A third higher than I was used to in Edinburgh.

But I got the beers and then I walked through

The night (this was in November, 2018) of

London, along to my friend’s flat, through the

Odd mix of buildings that seemed to spar for

Space between the jostling traffic. As you

Walked you heard all kinds of languages,

And the people you passed wore a medley

Of outfits; some in suits and leather shoes,

Some in dresses and high heels, some in

Tracksuits and trainers; and all of different

Skin colours and height and weight and

Character. Nine million people crammed

Into a relatively small space, and this is

The sparky mix that you get as a result.

My friend had finished his work at 5 p.m.

And that was why I’d been wandering

About all day instead of meeting up with him

Earlier. He lived in a range of flats that

Were hard to navigate around, and in

The immediate skyline I could see the

Shard skyscraper, blinking in blue and red

Dots. I finally found my friend and we

Hugged in the doorway. He was from

California, and I’d met him years back

At university. We talked into the night,

And then went to a local bar, which

Was super expensive but it was also

Thrilling to be out in the metropolis in

The proper black night; it was sublime

To be here in Londinium, even though

It was scary, berserk and conglomerate, too.

[maxemilianverstappen]

I’m not a fan of Charles but I don’t mind him. I also don’t see a WDC for Charles in near future and I doubt Fred will make a big difference everyone hopes for👐🏻I know Charles is young and have a lot of years to win but it’s crazy for me how Ferrari ruined his reputation in nearly two years, people rather put him in same calibre with Carlos and George(both an ok drivers but nothing special or outstanding to me) rather than Max/Lewis.

Some people are looking at the statistics and seeing the number of wins and all other jazz and making a list mostly based on that. I don't give a damn about that kind of "outlook" at the sports. Charles is talented and it is highly acclaimed both by his peers and by the gurus in the industry. What a keyboard warrior might say or think about him, actually about any of these drivers, do not matter at all.

As I said before, talent and hardwork is of course, the first ingredients of a champion, but also that guy needs to be at the right place at the right time and also the right car.

Seb, for example... Since 2012, almost every year there was heavy rumors about how Mercedes wanted to sign him, how they had a pre-contract or whatever. He possibly got offers from them, but chose his path differently. Which costed him the opportunity to get another two or three WDCs in theory. He was never an "average" driver as some people tried/still try to paint him as.

Charles isn't an average driver either. He has some weaknesses, but that's due to him trying to compensate for the car and taking greater risks.

I don't believe this "if he is a great driver he should adapt" thing. I don't think after 20 sth years of doing some shit you can find the same edge in every set up and in every type of car. Lol, you can't "that" easily change your second nature and hope to be equally as good as before.

Even Max and Lewis and Seb struggled in different amounts in cars that they didn't find to their liking. But everyone immediately screamed "they should adapt". Look, I am not a Chirlie either, but, cars make champions, too. Maybe more than the drivers' talents and hardwork can ever.

Seb tried so hard in 2020 to drive a car with no rear end (which was his preferred balance) so, out of anyone, if Seb couldn't find a way to be faater, then sorry but nobody could because that guy's work principles parallel no one's. That car suited Charles's style, so he drove it well. Later years, the car's rear got more stable and had more understeer, which didn't suit him. Even then, he drove those cars to poles. But Ferrari has always sucked at race interim since Seb and Kimi's times, mostly because they have never solved their tyre use issue. But whatever.

What I mean is, to show your talent, you also need the machine that reacts to you the way you want it to. When Charles gets a car like that, he is no less than Max or Lewis or Seb or Nando or other WDCs. But stars must align as Ferrari must suddenly decide to stop clowning and live up to their "image".

I am not holding my breath about Ferrari getting their ahit together soon, but if Charles really can't win at least one WDC, it will be such a waste of potential.

[myrskytuuli]

Girl HELP I had the most embarassing interaction of the fucking year with my BOSS!

For the first time in my life I got a flat tire in the middle of driving to work, and for some godforsaken reason my first instinct was to CALL MY BOSS near tears about how I'm in the toils and how am I going to get to work now?!

And this. this fckibg. interaction.

My boss: Oh, do you not have a spare tyre?

Me: I have a spare tyre.

My boss: Oh, so you need someone to come and change your tyre for your car?

Me, the stupidest motherfucker on earth: I know how to change a car tyre.

My boss: Then why don't you just change the flat tyre?

Me: ....yeah I'll do that.

And then I put on the spare tyre, it took about 10 minutes, and arrived at work exact normal time. Literally just called my boss to prove that I'm the dumbest bitch on this god's green earth.

[slow-button-off]

Charles gave another very very good interview that you should totally read!

These are the bits that I found the most interesting.

“We’ve been working on it a lot in the last three races. And I think we’ve made some steps forward already.

“But we need to keep working because as we saw last Sunday in Suzuka, we’ve been struggling with tyre degradation.

“We’ve seen that we’ve definitely made a step forward on Sunday since the last few races but it’s not yet consistent. And we still need to work on that.”

The points gap, Red Bull’s emerging performance advantage in races, and the fact Ferrari knew it had more engine-related grid penalties to come meant Leclerc knew his title ambitions were all but mathematically over.

“But that didn’t change anything in my motivation,” he insists. “I think that’s where we had to keep our head up and keep pushing, and try to use these last races in the best way possible in order to become a better team for next year.”

Car development has been a controversial topic in 2022 and escalated recently amid the budget cap controversy that has engulfed title rival Red Bull. Ferrari has deliberately been cautious with upgrades this year, and at times expressed near-incredulity at how much Red Bull has been able to achieve with the same capped resources.

Leclerc, who has kept his head down and mouth shut while this has rumbled on, says the strictly controlled development process has sometimes been frustrating from his point of view but he trusts how Ferrari has managed it.

“It’s not always nice, because whenever you want something in the car, sometimes the guys say no,” he says. “And that’s not the best to hear.

“But in the end, it is part of the challenge. I like it. And I think it’s great the way we have been working, especially technically, in the past two years.

This was the main silver lining in 2022. Even a flawed title-challenging campaign is better than what Ferrari endured the last two seasons, 2020 in particular.

“You’ve always got the pressure whenever you are a Ferrari driver,” Leclerc says.

“I’ve always had it. It doesn’t change to be fighting for top positions this year, if anything, it feels a bit more normal.

“You probably feel even more pressure whenever you are fighting for seventh or eighth with a Ferrari because you know the team doesn’t belong there. So you are pushing yourself to come back as quickly as possible to the top.

“It definitely felt nice, at least for me personally. It was a relief to be fighting for top positions after two very difficult years.

“Especially as I did my first year in Ferrari and everything was pretty strong. I was fighting for mostly podiums and sometimes wins.

“But then to do such a step back in 2020 and 2021 wasn’t easy. So, I’m very happy to be back.”

I am once again very impressed with how positive and motivating Charles is about the entire season and the team

[backupherewego]

WORKING AT BRAWN GP (James part)

2/14, 2011

Name: James Vowles Job Title: Race Strategy Engineer Age: 30 Lives: Oxford Hobbies: Motorbikes, Motorsport, Mountain Biking

Q. What studies did you complete before you worked in Formula One?

A. I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted to go in life when I was younger. I can say I was studious as most of my school reports stated James is clearly very intelligent, when he applies himself! I completed most of my education in Geneva at an International School and at about 16 years old, I started to dedicate myself a bit more, particularly enjoying Maths, Physics and Computing. This led me to return to the UK to study Computer Science at the University Of East Anglia as a stepping stone until I figured out where I was destined. I had done my fair share of karting to this point and loved motorsport. When I was growing up Sundays were mostly spent watching Formula One races with a friend who truly was like a brother to me. Until that point I considered motorsport a far fetched dream and after sending out CVs to all the F1 teams, with zero positive results (including one CV actually sent back to me!), I decided to dedicate my life to both getting into and then being successful in F1. I started working weekends at Snetterton Race Circuit, which was near my University, with Formula Ford and GT teams, building up both experience and contacts, until I finished my degree in 2000. From there, I was one of 20 students lucky enough to be selected for the first Cranfield University MSc in Motorsport Engineering course. The course was a baptism of fire, with the other 19 students being of extremely high calibre, all with Engineering backgrounds, most of who now work in either F1 or GP2. In September 2001 I graduated with a distinction, picking up a Prodrive award for the design of a school racing car.

Q. Where did you work before Brawn GP?

A. In terms of motorsport, I started where all budding engineers should – scrapping rubber from GT racing slicks in a cold garage on a Sunday morning! When I was still doing my MSc in 201, Ray Rowan, who ran successful FIA Sportcars and F3 teams, gave me my first engineering role. I started as the Data Engineer for the F3 team and after a few months Ray felt comfortable enough to let me run the programme and engineer the car

from then onwards. That same year I became the Senior Race Engineer on their Le Mans programme, taking the Pilbeam LM675 car to Le Mans. In 2001, I applied for an Assistant Race Engineer position with British American Racing, and whilst I wasn抰 accepted for that role, I made enough of an impression for a new role to be created, and my first goal of entering Formula One was achieved. In 2002, I started work on a Race Strategy system and shortly afterwards joined the Race Engineering department and started travelling to the races. My role has expanded over the years combining Race Engineering duties, Friday car running with Anthony Davidson as our third driver in 2004 and 2006 and of course Race Strategy. In 2008 I was privileged enough to start working with Ross Brawn and we haven looked back since.

Q. Describe your job on a day-to-day basis?

A. Prior to each race, I gather all the historical data, patterns (traffic, overtaking, track changes) and team performance data. Brawn GP has a number of custom simulation packages which we run to ensure that we gain a good understanding of the running plan for the weekend and the estimated tyre performance, highlighting any potential problems and considerations. During Friday we will build a picture on our competitors performance, tyre usage, weaknesses and strengths. I work closely with the senior race engineers to ensure we get the most out of our car and modify the run plans if required during sessions. The Friday data then allows us to determine a qualifying plan including which tyre compounds and in what order and just as importantly, the final qualifying fuel figure. We always create several plans, depending on where our competitors are relative to us in each qualifying session. On Sunday morning Ross and I sit down and discuss all of the potential race scenarios and plan actions for various events such as safety car deployment and accidents. This planning is the key to solid race strategy as we may only have a matter of seconds to react to incidents on track. During the race, the decisions we make are what order to run the tyre compounds, what the next stop lap will be, what to do in case on safety cars on every lap, who we are fighting, and what we can do to defend or beat them. We are continuously updating the driver with his targets, both lap time and position to allow them to manage their tyres and the gaps to other cars around and ultimately their pace. Following the race I will analyse all of the decisions and data gathered from the event, understand what we did right, and what we could have done differently and improved on. This analysis is then used to build a further understanding with regards to our competitors for the following event.

Q. What do you like about working in Formula One?

A. Formula One is unique – it's my passion, my hobby, my life. Outside of the race weekend, the entire team is trying to work harder, faster and better than the nine other teams to ensure that by the next race, we do a better job than them. The business solely

focuses on a single event, which lasts around two hours roughly every other week, where the result of hard work and dedication can be seen the world over. The other aspect is the reactivity of Brawn GP and how quickly we can react to other competitors, rule changes, and problems. We are able to draw, manufacture and run components that were first discussed only a few weeks ago.

Q. What's the best thing about working for Brawn GP?

A. For me, it's all about the people you work with, the team work, the development. The race engineering group has been together for a long time and is very close which makes for a great working environment. I think it抯 fair to say the engineers spend nearly as much time together as we do with our respective partners! The other reason is Ross Brawn who has changed the way we work together as a team. It's a privilege to work alongside him during a race weekend.

Q. What’s the most challenging aspect of your job?

A. The first challenge is making a strategic decision during qualifying or the race, sometimes in just a few seconds, based on as little or as much data you have available at that time. The difference between making a good or bad decision can be as much as several positions by the end of the race and therefore having the most accurate data possible at all times is key to this. The second is managing driver expectation and performance over a race weekend. During the race the goal is to work with the engineers to give the driver targets to hit, manage his pace, and keep an eye on your competitors to understand both their performance and usage of tyres.

Q. What has been the best moment of the 2009 season so far?

A. There have been several. The first would be when we took the BGP 001 car to Silverstone watching Jenson drive a few laps to ensure all was well before we shipped the car to its first test. The relief from where the team was just a few months ago was indescribable. However my best moment in 2009 was, without question, Monaco. A one- two result from Jenson and Rubens is an incredible achievement. More specifically from a strategic perspective, we had the right strategy, putting the cars first and third on the grid. We managed a difficult tyre situation and reacted quickly to the dynamic race to bring the cars home first and second. At the end of the race I was standing just next to the podium, Ross Brawn just behind me with his elbows on my shoulders watching Jenson running down the straight after leaving his car in Parc Ferme. It's a memory that will stay with me forever.

[wejustvibing]

I wrote this in another place but I want to write it here again to end PR63’s fans’ delusions

Your driver was the luckiest guy in last season,he is not Mr.Saturday he is the fking Mr. Lucky Boy,winning fraudulent pole and win.Let me show you this guy’s damn luck and favor.

First is his fraudulent win.

Lewis had 5-6 laps tyre advantage before his 2nd pit and as Merc tradition is pit leader driver first Lewis should be pitted after George several laps but guess what,Lewis was pitted 1 lap earlier than his teammate,completely taking away his tyre advantage,Merc tried so hard to avoid Lewis race against George but sadly 63 is such a shit at tyre management so every time whenever he started before Lewis,without those terrible luck,Lewis used his pace to come close and even pass him.

Second is his fraudulent pole in Hungaroring,tell me the name of the man starting from pole but still finished behind Lewis who started from P7.No luck from safety car, man showed true colour.

Then his unbelievable luck in Melbourne,Miami,Zandvoort(including two races mentioned above),the only time he was unlucky and had race been ruined was Singapore with braking problem

Almost in every race,George has his typical routine in every stint whatever the tyre he uses—first,makes some fastest sectors and laps once he changes new tires to tell everyone “Guys see who is coming?I’m the quickest man now!”,then ‘somehow’ his tires are gone and he cries it in team radio and wants to change strategy to gamble,when Lewis uses the same tires and closes to him,he will imply no team fight but asks different strategies to beat Lewis even that will hurt the team.

That is why every time you will hear Russell says about his tires.

Give a example.Abu Dhabi 2022,after Lewis had some car problems and dropped behind George,he pitted after 3 laps in Lap19 to start his 2nd stint with same hard tyre as 63 who had 5-6s gap in front after both pitted,and watch the time,Lewis continually decreased the gap and forced him to pit in Lap40,just before the gap was only 0.6s. George was so slow that even his track engineer asked him did he push hard in Lap35,bc the engineer saw Lewis was 0.2-0.5 faster than him per lap.

63 is fast in one lap but no where near Lewis in race pace and tyre management,if you are his fan at least watch his game seriously,your guy is just mind-game-loved version of VB or quick-in-one-lap version of Jenson Button.

damn 💀 admittedly, i've not followed him this closely but you can't ignore the luck factor from last year. also i have no problem with drivers being selfish it's the pretense that's shitty. do it balls out

[leqclerc]

I'm so sorry bestie i just really need to rant rn. Like ferrari is literally fucking Charles over race after race and he always takes it with so much grace and kindness, never blaming the team, always holding himself accountable and he gets absolutely nothing in return. Like literally nothing. That video on b*notto talking to him makes me so unreasonably angry like stop wagging your finger at him, he has every right to be furious at you and the whole clown show so don't act like he is being unreasonable or anything. Like how can they throw away win after win??!? I just don't get it. You have a driver who is clearly cut out to race for a wdc and you don't prioritise him??? Am I supposed to believe that sainz is anywhere near his level??? They had no issue picking Charles over Seb (or at least they did imo and like I kinda get it) so why are they having such a hard time with it now??? And like Charles is stupidly loyal to this team and he wants to win here, with them, but how many more times will they let him down before he realises that huh maybe ferrari kinda sucks??? And like I want him to go on a rampage. I know that he'd never talk badly about them but I wanna hear him drag the team through mud, to tell everyone they suck and that he is disappointed and mad and saying that "the next race will be better" is not enough. I wanna see him destroy sainz at every given chance and race for himself and just go absolutely insane. I wanna see him enter his reputation era. I want to see ferrari on its knees begging him to stay and for forgiveness. I wanna see ferrari clearly treat him as a number one driver. Like I don't see him leaving and even if he did, where he'd go? But I want ferrari to make a fucking effort lol. Anyways, sorry for using your ask box for this and thank you for listening to my rant💖💖

No, you're so right, thank you for sending this in ❤️

Because they're essentially showing that trust, patience and loyalty isn't worth very much and when it comes down it it's every man for himself. Which is a part of racing, sure, but I don't think drivers are used to their own teams being their biggest rival/obstacle.

You make such a good point here, I keep thinking the same myself. Like, if I speak on it I'll probably get blasted, but it's so true and the attitude shift is so noticeable. The pit wall was very comfortable using team orders with Seb and Charles whenever they were near each other on track (which happened frequently since they were evenly matched on pace). Even when they weren't going for the win (in Australia 2019 they finished like 4th and 5th so) and the car wasn't consistently quick enough to be a title contender.

Now though? They literally dragged their feet for ages, costing Charles time, energy, and tyre life. Then they essentially chicken out of committing to a decision and just pit the teammate. They come out behind each other and the situation repeats itself. Again they're slow to respond, hesitant, but Charles eventually is let past to create a gap. And that all comes tumbling down under one safety car pit stop window. They say things but don't exactly enforce them very well - during the safety car period Sainz was told his priority is to defend from the guys behind and to let Charles create a gap in front, so the intention might've been there, but the execution? ...

Idk, a part of me thinks maybe he was antsy to get his "firsts" and by extension the team was too, but now that it's happened, where do they go from here? I don't think it'll change anything, at least not in a good way. Now you've essentially taught one driver that it's okay to disobey orders if it benefits him. Also the fact that both times Charles slipped completely out of podium contention, just left out there like a sitting duck...fuck, it was grotesque.

Imo B*notto was always a poor leader, always comfortable with throwing his drivers under the bus instead of reflecting on his own behaviour and attitude. People started warming to him this year and last year when things started improving for Ferrari, but on days like this he still shows his true colours. Berating Charles, saying he shouldn't be disappointed? What, because "there's always next year"? Farcical.

I mean, this is - or rather was, worst case scenario - a year where they are championship contenders. The driver that got himself into a position of being a title contender on merit was Charles. But I guess they don't give much of a fuck about the WDC for him if they still have this "oh well, it doesn't really matter which of the drivers wins 😊❤️" attitude. It's extremely disappointing and really quite baffling to see them going about it like this, consistently failing to do right by Charles, who is, by all metrics, their championship hope. It's not like they don't have a history of pulling team orders. Now they're tip toeing around it even when one has the pace and the other evidently does not. Even when there's a title on the line. What's changed? 🤔

[rxscss]

thread under the cut!!

featuring: @rxscss , @lgends , @eminvnt, @delvedinto

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲  the vibration of his phone against the long marble kitchen isle disturbed the conversation unfolding between him and his father ; azure hues almost as a reflection , glimpsing at the screen . frown draw upon features when the name caught his attention , immediately picking the device to reply but the urgency has large frame upon his feet to grab the car keys and get out the door . never has him made the drive to his ( former ) sister in-law so fast . replaying the recent trip they both took , the unhinged behavior of the blonde and flicker of fear in the hotel . actors mind playing wild with the possibilities of what could have gone wrong . the travel down to beverly hills , cut by half , squealing the tyres somewhere in the avenue until it come to stop in front of actresses’ home .  jumping off the car to get to the door when the familiar car was making a turn .

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 she had known something was wrong for a while, but athena kept pushing her away - kept insisting everything was fine, kept telling her she was being too overbearing, too over protective. and she hoped that she was. she hoped that her fears were wrong. but as her phone rang with the text message from flynn, her worst fears were confirmed. did she take it to far with the drug use? was her feeling of being followed actually correct? she had no idea, but she knew she had to get over there right away. she received the text right after getting off the stage at the hollywood bowl, not even taking the time to change out of her sparkly gown before hopping in her car, and rushing to her beverly hills home, thankful she wasn't all the way out in palm springs. reaching into the glove compartment to pull out the tiny, pink pistol she kept in there, charging towards the door like a bat out of hell when she saw julian standing there already. "out of my way, julian." 

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲   fear afflicted upon sharp features at the sight of the eldest sinclair : he knew it would take a lot of convince before he can ask for something . hues expanded wild at the glimpse of pink ornament ; hands up in surrender when he stands promptly in front of ex wife . unsure of what they might find inside . heart caught on his throat ; fighting to not allow his mind to even imagine the worst scenario . he loves athena deeply : it’s family . “ p —- “ single word tumbling his lips , controlling the woven that inflicts underneath . yet , as he is about to continue , the sound of something falling and followed by a groan cants his head to the front door . the open window and the male voice making him alert . there is not way he is letting persephone inside . “ let me go first , “ he requests . now realizing the third car parked near . “ let me see if they are inside “  / 

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 fiercely protective, especially over her little sister. she never wanted her to have to go through anything that she did, never wanted her to feel like she had to fend for herself or that she was alone in her problems. never wanted her to feel broken or taken advantage of. and it may have came off as controlling, as trying to parent her, but she would've done anything for her sister. and as she hears noise coming from the house, she steps forward once again, chin lifting as hand grips the gun in her grasp tighter. "that's my sister in there, tony." she said, trying to keep her shaky voice steady. "it's my job to protect her and you're not going to stop me." 

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲  reaction comes as expected from years of knowing her , the fire that boils underneath her skin when it comes to those she care , more so the only attachment to old family she carries . afraid to see the sinclairs do any hurt to little sister . the thought alone increasing  the fear of what they may encounter behind closed doors ( still ) creeping his mind . bodyguard’s encrypted message to denounce something must be too out of common for having both of them to come .  “ —— fine “ word muttered against grip teeth . arm , stretched out in order to keep her from stepping forward in front of him . there’s no way he is letting her inside first , and definitely not with a ~gun~ . “ give me that , ” he wasn’t going to negotiate . “ please “

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 she’d throw herself into the fire to protect the people she loved most, Julian included, despite how terribly angry she was with him at the moment, she didn’t want anything happening to him either. But time wasn’t on their side in this moment, and all she wanted was to see Athena’s face and know she’s okay. Deciding agains arguing with him, she glares at him as she hands over the gun, stepping closer once more. “Just get the door open, tony.”

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲   protective frame overstep in front of her , somehow taller and more angular , to keep him in the front line , cold metal of the pistol slipped against his waist band . two more steps until his hands are twisting the handle , a laborious lungful of air to keep mind at alert when he opens the wide door . shit . one arm to moved persephone further behind , throat swell and ache with the knot that forms and matches the fear balled tightly at his stomach  at the sight of his sister - in - law , unconscious on the floor . breath catches in his throat , heart  thumping louder against rib cage but he approaches with caution . " thena , it's me . " a whisper closer to her , checking her pulse and voice woven with solicitude . " i'll get you out of here , okay ? " azure eyes glimpses over at persephone . " call 911 " firmly requesting , when a new sound coming from upstairs caught his attention . a maniac peal of laughter ; somber enough to send a chill down his spine . " get out of here , now . " arms passed around athena's fragile body . keeping her close in his embrace before moving outside the house and gently laying in the front poarch . " call an ambulance and call 911 , and don't come inside . "

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 she’s a woman on a mission and all she can think about is getting in there and getting her sister - was too much of an optimist at a fault to even have the thought of anything being terribly wrong cross her mind - they had been through hell and back  together and they were always okay. but as Julian opens the door and her eyes land on Athena unconscious, her heart drops to the bottom of her stomach, eyes go wide and throat goes dry. “Athena, oh my god.” She choked out, pushing past the barrier of Julian’s arms as she ran toward her sister in a panic, moving to the floor next to her as she lifted face off the floor, gently patting her cheek as Julian check her pulse. “thea, thea, we’re here, we’ve got you, okay? wake up!” she said eyes shooting towards the staircase at the sound of noise and a cynical laughter, fearful gaze shooting towards Julian and before she could comment she’s, using one arm to get to the otherside of Athena to help Julian lift her, the other shaky hand fumbling with her phone to call the police, trying her best to inform them of the location and getting them to bring the help that was needed. they asked her to stay on the line, moving to sit on the front porch to use her lap as a cushion for Athena’s head, hands soothingly running through sisters hair as she hopes to see her eyes open, but attention is shot back up to Julian when he said not to come inside, hand instinctually reaching up to grab his tightly. “Julian what the fuck? Are you insane? You’re not going in there!” she shouted at him 

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲  with both of them outside , safe and ( somehow ) out of reach , he is one step further to get pass the door again . previous feelings vanishing to give it space for anger , another glimpse at the unconscious blonde on the floor enough to send him out of his right senses . “ p , “ freeing his hands from her grab , not until give it a gentle squeeze . “ it might be flynn in there , we gotta do something . “ and the venomous glare that flickers his eyes at the satisfaction of , if unable to run into the bodyguard or help . have both hands wrapped around whoever made this to his sister . “ I’ll be right back , I promise . “ it doesn’t matter how unsettle things are for them right now , at this moment , he doesn’t care . kneeling to place a kiss at her forehead .

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 knows not to fight with him - knows that every second is crucial. and selfishly, she doesn’t want him going in there, wants him safe out here, waiting for the authorities - no matter how mad she is at him, she loves him, as much as she does her sister that lays in her lap at the moment. and she knows he’s not a coward, knows that he’s not someone who’s going to standby when he could help. that’s just the man that he was. eyes well up with tears as bottom lip trembles, eyes squeezing tightly shut for a moment as she takes a deep breath as she feels his lips against her forehead and without hesitation, free hand moves to cup the side of his face, lips pressing against his own in a passionate kiss, pulling away with a shaky break as forehead leans against his own. “Please be careful” she chokes out quietly. 

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲   warmth echoes with psyche , lips locked with hers in the taste he has been deprived , missing the burning feeling of having her lips with his . the sanctity of whatever it was they had , holding on the hope of things to fit along somewhere in the future ( hopefully ) . but as selfishly he wishes to do so , lost on the seconds that seemed to hang in there , knowingly that he’d still choose the well being of a child . pulling away , back inside the lavish house , the actor peeks up into the stairs . carefully , moving up the steps until he spies the back of attacker . standing still to further his movements praying for bodyguard to see him . 

*  𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐍  flat  on  back  ,  refusal  to  hold  hands  in  defence  against  a  man  who’s  put  his  soulmate  at  risk  ,  unconscious  the  last  time  he  left  her  somewhere  safe.  eager  to  return  to  her  but  stuck  underneath  the  rubber  ,  decrepit  ,  soles  of  intruder’s  work  boots.  manic  laughter  beginning  to  wind  him  up  ,  going  through  him  like  sharpened  nails  against  a  chalkboard.  mahogany  optics  meet  a  familiar  set  of  hues  between  bannister  bars  ,  a  silent  predator  climbing  the  stairs  but  sensation  of  being  watched  causes  attacker’s  ears  to  prick.  before  he  can  swivel  around  ,  flynn’s  leg  manages  to  swing  &  connect  with  outstretched  pistol  to  knock  it  out  of  grip  ,  scrambling  to  reach  it  before  the  male  does.  another  battle  commencing  ,  advise  called  to  julian  over  scrap.  “  j  ,  get  thea  out  &  go  wait  with  her  &  p  outside  ,  i  can  manage  here.  “  he  reassures  ,  pistol  held  to  chest  &  guarded  with  body  from  grappling  hands  ,  desperate  to  regain  control  of  the  situation  because  the  stalker  knows  his  end  is  graver  than  anyone  else’s. 

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲   .stationary point to give a clear vision of the two . only briskly glimpsing the struggle , the heavy metal of the pistol in his possession weighting on his waist when he debates if this was a moment to have it in hands ; but never has he handle a weapon , not off the safety of a set .  yet , the resemblance of athena lying on the floor is enough to set him back into blind mode .  he's not leaving . the actor doesn't have the training , former swat officer carries , only a few black belts : only used in the early fights into his youth . all that vanishing in a real-life threatening situation . " they are outside , " only thing he is able to vocalize . grabbing a metal ornament to strike against his back , ready to pull him away from flynn . this was idiotic in many ways . shoving him away , to give bodyguard a chance .

*  𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐍 upon  impact  ,  the  stalker  grunts  &  stumbles  to  the  side.  rage  is  a  perfect  picture  painted  across  his  face  ,  complexion  almost  red  -  hot  like  in  a  cartoon  ,  flynn's  immediate  response  is  to  grab  ahold  of  the  gun.  he's  back  on  his  feet  ,  steps  taken  backwards  to  be  in  front  of  julian  ,  gun  outstretched  &  pointed  in  stalker's  direction.  "  i'm  not  asking  you  julian  ,  i'm  telling  you  to  go  be  with  the  girls  until  the  emergency  services  get  here.  "  irish  lilt's  stern  ,  he  couldn't  afford  to  have  someone  else's  blood  on  his  hands  ,  to  reduce  the  list  of  casualties  was  his  main  priority.  the  risk  was  more  severe  if  the  actor  remained  indoors  ,  a  sense  of  duty  to  protect  still  out  poured  his  want  to  reunite  with  athena.  she  was  still  a  target  of  his  ,  the  top  one  even  ,  so  flynn  knew  he  couldn't  let  the  intruder  leave.  "  i  need  you  to  get  her  to  the  hospital.  "  

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲  at the very least , the sinclair sisters were okay . help was on its way & athena will be okay . it's what he repeats to himself , voluntarily choosing to walk up back in there . the twins were old enough , persephone can always take care of herself but then , there was the baby . faceless child whose grasp is already engraved around his heart , there's a beat of hesitation ; listening to flynn's instructions to leave . save himself , to name his child and get to known them and let them know they were loved , a lot . but he couldn't . he couldn't cowardly leave the other man out there ,." ––– i know you want to play superhero but we are both getting out of here , " he explains, teeth sinking on bottom lip to control the beating under rib cage . hand firmly grasping his coat to guide them out . " besides , athena will not let me hear the end if i leave you here . " yet , he should have expected the reaction , the demons dancing behind attacker's orbits .

*  𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐍  stubborn  in  every  way  ,  he's  firmly  planted  atop  of  stairs.  an  unmovable  mountain  ,  only  a  single  sway  happening  as  julian  attempts  to  escort  him  outside.  he's  not  leaving  until  the  man's  gone  ,  his  soul  sent  to  the  depths  of  hell  beneath  concrete  earth.  "  go  outside  ,  julian.  "  his  anger  was  building  ,  responsibility  of  that  in  the  stalker's  hands  ,  he  couldn't  let  the  actor  witness  what  he  had  to  do  ,  to  share  the  blame  of  another  life  being  lost  even  if  it  would  be  self  defence.  "  tell  her  i  love  her  &  i'll  be  out  within  seconds  of  you  telling  her  ,  i  promise.  "  vocabulary's  spoken  beneath  gritted  teeth  ,  slightest  of  movement  from  the  attacker  causes  the  hairs  on  his  forearms  to  stand.  "  we  don't  have  time  to  argue  so  go.  "  he  instructs  a  final  time  ,  further  sentence  interrupted  by  the  charge  of  a  bull  seeing  red.  scrambling  to  retrieve  gun  from  bodyguard's  grasp  ,  fighting  for  bedazzling  metallics  ,  fingers  switching  to  hover  over  trigger.   one  shot  rings  through  ghost  town  home  ,  followed  by  a  second  &  a  third.

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 phone is resting against ear as the 9-1-1 operator is still on the line, saying that the cops and ambulance are just a few minutes away, telling her to make sure to keep athena's head elevated, to keep checking her pulse, to try and get her to be alert. as she's gently patting her cheek, trying to talk to her, trying to pinch her and poke her to get her to wake, her motions freeze when she hears a gun shot. and then another one, and then another one. she's frozen in place, unable to move because of the weight of athena in her lap, and the shock, all she could do is let out a loud scream. "julian! get out of there now!"

*  𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐍  struggling  to  gain  ahold  of  pistol  ,  palms  becoming  slippery  from  excess  perspiration.  three  gunshots  vibrate  through  silent  home  ,  grip  tightening  around  barrel  of  firearm  &  using  final  strength  to  smack  attacking  male  across  the  room  with  a  pointed  elbow.  cheekbone  shattering  beneath  his  force  ,  gun  in  his  palm  &  directed  to  opposing  masculine.  aimed  ,  fired  three  times  into  his  skull  ,  body  growing  limp  &  collapsing  like  a  house  of  cards  against  a  gust  of  wind.  pistol's  unloaded  &  tossed  to  meet  corpse  on  first  floor  ,  staring  in  disbelief  at  the  body.  fight  finally  over  ,  his  team  eventually  winning  regardless  of  the  cost.  sound  of  sirens  alert  him  to  outside  ,  blue  flashing  lights  illuminate  the  quiet  house.  a  scene  he  couldn't  return  to  ,  an  act  of  self  -  defence  would  weigh  on  shoulders  until  custodian  status  is  officiated.  guiding  self  to  front  door  ,  hands  held  above  head  to  show  he  wasn't  the  convict  ,  breathing  becoming  laboured  &  complexion  floods  a  pale  grey  ,  he's  clammy  &  vision's  a  blur.  he  feels  rough  but  severity  of  result  hasn't  kicked  in  yet  ,  adrenaline  pumping  to  keep  him  afloat  until  he's  on  gravel  driveway  again.  three  gunshot  wounds  dotted  in  abdomen  ,  realisation  not  hitting  him  yet  until  he's  collapsed  to  ground  ,  pool  of  blood  increasing  in  size  beneath  where  he  lay.

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲   heart is pounding and blood thrums loudly in eardrums ; sound halted by the momentaneous thunderous discharge . the first one . by the third , makes his head tip and turn , hand pulling the metal laying on his waistband but shoulders knocked back by strong vibration , one step closer to the staircase and the pink pistol dropped close to the entrance . actor moves rapidly to open the door , deflecting from the new sound of more shots but beams of blue and red lights invade through the window . door wide open , hands instinctively up but right arm loosely hanging ––– there's an aching to it . azure orbits , following when flynn leaves for last .  screaming for help as he jogs to his direction .

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 red and blue lights come into field of vision, the sound of sirens ringing in her ears as swarms of cop cars and ambulances and before she could even process it, people are running towards her, getting athena into their arms and onto a stretcher. "i...i don't know what happened, me and my....julian found her passed out on the floor and then we heard screaming and shouting upstairs and i don't know what happened...he ran in....and there were gun shots...and....and...i don't know." she said, practically hyperventilating at this point as they watched her whisk athena into an ambulance, turning around when she saw flynn stumbling out covered in blood. "oh my god...." she choked out quietly, hand covering mouth. running towards the man as he collapsed into the driveway, she rolled him over onto his back, screaming for help from the ambulances as they began to gather around him and then came julian, walking out of the house with his hands up and without hesitation, she pushed through the crowd of cops running towards him, only freezing when she caught sight of his arm. "jul...." she said, gently grabbing his elbow as she looked at the spot, only to be pushed away from him as the emergency workers approach him and began working on him.

—   𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐲   adrenaline rush and natural body painkiller by the release of endorphins to keep body under alert ; the sight of flynn widens azure hues to only increase heartbeat. fuck . he screams again , only now  , a grunt that vibrates in the back of his throat makes him fall to the side . up on his feet to jog back closer to the front door ,  dodging police officers and paramedics finally making sense of what happened but the question was : three shots got the bodyguard but the other three .... julian's gaze fall down to his body . untouched . but red marsala taint running down his sleeve tells otherwise . more importantly , the expression on his ex - wife's features that only makes julian pull away from the paramedics for a second . " hi , p " hands caressing the side of her face , brushing the hair out of her forehead before left arm pulls her into an embrace . ignoring the calls of the doctor . the pain could wait .

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 paramedics are running around them, her eyes unable to focus on one thing, watching her sister getting wheeled into the ambulance, watching them pick flynn off the floor, watching the cops rushing into the house. so many questions rushing through persephone's head but as julian grabs the side of her face, teary eyes focus on him, thanking whatever higher being was looking out for them that he was okay, paramedics observing his right arm as they bandaged it up, letting him know that they'd just need to stitch him up once they got to the hospital. "hi." was all she choked out quietly, arms wrapping around his torso for a moment, face burying against his chest, only if for a moment before lifting her head, looking towards the ambulance athena was being loaded into before looking back at him. "ride with flynn, okay? he shouldn't be alone." she said with a shake of her head, hand momentarily cupping the side of his face, thumb brushing against the skin there before turning on her heel and making her way into the ambulance, sitting next to athena's stretcher as she took sister's hand in her own, squeezing it tight to make sure she knew that she was there. and she always would be.

[megpie71]

Getting Started with the NDIS, Part III

Finished the appointment with the NDIS Local Area Coordinator, who gave me a bit of a breakdown of what the various items in the various categories for my plan are.

Under "core supports" I get 4 hours a week of domestic support (housework, gardening, cooking, cleaning etc).  I also get 5 hours a week of social support,  which means if I need someone to come along and be my buddy at a social Thing, that's where the money comes from.  This means now I need to find some social Things to need a buddy for.  Yeep.  I think the first few hours are going to be things like "clothes shopping" and "getting my eyes tested" and other such long-overdue tasks that I’ve been putting off due to dislike of crowds.  There's a budget for consumables (bits and pieces recommended by allied health professionals as necessary for this and that - examples given were things like non-slip bath mats, or particular kitchen appliances).  The transport money is getting paid directly to my bank account on a fortnightly basis - it's essentially petrol money, which means yeah, the NDIA is paying for 2/3 of each tank of fuel I buy - which means I can afford to do other things to the car with the money I’m putting aside for it each fortnight, like paying for some well-overdue new tyres.  

Under capacity building, I get 30 hours of psychology time, which is essentially 26 fortnightly psychologist visits a year, and an extra four hours of crises, report writing, or whatever.  Even if I knock that down to "one hour of direct service generates one hour of indirect report writing" (which is probably a pretty fair estimate, given what the NDIS requires by way of reporting from the people they're paying money to) that's fifteen psych visits a year, which is one a month plus three spares for crises.  Meanwhile, Medicare will cover a total of 10 psych visits per year (which is about one every six weeks - it's a maintenance schedule, not an improvement schedule; admittedly, Medicare doesn't demand the same level of reporting back and forth).  I also get 10 hours of designated physiotherapy time (at least some of that is going to be for the initial assessment, to tell them - and me - what needs fixing and what I need help with), plus another 20 hours of flexible therapy time (10 hours of which is allocated to an OT for a Functional Capacity Assessment) which can be allocated wherever is necessary.  

Now, as with all government grants (which is what NDIS money is) there's a catch: you have to use it all up in order to get the same amount of funding next year.  The government wants this money to get out and about in the community and make friends with lots of people (I pay it to the allied health people; they use it to pay their bills or their salary; it then gets paid on to someone else, etc, etc) rather than sit huddled in a silo feeling sorry for itself because it's all lonely.  This presents its own problems for me at the moment - I have no idea about what kinds of services are available, how I'd go about accessing them and so on.  

This is where the support coordination side of things comes into play.  A support coordinator is the person who connects the person with the money (me) with the people who can provide the services they need (PTs, OTs, support workers and so on) and who essentially has a list of "these are the good ones, these are the ones to steer clear of" and so on at their fingertips.  I've made an outreach to one of the organisations near me which provides NDIS support coordination, and I'm hoping they'll be able to get back to me before the new year (so I can get the ball rolling with this plan as soon as possible) and give me a hand with support coordination.  Fortunately, I have some money set aside in my "capacity building" funds for that as well.  

We shall see how my life changes (hopefully all for the better) as things go along.

[violet-dragongirl]

LONG INFODUMP POST ON MY EXPERIENCE IN PROJECT CARS 2 INCOMING!

SO! GOOD PROGRESS IN PCARS 2!

So I'm going with an old strategy for tuning the Formula A* car but I'm going at it piece by piece and taking things A LOT slower on understanding the whole "what's wrong with this setup I'm trying?"

*From looking at some forums and patch updates of the game, they did indeed change how the Formula A cars felt. So they're slower than they were at one point which also made almost every setup for them nearly entirely useless. For me this is a non-issue because:

1) I do not have access to said setups and honestly, I'm not looking forward to try them. They're not bad but I feel like I'd be more frustrated if I did try them so for my own sanity and sake, I'm not putting too much effort into finding the Old Meta of the Formula A. Just gotta find my own and what works for me

2) I feel like if I did look up a setup for the Formula A cars which would indeed make things even more efficient, I would still lack the understanding for myself how each component of the tuning mechanics in Project Cars 2 works. So it's more work for me but it's also more needed learning towards the interest I have in automobile sims :3

With that said, here's the deets on how I'm doing so far with Formula A cars in Project Cars 2:

I'm doing this so that way I can get a standardized setup* for ALL tracks in the game to then tweak for each particular track, and then the weather of the racing event**

*(To some, this might be considered to be...stupid...but oh well just keep reading and work with me here)

**(There's three rounds/events within each race track event on the date it's set in the game: the Practice, the Qualify, and the Racing. The practice is where I can tweak said standardized custom setup to the track at hand that isn't Le Mans 24h. Then there's the weather part of the game where it's just as crucial to understand because yes the game's weather absolutely changes that standardized setup. Simply meaning, if it's raining, having Slick tyres as the go-to would wind me going to the tire walls around the track and crashing every time, so I have to set up not only the tyres to Wet Tyres, but also probably change the other components to match the weather at hand. I still hate rainy racing events, but I'll do them nonetheless)

So I started from scratch (like...pure scratch, not from a custom setup, right from the Stable Setup that Slightly Mad Studios put in) and ran the Le Mans 24h track. After more than two or so laps of tyres and brakes warming up I started feeling how the car felt to me by actually running it a couple times more (around 3 currently. The recommended is 5 to 10 and that's way to exhausting for me right now...so I gotta get in shape to get to that point)

It wasn't awful and I was pacing pretty well with the defaulted settings! This is a good thing! But it wasn't a great thing.

I was negating/being penalized the time trail record by too much understeering in at least 1 sector and about 4 slow turns...going off the track is troublesome in any regard..oof. And knowing my driving style, understeering is worse than oversteering because at least with oversteering I can compensate better and also recover faster--even if having too much oversteer is..not a good thing for this car either.

The first thing I realized based on my style was the brakes weren't feeling right. So I tuned those first and ONLY those. Didn't touch tyre pressure, didn't touch the TYPE of tyres (started out with Soft Slick) and didn't touch on downforce. All I was focused on was break bias and the brake ducts. After a few more laps the second run, things started to feel better; the brakes were warming up fast and keeping at a working temperature (around 380~420 Celcius)...but like a good simmering soup...the setup was not near "perfection" yet.

So then I tweaked the brakes a bit more and called it a day cos the third time, things felt good and the numbers were within a good range of the sweet spot (I'm not trying to get TO the sweet spot. Just close enough until I'm ready as a whole to find it in all components).

Next was the tyre type, the tyre pressure, and the downforce of the chassis.

The worst feeling in the world is when the back starts slinging cos, again, as much as I like oversteering compared to understeering, Formula A cars are the WORST for both and should NOT BE DOING THAT in a way that is not fit for the car.

So I went back and tweaked the tyre pressure because I was hitting like...~2.15-ish bar on the front tyres and about 1.70 in the back...Yikes :))))))

So I cooled down and tried a lower pressure, then switched to Hard Slick due to the track's temperature (around 35 Degrees Celcius) to see if that would work.

So far so good, but I might switch back to Soft Slick just in case I misread the grip I had on each corner.

BUT THE BACK OF THE CAR WAS STILL SLINGY AND I HATED IT >:(

So I restart the session, took my last saved setup file, and tried again. This time I lowered the rear downforce from Stable Setup standard then slowly went back up again but not back to Stable Setup standard, kept the front downforce lower than the rear downforce but still higher than the Stable Setup standard so that way I had a higher responsiveness to cornering.

And finally after a few more laps after the out-lap and the warmup laps, I found a decent setup.

Again it's not even close to being done, but now I can at least look at other components other than the Tyres/Brakes/Chassis and find the problems of why I'm over or understeering in corners.

I've also noticed the Travel on the suspension...isn't that great. It's too bumpy and keeps hitting in the red in a lot of places in each sector too often.

So the next thing I'll do next time I play this game is work on the suspension.

Yes, in hindsight, the suspension SHOULD'VE been the first place to look, but eh..the Tyres/Brakes/Chassis column was right there so I said "let's just go from left to right column wise and fix what needs fixing instead of jumping around from component section to component section"

For me this is progress cos it not only feels good, but also it does feel like I'm getting somewhere!

As I am also tweaking the car, I am working on my consistency on the track. Safer is Faster but also knowing the car's limits is important too, and for me the only way to know the cars limits while being safe to be faster, is to be consistent in braking, gear shifting, and finding reference on when to brake and shift, and find my pacing with the setup i have!! ^.^

[oliviajames1122]

TIPS FOR HIGH MILEAGE CAR MAINTENANCE

Indeed, newer cars are made to last. The majority of today's vehicles have a minimum life span of 150,000 miles. A car is deemed to be high mileage if it has travelled at least 75,000 miles. Age can also be used to assess if a car has high mileage or not in addition to mileage. Older vehicles are therefore regarded as having a high mileage. Older cars require more frequent maintenance than more recent ones do to ensure optimal performance on the road. Search for car repairs near me and book an appointment now to find out more.

What is a high mileage vehicle?

High mileage vehicles are those with at least 75,000 miles on the clock. To keep them operating at their peak and on the road, older vehicles need more frequent maintenance than newer ones do. A car may be deemed to have high mileage based on age as well as mileage, which is something else to bear in mind. Search for car repairs near me and book an appointment now to find out more.

How to Extend the Life of a High Mileage Car

Keep an Eye on Your Vehicle's Oil

Your car's oil is like its heart if the engine is its beating heart. Thus, the most important thing you can do to keep your high mileage vehicles running better for longer is to replace their oil at the recommended intervals and use motor oil that is especially made for high mileage vehicles. Search for car services near me and book an appointment with a qualified mechanic now.

Regularly Check Your Fluids

You should routinely check engine fluids in addition to the engine oil. This entails changing the transmission fluid and oil as well as checking the coolant level in your radiator once a month. This is fairly well-known yet frequently overlooked.

Take Care of Your Tyres

If you take good care of your tyres, they will look after you. The tyres should be rotated as directed, maintained at the recommended air pressure, and replaced as needed. When your tyres are in good condition, your suspension will last longer and the rest of the car will be under less strain. Newer, properly inflated tyres also provide you a significantly better chance of avoiding a collision. Search for car repairs and book an appointment with a professional mechanic to fix any issues at hand.

Examine The Belts And Filters.

Replace or clean dirty or expired air filters to maintain optimum combustion. Additionally, make sure to inspect and replace any belts that might also be displaying wear and tear.

Look after Your Car’s Exterior

In terms of extending the lifespan of a car with a high mileage, cleaning your car may seem minor. However, regular car washing really eliminates impurities and stops rust. Since the underside is not painted and is subject to wintertime exposure to salt from the roads, it is especially crucial to do this. Your outside will look brighter after waxing, and it will also be protected from rust and damage to the paint job.

Improve Your Driving Habits

Several driving habits, such as rapid acceleration or deceleration, harsh starts, and slamming on the brakes, result in significant needless wear and strain on your car and reduce its lifespan. These are commonly referred to as aggressive driving. Driving carefully, moving slowly, and doing things smoothly are all necessary to extend the life of a high mileage vehicle. Search for car mechanics near me and book an appointment now to sort out any issues with your vehicle.

[my-whai-whai-blog]

(Wip) horror story chapter 1

so I'm adding the intro this one time, because i edited a little bit to it. it is still in a work in progress so any critique is welcome or just comments in general enjoy :)

Intro

Droning heat.. That’s what the fake cheery national news said was forecasted this summer, any other time I would have welcomed this weather with an ice pop or blasting an electric fan. But this summer it would be what brought me to a further abyss than the one i thought i was on the edge of.

In the middle of a mild early summer climate forested lake area away from any civilization aside from a well worn two-laned road. That connects to a less traveled dusty graveled road out to this nestled lakeside community center for recovery and relief. A lone encrusting suv rolls down the gravel road at an even pace under the speed limit to not tear up the road and leave a giant cloud of dust and rocks. Passing lapping carpets of leaves and with trees as quick passing thoughts in the cracked rear-view mirror 

In the mid sized well used vehicle. A well trimmed man is in the driving seat thumb drumming on the steering wheel in an off beat pattern. His hair in very manicured fashion is a 1920's era hairstyle, slick with the scent of Aqua Velva or perhaps Vitalis wafting from him like an aura. And a thick mustache that you would think he took inspiration from the macho men of the past to show his authority. he drums away and slightly corrects the vehicle to the right side of the road when he sees a slight road block in the way and takes a mental note to the maintenance crew to come by, changing to a different tune or pattern when he felt like it or couldn’t remember the rest of the song he is following in his head. 

Crossing the last bend in the road to the last stretch towards the compound of buildings, known as Remit Reservoir recovery center. “Rest your rocks at the Remit Reservoir!” The man hums to himself as he finishes his drum routine, him noticing too late as a giant hulking mass collides into the side of his suv. Like a male moose in full stampede and rolls over with a deep crunch to the top of the car. then crashes into the opposite side of the road with a giant roaring wet thud to the thick covered forest floor near the compound’s walls. After getting his head to stop rattling like a timber rattlesnake. He steps out to inspect the damage and if what hit him is still in the immediate area.

A bus heaving on what felt like its last breaths, transporting multiple walks of lives. Most of the riders on the dying beater bus have shed their top shirts and or took to using their pamphlets as makeshift fans to get away from the muggy heat of the bus cabin. Because of course the bus that is on its last axle out of the grave has a busted a/c that has not been functioning since the end of the gulf war and the windows are jammed with two inch thick tree sap. The group of boiling and poised to get out twenty to thirty somethings looked on through the dusty windshield to see cold gray cement and sun washed colorful tiles take up their vision instead of the endless summer hazed cast forest floor and full tree capped canopy they have been watching to pass the time through the old and cracking windows to their home away from home for what they hope is just the summer.

The bus comes to a wheezing and skipping stop in the mid way point of the loop driveway. The sun scraping at the opaque shadows casting from the entrance canopy that barely quaffs the roof of the bus. Groans and sighs of great relief fill the old creaking oven death trap on flattening tyres; scrounging of personal belongings and last minute snack purchases from the second to last resting point. The occupants file out at random due to what they stowed on board the cabin. Some brought what could only be described as their whole wardrobe and their kitchen sink; some just bringing what was actually needed on their carry-on portion of luggage for this trip and step out to wait for the rest of it in the full muggy heat by the rusted underbelly storage; and few step out quick as they can with a carry-on filled bare essentials and cruise under the canopy to get some form of relief as they wait for the rest to disembark. 

Chapter one 

I got off that death trap as fast as my aching drenched body could let me. Felt like I was moving through a thick swap while made of pure sludge and sticks. Thankfully I didn't bring much for this, the only good advice my grandpa gave me was, “pack light and you will be alright”. Old man was a rolling stone for a reason, and the family couldn't get him to settle down for long. Made me wonder why this pack rat that’s still in that rusty relic is here on this trip. Or any of these people. My only judgment is we all have our baggage to work on here. 

After coming to that judgment I look around at the scenery of the center. Feels like a midday liminal space with how quiet and well maintained this entrance is. Like someone or something is waiting just around the corner you perceive. Didn’t help with the heat and  the jittering chorus of bugs wafting loud buzzing over the foreign to me bird calls. I circle my view to the left side corner of the entrance wall, I feel the presence of being watched from right there. But all there is this streaking stain of what could be described as a concoction of healthy and dying moss and multiple molds. Mixed and merged in areas along the stained to make something only a highly educated biologist could probably understand. 

I grit my teeth and gut to help begin my first slow step to investigate this stain. As soon as my foot makes outstretched contact with boiling sunbaked asphalt, I feel a strong tug back and the smell of foul old care products my loose grandpa would use; and just as much if not more. A man with a full forearm taller than me and a stone heavier as well, whipped me around a towel in the wind. “Hey, I don't need to be losing one of my little sheep to the wonders of this place just yet. We still have orientation and room assignment”. He says with that same fake cheery tone I heard with the newscasters this morning, but with a low growl to show some authority over me. Then came back to the same cheery tone to list off what needed to be done first. I had no time or power to register any resistance to his control to set me back to the herd of lost sheep.

I tried to put it off as fatigue from the long drive out this peculiar complex of rest. As I follow behind the atypical shepherd of this group, I glance back to the strange stain to see a clean up crew hard at work cleaning or prepping to clean it.

[byrneford]

Essential Maintenance Tips for Keeping Used Cars Running Smoothly

Are you the proud owner of a used car that you want to keep running smoothly for years to come? Maintaining a used car is essential to ensure its longevity and performance on the road. 

Whether you're a seasoned car enthusiast or a novice driver, these maintenance tips will help you keep your used car in top condition without breaking the bank.

Regular Oil Changes

One of the most crucial aspects of used car maintenance is regular oil changes. Engine oil lubricates the moving parts of the engine, reducing friction and preventing wear and tear. Failure to change the oil at regular intervals can lead to engine damage and costly repairs. Consult your owner's manual to determine the recommended oil change schedule for your used cars near me, and stick to it diligently.

Keep Your Tires in Check

Proper tyre maintenance is vital for the safety and performance of your used car. Check tyre pressure regularly and ensure that it matches the manufacturer's recommendations. Underinflated tyres can reduce fuel efficiency and compromise handling, while overinflated tyres can wear out prematurely. Additionally, inspect the tread depth and look for signs of uneven wear, as this could indicate alignment issues or suspension problems.

Stay on Top of Fluid Levels

In addition to engine oil, your used car relies on various other fluids to function correctly. These include coolant, brake fluid, transmission fluid, and power steering fluid. Regularly check the levels of these fluids and top them up as needed. Leaks or unusually low fluid levels could indicate underlying issues that require immediate attention from a qualified mechanic.

Replace Worn-Out Filters

Filters play a crucial role in keeping your used car's engine and cabin clean and free from contaminants. Over time, air filters, oil filters, and cabin air filters can become clogged with dirt and debris, affecting engine performance and indoor air quality. Make sure to replace these filters according to the manufacturer's recommendations to maintain optimal performance and comfort.

Attend to Minor Repairs Promptly

It's tempting to ignore minor issues with your used cars near me in the hopes that they'll go away on their own. However, neglecting small problems can lead to more significant and more expensive repairs down the line. Whether it's a strange noise, a warning light on the dashboard, or a minor fluid leak, address it promptly to prevent further damage and ensure your used car stays reliable.

Follow the Recommended Service Schedule

Manufacturers provide a recommended service schedule for used cars to help owners keep their vehicles in top condition. This schedule outlines specific maintenance tasks and intervals based on mileage or time since the last service. Adhering to this schedule ensures that your used car receives the care it needs to perform optimally and reduces the risk of unexpected breakdowns.

Invest in Routine Inspections

Regular inspections by a qualified mechanic are essential for identifying potential issues with your used car before they escalate into major problems. During these inspections, mechanics can check for worn-out components, leaks, and other issues that may compromise your used car's performance and safety. Investing in routine inspections can save you time and money by addressing problems early on.

Conclusion

Maintaining a used car doesn't have to be complicated or expensive. By following these essential maintenance tips and staying proactive about caring for your vehicle, you can enjoy smooth, reliable performance from your used car for years to come. 

Remember, a little maintenance goes a long way in ensuring that your used car dealerships near me remain a dependable mode of transportation for all your adventures on the road.