#car won't start

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

Space Mutiny | 1988

[hometowne-auto-repair-and-tire]

Often, we hear and talk about common reasons when a car won’t start.

Usually, the answer is a simple problem – the battery dies, there’s a bad alternator, or the starter is on its way out.

What many of us don’t consider is that there can be deeper causes behind a no start condition. These can include:

Malfunctioning sensors

Issues with tone rings

Chewed wires

[steves-auto-repair-va]

You get into your vehicle, and the interior lights come on. You put your key in the ignition, and the dashboard lights up. You turn your key a little, but the car won’t start.

“What’s going on?” you might think to yourself as you repeat the last step. A no-start situation can be stressful, especially if you’re in a time crunch.

There are many possibilities behind this problem.

[flamingpen18]

The Fit Hit The Shan Again

It never ends. My youngest was going to run to the store for me. She came back in to inform me that the van won't start. She called her sperm donor only to get yelled at. It's not her fault. She filled the tank, put a quart of oil in it, and had no issues with it yesterday when she took it to Dover Motor Speedway for the NASCAR race.

Her father is responsible for the upkeep which he hasn't been doing. My 17 drives a mini van that has no power steering. That girl has muscle.

@helly-watermelonsmellinfellon another day more drama

[thechy-fychannel]

y'all ever think abt how it was julie having the affair and it is even said multiple times that she was the one who left him, yet wilson was still the one who left their home and moved in with house. like. he couldn't bear to stay in their home alone. he immediately ran to house and stayed on his couch for weeks. suffered through his pranks and his laziness and his manipulation. telling him he wants him gone while sabotaging his attempts to leave. and he only left once he got a girlfriend again.

[sainz100]

Carlos Sainz | F1 London Live in 2017 | x x x x x

[shallowseeker]

Samwena set itself up early.

Not only will we see mutual marital jokes when Rowena is prisoner in season 10, but the scene right after the family diner meeting is this one:

Yes. I am positing that the pillow and sleeping-bag lighting on that side is Sam.

Also her phone is not on her night stand

It's

"It's Sam."

hmmm

[smiley-mcdoggington]

"Pines." A voice barked. "Up."

Ford dragged himself off the bench on numb legs. He didn't dignify the officer with a glance while he rolled open the cell door, brushing past them just slow enough they could keep up.

His brother stood at the front desk of the precinct, looking about as sour as usual. "Ford, what the hell." He said, like he'd said a dozen times before.

Ford rolled his eyes. "She was the one that stole from me. I appreciate my visits here about as much as you do."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just get in the fucking car, Six." He said, and Ford strolled out of the building to the old El Diablo while his twin asked more about his charges.

When Stanley finally got out, he had some papers in his hand and a scowl on his face. He got into the passanger seat and threw the papers on the dash. "You wanna know how much you cost this time? Twenty fucking grand, Stanford! What kind of horseshit are you pulling here?"

Ford started his car without a word.

"What the hell did she even steal from you? I coulda replaced it, woulda taken less than your lawyer I'll tell you that."

"She took my batteries, Stan, what was I supposed to do? The government won't give me a patent for the damn things, she could have sold my work."

"You damn near killed her, Ford! You know if you need money I can--"

"It's not about money, Stanley! You wouldn't get it!"

"Oh alright asshole, you're right I don't get why you assaulted a college kid in her apartment for stealing your batteries because it was fucking stupid!"

Ford pulled over into a curb. "Well you'd know all about stupidity, wouldn't you Stanley?!"

"That's it! This is the last time I'm bailing you out, Ford! I'm sick of fighting Carla for you, I'm sick of risking my career for you, I'm sick of paying for defense lawyers for you, I'm sick of--" Ford grabbed him by the front of his sleezy button-down and pressed their lips together.

Stan's hand trying to push him off relaxed after a moment, before grabbing a handful of Ford's coat and pulling him closer. The stick shift dug into Ford's stomach, he didn't care, reaching over to tangle his fingers in Stan's hair.

Ford pulled away, Stan almost followed him. "You need a haircut." Ford muttered.

"I like it." Stan said, barely paying attention, eyes pointed downward shamelessly.

Ford hummed, leaning forward to put his chin on Stan's shoulder. "Suppose it would make a good handle." He mumbled in his twin's ear, tugging a little for emphasis. Stan grunted. Ford ran his other hand up Stan's thigh. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just letting yourself be pulled around, right to where I want you." He slipped his thumb under Stan's pants, just too far away to touch. "That's why you always come back, isn't it? You want me to grab you by the hair like a mutt, take the choices away from you."

Stan swallowed his saliva, close enough for Ford to hear.

"You want me, Stanley?" He tightened his grip on his hair. "You want to be good?" Stan made a low rumble of a noise at that. Ford leaned back, and Stan leaned forward until it was Stan with the stick shift digging into him - it might have slid out of park to give Stanley room, it was probably fine.

Ford used his grip on Stan's hair to shove his face into the crotch of his old jeans. Stan froze for a second before reaching his hands up. Ford swatted them. "No." He said, and Stan's hands returned to half-propping himself up.

Stan looked up at him, confused.

"Just your mouth."

Stan immediately got the zipper between his teeth and pulled it down. The broken button didn't last a second without his fly up, and Stanley looked like he was about to say something about the state of his clothes. Ford gripped Stan's hair tighter and pulled himself out, shoving the tip in his mouth.

Stan's jaw immediately went slack. He looked up at Ford with anticipation.

Ford shoved him the rest of the way down - rutting into his face until his chest started seizing trying to inhale, before dragging him up and back down again with half a breath to sustain himself. "Good. God, Stanley, that's good. So good for me."

Stanley made a short whine in the back of his throat, his own hips rutting into nothing but air. Spit leaked down the corner of his mouth, his eyes struggling to stay looking up at Ford.

"Disgusting." Ford murmured. "You wanna come, don't you, baby?" He asked, before pulling him off for a breath.

"Ye-yeah. Stanford--" Ford pulled him back down.

"Just a little longer, I'm almost done." Ford said while Stanley's eyes watered.

Ford set a fast pace that left Stanley struggling to cough, but then he twisted his hand in Stan's hair and Stan's moan sent him over the edge, riding himself out in the back of Stan's throat before pulling him off and up.

Stan looked dazed, like he barely knew where he was. Ford dragged him forward into a kiss while a hand reached down to pull him out, jerking him quick and dry while Stan groaned into his mouth. Stan came after only a few seconds, staining that awful button-down and leaving him holding onto Ford's shoulders for dear life while he shuttered.

Ford let Stan breathe for a second.

"You gotta stop doing this, Six..." Stan panted after a minute or two.

Ford hummed. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Not this part."

"But you'll take care of it, won't you? The charges?"

"Yeah, yeah." Stan's voice was wrecked. "I gotcha, Sixer."

"Good."

[mandy-malady]

someone suggested I try pressing the gas a little when I go to start it. after a few attempts, and varying amounts of pressure on the gas pedal, it started right up! sharing these findings for anyone else to try when they find themselves in this predicament and don't know to try this in case of emergency or urgency or whatnot.

I got my first car almost new and it lasted me up until three years ago (had it for about 13 years. actually, think it was on its 13th year). Every car I've owned since has had major issue after major issue and I am suddenly slapped with the realization that I don't know what to do when a car doesn't car the way it's supposed to.

and now my car won't even start. I'm having a panic attack because I have dumped and dumped into this car and I can't afford any more repairs. And I can. Not. Miss any more work because of it being in the shop.

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[chaoticlandworlder]

Ngl the liam lawson hate is getting real tiring

[existingingrey]

NSC "acting all professional calling GJW sir, asking for his permission regarding the car etc etc" in front of the section chief.

NSC: After forensics, we'll have to scrap the car. What should we do?

GJW: *pretending to ponder over the question*.

[jamtartandsunshine]

Everyday I stare at my WIP's crying when will my motivation come back from war

[bobcatmoran]

Holy crap, most of the local school districts have canceled classes due to cold tomorrow. Do you know how COLD it has to be for classes to be canceled in Minnesota just for that? When I was a kid, we still went out for recess unless the windchill was -10F (~-23C) or below.

[thevoidstaredback]

Weeks Ago

Me: Shifts at the theatre have gone up for the week before, the week after, and the week of your knee surgery, including the day. Is that going to be a problem?

Mom: No. Go ahead and sign up for them; I'll arrange ways for you to get to and from work

Me: Alright

Monday Morning

Me: How am I getting to work tomorrow?

Dad: You work tomorrow?

Me: Yep. I told Mom and she said she'd figure stuff out

Dad: It'd be easier if you called out. Is it too late?

Me: It's a little short notice, but it should be fine (it was)

Today

Me: How am I getting to work today?

Dad: You work today?

Me: Yep. The rest of this week and all of next, barring Sunday and Monday

Dad: That would've been nice to know before. Where?

Me: The theatre

Dad: What time?

Me: Today and tomorrow, 5 to ~9. Friday, 5:30-9:30

Dad: I don't know how we're gonna get you home; I don't think I can leave your mom alone for that long. What time does the train leave?

Me: 4:00

Dad: Call your sister and see if she'll bring you home. We'll leave here at 3:30 to catch your train

Me: She won't. She doesn't drive at night

Twin: I'll bring you home tonight as long as I leave now so I can get some sleep in before work tonight

Me: You sure? I can ask a friend

Twin: Yeah, I'm sure

[bishopinblue]

I really

Can't catch a break

Can I