#earth moving machinery

[spicyraeman]

Just got a call from my old job about starting again on monday, so if I seem like I wanna kms more than usual next week, you know why

[taevisionceo]

📰 TAEVision Engineering 's Posts - Mon, May 15, 2023 TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design • Automotive STRONGER THAN TIME MercedesBenz GClass G500 • Machinery Construction Mining Earth Moving Machine bulldozer • Tools OpticalInstruments Heine Optotechnik endoscopes SF6 • Parts AutoParts Aftermarket bearings 01 - Data 543 Automotive "STRONGER THAN TIME" MercedesBenz GClass GWagon SUV OffRoad G500 Red Metallic ▸ TAEVision Engineering's Post on Tumblr 02 - Data 054 Machinery Construction Mining Earth Moving Machine bulldozer (Front-Side View) ▸ TAEVision Engineering's Post on Tumblr 03 - Data 201 Tools GarageTools Inspection Diagnosis DiagnosisTools Heine Optotechnik InspectionInstruments OpticalInstruments endoscopes SF6 SF6-1000 ▸ TAEVision Engineering's Post on Tumblr 04 - Data 060 Parts AutoParts Aftermarket bearings ▸ TAEVision Engineering's Post on Tumblr

  📰 I just updated my Pressfolio: TAEVision Mechanics's Online Portfolio - Global Data - May 15, 2023 ▸ TAEVision Mechanics's Online Portfolio (last update)

Global Data - May 15, 2023

[rushmoregroups]

Earth Moving Spare Parts Manufacturers in Dubai: Powering Construction Excellence ~ RUSHMORE GROUP Dubai, a city synonymous with innovation and ambition, is continually evolving its skyline and infrastructure. As this ever-changing landscape takes shape, the demand for robust and reliable earth-moving machinery has never been higher. Behind these behemoths of construction are the unsung heroes: earth-moving spare parts manufacturers. In this blog, we'll delve into the world of these manufacturers in Dubai and understand how they play a pivotal role in shaping the city's skyline.

[bogleech]

I think there should be a tactical sci fi war strategy game or sim with NO bleak obnoxious Earth Army Terran Empire (not even as a satirical jab) and in fact no humanoids or machinery in sight. Entirely just different space monster swarms trying to out-multiply and out-devour each other. They could go like:

Typical "shhh they're not xenomorphs" mutating bug hive

Parasitic corpse-animating fungus hive

"Aliens but strongly adjacent to fantasy demons" hive

Tentacled cosmic horror mollusks hive

Abstract crystalline energy entity hive

Campy retro style bleep-blorp green aliens hive

Mystical stone artifacts and plant-encrusted forest fauna hive (I wanted to include one that I've not seen done before as a swarming alien nest)

Also I wanna see some really radically varied playstyles. Maybe one army has only a single gigantic combat unit and all their other units just defend or support it. Maybe that's the cosmic horror one, like they don't fight but they power up their god like a cult. Maybe there could also be one where the mobile units are really weak but it's the building structures that wreak all the havoc. I'd really like that. Like you're not so much building up troops as expanding a giant killer coral reef. So then of course you'd have the one that has no permanent bases at all, just always on the move with their queen(s) like how army ants work. Hey maybe even one that does absolutely zero offense but it wins just by surviving long enough to drain the whole planet's energy or whatever

[loving-n0t-heyting]

So the remarkable thing about the dystopian regime of the plea bargain is that its a collective action problem yea? If a critical mass of defendants in a county criminal court just refused to play ball, they would have leverage over the prosecutors like god had leverage over sodom. The whole machinery would crash to a cataclysmic halt and the other side would be at their knees. As a group, its... calling it the clear winning move trivialises it. It would be dominion. Ascension. A localised eschaton.

And it will never, ever happen. Partly bc the gains from defecting are (individually) way way too good. Good enough in hoc saeculo, but if any serious collective effort to realise this were undertaken the DA would start selling them heaven and earth to break ranks. But partly bc there is no circumstance less conducive to organising than a literal prisoners dilemma but with however many thousand agents. They have enough trouble getting autoworkers in alabama to vote not to remain serfs, imagine trying to somehow coordinate a bunch of miscreants being purposefully driven insane locked up in the county jail. And it wouldnt just be the prosecutors theyd have to fight against, defence attorneys stand to lose super hard from individual instances of cooperation on their clients parts too. Nobody with letters after their name in the courtroom would not be kicking and screaming these ppl were exercising their constitutional rights. It would take a miracle

But it would be so cool. It would be the coolest thing ever.

[nasa]

Rockets, Racecars, and the Physics of Going Fast

When our Space Launch System (SLS) rocket launches the Artemis missions to the Moon, it can have a top speed of more than six miles per second. Rockets and racecars are designed with speed in mind to accomplish their missions—but there’s more to speed than just engines and fuel. Learn more about the physics of going fast:

Take a look under the hood, so to speak, of our SLS mega Moon rocket and you’ll find that each of its four RS-25 engines have high-pressure turbopumps that generate a combined 94,400 horsepower per engine. All that horsepower creates more than 2 million pounds of thrust to help launch our four Artemis astronauts inside the Orion spacecraft beyond Earth orbit and onward to the Moon. How does that horsepower compare to a racecar? World champion racecars can generate more than 1,000 horsepower as they speed around the track.

As these vehicles start their engines, a series of special machinery is moving and grooving inside those engines. Turbo engines in racecars work at up to 15,000 rotations per minute, aka rpm. The turbopumps on the RS-25 engines rotate at a staggering 37,000 rpm. SLS’s RS-25 engines will burn for approximately eight minutes, while racecar engines generally run for 1 ½-3 hours during a race.

To use that power effectively, both rockets and racecars are designed to slice through the air as efficiently as possible.

While rockets want to eliminate as much drag as possible, racecars carefully use the air they’re slicing through to keep them pinned to the track and speed around corners faster. This phenomenon is called downforce.

Steering these mighty machines is a delicate process that involves complex mechanics.

Most racecars use a rack-and-pinion system to convert the turn of a steering wheel to precisely point the front tires in the right direction. While SLS doesn’t have a steering wheel, its powerful engines and solid rocket boosters do have nozzles that gimbal, or move, to better direct the force of the thrust during launch and flight.

Racecar drivers and astronauts are laser focused, keeping their sights set on the destination. Pit crews and launch control teams both analyze data from numerous sensors and computers to guide them to the finish line. In the case of our mighty SLS rocket, its 212-foot-tall core stage has nearly 1,000 sensors to help fly, track, and guide the rocket on the right trajectory and at the right speed. That same data is relayed to launch teams on the ground in real time. Like SLS, world-champion racecars use hundreds of sensors to help drivers and teams manage the race and perform at peak levels.

Knowing how to best use, manage, and battle the physics of going fast, is critical in that final lap. You can learn more about rockets and racecars here.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[reaversanctuary]

in honor of fearless: year of shadow and the incredible trailers for shadow generations i wanted to share these doodles of an au that has me obsessed lately 

basically, in this concept maria is the one surviving on the space colony ark, being left for dead after being shot. the bullet grazes her and hits the stasis capsule in which she sealed shadow, locking him in eternal slumber with no way out. 

she wakes up in despair after losing both her grandfather and her best friend, and chooses her beloved earth as her only hope for moving forward. she enters another capsule and sends both her and shadow in orbit, sleeping away for the time it takes to land.

she wakes up many years later lost, alone, and confused. where is she? when is she?

the earth is beautiful, but being able to see her was not worth her losses.

she grows up, both technology and medicine are advanced now that she's in the future, and she finds the means to manage her illness for the time being while studying gerald's notes and experimenting with robots and machinery to find a way to wake up her best friend and live the life they always wanted, together.

all edgy and self indulgent but oooh i have so many ideas!!!

i love maria robotnik aaaa

[regal-bones]

”A carcass. Decaying, and grey. The guts of the creature spilled across the landscape, rust eating at the metal pipes, and thickets of grass growing thick between shards of fallen debris. It sat at the centre of a great crater, the impact shifting the earth itself to a great ring of stone. Like a ripple in a pool of water set forever in unmoving rock. At the edge, a stranger looked outwards. Past the crash site, to the lush valley, the dense forests. Deep, rich lakes reflecting the sun, and stoic mountains looming in the distance. They wore a purple robe, tattered and old, and underneath the faded garb the gentle mechanics of their body ticked and whirred. Old machinery, forgotten machinery. The gentle beat of their processor in their chest was the only sound in the still land. Like a heartbeat - slow, steady, each pump pushed hot blood through the intricate web of piping that ran through their system. They shifted slightly, the sound of metal on metal could be heard, of glass vials clinking together from within their robe, and pistons compressing and extending. Even the subtlest of movements made a noise, unseen gears clicking and servos firing within their cold, steel bones, their metal fingers resting so softly in the grass. They looked outwards, and from under their weathered mask, a shaky sigh left the stranger. Such a human expression, they thought. How long had they been sitting there? They looked down to one of their legs, stretched out in front of them. Dandelions knitted themselves in between the intricacies of the sharp metallic shape, and tall grass sprouted from the motionless knee joint. A pale fungus, thin, with button-like caps, poked out of an open compartment. Within, a set of salvo missiles slept, a gentle blanket of spores dusting the warheads and lichen creeping over their ancient casings. Above them, it began to rain. The stranger looked up at the sky as the flecks of rain fell. Fat beads of water trailed down their steel mask, each lit with the brilliant blue light that leaked from the mask's visor and following the sharp geometry down to its chin, where they fell to the eager grass below. With a careful movement of their arm, the figure moved back their cloak to reveal something. Underneath the purple fabric, nestled within the robe, was another machine. The lifeless body of another robot. It was far smaller than the stranger. It had a small, spherical torso, two arms, and two boot-like legs. But, most notably, was its head - it looked just like a flower pot. Within the pot was neatly packed soil, and, softly, the rain fell on the coarse layer of dirt. The two sat, and the rain fell. The clouds churned above them, writhing, worming through the sky. Always moving, dancing, an endless parade across the vast stretch of sky. Far away, an eye opens. A wet, chesty cough, blood flecked phlegm working its way through a strained throat. The same rain falls on its hot, raw skin, and strained eyes gaze at the clouds. Over the distant canopy of trees, the sun dipped below the horizon. Night fell on the quiet carcass, and the stranger enjoyed this moment of silence. Who knows how long this peace might last?”

Watch the trailer for Last Sprout: A Seedling of Hope at this link! 🌱

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and see concept art, assets, and snippets of story for the game!

[seramilla]

Here's a fun idea, extorsists are from miscarriages. Let's say one day vaggie gets hurt and needs a blood transfusion, sinner carmilla and her girls offer to be tested and they all have the same blood type and Vaggie is fine.

Thing is, vaggie has a rare blood type

They end up doing a DNA test and find out that vaggie is technically carmilla daughter that she miscarried.

Vaggie had always known there was something...off about her. And not just her; all the Exorcists, really. None of them had memories of a life on Earth. They also weren't created like other angels were, and Heavenborn who were willing to talk about it all insisted they were previously mortal. Vaggie never had any proof to the contrary, but the details of her aforementioned life, were never disclosed. There was like a wall there, almost like amnesia. The Exorcists seemed to exist in a vacuum all on their own, kept away from the rest of Heaven's population, in their own private barracks.

When Vaggie had asked Adam about this; why they were kept separate from every other Winner in Heaven, and not allowed to fraternize with other mortal souls, he just shrugged. He insisted he didn't know. His warriors had always been hand-picked for him by Heaven's elders, and he'd never personally questioned where they came from. He told her to stop worrying about it; questioning the life she had before was pointless, and he needed her to be in tip-top shape for what was to come.

All of that worrying ended when Vaggie fell. Suddenly, her origins were no longer a top priority, and she quickly forgot about it once Charlie welcomed her into her home, and into her bed. It was always in the back of her mind, but it suddenly mattered much less than it had before. There was no longer any need to consider the life she had on Earth, whatever it was; her life was here, and it was now, and Charlie needed her, and that was enough.

That was the case, anyway, until after the battle for the hotel, and Adam's sudden demise. Vaggie hadn't realized at the time, but during all the excitement, she'd lost a lot of blood in that battle. That had all been Lute's doing, and once Vaggie collapsed suddenly in Charlie's arms, Vaggie's next memory is waking up in a hospital bed, with blinding lights and loud electronic noises blaring in her ear.

Standing next to her bedside is Charlie, holding her hand. Also to her surprise, Carmilla is sitting off to one side, near the foot of her bed, clacking away at her laptop like she's just completing another day at work. Combined with the sound of all the beeping and booping from hospital machinery, Vaggie finds she can barely fight off the beginnings of a headache.

"Where am I?" Vaggie asks, and Charlie assures her she's all right.

"You lost a lot of blood, Vags," Charlie admits, grasping on to her hand tighter. "We...we rushed you here, after you collapsed. You desperately needed a blood transfusion, and, well...we thought my dad would be a match, but he wasn't. Carmilla was, though."

Wait. Wait. Hold on. Fucking wait.

"What? What do you mean?" Vaggie responds, trying to sit up. Charlie pushes her down, gently with her hand, before the angel can hurt herself. Carmilla closes the lid of her laptop, standing up slowly, looking at Vaggie with a gaze that might intimidate any other Sinner here in Hell.

Definitely not Vaggie, though. She knows now the arms dealer would never hurt her. She might kick her ass again, but it would all be for the purpose of teaching one of her twisted, secondhand lessons. She's not sure if she's ready for another round of that, just yet.

"What's going on?" Vaggie asks, bringing herself back to the subject at hand. Charlie looks away, still fumbling to give her a straight answer.

"Umm...well...you see..."

"Let me tell her," Carmilla suggests, moving to stand next to Vaggie's bedside. Vaggie hadn't noticed it before, but as Carmilla gets closer, she sees a bandage sticking out near the opening of her sleeve. That must be where they'd hooked her up to draw her blood. The blood that had saved Vaggie's life.

"Carmilla," Vaggie begins, questioning where in Hell this conversation is going.

Carmilla looks down at Vaggie, sighing deeply. Her gaze is longing, almost hurt and forlorn, like she might cry. Carmilla gets choked up at first, stuttering and fumbling for words like Charlie. She finally manages to say, through a clenched jaw, "We need to talk, mija."

[whereserpentswalk]

There are massive warships. Things that are the size of stations but that can move more swiftly through hyperspace and real space than any other object created by humans or gods. They're not like the warships you imagine, they're like entire divisions of the military, some of them have the populations of small planets, the largest of them have populations higher then earth had before industry came to it.

It only takes one of these ships to comquor a system. Though they often have smaller ships swarming them, like the microorganisms on your skin. And when they fight eachother, holes are torn in hyperspace, and heavily bodies become asteroid belts. Even the weapons that can destroy planets can't take ships like this down in one hit.

Inside the ships are entire societies, of humans, cyborgs, robots, and strange organisms generated by human science. Many of them soldiers who exist to serve as the ships troops, especially since a boarding action is the fastest way to take them down, but many are there for other reasons. You need an entire society to support a ship like that and all the troops it can carry, from workers who maintain the ship, to traders who bring new recourses on, to artists and teachers and lawyers and all the other things that end up as needed when there's that many people.

Some of these ships are so large and so deep that there are people on there who've never seen the world outside their machines of war. And some isolated parts of those ships, who've been within the depths of the endless machinery for so long, that they've lost contact with the more outwards facing parts of the ship society. Tribes and towns within the dark mechanical labyrinth who don't know they're on a warship, who don't even know planets exist.

And they say, that as the loyalty of a ship fades from the empire that built it, that the ship may come to be controlled by many nations, vying for control of the ship's flight. They say that within the depths of some war ships, wars are fought.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’M STUCK ON THIS FUCKING PLANET. I’M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN EARTH.

Tap photo for better quality

That’s right!! I’m talking even more about sinner bodies because I’m CRAZY!!! RAAHHH!! 🤪 SHES SO CRAZY WE CANT TAKE HER ANYWHERE!! 😝 it’s 3 in the morning and I can’t stop thinking about this goddamn TV.

I think Vox is genuinely the most fucked up character in this rewrite currently. Not really morally fucked up, there’s definitely worse people, but physical alterations in hell out of the main cast he definitely has it the worst. In my last post I talked about how Angel formed in hell and I want to go back to this because Vox did not form in hell as a TV or even a robot at all. He got formed on the road after dying in a car crash and was literally just this fucked up clump of wires and metal panels and had gross little robot hands and he had to make everything else himself and wait for his body to adjust to it, so he literally cannot regenerate normally. He didn’t even have a face yet or screen of any kind, just a little camera to see out of. If his screen shatters he needs to get a new one or if his body breaks he needs to get it repaired, thats why he’s able to upgrade his body and stuff.

And like yeah some tech sinners do just form as robots but Vox just is a fucking mess and I think about it all the time and thats why his demon form is all fucked up like that and I think thats partially another reason he hates Alastor’s ideals so much sometimes because hes like “technology bad!” even though he literally is also partially a tech sinner and hes just stupid but like without technological advancements Vox literally would have nothing like they wouldn’t’ve met, Vox would not have a company, etc, etc and thatd probably help a lot of people yeah like the Vees would not fucking exist but ignoring that, just on a personal relationship scale I imagine your “friend” being like “man I really hate the thing that gives you life and allows you to live a somewhat normal existence” hurts a bit.

Technological regeneration is a bit more confusing and hard to explain than biological regeneration since machinery can’t really “heal” in real life. The concept sounds almost bewildering, like you can’t cut a wire and have it slowly heal like skin would, you’d need a whole new wire. But Vox internally, the things that allow him to move and live how he does now, it’s the only part of him that he can heal, and to him, it’s still “defective”.

Vox is disabled mentally and physically; he has Autism, ADHD, and epilepsy, all of which he is unable to be medicated for due to his new body. These are all things that he hates to acknowledge and will become irrationally upset by if they are mentioned to the point he will actively to deny certain aspects of disability. Being a man from the 1900’s-1950’s his views on mental disabilities and mental illnesses are… less than uh.. “acceptable” for today’s standards. He often disregards slurs towards this being called slurs and insists that “They used to just be words” or “It’s a medical diagnosis.” yet still gets incredibly upset when he is ever called a slur that actually could apply to him. In a way he tries to come off as purposely ableist so that he doesn’t have to confront this aspect of himself that he doesn’t understand. His knowledge in technology or sharks or economics aren’t “special interests” to him, they’re just “regular things a man likes”. He can’t process what a hyperfixation is. He doesn’t know that it’s normal for him to be unable to speak on occasion or that certain textures make him severely uncomfortable. These are either seen as weaknesses or “average people things”. Aside from how terribly disabled people were treated back around the 50’s, he views the neurodiverse aspect of his mind as something that only serves to further push him from grasping the feeling of regular humanity again.

For physical disabilities, he doesn’t lie or deny that he has epilepsy, yes he has an intense disdain for mentioning it, but for very few people he is close with he will disclose this information to them privately. There are a very select few people that are aware of this and two of those people are Velvette and Alastor. This post isn’t really about diving into Vox’s epilepsy so I’m keeping this concise because I have another post to put all of that in. Hope you all enjoy the wacky art :)

The binary says “Trust us” for anyone curious

[fatehbaz]

What it meant to "do geology" in Hutton's time was to apply lessons of textual hermeneutics usually reserved for scripture [...] to the landscape. Geology was itself textual. Rocks were marks made by invisible processes that could be deciphered. Doing geology was a kind of reading, then, which existed in a dialectical relationship with writing. In The Theory of the Earth from 1788, Hutton wrote a new history of the earth as a [...] system [...]. Only a few kilometers away from Hutton’s unconformity [the geological site at Isle of Arran in Scotland that inspired his writing], [...] stands the remains of the Shell bitumen refinery [closed since 1986] as it sinks into the Atlantic Ocean. [...] As Hutton thought, being in a place is a hermeneutic practice. [...] [T]he Shell refinery at Ardrossan is a ruin of that machine, one whose great material derangements have defined the world since Hutton. [...]

The Shell Transport and Trading Company [now the well-known global oil company] was created in the Netherlands East Indies in 1897. The company’s first oil wells and refineries were in east Borneo [...]. The oil was taken by puncturing wells into subterranean deposits of a Bornean or Sumatran landscape, and then transported into an ever-expanding global network of oil depots at ports [...] at Singapore, then Chennai, and through the Suez Canal and into the Mediterranean. [...] The oil in these networks were Bornean and Sumatran landscapes on the move. Combustion engines burnt those landscapes. Machinery was lubricated by them. They illuminated the night as candlelight. [...] The Dutch East Indies was the new land of untapped promise in that multi-polar world of capitalist competition. British and Dutch colonial prospectors scoured the forests, rivers, and coasts of Borneo [...]. Marcus Samuel, the British founder of the Shell Transport and Trading Company, as his biographer [...] put it, was “mesmerized by oil, and by the vision of commanding oil all along the line from production to distribution, from the bowels of the earth to the laps of the Orient.” [...]

---

Shell emerged from a Victorian era fascination with shells.

In the 1830s, Marcus Samuel Sr. created a seashell import business in Houndsditch, London. The shells were used for decorating the covers of curio boxes. Sometimes, the boxes also contained miniature sculptures, also made from shells, of food and foliage, hybridizing oceanic and terrestrial life forms. Wealthy shell enthusiasts would sometimes apply shells to grottos attached to their houses. As British merchant vessels expanded into east Asia after the dissolution of the East India Company’s monopoly on trade in 1833, and the establishment of ports at Singapore and Hong Kong in 1824 and 1842, the import of exotic shells expanded.

Seashells from east Asia represented the oceanic expanse of British imperialism and a way to bring distant places near, not only the horizontal networks of the empire but also its oceanic depths.

---

The fashion for shells was also about telling new histories. The presence of shells, the pecten, or scallop, was a familiar bivalve icon in cultures on the northern edge of the Mediterranean. Aphrodite, for example, was said to have emerged from a scallop shell. Minerva was associated with scallops. Niches in public buildings and fountains in the Roman empire often contained scallop motifs. St. James, the patron saint of Spain, was represented by a scallop shell [...]. The pecten motif circulated throughout medieval European coats of arms, even in Britain. In 1898, when the Gallery of Palaeontology, Comparative Anatomy, and Anthropology was opened in Paris’s Museum of Natural History - only two years after the first test well was drilled in Borneo at the Black Spot - the building’s architect, Ferdinand Dutert, ornamented the entrance with pecten shell reliefs. In effect, Dutert designed the building so that one entered through scallop shells and into the galleries where George Cuvier’s vision of the evolution of life forms was displayed [...]. But it was also a symbol for the transition between an aquatic form of life and terrestrial animals. Perhaps it is apposite that the scallop is structured by a hinge which allows its two valves to rotate. [...] Pectens also thrive in the between space of shallow coastal waters that connects land with the depths of the ocean. [...] They flourish in architectural imagery, in the mind, and as the logo of one of the largest ever fossil fuel companies. [...]

---

In the 1890s, Marcus Samuel Jr. transitioned from his father’s business selling imported seashells to petroleum.

When he adopted the name Shell Transport and Trading Company in 1897, Samuel would likely have known that the natural history of bivalves was entwined with the natural history of fossil fuels. Bivalves underwent an impressive period of diversification in the Carboniferous period, a period that was first named by William Conybeare and William Phillips in 1822 to identify coal bearing strata. In other words, the same period in earth’s history that produced the Black Spot that Samuel’s engineers were seeking to extract from Dayak land was also the period that produced the pecten shells that he named his company after. Even the black fossilized leaves that miners regularly encountered in coal seams sometimes contained fossilized bivalve shells.

The Shell logo was a materialized cosmology, or [...] a cosmogram.

Cosmograms are objects that attempt to represent the order of the cosmos; they are snapshots of what is. The pecten’s effectiveness as a cosmogram was its pivot, to hinge, between spaces and times: it brought the deep history of the earth into the present; the Black Spot with Mediterranean imaginaries of the bivalve; the subterranean space of liquid oil with the surface. The history of the earth was made legible as an energetic, even a pyrotechnical force. The pecten represented fire, illumination, and certainly, power. [...] If coal required tunnelling, smashing, and breaking the ground, petroleum was piped liquid that streamed through a drilled hole. [...] In 1899, Samuel presented a paper to the Society of Arts in which he outlined his vision of “liquid fuel.” [...] Ardrossan is a ruin of that fantasy of a free flowing fossil fuel world. [...] At Ardrossan, that liquid cosmology is disintegrating.

---

All text above by: Adam Bobbette. "Shells and Shell". e-flux Architecture (Accumulation series). November 2023. At: e-flux dot com slash architecture/accumulation/553455/shells-and-shell/ [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticisms purposes.]

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design Machinery Construction Mining Earth Moving Machine Bulldozer (Rear-Side View) ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest [A] ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos [A] ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest [B] ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos [B]

Data 055 - Jul 08, 2023

[rushmoregroups]

A Guide to Earth Moving Spare Parts Manufacturers in Dubai

Dubai, known for its modern architecture, luxury shopping, and vibrant nightlife, is also a thriving hub for the construction industry. At the heart of this industry lies a robust network of earth-moving spare parts manufacturers and suppliers. These companies play a crucial role in ensuring that construction and infrastructure projects run smoothly by providing essential components for heavy machinery. In this article, we'll explore some of the key players in this sector, the range of products they offer, and the factors that make Dubai a significant center for earth-moving spare parts.

Importance of Earth Moving Spare Parts

Earth-moving equipment, such as excavators, bulldozers, loaders, and cranes, are essential for construction projects, mining operations, and other industrial activities. These machines require regular maintenance and replacement of parts to operate efficiently and safely. High-quality spare parts extend the life of equipment, minimise downtime, and enhance productivity.

Why Dubai?

Dubai's strategic location, world-class infrastructure, and business-friendly environment make it an ideal hub for the earth-moving spare parts industry. The city's connectivity to major global markets enables manufacturers and suppliers to efficiently import raw materials and export finished products. Additionally, Dubai's diverse workforce and advanced logistics capabilities contribute to the sector's growth and success.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Supplier

When selecting a supplier for earth-moving spare parts in Dubai, consider the following factors:

Product Quality: Ensure that the supplier offers high-quality, genuine parts that meet industry standards.

Range of Products: Choose a supplier with a comprehensive inventory to meet all your equipment needs.

Reliability: Look for a supplier with a reputation for reliability and timely delivery.

Customer Support: Opt for companies that provide excellent customer service and technical support.

Pricing: Compare prices from different suppliers to ensure competitive rates without compromising on quality.

Conclusion

The earth-moving spare parts industry in Dubai is a vital component of the region's construction and industrial sectors. With a range of reliable manufacturers and suppliers, companies can easily access the components they need to keep their machinery running smoothly. As Dubai continues to grow and develop, the demand for high-quality spare parts is expected to rise, further cementing the city's position as a key player in the global market.

Email: info@rushmore.ae

Call:    (+971)45776444

Website: https://www.rushmore.ae/

[marlynnofmany]

Seeing Faces

It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.

They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.

“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.

“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.

“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”

Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.

“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”

“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”

“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”

“We could.”

The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.

“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.

“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”

They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.

The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.

“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”

I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.

I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.

This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.

I burst out laughing.

“What?” Paint demanded.

“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”

“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”

“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”

Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”

I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.

“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.

Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”

“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”

Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.

“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”

“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”

“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”

“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”

Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.

“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”

Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.

I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.

Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”

Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.

Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.

Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.

“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”

Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”

“Agreed!” I said.

After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.

Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.

Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[shuttershocky]

Is there any power scaling discussion that will inevitably make you feel the need to respond, no matter how irrelevant power scaling is to the actual media in question?

"How did Nero defeat Vergil at the end of DMC5 he's only 1/4th demon he should be much weaker wahh wahh plot armor"

First of all, Nero won because he wanted to win more than Vergil did. Second of all, Vergil's used to fighting an agile clown like Dante and not a brute gorilla like Nero who has no problem with just grabbing him and slamming him into the dirt repeatedly until he cries uncle.

BUT ALSO we know that human blood fuels demons in Devil May Cry. They have to consume it to grow their powers, which is why these guys keep powering all their infernal machinery with blood and why the tree whose fruit is kingmaker of the underworld must feed on human blood.

Before Nero, it looks like Vergil and Dante's strength came from being the sons of Sparda, who was Mundus' strongest soldier and was able to solo all of hell for his lady love.

But honestly I think a lot of their power comes from their nature as hybrids. When Urizen consumes the same fruit that made Mundus king of the underworld, he gets torn a brand new asshole by Dante working with an 8 year old's logic (if Vergil cut himself in two with the Yamato, maybe stabbing myself with Rebellion glues both my sides tighter?) and it actually works.

Not only is Dante's SIN Devil Trigger form written down in Nico's notes as matching (or even surpassing) Sparda's peak, he crushes Urizen both before and after the latter consumes the fruit containing human blood worth millions, completely mystifying the demon king because what the fuck kind of bullshit powerup is that?

Urizen's only able to match Dante's strength once V fuses his human self back into him to recreate Vergil.

I think being a demon-human hybrid basically acts like an infinite human blood battery. It's already inside you and never runs out because your body just makes more blood. The demonic side isn't granting the power, it's granting the abilities; the human side is the gas fueling this killing machine.

The whole time Sparda was turning on his own hell legions for Earth pussy he was unknowingly stumbling into the blueprint for creating unbeatable demonic super soldiers, and had no idea.

Every time Dante defeated the likes of Mundus or Argosax they must have been calling horseshit because there's no way they're getting destroyed by this buffoon just because he's Sparda's son when fighting skills aren't something you inherit like it's hair color, not realizing Dante's powers are fueled by his own blood (and plenty of self-stabbing).

This means that Nero is not inherently weaker than Vergil or Dante by having less demon in him, because it's the hybrid nature itself being their strength.

While Nero's powers aren't as mature as theirs, his demonic strength is enough to grab both Dante and Vergil's SIN devil trigger forms and push them back when they charged at full might, and in fact he's physically strong enough to lift giants like Goliath and ragdoll them around like their name is Bluto and he's just eaten a can of spinach.

Dante even points out at the end that Vergil cut off his own son's arm for more power and the son still kicked his ass anyway. By the end of DMC5 Nero doesn't need the Yamato anymore to do Buster moves, he can shape his own aura into arms to punch and grab things just as effectively, making him completely independent from actually using any devil arms to fight (he only needs human weapons like Lady does). He's strong enough that Dante trusts him with protecting the world by himself while Dante goes to hell, which is a big ask given you know, everything in DMC 1-4.

TL;DR - Nero strong