#gravity sensed automatic mont

[athldyn-fitness-lifestyle-blog]

Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Wireless-Charger-Gravity-Automatic-Charging/dp/B07NWC72WM

[skyforgrinding]

Conclave

Special Agent Angel Barnes springs from the helicopter. For a slice of a second they hang over London, wrapped in tendrils of warm smog. Then gravity tracks them down, draws Barnes earthwards; a dart through the darkening sky, a bolt of resolve, an explosion through the glass roof of the laboratory.

An instant of cacophony, the hard impact of a plastic floor reverberating through surgically repaired knees, and Barnes is up. A cluster of lab-coated men and women are a flurry around them, rushing for the exit, a flock of white and panic. Through the gaggle of scientists emerge three men in blue, nondescript muscle, products from the goon factory. Barnes reaches into old routines, lethal muscle memory. Shards of glass, kicks to groins, a flurry of fingers to pressure points. The room empties further.

“Efficient as always, Agent Barnes.”

In the corner of the lab Augustus Gold steps away from a spinning contraption; metallic wheels, steel tubes, crunching gears. It is topped by a large glass dome that glows faintly. Gold grins at Barnes, gestures to the shattered ceiling. “Thank you for…dropping in.”

The amusement immediately vanishes from Gold’s face. “I’m sorry. Old habits. You remember that time in Monte Carlo? We must have been making terrible jokes for longer than we actually fought.”

Barnes, filling with a creeping confusion, steps back. “Gold. What are you up to this time?”

Gold sits on a high stool and folds his arms contemplatively. “That’s still the old script, Angel. I’d really prefer to go in a different direction, if you don’t mind too much? I’m sure you feel it as much as I do – the years, the weight of everything we’ve done, the relentless…the relentless everything.”

Angel Barnes feels a whirl of blurred understanding, quasi connection. The thought flashes through their brain, crackling with oddity, that they should take Gold’s hand. They grope back towards the mission.

“Just answer me, dammit! What are you doing here? Your evil science will never let you rule the world!”

Gold chuckles. “Oh, of that I’m quite aware.”

He rises and paces to stare out of the window at the spreading black of night. “My mind was always my gift and weapon, Angel. I thought I had an obligation to rule the world, simply because I was the only one who could do it.  But you beat me, again and again, and I got old, and I got tired, and my ego sagged. The lives I’ve taken, the violence I’ve committed…all because I didn’t understand how to reach people. Or how to be reached. But I’m not alone in this. We are all flailing without seeing, struggling to comprehend each other whilst barely even understanding ourselves.  Empathy is a small flame in a dark world, and it is no longer enough. It is time for barriers to fall.”

Barnes would normally have said something like “You must have one hell of a therapist”. But now they are baffled and backfooted, Gold’s words disorientating as much for their resonance as their incongruence.  All Barnes can manage is a repeated, faltering demand for answers.

“You were never one for patience,” Gold observes. “A few minutes and you’d know everything. But I’ll explain the old-fashioned way, if you insist.

“The only way for the world to truly prosper is through understanding. Connection. And what holds back those connections is the brute fact that we each exist in our private universe, worlds constructed within the meat of our brains by the blunt edge of unique experience and the unknowable storm of the endocrine system. Isn’t that a tragedy, Angel? You and I, we could talk for an hour, a week, a year, and yet never truly, fully, share what it is like to ­be each other. How could we thus fail to come into conflict?

“But things do not have to be this way. They will not be this way. Behold.”

Gold moves back to his device, presses a gently glowing mauve button. The dome that tops the machine fills with a swarm of moving metal, shining particles that turn in on each other and themselves.

Barnes feels a stirring of a recognition not their own. “Nanotech!”

Gold smiles paternally. “Quite so. I see it’s beginning to work.”

“What?”

“The machine before you does indeed produce nanites, and they already circle this laboratory, invisible when not collected in mass. As soon as you entered the room, so they entered you. They have begun the process of re-wiring your brain so that your thoughts are transmitted to those around you, and so that you can receive the thoughts of others. The range is somewhat limited presently, but when I release the nanites to the world I’m confident it can be increased to at least- ah! And there you are. We don’t need to be so primitively verbal.”

We’re together now.

Angel Barnes reels to their knees. Gold’s thoughts infuse their mind, meeting their own and sparking in reaction, senses firing haphazardly, a pungent neuro storm. In an instant Barnes sees – feels - everything Gold had said is true. And more than that, they see and feel and live Gold himself.  They plunge into the twisted cavern of Gold’s early trauma, are subsumed in his mistakes and how he lived with them, and trace how the entity that is Gold emerges from the war inside him. 

Barnes sees awful deeds, even worse than they knew or could have expected, and tries to draw back in aghast condemnation, but cannot flee, can only remain and see those acts as part of Gold, a swirling mess of regret and evil and desperation for salvation; not forgivable, not redeemable, but human, and, through Barnes, understood.

And overarching it all, Barnes sees and feels Gold’s determination that the boundaries between humans must fall, for a peaceful world to rise in the rubble.

Almost simultaneously, Barnes feels a reciprocated comprehension. They feel Gold drinking in their own mind, an involuntary unfurling of everything, parallel experiences coming together like swatches of matching colour. Gold sees Barnes’ cold, formal childhood and the repressive, ordered systems that infused Barnes with a conflicted, angry patriotism and flung them like at the world like a shard of hammered steel. The secrets Barnes has kept, the protective solitude they have wrapped themselves in, and the lives they have ended in the name of imperial justice are utterly seen. Gold feels the blood on Angel’s hands. But Gold and Barnes are together, beyond condoning or condemning.

Barnes cries. It is all too much.

Calm yourself. It’s hard at first. But the mind adapts, and then thrives. Now, you understand. Now, we can save the world together.

Time passes. Barnes is unsure how much. They swirl in the insane soup of emotions Gold has wrought upon them. But self-sufficiency has always been Barnes’ home. Whether labelled as unemotional superiority by jilted lovers, or as stiff upper lip machismo by condescending relics in secretive corridors, Angel Barnes has known themself, and even now, in the midst of their maddening connection to Gold, Barnes is able to use the chill that they were formed in to find a quiet cell within their mind, to see themselves, and to think, and to know what must be done.

What you have done to me is beautiful and abhorrent. You believe you have changed, Gold. But you have merely brought your usual methods to a different aim. You altered my brain without my consent and would do the same to billions more. You would expose the vulnerable and the discriminated against to abuse and coercion, when they are longer even safe within their own minds. It is too much. You are too much. I see you, I love you, but stand down.

Gold cries out in frustration, moves to his machine, hand on a lever, and Barnes knows he is about to release the nanites to the oblivious city.

Barnes feels the recoil of the gun in their hand, only just aware that they had drawn it.

Gold falls, and his mix of pain and fear and betrayal and burgeoning acceptance floods over Barnes. Barnes kneels beside their enemy and takes his hand.

I must have made an error. The nanites should have made you understand.

Barnes shakes their head. They did. But understanding is not agreement.

Gold coughs. It should be.

Barnes laughs, surprising themself. You don’t understand understanding. You think loss of privacy is a price worth paying. I understand, yet I disagree. You assume understanding brings agreement, but…

“But you and I, here and now, disprove that,” Gold says. “How could I not have foreseen this?”

Barnes wipes blood from Gold’s mouth. “You could never see beyond the certainty of yourself.”

“So it was all in vain,” Gold manages to wheeze. “If being laid bare to each other cannot bring us together, then whatever can?”

“We rely on the same things humanity has always relied upon – a slow, incremental progress, a small hope that each generation can be a little more open and noble than the last. That small flame of empathy, tended and protected.”

“Then we are doomed, ultimately.”

“Quite possibly.”

Barnes sits next to Gold, and as if it had been a premonition, finds their hand in his.

“I can’t feel your mind anymore,” they say.

“The nanites automatically deactivate when someone is dying,” Gold explains. “I didn’t want to expose anyone to feeling another person pass.”

“Most considerate. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet. There’s still time to get a doctor.”

“No, no. I’ve made enough mistakes. This will do for an ending.”

[itsworn]

Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II That Got Its Owner Into the 150mph Club At Bonneville

Michael Callahan from Cincinnati, Ohio, always dreamed about going to Bonneville with a street car and getting into the 150MPH Club. Or should we say, drive a car to Bonneville, make his passes, and then drive home. A few years ago he got into the 130MPH Club with a 1999 Ford Crown Vic that was a Bondurant Driving School car set up by Jack Roush with a 1999 Mustang Cobra valve train. He got into the club with it, but he knew it couldn’t go 150mph, and you know that higher speeds are addicting. After he retired from the printing business the search for a 150mph street car commenced. He wasn’t after any specific car, with his parameters being for something he could easily modify aerodynamically, and performance-wise too. In 2015 he found the car he thought would work for sale in California, this 1969 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II. It hit him that this would be the perfect type of production car to make an attempt for his dream.

Cyclone Spoiler IIs were originally made to fight the aero wars in NASCAR, where a 500-production run available to the general public was necessary to homologate the cars for racing.  In all 503 were said to have been built, all with 351 Windsor engines, C4 automatics, and all painted white with either blue or red accents. What made it such a perfect Bonneville car was the factory aero aids almost hidden from a standard Cyclone. The noses were extended about six-inches and lowered, and a flush grille was added. Ford Torino Talladegas were built in a similar fashion. The front bumpers were modified rear bumpers, V’d in the center, and capped to help aero. Also, the rockers were modified to roll into the frame higher; to cheat the NASCAR rules stating stock ride heights determined minimum racing heights. NASCAR measured at the rockers, so if they are higher the car can be lower, for a lower center of gravity and better aero. Get it?

Rumors over the years have speculated that actually only 351 Cyclone Spoiler IIs were built, and that Mercury assembled “503” Spoiler IIs as verification for NASCAR, with the cars further back of the assemblage actually being standard Wimbleton White Cyclones. Supposedly NASCAR didn’t notice the difference when doing a quick count.

What Michael got when he bought the Merc was a modified Spoiler, set up basically like you see it here. Painted a non-stock black, it also has a 1970 stock block 351ci Cleveland with 4bbl heads and single 750 Holley, hooked to a wide ratio Top Loader 4-speed trans. Out back a 2.75 Detroit Locker rear also got Michael a few steps closer to Bonneville. So the mods and improvements sealed the deal and he drove it home from Torrance, California, with a list of things to fix with every mile driven. Over the last two years of ownership Michael has made substantial small fixes and improvements to ready the car for its salt assault, but the mods made by previous owners proved to be well executed, saving Michael both time and money from his original plan to change out the engine and driveline for something more substantial. He lucked out.

Some ply the salt of Bonneville to build a better mousetrap in any number of classes to break that category’s top speed, and the pride and sense of accomplishment that goes with beating a standing record. But you can also choose to achieve a personal best by picking a speed and then attempting to hit it. No categories, no record breaking attempts, just setting a series of parameters and then pursuing your own private conquest. For Michael that meant driving to Bonneville, hopefully exceeding the 150mph magic mark, and then driving home. Speeds are determined by making a pass on the 2½ mile course, then making a return pass within a certain time, and averaging the two speeds.

Michael’s changes to meet SCTA specs to race the course included a 4-point roll bar, driveshaft loop, V-rated tires, 5-point harness and seat brace, and a handful of other additions. When he put it on a chassis dyno a few other changes were deemed necessary to surpass 150mph at Bonneville. Beehive valve springs with titanium retainers were added, an Edelbrock air-gap intake replaced the single plane manifold, 16-inch rear wheels were added to gain speed, an aluminum driveshaft replaced the clunky original, and many minor changes were made to the Holley. But keep in mind that this car runs a mechanical fuel pump, stock pistons, rods and bottom end. With those changes the Merc ran 168mph simulated on the chassis dyno at 5900rpm.

As for the car’s road manners, it’s been driven thousands of mile to different events including the Aero Warriors event in Talladega, Alabama. It’s tight, squeak free, and surprisingly docile on the open highway and around town. No bump and clang, squeaky urethane suspension, or microwave interior manners. It’s that perfect combo of sitting right, looking and performing well, and 4-speed fun to drive.

After all of the thrashing to prepare it for its maiden runs on the salt the 2015 Bonneville meet was rained out, so the wait began for 2016. When it finally arrived Michael drove the Spoiler 1800 miles to Bonneville. Getting there for Tech Day, he passed tech and the next day ran 154mph on his first pass, with a backup pass of 153mph, making it into the 150MPH Club no problem. This was done with windshield wipers and side mirrors, the tune he drove it to Bonneville with, and a mix of 91 octane gas the car had for the trip to Utah, and some 100 octane gas he picked up on the course. He told us the passes were exhilarating, except for the skating on the salt surface as speeds increased. For that you need some mental and physical restraint. If you don’t back off and don’t over correct, you’re positioned to complete the pass short of breaking a part. Backing off or slowing down induces the car to swap ends. If you turn the steering wheel too much one way or the other to try to correct for the skating, you can also swap ends or lose control. Your best reaction is to stay on the gas, and read the feedback the car gives to determine whether you need to correct steering or just forge ahead. Michael settled in and forged.

When he’s telling the story it seems so simple; just drive your street car to Bonneville from Cincy, go 150mph, and then drive home. Of course we know that any effort like this required plenty of planning, thought, time and money. Still, Michael got into the Cyclone really reasonably, and though he expected he might have to rebuild the engine and do other major mods, it ended up being one of those happy ending stories that greased the skids to fulfilling one of the most improbable dreams a hot rod enthusiast could have. Congrats to Michael and to his murdered out Cyclone Spoiler II.

Deception and speed were what led to the limited production, wind cheating 1969 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler IIs. 502 were produced to homologate them for NASCAR racing, as the sanctioning body required a minimum of 500 cars be made available to the general public to be eligible to race in the NASCAR series. Michael Callahan’s Cyclone was built for a completely different purpose.

Cyclone Spoiler II noses were extended about six-inches and dropped to help increase aerodynamic flow and downforce. A flush grille was also utilized, which is the easiest way to identify these rare Cyclone’s from their more pedestrian brethren. Callahan added the spoiler below the bumper to avoid lift from air running under the bumper.

All Cyclone Spoiler IIs came with small block Fords. When Callahan purchased his, it already had this stock block 1970 351ci Cleveland engine, along with a wide ratio 4-speed Top Loaders and Detroit Locker rear. All were built well and required only limited refinement to satisfy Callahan’s mission. He added an Edelbrock Air Gap intake, and made minor changes to the 750 Holley carb, along with upgrading to beehive valve springs and titanium spring retainers.

Left mainly as it came from Mercury, Callahan did swap out a no-name racing seat and 5-point harness, and built a roll bar per SCTA regulations for the 150mph attempt. Callahan says reading the requirements and following them before landing at Bonneville made for an easy tech inspection. Riding in the Mercury it lacks the rattles and bangs typical of this era car, instead expressing a tight but firm attitude on the highway.

From the rear it’s hard to tell this is no ordinary Cyclone. Many came with goofy rear wings for show, but Michael’s rear spoiler mimics those found on NASCAR racecars, to aid in added downforce for better traction on the oval. Cyclones shared the same basic body as 1969 Ford Torinos, and came only in white with either blue Dan Gurney stripes or red Cale Yarborough stripes. There were no options.

Though a bit hard to see on a black car, another factory modification made to all Cyclone Spoiler IIs was the raised rockers, done not for an aero advantage per se, but rather done when NASCAR measured minimum heights, measured at the rockers. By raising them the car could race lower than non-Spoiler IIs and Torinos, aiding in lowering the center of gravity and also lessening potential lift.

A closer look reveals a sloping hood, longer fenders, and flush grille, all modifications done by Mercury to help cheat the wind. Front bumpers were actually rear bumpers that were V’d and had their ends modified to tuck in and capped to close off the transition from bumper to sheet metal for better aero.

Callahan added to roll bar per SCTA requirements for a 150mph attempt. This plus the Monte Carlo bar in the engine compartment between the shock towers make for a solid car on the highway. Mostly the interior is stock Mercury, which remains taxicab simple.

The post Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II That Got Its Owner Into the 150mph Club At Bonneville appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/mercury-cyclone-spoiler-ii-got-owner-150mph-club-bonneville/ via IFTTT

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Game Fishing Hooks

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