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uwabbittuwabbit · 10 days

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Colors of…the Repsol Honda Team

At the announcement that every team is dropping a vintage livery come Silverstone, I am taking it upon myself to dig into the history of each team’s liveries. We shall start with Repsol Honda, the much storied, and nowadays much troubled manufacturer. The HRC official colors of red, white and blue purportedly represent passion (red), purity (white) and calm (blue), qualities that can be ascribed to winning riders, to paraphrase. In fact, the origin of these colors is much simpler: the colors debuted on the bike of one Morio Sumiya, who participated in the 24 Hours of Le Mans representing Honda. Little imagination is required then, to conclude as to why these colors were used.

Repsol’s current brand image is the work of the Wolff Olins consultation, only slightly altered in the passage of time. The change was brought on by the corporatization of Repsol, which as such needed something more commercially recognizable—an R encased in concentric circles just wouldn’t do anymore. The result is the orange and red sun motif with the white strike-through, which embody such ideas like that of “energy”, “professionalism”, “stability”, “strength” etc. Take of that what you will.

Nebulous brand concepts aside, what can be said definitively is that the bikes of the Repsol Honda team have become cornerstones of the grid, easily identifiable in their trademark orange (fun fact: they were the first team to paint the inside of their tires). Seeing as the Repsol partnership is due to end after this season, this may not be the case in the future. But we are concerned about the prospects of the past, so let’s round it up:

500cc Era Liveries

Pre Repsol

Not much explaining needed on my part because these are liveries that largely feature the HRC colors with a few other accents. This was probably their most experimental era as evidenced by the variation presented below:

From left to right, top down: Freddie Spencer circa 1983, Wayne Gardner circa 1990, Mick Doohan circa 1994, Wayne Gardner circa 1980 (exact date not sure)

Post Repsol

Back when Honda first partnered with Repsol their newly minted logo was in its first iteration, featuring a kind of teal color and some additional “speed” lines added on the bottom of the sun. All of Mick Doohan’s championship wins from 1995 onwards would be with some variation of the giant Repsol sun stamped on the side of his bike, the teal color permeating the rest of the cladding in an evocation of the sky. His last season in MotoGP would be spent with this livery too.

Top to bottom, left to right: Mick Doohan 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998

Honorable mention goes to Valentino Rossi’s Nastro Azzurro Honda! He wasn’t in Repsol Honda yet but I feel it would be remiss not to mention and certainly not hard to miss, considering that shade of yellow…

Valentino Rossi, 2000 and 2001

A special shoutout to the 2001 Hawaiian print bike!

MotoGP Era

For all of Valentino’s short tenure at Repsol Honda, he sure had as much fun as he could. Two championships aside, this did not apply equally to the livery—unfortunately, it should be seen at this point that the team already had a penchant for the same old thing.

Valentino Rossi 2002 and 2003

2003, running a special livery farewelling Honda

Honda would continue their successes with a retinue of talented riders, the likes of Nicky Hayden, Dani Pedrosa, Andrea Dovizioso, Casey Stoner and Marc Marquez all donning Repsol orange. Unlike their prodigies the livery had largely calcified into a fixed form, which saw no substantial changes in appearance aside from a scant few special livery runs. Iconic or not? Certainly for some it is not a sight for sore eyes.

Top to bottom, left to right: Nicky Hayden 2007, Dani Pedrosa 2008, Casey Stoner 2011, Andrea Dovizioso 2011, Marc Marquez 2019

Bonus: Mom I’m a star! Dani Pedrosa and Casey Stoner share the podium, Aragón 2011

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sources: On Honda // On Repsol (1) // On Repsol (2)

#eternarchives #motogp #colors of…

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moonshynecybin · 4 months

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IM SORRY NASTRO AZZURRO TRANSLATES TO BLUE RIBBON?? THOSE MEN ARE ADVERTISING ITALIAN PBR??

#🫡🫡🫡🫡#callie speaks #huge for my whitewater au. where they will still be drinking pbr i shan’t break tradition.#oh yeah also started whitewater au. watch this space

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vr46ridersacademyofficial · 2 months

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so unimportant but i can’t with the massive downgrade in yamaha swag from 2005 to 2006. the change from the nastro azzurro visor to the kerakoll visor alone. it’s just not giving

#all that hideous yellow i’d rather it be fluorescent. honest to god

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copiousloverofcopia · 1 year

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Prime Mover Ren, I have a desire for more short, one-shots of Terzo as a daddy. 💕

Ask and you shall receive Ghestie (even if it takes me forever to do it cause #primemover) lol

Anyways this little drabble was actually inspired by the Ministry BBQ art by @beepophobia and in honor of Father's Day!

So Happy Father's Day to all the Papas out there and HERE WE GO!

Terzo's Day

Also available HERE on AO3!

SFW below the cut!

The air was thick with sweet smell smoke and delicious shimmering meat. The sounds of laughter and small children playing, surrounded the Abbey grounds. As the afternoon sun shined brightly upon them, Terzo sat on one of the many picnic benches wearing a gray tank top to keep cool as he sucked back on a can of Peroni Nastro Azzurro—quenching his thirst. He was enjoying the day, his family close at hand and a happiness in his soul he could not find the words to describe.

"Fratello the grigliata mista di carne is gonna burn." he jabbed, watching his brother with Mr. Saltarian at the grill. Secondo was sensitive when it came to his cooking skills and Terzo’s playful commentary had definitely struck a nerve. Secondo starred up into his brows. Regaining composure before deciding to respond.

"Cazzo, you keep your comments to yourself. I can handle the meat." he replied, balancing the cigarillo in his lip. Terzo shot back a wide-spread mischievous grin. Secondo, instantly regretting the way he phrased his words before Terzo blurted out his response.

"Oh I bet!" Terzo laughed, dodging the ketchup bottle that caming flying across the table at him. Mr. Saltarian shaking his head at the juvenile antics of these supposed, “Heads of the Church��. A little bit of sibling rivalry and some good natured ribbing was par for the course at any Ministry barbeque. Today’s carnivore culinary exploration however was special. A celebration in honor of Father’s day and Terzo was determined to enjoy every minute of it.

The clergy, siblings, and ghouls all had gathered with their families in abundance. The Abbey grounds, almost faire like in its jubilance and brimming activity. It was on days like this when the full community of the Abbey came together in something other than prayers and rituals. Something other than their commits to Lucifer in which to allow themselves a moment of respite.

Terzo was grateful, acknowledging that he had everything to celebrate. His beautiful Prime Mover Alessandra, was carrying their third child in her womb. Only days away from welcoming another yet Emeritus into his brood. Terzo, fully determined to populate the world with his unholy spawn.

Two of which, Filomena and Dante, were gleefully running around with the ghoul kits as the grownups were preparing lunch. Terzo and his brothers had all huddled together at the grill. All of them bickering as to the right way to prepare the feast, a pastime that was one of the simplest pleasures.

It wasn’t that long ago that Terzo’s regard for Father’s day was barely a footnote to be mentioned. Every year the same unenthusiastic celebrations as he actively avoided fatherhood. While he and his brother’s were close, Nihil wasn’t exactly the type of father figure to be celebrated and so for all the years leading up to Alé, the day was nothing but monotonous and draining. Terzo, counting down the minutes until he no longer had to pretend to care about Nihil.

Now this day was for him. He was now a father to be celebrated, a fact sometimes he still had trouble wrapping his head around. Terzo smiled as he watched those around him. Nihil was pouting that Secondo had shoved him off the grill, while Sister Imperator, in her new wide brimmed hat and back dress, consoled him. Secretly giving Secondo a thumbs up as they’d managed to evade Nihil’s poor cooking.

Terzo caught sight of Copia, his best friend and their new reigning Papa. He was running around like a chicken with its head cut off as he dashed back and forth, grabbing all the things forgotten inside. Copia’s people-pleasing at an all time high during things like this. Terzo couldn't help but smile at him as he passed, buns in head and an anxious look on his face.

Then Terzo set his sights on Primo. His eldest brother seemed at first to be content. Enjoying the outdoors even more so than normal—if that was physically possible. But underneath Terzo sensed something—a quiet sadness behind that old worn smile.

Terzo placed his hand over Primo’s, catching his brother’s attention as he scooted up closer to the table, leaning over to speak. “You alright old man?” Terzo asked him. Primo at first said nothing, letting out a sigh as he continued to watch the activity around him. Taking a moment before his eyes met with Terzo’s across the table.

“I will be…Fratellino…” Primo began, Terzo now concerned. The hint of melancholy in his voice and the painted smile seemed to be holding back something that Terzo had never recalled seeing with Primo before—pain.

“Si? What is wrong?” he asked him. Primo got quiet, clearing his throat and nodding as the siblings and ghouls passed by their table. Terzo knew that he was stepping into unfamiliar territory but he had to know.

“Just promise me that you will never take what you have for granted.” Primo said quietly, his tone and demeanor betraying him. Allowing Terzo to see that there was more unsaid but that Primo couldn’t muster to speak.

“Primo?” Terzo proceeded with caution.

“Promise me that you will always honor Alessandra and love and cherish every child she bears you. That you won’t take for granted the blessings Satanas has given you—or you may end up an old bitter man like me.” Primo said with a smile. Terzo smiled back at him, it was evident then that while Primo had lived a long life, he had missed out on things—things for which he now had regrets. Terzo squeezed his hand tightly, struggling himself to maintain his composure as he spoke again.

“I promise fratello—I promise.” Just then little Mena came dashing up to the table. Her purple sundress, completely soaked and the curls of her dark hair dripping wet.

“Dad!” she cried, “...Dante won’t stop squirting me with the water guns! I have asked him to stop but he won’t!” Terzo pivoted around on his bench, looking over to see his very guilty looking son staring back at him. Terzo allowed Menta to take his place as he stood.

“Piccolo uomo, vieni qui dal tuo Papa.” he commanded Dante. His little boy was the spitting image of him, a mess of hair and a charming smile. He approached his father like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. His hands suspiciously hidden behind his back.

“Yes Daddy?” Dante asked. His voice, sweet and his face adorned with the softest, round cheeks that Lucifer himself would be unable to resist pinching. Terzo dropped to his knees before him, bringing himself eye level with his son.

“Dante…sii serio piccolo. Have you been spraying your sister with the water again?” he asked him. Dante shook his head no, adamant that he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was then Terzo could see Alessandra coming up from behind them. Holding a pair of soft towels and a look of exhaustion spread across her beautiful face.

Just as she reached them, Secondo called out that the food was done and the whole of the Abbey came running up from all around them. “Sorry I have been trying to keep up with them but it’s getting a bit hard.” she smiled standing before Terzo. He smiled back up at her, placing his hand on her belly and feeling their child kicking away inside her.

“I can only imagine amore…but It seems we have a problem.” he said, sending her a wink.

“Oh, is that so?” Alé laughed. Mena stood up beside her father, still dripping as Terzo explained.

“Si, apparently there is someone who looks exactly like Dante spraying Mena with a water gun.”

“Ah I see, what a weird coincidence. You see I seem to recall letting Dante and Phil’s nits get the water guns out from the green house.” Alé laughed again.

“Indeed.” Terzo replied, listening to Primo holding back his laughter from behind him. “Now Dante…are you sure that it wasn’t you?”

“Yes.” Dante proclaimed. Alé raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to be honest with his dad as she knew the truth. And even more importantly she could see something Terzo could not.

“You’re being too hard on the boy.” Primo commented, Terzo turning to face his brother before Dante spoke.

“Daddy?”

“Yes Dant—-” Terzo shouted as he was hit full force in the face with a cold stream of water. The likes of which was powered by the pair of water guns that Dante had hidden behind his back. Instantly Primo and Alessandra burst out in laughter. Watching as Terzo panicked a moment before opening his eyes and flipping back his dampened hair from his face. As his vision came into focus, he watched as his mischievous little boy ran off laughing with Mena trailing not far behind him.

Terzo turned back to face Primo, “Still have regrets?” he chuckled, the face paint running down his face. Primo nodded and smiled, Terzo was a lucky man and even though it wasn’t always easy he loved being a father to his children. He loved them more than life itself and that while it wasn’t always perfect it was his. And today was his day.

Notes: grigliata mista di carne -popular Italian barbecue dish of mixed grilled meats Piccolo uomo, vieni qui dal tuo papà- Little man, come here to your Papa. sii serio piccolo- be serious little one

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houseofborgia · 1 year

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David Oakes in an advert for Nastro Azzurro (Peroni) (x)

#DAMN BROOOO #oh he's fine FINE #david oakes #literally the prettiest dude out there #by jen

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anocturnalanimal · 10 months

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- C’è solo una cosa che vorrei da te, - dice la signora Saeki. Alza la testa e mi guarda negli occhi. - Che mi ricordassi. Se tu ti ricordassi di me, non mi importerebbe nulla anche se tutti gli altri mi dimenticassero.

Fra noi due cala il silenzio, un silenzio profondo. Una domanda cresce dentro di me. Diventa così grande da bloccarmi la gola e impedirmi di respirare. Ma mi sforzo e riesco ad inghiottirla. Al posto di quella domanda, ne faccio un’altra:

- Sono così importanti i ricordi?

- Dipende - risponde lei. Poi chiude leggermente gli occhi - A volte possono diventare la cosa più importante.

- Eppure lei stessa ha voluto bruciare i suoi.

- I miei ricordi erano diventati inutili. - La signora Saeki mette le mani sul tavolo, il dorso in alto.

- Ascolta, Tamura. Ho un favore da chiederti. Porta quel quadro con te.

- Vuol dire quel quadro raffigurante una spiaggia che era sulla parete della mia stanza in biblioteca?

La signora Saeki annuisce.

- Sì, Kafka sulla spiaggia. Voglio che porti quel quadro con te. Nel posto dove andrai, ovunque sia.

- Ma a chi appartiene?

- È mio. Me l’ha regalato lui, prima di partire per andare a studiare a Tokio. Da allora l’ho sempre portato con me ovunque. In tutti i miei spostamenti, lo attaccavo alla parete delle mia stanza. Solo quando ho cominciato a lavorare alla Biblioteca Komura, l’ho rimesso in quella cameretta, nella sua collocazione originaria. Ho lasciato nel cassetto della mia scrivania una lettera al signor Oshima in cui gli comunicavo la mia volontà che andasse a te. Inoltre, quel quadro apparteneva a te sin dall’inizio.

- A me?

Annuisce.

- Sì, perché tu eri lì. E io accanto a te e ti guardavo. Tanto tempo fa, sulla spiaggia. Soffiava il vento, c’erano alcune barche, ed era sempre estate.

Chiudo gli occhi. Sono sulla spiaggia, d’estate, steso su una sdraio. Riesco a sentire la tela ruvida sulla pelle, a riempirmi il petto del profumo del mare. Il sole è così forte da abbagliare anche attraverso le palpebre abbassate. Sento il rumore delle onde che si avvicina e si allontana, come fosse un pendolo azionato dal tempo. Seduta accanto a me c’è una ragazza dal vestito azzurro pallido a mezze maniche che mi guarda. Ha un cappello di paglia con un nastro bianco, capelli lisci. Fa correre la sabbia tra le dita. Dita lunghe e forti, da pianista. Le braccia, dalla pelle levigata come porcellana, brillano ai raggi del sole. Un sorriso naturale le solleva gli angoli delle labbra. Io la amo. Lei mi ama.

Me ne ricordo.

Haruki Murakami, da Kafka sulla spiaggia - Traduzione di Giorgio Amitrano

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