#Closed Road Motor Sport

[alpha-mag-media]

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ | In Trend Today

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[ur-mag]

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ | In Trend Today

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[storiesforallfandoms]

junker ~ beck oliver;victorious

word count: 2011

request?: no

description: after her car breaks down in front of the dreamy boy’s house, he helps her to fix it

pairing: beck oliver x female!reader

warnings: swearing, one mention of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

“No,” you said to yourself as your car began to slow. “No, no, no!”

You hit your steering wheel in frustration as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road.

This wasn’t the first time you had encountered issues with your shitty excuse for a car. It was definitely because the car was older than your parents. It was a miracle it even started in the first place, which, to be fair, it didn’t most of the time. You had no idea what your parents were thinking in buying you this hunk of junk to be your first car. They didn’t have to buy you a brand new sports car or anything, but they could’ve gotten you something from this decade at least.

You got out o the car to inspect what had happened. You opened the hood of the car and inspected inside. You couldn’t tell if anything was off because it all just looked the same to you. There was probably something, but you weren't exactly knowledgeable on cars.

You exclaimed in frustration and kicked the wheel, followed by a string of expletives as pain exploded from your toes.

“Car troubles?”

You turned to see a boy around your age stood at the end of a driveway.

“It just stopped,” you said. “I have no idea what’s wrong with it.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you realized how screwed you were. You were a few blocks away from home, so walking wasn’t necessarily off the table, but it would take you a while to get home. Not to mention you had no idea how you’d get the car back to your place, or off the road at all.

“Here, bring it into my driveway,” the boy said. “I’ll take a look at it.”

“How are we gonna get it into your driveway? It’s like...dead dead.”

He approached the car, taking a quick glance at the still open hood before reaching to close it. “Put it in neutral. I’ll push, you can steer.”

You weren’t sure if that sounded like a good idea - one person pushing a car on their own didn’t seem super doable - but you had no other choices. So, you got back into your car, waiting for him to get in place, then shifted the car into neutral. You started turning the wheel, shifting the car towards the driveway. It took a while, but eventually the two of you had managed to get the car into his driveway. You put it back in park as he came around to pop the hood again.

“I’m Beck, by the way,” he said as you got out of your car.

“(Y/N),” you responded. “Thanks for the help. I thought I was screwed.”

“Why are you driving a junker like this? It must be like, a century old.”

“My parents got it for me when I got my license. Something about wanting to get an older car as my first one until I learn responsibility, I guess?”

“So they gave you a rolling death trap?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, basically. I bet they’ll regret that now.”

Beck leaned in to get a better look at something. “When did they buy it?”

You shrugged. “A few weeks ago, I think.”

“Well, they’ll definitely regret however much money they wasted on this thing. It’s completely dead.”

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

Beck stood back up. “There’s not a single thing that works in this thing now. Engine is toast, battery zapped, starting motor gone. It’s a wonder this thing ever worked in the first place.”

You let out a long groan. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse. What were you supposed to do now without a car? You couldn’t go back to relying on your parents to drive you everywhere, and you certainly were not about to start taking the bus to school again.

“Do you have a phone?” Beck asked.

“It’s dead,” you said. “I was on my way home anyways, I thought I’d be fine.”

“Listen, mine is in my RV. You can use it to call your parents if you want.”

You eyed the silver RV in the yard. “You live in there? When there’s...a house?”

He chuckled. “I prefer to be on my own. The RV was the only compromise my parents would come to. If you’d rather not come in, I understand. I can bring my phone out instead if it would make you more comfortable.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. It’s starting to get dark, so it’s probably best if I wait inside instead of out here while it gets cold.”

Beck nodded for you to follow him into his trailer. It was a decent size, big enough for one person living there. It was also evident that a teenage boy lived there given the mess. Beck must’ve noticed, too, because he quickly started picking up dirty clothes and laundry from the floor, mumbling something about ignoring the mess. You quietly giggled to yourself.

Beck passed you his phone. You sat down on his couch and dialed your mom’s number first. It rang for a long time before an automated message told you she was away from the phone. You hung up and tried your dad’s number, only to have the same outcome. You rolled your eyes and hung up, handing the phone back to Beck.

“They must be busy,” you said. “God, this sucks. What am I going to do?”

Beck sat down next to you. He was close enough to you that you could feel his shoulder brushing against yours. You were suddenly very aware of your situation: alone in a trailer with a boy who was incredibly cute. A broke down car, no way to get home until your parents answered your calls. You shuffled awkwardly in your seat, looking down at your lap when looking into Beck’s eyes became too much.

“I could drive you home,” he offered. “Then, when your parents are home, you can tell them what happened and where the car is. Then they can decide if they want to come get it, or they can leave it here and I can salvage whatever parts I can from it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think there’s anything salvageable from that car?”

“Well...the tires.”

You both laughed. You knew you should be getting home, but part of you also didn’t want to leave yet. Sure, you would still see Beck again whenever your parents decided to come get the car - if they decided to come get the car - but after that you may never see him again. He wasn’t familiar to you, and you were sure you’d remember someone like Beck at your school, so that meant he went to a different school. The likeliness of you two ever crossing paths again were incredibly slim.

But you also couldn’t just invite yourself into his place to stay for a while. You were still a stranger to him, and him to you technically. And you probably should get home so you could charge your phone, just so your parents didn’t start freaking out if they tried to call you and couldn’t get through.

So, you took Beck’s offer and followed him to his car. It was definitely a lot nicer than your old piece of junk. You were almost embarrassed that he had to see what you were driving before. The one silver lining to this whole situation was that your parents might actually buy you a good car after all of this.

You knew it was going to be a short ride to your house, so you had to make the most of it. You looked over at Beck and asked, “So, what school do you go to?”

“Hollywood Arts,” he responded.

“Oh! So that’s why I haven’t seen you around. You’re too busy becoming a big star.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Trying to, at least. I’m not a singer like most of the people who attend that school. I’m trying to become an actor after I graduate.”

“Hey, the world needs actors. That doesn’t sound like an impossible dream to achieve.”

He shrugged. You felt like the conversation was drifting away, and you desperately wanted it to keep going.

“I do appreciate what you did for me,” you said. “Most people in LA probably would’ve driven right past me and wished me luck.”

“I couldn’t let you just stay there stranded right in front of my place,” he said. “What kind of a guy would I be if I didn’t offer the pretty girl some help?”

Your face immediately burned at his compliment. You quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see how flustered you were.

“Still, I appreciate it,” you said. “And the ride home. I probably could’ve walked, come to think of it.”

“No way. I wasn’t going to let you walk when I have a perfectly good car that could’ve driven you home.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

He chuckled. You noticed the car slowing to a stop, and when you looked up you saw that you were in front of your house. You almost deflated with disappointment. Your time with Beck was finally, and unfortunately, coming to an end. There was no way you’d be able to see him again, you were sure of that. It was already pretty clear the both of you wouldn’t be running into each other at schooling events, unless you managed to make it out to a performance at Hollywood Arts that Beck just so happened to be starring in.

“This is me,” you said, trying to keep the sadness from your voice.

“So it is,” Beck said with a nod.

You looked down at your lap, trying to stall as much as possible. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I can repay you for all of this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What if I wanted to? I mean, surely there’s something else I could do or give you as a way of saying thanks. Something more than that lump of junk that’s still sat in your driveway.”

He made a face. “No, that’s a terrible thank you gift actually.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying I want to give you an actual thank you gift.”

He thought for a moment and you waited patiently for his answer. Finally, he looked back at you and said, “There is something you could give me.”

“What is it?”

“Your number.”

He was holding his phone out to you. You looked from his phone up to his face. You were almost sure this wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating that this was happening. But the longer it took for you to take Beck’s phone and put your number in it, the more his face was starting to show worry. As if you were about to turn him down.

“Yes!” you finally blurted. “I mean...yeah. Yeah, I can...I can do that.”

He seemed amused by your flusteredness. You quickly took his phone and typed in your name and number before handing it back to him.

“You better get your phone charged,” he said. “Otherwise, how am I supposed to try and plan a date with you?”

Oh, he smooth.

You wanted to say something back that was equally as smooth, but you were at a loss for words. Instead, you just nodded your head for a long time, like a crazy person, before finally saying goodbye for real and getting out of his car. You could feel him watching you as you walked up to your front door and let yourself in. He didn’t leave until the door closed behind you, and even then he waited for you to lock it and turn on the light over the door.

Once you were alone, you leaned back against the door and you couldn’t stop the wide smile that broke out across your face.

Okay, at least there were two silver linings to that stupid thing breaking down.

[ranticore]

inspired by a post by @/serpentface of a concept that captivated me, i'm going to present the much anticipated, much requested, "what cars my characters would drive, bearing in mind their economic status and assuming the year is 2024" post

we can start reallyyyy easy because for Bowman there's no other option:

An ep3 Honda Civic. Is it a type-R? nope but it's got vtec bro!!!! it's surprisingly practical and the wheels are kerbed to shit. there's fluffy dice. there's an aftermarket spoiler on the back and a halfords special front splitter. He's of the opinion that girls don't know the difference between a hot hatch and a grandma's car so this works as well as the expensive one. i think his driving style is best described as 'life changing'. for better or worse.

Senca:

unflinchingly practical. the car that can do it all. a 2010 1.6 TDI Skoda Octavia with roof rails. it's not about speed or looks and it's not even about transport, really, it's about looking superior because nobody else's car can fit the contents of an entire house inside. and then looking less smug when someone pulls up in a Volvo V50. the type of driver who can't fucking stand it when other people break the rules of the road but when she does it, it's fine. because she's a "good" driver.

Léa:

2004 Hyundai Coupe 2L. Yes bitch it looks fast!!!! IS it fast? No, but the better coupes from the same era did not depreciate so much in value and aren't affordable. in Léa's hands it's like a rocket ship. The indicators must be broken though because nobody has ever seen them in use. She spray-painted the wheels herself.

Islin:

a step-through road bike WITH panniers. cars damage the environment and the thought of contributing to that is unconscionable. doesn't wear a helmet anyway. dichotomy of ocd

Helena:

Porche Cayenne. Mostly someone else would drive her around but every so often she wants to get behind the wheel and start tailgating aggressively, just for the thrill of it. She replaced the stock lights with retina blaster 9000s and is always about 1 inch behind your back bumper, full beam on. Red lights are for other people. She ran over a child once because she wasn't looking and blamed the parents.

Jean-Baptiste:

Caterham 7. The one made up to look much older than it is, and he ordered it in kit car form and built it in his garage. I've always insisted that Jean would be massively into motor sport if he happened to have been born when that was a thing. He didn't follow the manufacturer's instructions because he felt that he knew best so his car is very unsafe but makes far more power than stock. It's not road legal but you will find it on the road nonetheless.

Erica:

Oh? You've never heard of it? You've never seen a man look so smug in your life. He shuts the silent-close door and explains that he traded in his Tesla model 3 for a BYD Seal because Tesla was becoming "too mainstream" and there were too many of them on the road.

Félix:

1998 Mercedes Benz E Class. Yeah it cost him £700 on Autotrader, but what's important is that it cost £60,000 when new. This is a good car. This is a luxurious car. It has heated seats - they don't work, but if he wanted to fix them he could. It has an overflowing ashtray from the previous owner and there's not a single thing that goes right on it but it makes him look adjacently wealthy, and isn't that the point? The poppy helps him look more sympathetic to elderly people (scam victims). Number One Most Likely To Attempt Murder-Suicide By Automobile. You've never seen a man look so divorced.

Carmen:

For her i just sorted price low -> high and picked the cheapest running car. And it's a Fiat Bravo! Notorious for earning a zero star euro ncap safety score and exploding into scrap if it hits a kerb. Carmen can't rely on her parents buying her a first car or paying insurance so she has no choice but to scrape the bottom of the barrel. She thinks it looks nice though.

Pascal:

was there any doubt.

Nico:

Beat up 1999 Discovery permanently attached to a horsebox. It is always filthy and somehow filled with straw and dog hair even though he doesn't own a dog, that's just what seems to happen to these cars. The heating doesn't work anymore but other than that it's fine, does the job. Drives with what can only be described as malicious compliance to all rules of the road.

Cain:

a Lada Niva. Why the hell would you ever need more than this. Electronics? No thanks. You're lucky it has gears. Cars peaked in the 1970s and anything built after that is just a piece of ridiculous frivolity, a toy for children. Here is a real workhorse. It costs 20 grand. Probably the only truly good driver here.

---

Sir Heaven:

Please for the love of god stop making him drive the Revuelto he doesn't want to do it anymore it's too scary

Sir Victory:

2003 Seat Leon Cupra R, with decals that make it seem very impressive and like it might actually be a racecar, but it isn't. It's made of rust and the engine sounds sick. It's battered and broken and the subframe is bent from a side-on collision. One day it might crumble away entirely but until then Sir Victory will drive it like he's at Goodwood. A very aggressive driver, mostly due to impatience, and he always wins the red light drag race.

Mercury:

It's a normal Ford Crown Victoria with a tank engine strapped to it. What? His holy calling is building and designing engines, of course this is safe and sane. Kind of a lackadaisical driver, obeys the rules when the mood strikes.

---

And just for fun, random other characters:

Qedivar:

1999 Audi A4. I just tried to imagine the most boring history professor tier car I could think of. It's in good condition for its age but it's never brought anyone a single scrap of joy in its entire life. Nobody smiles seeing this car and to this day Qedivar often fails to pick it out in a car park.

Huarvaa:

The legendary Renault Scenic RX4. It's big, it's 4-wheel drive, and it's a practical MPV. and it looks like it's constantly dipped in some kind of algae or perhaps sludge. Modified with a snorkel so it can drive through deep water. Still really rusty despite the plastic cladding.

Holly:

Rover Metro. It's incredibly spacious!!! Wow! He can't see over the wheel.

Finbarr Ó Casaide:

A Lupo. Literally the perfect car for his needs and he knows he must be conservative in how he goes about things. Yellow colour for the Ó Casaide clan, to show that he really does belong there, promise. A devastatingly precise driver; guns for the tiniest gaps and somehow makes it every single time, without putting others at risk or being particularly reckless. He will get you to your destination 20% faster than anyone else.

Olivier Tanet:

Ford F150, specifically an imported one from the US, specifically driven in a normal-sized place that is not built for stupid american cars (as in the photo). It is gigantic and it's in your rear view mirror 24/7. Helena might be a maliciously careless driver, but Olivier is just malicious. He wants you dead. His truck is part of an elaborate dick measuring contest that he intends to win. Plus side is that it's not a pavement princess, it goes offroad (it does doughnuts in your front garden)

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1969 Holden Hurricane Concept

1969 Holden Hurricane Concept

1969 Holden Hurricane Concept

1969 Holden Hurricane Concept

1969 Holden Hurricane Concept

Holden has gone back to the future, restoring its very first concept car - the 1969 Holden Hurricane Concept.

The futuristic research vehicle described as an experiment "to study design trend, propulsion systems and other long range developments" has been restored to its former glory as a labour of love by a dedicated group of Holden designers and engineers.

Code named RD 001; the Holden Hurricane is a mid-engined, rear-wheel drive, two-seater sports car which incorporates a remarkable array of innovative features and technology, much of it way ahead of its time.

Features such as electronic digital instrument displays, station-seeking radio, automatic temperature control air conditioning, rear vision camera and an automated route finder were all showcased in this ground-breaking vehicle 42 years ago. Many of these technologies have only recently made their way into mass production, demonstrating Holden's remarkable foresight into both design and engineering technology.

The Holden Hurricane stole headlines and dropped jaws nationwide when it debuted at the 1969 Melbourne Motor Show.

Michael Simcoe, Executive Director GMIO Design, said it was fantastic to see such a significant vehicle restored.

"At Holden we have always prided ourselves on our ability to look into the future through our concept cars," Mr Simcoe said.

"It's amazing to think that the features we take for granted today were born out of creative minds over 40 years ago."

As its code name suggests, the RD 001 was the first product of the GMH Research and Development organisation, staffed by a small squad of engineers working in conjunction with the Advance Styling Group at the Fishermans Bend Technical Centre in the 1960s.

The team that designed and built the original Holden Hurricane employed some advanced technologies and techniques when it came to the powertrain. Powered by an experimental 4.2-litre (253 cubic inch) V8, this engine was a precursor to the Holden V8 engine program which entered production in late 1969.

The Holden Hurricane's V8 engine featured many advanced design components such as the four-barrel carburettor - a feature which wouldn't be seen on a production 253ci Holden V8 until the late 1970s. The end result was approximately 262hp (193kW), a towering power output in 1969 and one that ensured the Holden Hurricane had the go to match its show.

But perhaps the two most innovative features were the "Pathfinder" route guidance system and the rear-view camera.

The "Pathfinder", essentially a pre-GPS navigation system, relied on a system of magnets embedded at intersections along the road network to guide the driver along the desired route. A dash-mounted panel informed the driver of which turn to take by illuminating different arrows, as well as sounding a warning buzzer.

The rear-view camera was also a ground-breaking innovation.

Engineers using a Closed Circuit Television (CCTV) system with a camera mounted in the rear bumper feeding vision to a small black-and-white TV mounted in the centre console.

Former Holden Chief Studio Engineer Rick Martin led the modern-day Hurricane team in researching the vehicle's components, systems and history in order to restore it.

"There are some genuinely remarkable ideas and technology in the Hurricane," said Mr Martin.

"From the automatic air-conditioning and magnet-based guidance system, to the inertia-reel seat belts and metallic paint, this was a car that was genuinely ahead of its time.

"The hand-picked team of engineers and designers who built the original Holden Hurricane worked in strict secrecy and began Holden's now proud tradition of ground-breaking concept cars."

RD 001 stands just 990mm high and has no doors in the conventional sense. A hydraulically-powered canopy opens upwards and forward over the front wheels, combined with twin "astronaut type" power-elevating seats which rise up and pivot forward, along with the steering column for ease of access. Occupants are then lowered to a semi-reclining position before the roof closes over them.

The wind tunnel-tested fibreglass body consists of three segments; the canopy, the engine hood and body shell and was finished in an experimental aluminium flake-based metallic orange paint.

Safety innovations included a foam-lined fuel tank, integrated roll-over bar, digital instrument readouts, ignition safety locks, interior padding and a fire warning system.

The project to restore RD 001 began in 2006 and has been a genuine labour of love for some very dedicated Holden employees. The entire restoration process has been driven primarily by volunteer labour from Holden designers and engineers in their spare time.

But the Hurricane first entered Holden Design in less than immaculate condition. RD 001 had a residency in a trade school where apprentices practised their welding on the priceless concept.

After being returned to Holden in 2006, the Hurricane restoration project has taken many thousands of painstaking man hours to lovingly restore RD 001 to concourse condition.

Holden's Manager for Creative Hard Modelling, Paul Clarke, has been largely responsible for managing the restoration of RD 001. He ensured as many of the original parts as possible have been used or remade using modern techniques to 1969 specification, in order to preserve the authenticity of this hugely important Holden.

"The entire team has done a fantastic job in bringing this beautiful concept back to life," Mr Clarke said.

"The talent we have within the Holden organisation is simply outstanding. Every time we take on a project I'm constantly amazed by the passion and talent in this company, making it a genuine pleasure to work on these projects.

"The Hurricane plays a crucial role in Holden's story and the company has such a great sense of history and heritage that it was very important to bring RD 001 back to life. It's been a challenging but incredibly rewarding process."

Since the debut of the Holden Hurricane Concept in 1969, Holden has continued to build a global reputation for envisioning and executing world-class concept vehicles. Holden is recognised globally within General Motors as a centre of excellence for concept vehicle and show car development and is one of only three GM design studios that is capable to design and build concept cars.

Michael Simcoe added that the Hurricane holds a particularly special place in Holden's history as it kick-started Holden's long love affair with concepts that has since seen the likes of the iconic GTR-X, Torana TT36, Coupe 60, the GMC Denali XT (which was requested specifically by GM for the North American market) and the award-winning Efijy.

Holden Hurricane Concept (1969)

[kelcemenow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 9.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2056

Warnings A little bit of strong language and a little bit of angst.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

Your feet pounded the damp pavement, the earthy scent of rainfall thick in the air. You weren't 100% sure what you were going to say when you saw Travis, or even why you were heading to his place, but you figured the walk would help set your thoughts straight.

You pressed the heel of your palm to your forehead, closing your eyes for a second as you waited at the crosswalk, letting the traffic sounds of the street fade into the back of your mind. You had only known Travis for a couple of weeks, a handful of dates summarising what was still a very early relationship. If it could even be classed as a relationship.

He was charming, he was kind and gave you all of the attention that you could ever want.

But your lives were completely different.

Travis would spend his days giving interviews, recording his popular podcast and managing his successful and varied career and would spend his evenings in bars and clubs, being photographed rubbing shoulders with other well-known and high profile celebrities in designer outfits. You spent your days in overalls fixing cars and your evenings trying to clean the motor oil from your hair.

As the rain began to fall heavier, you pulled your sweatshirt hood over your head, pulling the edges of the fabric hard and clinging to them as if it was only thing holding you together. You checked the street signs ahead of you and continued in your way, staring down at the pavement to avoid to heavy raindrops that were falling hard from the gray sky above you.

The streets became quieter and the houses began to look bigger and more expensive. Travis' neighbourhood was quaint and humble, but still impressive, the sidewalks edged with a neat line of trees. You pulled your phone from your sweatshirt pocket, checking the address again and trying to focus on the house numbers as the raindrops built up onto the top of your cheeks.

You squinted further up the road to a house slightly set back from the sidewalk, large with brown roof tiles and a wide road that led to a double doored entrance. Nervously, you fidgeted with your fingers as you approached the house. You noticed a few vehicles scattered around the driveway and a well kept garden that looped around the property. Your wet hands rubbed against your soaked sweatshirt as you tentatively approached the door, your eyes fixated on the frosted glass panels. As your feet reached the top of the handful of stone steps, your heart instantly began beating faster and faster. Quickly clearing your throat, your shaking hands knocked firmly on the door and your chest swelled as you took a slow and deep breath.

Footsteps grew louder on the other side of the door and before you had chance to change your mind and turn away, the door opened and a blonde woman sporting glasses and a tight, black dress stared blankly at you. Your eyes darted to the house number that was displayed on the wall next to you and then towards your phone screen, confirming that you were at the correct house.

"Uhhh...sorry. I thought this...I mean-I'm sorry." You mumbled as you began to turn around, your chest filling with embarrassment. Of course he was seeing someone else.

"Y/N?" A voice called out.

You glanced around over your shoulder to see Travis making his way through a small gathering of people towards the doorway.

You smiled meekly, making uncomfortable eye contact with the group, "Travis? Sorry...I-"

"What are you doing here?"

You exhaled an awkward laugh and shook your head, "I don't really know."

His eyebrows lowered as he reached for your hands, "Is everything okay?"

You watched as his thumbs ran over the damp skin on back of your oil marked hands before looking up to see the pristine and glamourous blonde woman leaning on the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. You opened your mouth to speak but Travis ushered you away from the house.

"I'm filming a piece for Jason's documentary." He nodded towards the house and your eyes followed to see the crew of people looking in your direction. Lights and cameras were scattered around the room and a man appeared in the doorway holding a clipboard.

Your hands flew to your face, your wet hair plastered over your forehead, "I'm so stupid. You're so right, what am I doing here?"

Travis' lips curled downwards, his expression confused and mystified, before he smiled and pulled you closer to him, "It's fine, just come in. I'll get you some dry clothes and we can hang as soon as it's finished?"

"No, this is ridiculous." You shook your head and stepped away from Travis' grasp, "Thank you Travis, but I am so stupid."

He reached out for you again, "Why do you keep saying that? It's not a big deal?"

You retreated from him, stepping carefully down the remaining steps as you avoided eye contact with Travis, "I am so sorry I bothered you, Travis."

You pulled your sweatshirt hood tighter around your head, muffling whatever Travis called out to you and power walked away from the house, a mixture of raindrops and tears staining your cheeks.

______________________________________________________________

"Ahh...fuck!" You winced, sucking the air into your mouth through your teeth. Looking at your red fingertip, you noticed a small purple welt beginning to form thanks to the bolt that slipped from your grip.

You rolled your eyes, gripping your injured digit before leaning down back under the hood of the classic white Camaro that you were currently working on. It had been a week since you had seen Travis and in an attempt to forget about the situation, you had thrown yourself into your work, spending every hour you could at the garage.

As you brought your finger to your mouth to stem the blood that had started to emerge, you felt the car dip as someone rested their weight against the door.

"You need a break."

You tipped your head to see your Dad using a cloth to clean some oil from a large wrench. Bowing your head back down, you wiped your finger on your overalls and continued working, "No, I need to finish this turbo."

"I could take a look at it, if you want?" His voice was thick with concern.

Gripping the bolt again, you grimaced as the pressure caused a sharp pain to rush to your small injury, "I'm perfectly capable of doing it by myself."

Your Dad chuckled at your independence, a trait he had always admired, "I didn't say you weren't."

You stayed silent, aside from a short sigh when you had eventually managed to tighten the bolt adequately.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Dad-"

"No, Sport. Here me out."

You emerged from the hood, dropping it closed and walking to the open drivers side door as your Dad followed you around the vehicle.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Yes, he has. Every day this week, not that it matters." You said as you started the car, hearing the gentle purr of the engine.

"Okay." Your Dad pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly, "Look, I've never been the type of Father to tell you what to do, and I'm not about to start now. But I do think you're letting something really good go." He turned to walk away before stopping himself, "And I'm not just saying that because it's Travis Kelce."

You smiled and watched through the car windshield window as he strolled back into the garage office, his high pitched whistle fading from your ears.

______________________________________________________________

It was late and the garage was silent, aside from the occasional car passing by on the street. You dumped a handful of dirty rags into the hamper next to the office door and reached for the light switch, immersing the room into darkness.

You used the small amount of light beaming in from the office window to guide yourself to the large gray roller door that filled the wall. Turning the small metal key in the lock, you watched as the door began to descend. It had almost fully closed when you heard the sound of a car engine over the sound of the door motor. Beams of light peeped from underneath the bottom of door, brightness spilling out onto the smooth concrete floor.

You rolled your eyes and turned the key in the opposite direction, squinting and shielding your eyes from the gleam of the headlamps, "I'm sorry, buddy. We're closed...we actually closed a few hours ago."

A large figure stepped out of the vehicle but you struggled to identify it.

"Dude, did you not hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you." A familiar voice echoed in your ears, "But I ain't here for a service."

"Travis?"

As he stepped closer to you, the lights illuminated his face which was uncharacteristically covered in black smears. His usually pristine denim jeans were ripped in several places and a clear oily handprint was slapped across the right thigh. Your eyes drifted upwards to see his white t-shirt coated in stains of varying shapes, colours and sizes. He grinned at you, picking up a rag from the floor that you had missed and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Need some help?"

You narrowed your eyes, a small smirk growing on your face, "From you?

Travis looked around the room and shrugged his shoulders, glancing at the numerous cars and tools, "I could learn?"

"Travis, what are you-"

Before you had chance to finish your sentence, he stepped forward quickly and kissed you, his arms snaking around your waist. You melted into his hold, allowing his soft lips to move across yours and your hands to float up to the sides of his face. His thick stubble prickled against your fingertips, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you just as it did the first time.

He pulled away from you slowly, studying your expression, "Sorry, I just had to do that."

Your eyes drifted to the floor before closing shut whilst you took a deep breath. You focused in on the butterflies that were dancing in your stomach, trying to find the words that you wanted to say.

"You didn't reply to any of my messages."

His eyes were full of hurt and confusion and you suddenly felt a pang of guilt fill your chest, "I know. I needed to think."

One of Travis' hands ran up your side to cup your cheek, "About what? About us?"

"Yeah." You sighed, "I just don't know if we fit right. Although, I must say, you'd fit in here looking like that."

His eyes glinted, "You see? If I can fit in your world, you can certainly fit in mine."

You looked up, "I don't know if I can do it. The photographers, the online comments, I like my privacy, Travis."

"What online comments?"

"I saw something on Instagram, there was a photo of us and people...people had a lot to say about our relationship...or whatever it is." Tears began to pool against your lower lashes.

Travis held onto you tighter, "You shouldn't read that shit. I sure as hell don't! People are assholes, baby."

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against Travis' warm chest.

He continued, his large hand stroking the back of your head, "And if you want privacy, we can do that. You have the right to live your life however you want to, but I want you in mine."

Your heart jumped, a sudden overwhelm of emotion flooding you. You lifted up your head and breathed a laugh as a couple of tears ran down your cheeks, "I want you in my life too."

Travis' eyes creased into nothing, his smile as wide as it could possibly be, "So, that's settled then? Now, which of these car's needs my expertise?"

You threw your head back as you howled with laughter, throwing your arms around his neck and allowing him to take your weight. Your feet lifted from the ground and your lips crashed against his, this time a much deeper and passionate kiss, his fingers sinking into your flesh as if he never wanted to let go. Without breaking contact, you reached across and turned the key, shutting out the outside world.

______________________________________________________________

And it's done! This one has been my Everest! But thank you to everyone for their encouraging words and positivity! I hope this final chapter lives up to expectation!

I'll be scouring through my requests now and looking at doing some one-shots in the next few weeks to hopefully clear the list that has built up! I'll put a post out when my requests are open again!

If you want to be included in my Taglist, let me know and you'll never miss another fic from me (although don't be alarmed if there's a bit of a wait, that's my new style now apparently!)

Taglist  @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 

@countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 

@luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 

@s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry 

@calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 

@cedricbitch @abby-splace @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes 

@mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction @futebollover @ks-dreams-fantasies @laurenmcucm @blackstabbath6 @nickie-amore @fictionqueen87 @munsonburner666 @hornyavengers

@spookystitchery @powellssaturn @skywalker0809 @shortttcakkee @my-secret-hideaway @shelbygeek

[diabolus1exmachina]

Effeffe Berlinetta 

Berlinetta is a name of the past, a name that conjures up a very specific type of car: a high-performing sports car with closed bodywork, a 2-seater (or 2+2 at most). The name Berlinetta embodies all the philosophy of the first car made by Effeffe. A car built today in exactly the same way as craftsmen moulded the famous GTs in the late 1950s: the mechanics borrowed from the series and redesigned to suit new needs, a hand-made chassis and bodywork. All starting from a blank sheet. An original car with a strong personality, in form and in deed, which is the best possible homage to the skill of these craftsmen. A generation we have perhaps forgotten, that offered the Italian car tradition - and the history of motoring generally - plenty in terms of uniqueness, charm and design. A product built and finished by hand, like in the past, with a tubular chassis, hand-beaten aluminium bodywork and wire wheels, seeking to guess and please the taste of the owner, expressing a timeless character.

The Berlinetta prototype was born in 2014, little more than a scale model. Made and finished, but not running: the mechanics are approximate, and it has never really been fine-tuned. But it is beautiful. An authentic time-machine. It seems as if it has just been found in a hay barn and dusted down. In addition, being practically a style model, its lines are pure and smooth, not “dirtied” by license plates or indicators. So beautiful, in fact, that, almost as a game, the Frigerio brothers sent a few photos to the people in charge of the Concorso di Eleganza di Villa d’Este. And, a surprise, they sent an invitation to present the Berlinetta in the Concept Cars category. A dream within a dream, the self-built car made its début and the world’s most prestigious and glamorous elegance competition.

Along with the interest and pleasure shown immediately by the public and the media, this would have gone to anyone’s head. But as we know, the Frigerio brothers aren’t the sort of people who sit on their laurels, and they decided the play another chip. They realised that their idea could become something more than just an adventure, and decided to exploit their years of relationships, acquaintances, friendships and skill to set up a workshop to produce the Berlinetta in small series. An exclusive, tailored and fully customisable product. Built as in the past by a handful of old craftsmen wanting to get back in the game, but with the help of the best technologies available today.

The lines of the Berlinetta need no explanation. They are a well-balanced mix of classic, late-50s stylistic elements, from the muscular bumpers to the oval grille, a hint of rear fins and the double bubble roof. The definition of the lines of the car talks of an approach that is about as poetically anachronistic as you can get. The Frigerio brothers started by placing the mechanics and seats on the floor, tracing the basic outline around them with chalk, then gradually building the chassis, welding, cutting and welding again. Following the curves of the tubular metal frame, they then moved onto the bodywork, beaten entirely by hand in aluminium according to the artisanal sensitivity of Vittorio, who has a good hand, assisted by a few panel beaters with forty years’ experience. And from there, the project moved on in a kind of reverse engineering, working backwards by making 3D scans of the shapes to produce the drawings and designs.

Style and proportions have that instantly recognisable Italian flair, as does the passenger compartment, entirely leather-lined with a dashboard painted in the same colour as the car, and the Alfa Romeo-derived mechanics. Who, working according to the Fia Gr2 specifications of the 1971 European Touring challenge, they were able to achieve around 200 HP at 6800 rpm, with maximum torque of around 30 Kg/m at 4400 rpm, on the road with no technological support.

[f1mike28]

Mercedes-AMG ONE „F1 Technology for the Road“.

Affalterbach. Mercedes-AMG ONE (combined weighted fuel consumption: 8.7 l/100 km; combined weighted CO2 emissions: 198 g/km; combined weighted electrical consumption: 32 kWh/100 km)[1].

Exceptional E PERFORMANCE hybrid drive with 1.6-litre V6 engine and four electric motors.

The E PERFORMANCE hybrid drive of the Mercedes-AMG ONE comes directly from Formula 1 and has been realised in close cooperation with the experts at Mercedes-AMG High Performance Powertrains in Brixworth.

It consists of a highly integrated and intelligently networked unit comprising one hybrid, turbocharged combustion engine with a total of four electric motors. One has been integrated into the turbocharger, another has been installed directly on the combustion engine with a link to the crankcase and the two remaining motors drive the front wheels.

The high-revving power unit is boosted by a high-tech turbocharger. The exhaust gas turbine and compressor turbine are positioned at a distance from each other and connected by a shaft. This allows a lower installation position for the turbocharger.

On the shaft is an approx. 90 kW electric motor. Electronically controlled, this drives the turbocharger shaft directly, accelerating the compressor wheel up to 100,000 rpm before the exhaust gas flow takes over. The Formula 1 designation for this unit is MGU-H (Motor Generator Unit Heat).

Mercedes-AMG One man, one engine Handcrafted by Michael Kübler @f1mike28 in Germany Affalterbach.

Driving Performance is our Passion! Mercedes-AMG the Performance and Sports Car Brand from Mercedes-Benz and Exclusive Partner for Pagani Automobili. Mercedes-AMG Handcrafted by Racers.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

You go too fast for your car’s capabilities.

- Juan Manuel Fangio to Maria Teresa de Filippis

Maria Teresa de Filippis was a pioneer driver for women in Formula One Grand Prix. She made history as the first woman driver ever to qualify for a Formula One race at the Belgium Grand Prix in 1958. Formula One World Championship was a mere 8 years old when Maria made history and it would be almost 30 years before female driver would find herself on the starting grid. In 1975, Lella Lombardi, another Italian, finished 6th in the Spanish Grand Prix.

Maria Teresa de Filippis was born in Naples in 1926 and decided to enter the world of motor racing almost as a challenge from her two older brothers. Nicknamed “il pilotino” by her peers because of her small stature, di Filippis was only 22 years old when she sat behind the wheel of her Fiat topolino for what would be the first of many races. Her two brothers had challenged her to a race, convinced that she could not drive as fast as a man. In 1948 on the Salerno-Cava dei Tirreni 10 km course, where she traversed the winding roads of her native Italy, she decisively won, thumbing her nose at Antonio and Guiseppe, her older brothers and the other male drivers.

That very first victory ignited her passion for racing and in the following year she triumphed in several competitions in the 750cc category and came in second in the Italian Sports Championship. So impressed were they that Maserati, the famed sports car makers, brought it in as an in-house driver.

For 1953 – 1954 she moved on to an Osca 1100 cc in which she won the 12 Hours of Pescara, the Trullo d’Oro, the Catania-Etna, and the circuits of Caserta and Syracuse. Her victory in the Catania-Etna was done in record time, a speed record that remained undefeated for the next three years. 1955 was the year Maria Teresa de Filippis transitioned to a Maserati 2000 A6GCS where she continued to confound expectations and prejudices and garner immense respect from other male drivers. The victories followed one another and at the Grand Prix of Naples in 1956, she started in last position and sneaked in to finish in second place in Italian Sports Championship.

Eventually an invitation to race in Formula One. She made her debut at the Spa-Francorchamps circuit at the wheel of Manuel Fangio’s Maserati 250F, crowned champion the previous year. Fangio and de Filippis were close and she considered him her big brother. Fangio for his part was effusive about the skill and courage of the diminutive Italian woman. He said to her once, jokingly but also as a nod to her driving ability, “tu vai troppo veloce per le possibilità della tua macchina!” (you go too fast for your car's capabilities!)

She tried and failed three times - including the Monaco Grand Prix - to qualify for the grid. Each time she narrowly lost out. But finally her chance came at the Spa-Francorchamps circuit of the Belgian Grand Prix in June 1958. She qualified in 19th place and in a time that was almost 34 seconds slower than Ton Brooks’ pole position. She came in 10th (and last place) and just by finishing she had made history. It was the prove to be her only race finish in the four Grand Prix she competed in.

At the French Grand Prix in 1958 controversy arose when she was forbidden to race by the race director, following the death the day before of Frenchwoman Annie Bousquet at the 12 Hours of Reims race. The race director dismissed the objections of both Maserati and de Filippis by declaring that “the only helmet a woman should wear is the hairdresser’s helmet.”

Despite fighting prejudice from race organisers (with the exception of Bernie Ecclestone with whom she shared a warm life long friendship), amongst the drivers she commanded total respect. In this Golden Age of racing, racing sports cars at such incredible speeds was a death trap and safety measures that today are taken for granted were simply not there. It was her courage and determination in driving age she once described as both cruel and beautiful. The death of her friend and driver Jean Behra, Porsche team leader in 1959 in a secondary race at the German Grand Prix, left a profound mark on her. It was one death too many. Other deaths were to follow on the track in the years to come, and perhaps none as traumatic as the great three time world champion, Jim Clark, in 1968.

Maria felt she had pushed the limits of her own luck on the track that she called “corsa contro la morte” (race against death). She promptly retired from professional racing after Behra’s death. She decided to settle down and start a family. She married an Austrian chemist and focused on her family. She stayed away from all racing until she gingerly stepped back in 1979 when Maria joined the International Club of Former F1 Grand Prix Drivers. In 1997 she was appointed Vice-President. In 2004, she also went on to become a founding member of the Maserati Club, eventually become its chairperson. For the most part though she avoided the public glare until she was almost forgotten. She was 89 years old when she died in 2018 surrounded by family.

Her story is one of courage, tenacity, and audacity. There is no better role model for women than Maria Teresa de Filippis especially in male dominated fields such as Formula One racing but also other tough professions.

It was one of my greatest honours of my life to have met her as a little girl through my grandfather with whom she shared a friendship. She was a living inspiration as I sought my goal to fly combat helicopters later in life. I had a personalised note from her that I had stuck inside my locker door at Sandhurst as a source of motivation and determination to succeed. I sent her a card with a picture of me after I qualified as a trained combat pilot and got my ‘wings’.

[chussyracing]

christmas f1 news, rumours and interesting facts i learned

(there is a lot because i missed a few days)

Charles Leclerc got a new car after getting a new haircut (and a new partner at the start of the year and new contract according to rumours)

Williams and Sauber car launch on 5th feb

Verstappen tested some cars for Verstappen.com racing (and yes there was a Ferrari too because everyone is a Ferrari fan as Seb would say)

Horner says their 2024's developed car doesn't look as well as he would like it to be and said they had less time than other teams (I will believe it when I see it)

Steve Nielson resigned from his role as fia sporting director and the rumour has it he was unhappy with the fia leading and the stuck up way issues were dealt with, preventing him from introducing new solutions to improve the sport

Aston Martin's new wind tunnel should be completed in September 2024

Max couldn't rent a Merc car on holidays because he was too young for the insurance lol (allowed from 30 years up)

Until now, teams were allowed to work over christmas but now fia had the teams mandatorily close down the factories for 9 days starting with christmas eve (aka 24th december) just like there is a 14 days long shut down in summer. So in 2024 we will technically have a summer break, a spring break and a chritmas break. But since it's f1, there is a grey area - the factory shut down doesn't go for external suppliers

Merc and MCL car launch on 14th feb (according to rumours)

Bia Bustamante f1 academy driver for mcl liked and then unliked and then apologised for liking an ableist Lance Stroll hate tweet (actually i read she apologised and then deleted the apology where she stated she is just a child and then rewrote it but it's not an important detail here)

According to Motorsport Italy rb20 failed the first crash tests

Alpine car launch is rumoured to fall on 7th february

There is a rumour Valtteri will try to compete in cycling championship alongside f1 in 2024 WHAT.

And speaking of Val, although there were rumours previously that he won't extend his contract and will rather retire, now they say he will try to be a part of audi project

Pourchaire said in an interview that he thinks he could do what Oscar did in the same car in 2023

BILD says that Michael Schumacher was driven around in Merc road car and played f1 sounds for brain simulation with familiar sounds but i'd take this with a grain of salt

Drivers voted top 10 drivers in 2023 among themselves (I think all besides Lewis took part in it), the results are: Ver, Ham, Alo, Nor, Lec (note: drivers can't vote for themselves)

Ferrari fired the 2026 engine with positive results (reminder teams cannot work on 2026 cars from aero point of view and other stuff, they can work on engines tho and reports say General Motors are working on the engine for 2028)

Fred Vasseur also says they are both included closely in the development and are satisfied with the project so far

Mick stays merc reserve driver for 2024 while driving in wec for alpine and they say he will prioritise f1 over wec if he is needed for reserve duties

Lewis says Las Vegas will play a big part in the Brad Pitt movie

Carlos has been coming out with. Some interesting quotes. About how strategies in Ferrari aren't a problem. How he is always within a tenth of Charles. How he sees no expiration date on his ferrari contract and wants to become a champ with ferrari.

There were rumours of Newey retiring after his 65th birthday but he denied them

There are rumours about the 2023 season 1B prize pot or more likely how much each team receives (the only interesting things is that the historic bonus ferrari receives every year should be around 50m this year)

Sanz (fia president of senate) says that fia is considering two spanish gps (Madrid and Barcelona) but the rumours are untrue because the responsible authorities didn't even receive the project for approval

Brown proposed f1 could have 28 races calendar with 20 fixed ones and 4 more on top chosen from 8 rotating circuits

[motor-sports23]

History And Benefits of Bicycle/Bikes

Bicycles have long been more than just a mode of transportation; they embody a sense of freedom, efficiency, and environmental consciousness that has made them enduring icons of mobility. From humble beginnings in the early 19th century to the sophisticated machines of today, bicycles have evolved significantly, shaping cultures and lifestyles around the world.

Historical Evolution

The history of bicycles traces back to the early 1800s when the first mechanically driven two-wheel vehicle, known as the 'dandy horse' or 'velocipede,' appeared in Europe. This rudimentary contraption, propelled by pushing off the ground with the feet, sparked a wave of innovation that led to the invention of the modern bicycle.

In the mid-19th century, French metalworker Pierre Michaux and his son Ernest Michaux developed the pedal-driven velocipede, known as the boneshaker for its uncomfortable ride over rough terrain. Subsequent designs saw improvements in comfort and efficiency, with the introduction of the high-wheel bicycle (or penny-farthing) in the 1870s, which featured a large front wheel and a smaller rear wheel. This design was later replaced by the safety bicycle in the 1880s, which closely resembles the bicycles we ride today, with equally sized wheels and a chain-driven rear wheel.

Modern Innovation and Varieties

Today, bicycles come in a staggering array of designs tailored for different purposes and terrains. Road bikes, built for speed and efficiency on paved surfaces, feature lightweight frames and thin, smooth tires. Mountain bikes, on the other hand, are rugged machines equipped with shock absorbers and knobby tires designed to handle off-road trails and rugged terrain. Hybrid bikes blend features of road and mountain bikes, offering versatility for both urban commuting and recreational riding.

Recent decades have seen the rise of specialized bikes such as fat bikes with oversized tires for riding on sand or snow, and electric bikes (e-bikes) equipped with battery-powered motors to assist with pedaling, offering a viable alternative for commuters and recreational cyclists alike.

Benefits of Cycling

Beyond their mechanical innovations and diverse designs, bicycles offer numerous benefits to individuals and society as a whole. Cycling promotes physical fitness and cardiovascular health, providing a low-impact aerobic workout that strengthens muscles and improves coordination. Regular cycling is associated with reduced risk of obesity, heart disease, and other chronic illnesses.

From an environmental perspective, bicycles are one of the most sustainable forms of transportation, emitting zero greenhouse gases and requiring minimal resources to manufacture compared to automobiles. Cycling reduces traffic congestion, noise pollution, and the demand for parking spaces in urban areas, contributing to cleaner, more livable cities.

Cultural Impact and Community

Bicycles have also left an indelible mark on culture and society. They have been embraced as symbols of youthfulness, independence, and adventure, inspiring countless films, artworks, and literary works. Events like the Tour de France have elevated cycling to the status of a highly competitive sport, showcasing the endurance and skill of professional athletes on a global stage.

In cities worldwide, the cycling community has grown into a vibrant subculture, fostering camaraderie among enthusiasts through group rides, bike clubs, and advocacy efforts to promote cycling infrastructure and safety. Cycling events and festivals celebrate the joy of riding and raise awareness about the benefits of cycling for individuals and communities alike.

Conclusion

In conclusion, bicycles have transcended their humble origins to become icons of sustainable transportation, physical fitness, and cultural significance. Their evolution continues to be driven by innovations in technology, materials, and design, ensuring that bicycles remain relevant and accessible for generations to come. Whether for commuting, recreation, sport, or adventure, bicycles continue to embody the spirit of freedom and exploration that captivates riders worldwide.

[alpha-mag-media]

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ | In Trend Today

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[ur-mag]

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ | In Trend Today

Gardai rush to scene of ‘fatal incident’ in Dublin as major road closed and motorists advised to ‘avoid the area’ Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[bullshityounot]

The Siamese Twins Assassins, And The Rise And Fall Of Detroit's Notorious Purple Gang

[By A.L. Lee, 2024]

Edward "Eddie" Fletcher and Abraham "Abe" Axler, members of Detroit's notorious criminal organization known as The Purple Gang, who came to be known as “The Siamese Twins” assassins, were shot to death on Nov. 27, 1933, in the backseat of a car and left on the side of a road in Bloomfield, Michigan.

The unsolved murders marked the end of a brutal era in Detroit, where Fletcher and Axler gained infamy as two of the most violent figures in the 1920s criminal underworld, while both men were named as suspects in hundreds of gangland killings before they too were gunned down.

The Purple Gang flourished during the Prohibition era as a ragtag group of tough Jewish racketeers who moved to the Motor City from New York, and became Detroit's most dominant criminal outfit for almost a decade.

Originally led by Samuel “Sammie Purple” Cohen, the small band of petty criminals coalesced under four Jewish brothers — Abe, Joseph, Ray and Isadore Bernstein — who started off in Detroit as shoplifters and extortionists, but swiftly rose to power after joining forces with the Sugar House Gang, leading to bootlegging and other lucrative rackets.

The Purple Gang was headquartered on the city’s East Side, and its members stood out in Detroit's heyday due to their flamboyance and constant visibility in the city's nightlife.

The Inner Circle

The leader of The Purple Gang was Abe Bernstein, the oldest member and mastermind of the group, who immigrated from Russia with his parents.

Joseph Bernstein, the second oldest sibling, who was born in America, developed a strong business acumen, laundering money for the organization through legitimate businesses and overseeing the gang's bootlegging operations.

Raymond Bernstein, younger than Joe, was the enforcer of the gang, instilling fear in those who dared to cross him. Despite his pivotal role in the gang's success, Ray's violent temper would later undermine the gang when he orchestrated a revenge killing in 1931 that resulted in the incarceration of several Purple Gang members, including himself.

Isadore "Izzy" Bernstein, the youngest brother and the family's gopher, was the least involved in criminal activities but managed the majority of the gambling operations, collaborating closely with Abe.

Others in the original circle of trust included Axler and Fletcher, Henry Shore, Abe Kaminsky, Abe Miller, Harry Keywell, Irving Milberg, Harry Altman, George Cordell, Joe "Honeyboy" Miller, Morris and Phil Raider, Sam Axler and Irving Shapiro, who was one of the first Purples to be murdered on July 27, 1929.

Ray Bernstein, Milberg and Keywell were sentenced to life in prison in 1931, and two years later Axler and Fletcher were murdered.

Joseph Miller was declared mentally insane and was confined to a psychiatric facility.

Abe Bernstein fled Detroit and went into hiding, while Joe Bernstein reportedly left the gang and became a legitimate businessman.

Rise And Fall

Fletcher and Axler, known for their ruthlessness, were once feared on the streets of Detroit, but by 1933 they were in hiding as the Purples found themselves in severe decline and mostly exiled from their home turf.

Detroit’s once indomitable criminal empire, built on murder and mayhem, was suddenly in collapse, with gang members on the run from both law enforcement and other mobsters.

Just a few years earlier, The Purple Gang sat at the pinnacle of the criminal underbelly of the upper-Midwest, and had a hand in countless rackets, including armed robberies, burglary, bootlegging, hijacking, drug smuggling, book making, illegal casino gambling, sports and prizefight fixing, extortion, loan sharking, labor and political intimidation, protection, insurance fraud, fire bombings, and other mob activities, including murder for hire.

The gang also operated the local wire service, which supplied horse racing information to nearby betting parlors.

At its height in 1927, the Purple Gang was a highly profitable criminal enterprise, rivaling and even surpassing many of the dominant cartels of the era.

Nevertheless, a series of significant setbacks accompanied the Purples’ early success, leading to its sudden departure, almost as abruptly as the gang had appeared.

As the Purples expanded, they began offering their services as hitmen and became involved in the so-called Cleaners & Dyers War, where the gang infiltrated Detroit's laundry industry by intimidating union members and independent workers with tactics like bombings, arson, theft, and murder to enforce their will.

Harry Rosman, president of Famous Cleaners & Dyers, testified against the Purple Gang, accusing them of demanding $1,000 per week for "protection."

Axler and Fletcher were said to be the muscle behind this scheme, and in 1927, nine Purple Gang members, including leader Abe Bernstein, were indicted for extorting money from Detroit wholesale launders.

However, they were acquitted of all charges, suggesting the jury was tainted.

Al Capone Wants His Cut

Following the trial, The Purple Gang continued bringing in an extraordinary amount of money, which eventually caught the attention of Chicago mob boss Al Capone.

Legend has it that one day Capone came to Detroit, asserting his authority and demanding a meeting with the Bernsteins to cut up the profits from the local rackets.

Despite Capone's fearsome reputation, as well as his ties to the Italian mafia in Detroit and the potential for a violent conflict over control of the Detroit River, leaders of The Purple Gang refused to yield to all of his demands.

Instead, they negotiated a partnership where the gang would become the sole importer of Canadian whiskey for the Chicago outfit during Prohibition. This arrangement proved to be a profitable venture for The Purple Gang, as well as dozens of former World War I pilots who were brought on by Capone to help transport illegal booze across the border on planes.

Ultimately, the deal made Detroit the gateway of illegal liquor in the United States throughout Prohibition, helped by the city's geographic location and proximity to the northern border.

The lucrative operation earned the gang the nickname the "Little Jewish Navy" as the outfit also used speedboats to run liquor from Canada to Detroit.

Valentine’s Day In Gangland

One of the most brutal episodes of violence in the history of organized crime occurred on the morning of February 14, 1929, inside a garage in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago, where seven members and associates of the Northside Gang were murdered in a hail of gunfire.

Capone reputedly orchestrated the killings as retribution for a series of unsuccessful attempts on his life by his main rival, George "Bugs" Moran, who was also known to be hijacking Capone's Detroit-based liquor shipments from The Purple Gang.

On the morning of the massacre, Moran received a tip that another truckload of Capone’s bootlegged whiskey had been hijacked and would be available for sale at a nearby warehouse.

Moran told his men to set up a meeting to buy the stoen booze, and chose the gang’s secret hideout, a garage on North Clark Street in Chicago, as the place for the rendezvous.

What Moran didn’t realize was that the deal was a trap, set by Capone to lure Moran and his top lieutenants to a place where they could be eliminated all at once.

Moran was told that the stolen booze was supplied by The Purple Gang, which lended credibility to the setup because the Purples were widely known as close allies of Capone.

Moran’s men waited at the garage for the shipment to arrive, but when two police officers showed up instead, the Moran crew immediately felt they’d been betrayed.

Unbeknownst, the uniformed officers were actually Capone’s henchmen, who refused to be bribed as they ordered the victims into the garage at gunpoint and lined them up against the wall.

Believing this to be a routine raid by law enforcement, the seven unwitting crew members complied before an unimaginable nightmare unfolded.

The shooters used two Thompson submachine guns and two shotguns to blast the gangsters to smithereens.

There were no survivors.

The victims included five members and two associates of Moran's Northside Gang.

However, Moran — the head of the snake — was not among those killed as he had other plans that day and didn’t go to the meeting as Capone had hoped.

Through the years, several theories emerged that members of the Purple Gang may have played a role in the slaughter, potentially working alongside or on behalf of Capone's Chicago outfit to rub out Moran.

During Prohibition, it was not uncommon for mob leaders in any city to hire hitmen from out of town to carry out assassinations closer to home.

These hired killers, sometimes called "torpedo men," would travel to a target city, commit murder, and then quickly leave town to avoid arrest.

Their prior involvement in bootlegging and other crimes would have made it ideal for Chicago and Detroit to make such a murderous agreement.

Witnesses later identified three Purple Gang members who rented rooms directly across the street from the North Clark Street garage ten days before the massacre.

When questioned by investigators, the old landladies who ran the boardinghouse initially picked out mugshots of Purple Gang members George Lewis, Eddie Fletcher, Phil Keywell, and his younger brother, Harry Keywell, but later the women recanted, saying they couldn't be sure.

Ultimately, Fletcher, Lewis, and Harry Keywell were questioned by authorities and dismissed as suspects.

Police also suspected that gunmen associated with Capone, including John Scalise, Albert Anselmi, "Machine Gun" Jack McGurn, and Frank Rio, were also involved.

McGurn and Scalise were eventually charged, but Capone later killed Scalise, Anselmi, and Joseph "Hop Toad" Giunta after discovering their plot to assassinate him, while also seeking to eliminate anyone who could link Scarface Al to the order to take out Moran's crew.

Meanwhile, murder charges against McGurn were eventually dropped due to insufficient evidence.

Still, McGurn — an avid golfer — was imprisoned in 1933 after an alert Chicago detective noticed his alias on a pairing sheet at the Western Open championship and sent two sergeants to the tournament course to arrest him.

He served nearly three years for violating the Mann Act after he transported his girlfriend across state lines to marry her.

Despite McGurn's involvement in dozens of murders, authorities were never able to prove his crimes, allowing him to evade prison for more than a decade, while the government was eager for even minor charges to stick, just to get another public enemy off the streets.

And it was just a matter of time before street justice would seal McGurn’s fate before any court of law would have the chance.

Three years after getting out of prison, McGurn was murdered on Feb. 15, 1936, at a Chicago bowling alley. His killers left behind a Valentine card next to his body with a cryptic poem written on the back.

It was revenge by the Moran gang for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

In the years that followed, The Purple Gang remained suspects in the massacre, while many Chicagoans came to believe that the police were involved, too, leading to rumors and confusion about who was truly responsible.

While there is no conclusive evidence linking the Purple Gang to the massacre, speculation surrounding their involvement is difficult to ignore and remains the subject of intense debate.

Fred “The Killer” Burke

The main focus of speculation regarding the involvement of Detroit's Jewish-American mob essentially comes down to one man — Fred "The Killer" Burke, a notorious hitman and close associate of the Detroit mob during Prohibition, who first became a suspect nearly ten months after the massacre.

Police got a major break on Dec. 14, 1929, when the Sheriff in Berrien County, Michigan, raided a bungalow in St. Joseph, Michigan, belonging to a "Fred Dane," who was the registered owner of a vehicle that was suspected in the murder of a local patrolman, Charles Skelly.

Earlier that night, Skelly witnessed Burke's car rear-end another vehicle and flee the scene.

Skelly gave chase and when he finally caught up with the car, a struggle ensued and Burke shot the officer three times, killing him.

Investigators later found the suspect vehicle wrecked and abandoned outside town, and traced it back to a Fred Dane in St. Joseph, leading to the raid at "Dane's" bungalow.

Later, police confirmed through photos that Dane was actually Fred "The Killer" Burke.

When police raided the hideout, they found a trove of incriminating evidence against Burke, including a large gun safe that contained a bulletproof vest, nearly $320,000 in stolen bank bonds, and a cache of weapons and ammunition, including two Thompson submachine guns.

Michigan authorities contacted police in Chicago, who would later confirm through ballistics that these guns were same ones used in the murder of New York mobster Frankie Yale in July 1928, as well as the St. Valentine's Day Massacre only seven months later.

A warrant was issued for Burke's arrest but for the moment he was nowhere to be found.

More than a year later, Burke was finally apprehended on a farm in Missouri and put on trial for the killing of Officer Skelly, for which he was convicted and sentenced to life in prison.

Burke remained in prison until his death in 1940, but he was never charged or prosecuted for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

The Bolton Confession

Six years after the massacre, Burke was further linked to the notorious crime when Byron Bolton, a member of the Barker-Karpis gang, confessed to federal agents that he and Burke were among the four gunners who carried out the shooting.

During his confession, Bolton claimed he was the lookout for the operation, positioned across the street from the garage when he mistook one of Moran's men to be Moran, after which he signaled the kill team, who was having breakfast down the street at the Circus Café.

The killers planned to murder Bugs Moran and two of his men, but they were surprised when seven men showed up at the garage, so they simply decided to kill everyone, but Moran of course wasn't there.

Bolton claimed that Capone was infuriated that Moran was not dead and threatened to kill him for the mistake he made, but Fred Goetz ultimately managed to talk him out of it.

With Capone three years behind bars for tax evasion, Bolton began naming names.

The assassination crew, he said, was comprised of several Chicago mobsters, including Claude Maddox, Raymond "Crane Neck" Nugent, Fred Goetz, Murray "The Camel" Humphreys and Gus Winkler, who mowed down Moran's gangsters under Burke’s leadership.

Among the team, he said, were at least four shooters and two getaway drivers.

After taking Bolton's confession, however, the FBI lacked any jurisdiction to get involved in the investigation, so they kept Bolton's confession a secret from Chicago law enforcement and never took any action to seek justice.

Somehow Bolton's confession got leaked to the Chicago American, which published a story claiming the massacre had been solved, even though the FBI stayed mum and refused to confirm the reports.

Bolton told authorities that the plan to kill Bugs Moran was officially hatched in late 1928 at a luxury resort in Wisconsin owned by Fred Goetz.

He said he stayed at the resort for several weeks with nearly a dozen other mobsters, including Capone, hunting and fishing in their spare time as they planned the murder.

As part of the plan, Capone and McGurn would solidify their alibis by being out of town, with Capone heading to his vacation home in Miami, and McGurn and his wife, Louise Rolfe, checked into a hotel at the time of the shootings, making sure they were seen.

This confession by Bolton, a former ally of Capone, was a betrayal of the highest order, with Bolton claiming he was the lookout for the Valentine's Day assassins, and that the gang had discussed the massacre for the better part of two years while running their usual rackets.

At the time of the massacre, Burke was a fugitive in a bank robbery in Ohio, and ten months later he would murder Officer Skelly during the harrowing traffic stop in St. Joseph.

A truck driver who had been near the Chicago massacre identified Burke as a uniformed officer who was sitting in a parked police car that he sideswiped shortly before gunfire erupted. 

The officer, who was missing a front tooth, simply waved the truck by and did not issue a citation. Meanwhile, a witness to the accident gave the same description of the officer with a gap-tooth grin.

Police at the time were confident that they were describing Killer Burke.

However, Burke, known to wear police uniforms during robberies, was questioned in prison but he was never positively linked to the massacre. 

Many years later, in his 1973 autobiography, bank robber Harvey Bailey claimed that he and Fred Burke were drinking beer in Calumet City, Illinois, when the massacre took place.

At the time, Bailey said the heat was so bad from police that they were forced to abandon plans for several upcoming bank robberies. Historians still debate whether the crew was indeed responsible for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

Another prominent name that came up in the investigation was Joseph O’Riordan, another member of The Purple Gang, who once plotted to kidnap automobile pioneer Henry Ford’s son Edsel for $1 million ransom in 1927, but this plot never materialized, and his alleged involvement in the massacre was never proven.

Due to lack of evidence, none of the killers in the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre was ever brought to justice.

The Writing On The Wall

The downfall of The Purple Gang occurred in a short time period as a result of expanding internal conflicts and increasing law enforcement pressure as evidence piled up against Axler, Fletcher and other Purples. Additionally, deadly gun battles with rival Sicilian gangs and a confluence of other factors marked the beginning of the end for the gang.

By 1933, members of the gang were turning up dead one by one, leading many of the remaining crew to flee Detroit, including Fletcher and Axler, however, they were required to be in town occasionally to attend court proceedings for their alleged crimes.

This made them sitting ducks as a takeover was underway by Sicilian mobsters, who were so cunning and ruthless that any of the remaining Purples knew their days were numbered.

The Milaflores Massacre

The Milaflores Apartment massacre on March 28, 1927, was another crucial turning point that led to The Purple Gang's eventual downfall as it put the outfit under increased police pressure.

The tragic events of that day were set in motion almost four months earlier, when a Purple Gang liquor distributor named Johnny Reed was shot to death in December 1926, allegedly by Chicago mobster Frank Wright.

Purple Gang leaders wanted revenge and knew just the man for the job — Detroit gangster Fred "The Killer" Burke, who would become the main suspect in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre a couple years later.

After getting the contract, Burke kidnapped Wright's friend, Meyer "Fish" Bloomfield, and forced Bloomfield to call Wright and lure him to the Milaflores.

Wright arrived at the Milaflores with two of his men, Joseph Bloom and George Cohen, and knocked on Door #308, prepared to call a truce.

Suddenly, Burke and the Siamese Twins appeared at the end of the hallway, where they opened fire with pistols and a Thompson submachine gun.

In a horrifying scene, all three gangsters were filled with bullets and lay mortally wounded in a pool of blood on the floor while the shooters escaped down a rear stairwell.

Bloom and Cohen were pronounced dead, but amazingly Frank Wright was still alive despite being shot fourteen times.

He lived for another 20 hours before succumbing to his wounds.

The day after the shooting, police arrested Axler and Burke as suspects, but neither man was charged, nor was anyone else, and the incident further cemented the Purple Gang's myth in Detroit.

Murder at Collingwood Manor

More than four years after the Milaflores slayings, members of The Purple Gang were involved in yet another gangland massacre at the Collingwood Manor Apartments in Detroit, where three banished mobsters from Chicago were shot dead on Sept. 16, 1931, after they tried to muscle in on The Purple Gang's territory.

The Collingwood hit was plotted and carried out by Purple Gang enforcer Ray Bernstein with the assistance of crew members Harry Fleisher, Irving Milberg, and Harry Keywell, a suspect in the 1929 massacre in Chicago.

A witness identified the perpetrators and all except Fleisher were put on trial later that year, convicted and sent away for life.

Fleisher vanished after the triple murder and remained on the lam for nine months before surrendering to prosecutors in June 1932.

However, the case against him was later dismissed for lack of evidence.

Corrupt Cop Signs Own Death Warrant

Previously, members of The Purple Gang were implicated in the murder of a Detroit policeman in February 1927, putting the crew under intense scrutiny by law enforcement.

Patrolman Vivian Welch, a dirty cop who was taking payoffs from the gang, was double-crossed and murdered after he threatened to expose some of the Purple Gang's crimes unless they agreed to pay him more, a demand that spelled his doom.

One day, while riding in a jalopy with several members of the gang, Welch realized he was in danger and threw himself from the moving vehicle.

Mangled from the stunt, Welch was still on the ground when the driver backed up over the officer, crushing him to death.

Several members of the Purple Gang were soon rounded up, but Abe Bernstein, the leader of the gang, went on the run as he owned the car that ran over Welch.

Welch's killing brought the full weight of law enforcement to the gang's door, with numerous members being sentenced to prison, leaving turf unprotected, and Fletcher and Axler more vulnerable to their enemies.

Die By The Gun

Fletcher and Axler were rubbed out amid a growing turf war between rival gangs, vying for control of Detroit's narcotics rackets as the Purple Gang's influence had waned due to members being eliminated or imprisoned.

Many members of the gang were also bankrupted during the early years of the Great Depression, which was squeezing the United States right at the time Fletcher and Axler were killed.

Both men had been rounded up in a sting just two weeks before they were killed, and had been facing multiple felony charges as Detroit's undisputed Public Enemy No. 1 and No. 2.

Before his death, Axler was arrested a total 18 times, but convicted only thrice during a 13-year criminal career. The cunning criminal only served two terms at Sing Sing Prison, which amounted to no more than five years behind bars.

Fletcher was arrested a total of 11 times throughout his criminal career but was convicted only once, while he served less than two years at the U.S. Penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas.

Before Fletcher and Axler could go to trial on new charges, however, they were discovered dead in the middle of the night, riddled with bullets and propped up against one another in the back seat of a shiny new Chrysler sedan, which was registered to Axler's wife, Evelyn.

Both men were shot at close range, and were unarmed in the back seat, leading police to believe that two shooters were inside the car when they killed the inseparable twins, who were rarely ever seen out of each other’s company, and they remained close even in death.

Police said one of the shooters opened fire from the front seat, while a second gunman shot while seated next to both victims in the rear. Fletcher died while clutching Axler's right hand, according to investigators who recovered .38 caliber bullets and multiple .45-caliber shell casings.

The bodies were eventually identified through fingerprints.

At the time, Fletcher was 35, and Axler was 32.

The pair had been lured to their deaths by killers who were never identified.

[wario-speedwagon]

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 4

Hi ho cheerio, friendos, I got another chapter here for ya! You know the drill, full text under the cut, and hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The hum of the car’s motor filled the silence between a discontented Jack and the short passenger beside him.

“...”

“...”

The young girl’s legs could barely reach past the edge of her car seat, nor did her eye level reach far over the side car window, but she was entranced nonetheless by the passing scenery around her.

Jack had a bad feeling about all this, but what could he do? He was resigned to the position Dave had forced him into.

Fredbear have mercy on that eggplant’s soul the moment Jack next laid his eyes on him.

“...”

Jack thought of striking up some banter, but nothing seemed natural to bring up. She wouldn’t be able to respond verbally anyway.

“...Roll down the window if you want. Handle’s over by you.”

He looked over.

No response from the hypnotized girl.

“...”

He turned his eyes back to the road.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack locked the front door behind them, letting Pruny enter the house before him. She stood there in the middle of his living room, taking in her surroundings with interest.

“Stay here, I’m gonna bring out some blankets.”

He left her to her fascination with the grandfather clock as he headed for his room down the hallway.

As he reached the hallway though, Pruny ran over to catch up to him.

Jack hid a sigh and let her stick to his side.

He entered his room. There was only the one comforter on his bed; and when he checked his closet, he saw it was empty of all but clothes. Relocating so often, he never kept much stuff beyond the stingy necessities.

…Jeez.

He went to the bathroom and pulled some folded towels from under the sink; they’d have to be better than nothing at this rate.

“Here’s the bathroom if you need it by the way.”

But then he stopped and considered:

“Do you– How about this: why don’t you shower up, and I’ll go make us dinner?”

With a moment of consideration, she shyly consented.

“You’re… good on your own, right? Just use the bar soap, dry off when you’re done, put on that new shirt…?”

She nodded.

Thank god.

He started the shower for her.

“Alright, uhh, if you need me– I don’t know, scream at the top of your lungs or something.”

And with her acknowledgement, he closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving her to it.

...And then he collapsed against the hallway wall and sighed out the conflicted tension he’d been ignoring in front of her.

…Fuck…

He stayed against that wall, reviewing his thoughts for a savored minute of privacy.

“...”

But then with a concluding sigh, he finally pushed himself back on his feet.

“Alright… grilled cheese…”

So to the kitchen he went. There’s no way he wouldn’t have the ingredients on hand.

Jack entered the room, and then time suddenly stopped.

“...”

The motherfucker sat there across the kitchen, leaning against the counter, smiling knowingly back at him.

Jack made a mad scramble for his ridiculous neck.

Yet Dave casually intercepted both of his struggling wrists and held them at bay in front of him as he cheerfully greeted:

“Why hello there, old sport!”

“–the FUCK’d you leave her behind with me!?”

“Chillax, pal, I think you’re overreactin’ just a bit.”

“–gonna skin you ALIVE, Aubergine–!”

“Jeez, aren’t you a piece o’ work tonight! Listen, old–”

“–Get out of my house, and take her with you!”

“Oh come on, don’t be fuckin’ stupid! I already told you I ain’t got anywhere to take her to!”

He let go of a slightly less feral Jack.

“‘Sides, look how much she’s warmed up to ya! You really gonna just dump her off outta the blue like that after inviting her into your home!?”

“You’re the one who dumped her off onto me, scumbag!

Now take her and leave, or I walk.”

“Old sport, I don’t understand. Why’re you so sore about this? Don’t tell me you hate Pruny that much?”

“This has nothing to do with her.”

“R-Really? Then why–”

“I’m not taking care of another kid and that’s final.”

“‘–a-another’...?”

Jack winced at his Freudian slip.

“Sportsy, you’re not… a father–?”

“Drop it.

“But–”

“Get your ass off my oven so I can make dinner.”

“S-Sure, but– I already took care o’ that for ya! Least I could do!”

“What.”

“Even set the table and everything!”

Jack turned around to see the table with three plates of dark brown rectangles accompanied by glasses of what he presumed to be tap water.

“Y-You…”

Closer inspection of their “dinner” disconcerted Jack.

“What the hell did you DO to–!? Why Pop-Tarts!?”

“Heh heh! Not bad, eh–”

“–They’re CHARRED!”

“Yeah, ‘xactly!”

“WHAT D’YOU MEAN, ‘XACTLY’!?”

“Everything’s tastiest well-done!”

“Who raised you like this!?”

“Ah, no one in particular! Now quit yer belly-aching and just–”

“No no nosiree, you’re gonna take that so-called ‘dinner’ and go while I make us something that’s actually edible!”

“...Wait, so you– you’ll let her stay then?”

“Leave.”

“Son of a gun, you do have a heart rattlin’ around in there!”

“Tch–!”

Jack threw a Pop-Tart at him in lieu of a retort as he turned around for the fridge.

“Well, alright, if you reeeaallly don’t want me here t’ help out, then I supposed I’ll just be on m–

OH– Pruny, that shirt looks GREAT on you!~”

Jack looked back to see Dave looking down at the wet child who was leaned up against the wall corner in her horribly oversized shirt. Jack feared how long she might have been eavesdropping, although–

“Sw– Sweetie, you need to turn the shower off when you’re done–!”

“...Sweetie.”

Jack resisted the urge to commit a crime of passion as he walked past Dave’s insufferable grin.

(Chapter 5) ->

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Harley Earl

Harley Earl is the father of the Corvette. The Corvette was his idea pure and simple. He was influenced after World War II watching Jaguars and MG's run road-racing courses like Watkins Glen. He felt America needed its own sports car and he convinced GM to develop its own, inexpensive two-seater. Originally code named "Project Opel", Earl kept the Corvette program pretty much to himself. He had a special small studio with a handful of people working on it. At the time, Earl wasn't sure which GM division ought to sell the Corvette, But he felt close to Ed Cole at Chevrolet and decided to give the "Bowtie Division" first shot. Cole was sold the first time he saw the prototype. He knew it was just what the stodgy Chevrolet division needed. The Corvette debuted at Motorama in New York, January of 1953 and was an instant hit. Six months later the Corvette went into production and the rest is history. But the Corvette may not have been Earl's greatest achievement. His main accomplishment was making automotive design an institution. It was the work of Harley Earl that put the sizzle back into the American car business after World War II. His expressive designs defined an entire era. He was the first man to design a car with a wraparound windshield, cars without running boards, and the first to tantalize the motoring public with dream cars like the 1938 Y Job and the 1951 Le Sabre. He grew up in Hollywood in the early 1900s and quickly developed designs with a flare for the dramatic. His father ran a custom coach building company, and young Harley was put to work- as Chief Designer. He would often produce clay models for customers, showing them what their future vehicles would look like. Earl later became close friends with Lawrence Fisher, who became president of the Cadillac Division of General Motors in 1925. Fisher asked Earl for some design help on the new LaSalle. His successful design caught the attention of GM Chairman Alfred B. Sloan. Harley moved to Detroit in 1927 and quickly set about making GM one of the world leaders in design. In 1937, his Art and Color department was renamed General Motors Design Staff. Among Earl's most memorable designs are the Chevy Nomad, the Cadillac Eldorado Brougham, all of the early 1950s Buicks and of course, the Corvette. Earl's legacy, however is the Corvette which will live on as a testimony to his vision and his talent. Harley Earl died on April 10, 1969.

Harley J. Earl (November 22, 1893 – April 10, 1969) was the initial designated head of Design at General Motors, later becoming Vice President, the first top executive ever appointed in Design of a major corporation in American history. He was an industrial designer and a pioneer of modern transportation design. A coachbuilder by trade, Earl pioneered the use of freeform sketching and hand sculpted clay models as automotive design techniques. He subsequently introduced the "concept car" as both a tool for the design process and a clever marketing device. Earl's Buick Y-Job was the first concept car. He started "Project Opel", which eventually became the Chevrolet Corvette, and he authorized the introduction of the tailfin to automotive styling. During World War II, he was an active contributor to the Allies' research and development program in advancing the effectiveness of camouflage.