#Electric Chevy Vehicles

[lithiachevyofredding]

Basics About the 2023 Chevy Equinox

Power and Performance

Achieving responsive performance and excellent fuel economy at an EPA-rated 31 MPG highway, a turbocharged 1.5L inline-four engine motivates every Equinox with 175 horsepower and 203 lb-ft of torque. The six-speed automatic transmission that its paired with is electronically controlled and offers overdrive. On pavement, the Equinox’s well-tuned MacPherson strut front suspension and four-link rear suspension keep the vehicle poised when encountering especially tight turns. Chevrolet’s available all-wheel drive system means navigating through inclement weather and uneven terrain is a breeze. Powerful e-boost brakes quickly bring you to a stop and come enhanced with noise-reducing materials and a special corrosion-resistant treatment.

Interior and Amenities

Infotainment 

Running the widely praised Chevrolet Infotainment 3 software on a 7-inch touchscreen or optional Infotainment 3 Plus on a high-definition 8-inch touchscreen, the Equinox’s multimedia system provides easy access to a plethora of useful and fun apps. Along with standard Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, the system offers voice-activated navigation, a mobile Wi-Fi hotspot, and Bluetooth streaming audio.

Cloud personalization for infotainment settings allows you to save your preferences and transfer them to other vehicles in your garage that have been equipped with the same system.  

Safety

You can count on the Equinox to help keep you and your passengers safe because the National Highway Transportation Safety Administration has awarded it a five-star safety rating. The crossover SUV has a number of standard assists, including a forward collision alert with automated emergency braking, lane keeping assistance, and Chevy’s Teen Driver feature, which allows parents to more easily monitor their teen’s driving habits.

The standard rear seat reminder aids in ensuring that small children won’t be left unattended inside the vehicle by mistake.

As you can see from its long list of amazing features, Chevrolet’s Equinox is quite the bang for the buck! Head down to Lithia Chevrolet of Redding today and check it out for yourself!

[montero12k]

Chevrolet Silverado EV

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

Bolt sales were up sharply year over year, with more sales growth than all but one of Chevy’s models (the Malibu) and two other GM models (XT4, Terrain). Bolt sold 22,073 vehicles in 2021 and 38,120 in 2022, a 72% increase for this model line. Most of GMs other models showed either sales declines or more modest growth, with the company overall adding 2.5% to sales year over year.

So, Bolt sales are increasing significantly, like many other electric models are, while gas car sales are showing much smaller growth.

[pierre-chevrolet]

Time to Replace Your Car Battery? 3 Signs

The average battery life is three to five years, and then it needs replacement. As time passes, its electricity storage capacity naturally reduces, causing it to fail. A failed battery could easily leave you stuck on the roadside waiting for a tow or jump-start. As your Chevy dealer, we’d like you to know some signs you need to visit us for a new car battery.

[effluvlia]

Gas station at the house

2024 Chevy Equinox EV

[hankgraffchevrolet]

Featuring sophisticated technology and award-winning models, Chevrolet’s lineup of electric vehicles is re-imagining the future of eco-friendly road-tripping, heavy-duty towing, and everyday driving. Visit our blog to discover Chevy's 2024 electric vehicle lineup.

[tubmanchev]

Chevrolet Roadside Assistance Canada - Jim Tubman Chevrolet

Chevrolet Roadside Assistance Canada provides 24/7 emergency assistance to drivers. Our services include towing, tire changes, jump starts, and more. Get peace of mind knowing you have help on the road with Chevrolet Roadside Assistance Canada.

[skbeaumont]

"Make Me Wanna" | Jackson!Joel x Reader oneshot

Song: Make Me Wanna - Thomas Rhett Summary: Joel fucks you in the back of a truck. That's literally it. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, 18+, porn with a smattering of plot, smut, PIV, dirty talk, pets names (baby, darling), kind of dom!Joel, established relationship, Jackson era Word Count: 3.2k A/N: As always, the lyrics have been worked into the story, so if you can listen please do!

There are two working vehicles in Jackson. The school bus – a large van that serves as transport for the kids in the winter, when the paths freeze over and the snow falls too thick to walk through – and a ’75 Chevy Cheyenne. It’s the keys to this that Tommy hands Joel one early morning, the dry Wyoming summer heat already pushing the mercury up into the eighties.

The rest of the town are still asleep, but you, Joel, and Tommy are outside in the square, your conversation chorused by the call of the town’s raggedy old rooster. Joel’s having trouble concentrating on his brother’s instructions, his eyes flicking like the hands on a clock to the way the dress you pulled on this morning clings to your ass and hips, the thin cotton leaving very little to his imagination.

He’s sure you’ve done it on purpose; there can be no other reason to wear such an impractical outfit when you’re heading out beyond the wall. Sure, it’s an easy run – up to the dam, check everything’s in order, head back – but Joel’s not sure how he’s even going to make it there with you in that ridiculous damn dress, curves calling out to him. It makes him wanna-

“Joel, are even you listening?” Tommy’s voice cuts through his reverie, has him shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it of flies.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What was the last thing I just said?”

“Uh,”

Tommy rolls his eyes and Joel looks at you for help, but you just smile at him innocently with dimples in your cheeks, batting your eyelashes like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Jesus Joel, can’t you concentrate for two minutes?”

Tommy relaunches into his lecture about the dam and the route, and Joel tries to pay attention to the words, tries to ignore the way you’re gliding a single finger across the small of his back, hand dipping under his shirt to reach the hot skin there. It’s such an innocent gesture, the pad of your finger caressing him gently, without urgency, but it sends electricity coiling up his spine.

For your part, it’s all you can do not to jump him here and now. Tommy’s early morning wakeup call disturbed what was shaping up to be a very pleasant morning in bed with Joel, and there’s an insistent warmth in your belly at the memory of his rough stubble on the back of your neck as you lay together in bed not an hour ago. You’re wondering how far you can push him, how riled up he’ll have to be before he sacks in this run and takes you back to bed.

Finally convinced that Joel’s taken on board at least some of what he’s said, or perhaps fed up of trying to talk to him while he’s clearly so distracted, Tommy leads you both to an old barn where the vehicles are kept. The chevvy is a faded, sun-bleached red: a worn leather front bench up front, large enough for three or four people to sit in a line, with an open bed in the back. You climb into the cab next to Joel, shuffle yourself over so that you’re almost in his lap where he sits at the wheel.

“Wanna explain what this is about?” He asks as he starts the engine, gesturing to the dress with his free hand.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, and you can hear him rolling his eyes, hear the tight, whispered Jesus Christ as he shifts the truck into gear.

It’s a slow drive through Jackson; the narrow streets aren’t built for vehicles. Joel steers the truck around the chicken coops and picnic benches, taking you to the front of town where the gates are. Here, the watchers on the duty lever open the corrugated metal wall that separates Jackson from the wilderness outside, and Joel guides the truck through.

You haven’t had much of a chance to spend time outside the walls since your arrived in Jackson some four months ago, but even so, you find it hard to take in the countryside and wide, rolling hills with Joel sat next to you, his warm hand on your thigh. You trace patterns across the back of his hand, follow the lines of old scars and new scratches, let your fingertips trail higher, up to his bare wrist, over the prominent veins that sit just beneath his tan skin.

“I know what you’re doin’” He says, voice dark as he squeezes your thigh in his grip, a warning you’re bound to ignore.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” You repeat, letting go of his wrist to lean across in your seat, reaching for the glove box. You pull it open.

“Aha!” A cassette tape falls out into your hand, writing blurred with age but still legible. “County Sound FM.”

You slide it into the old cassette player set in the dash, hold your breath as it cracks and pops and then starts playing.

“Is this…” Joel turns his head slightly, angling so that the gentle rhythm and rolling melody can reach his good ear. “R.E.M.?”

“Man on the Moon,” You confirm, looking at the track listing on the cassette.

“Jesus.” He says, shaking his head.

He takes a right at the end of the main track up to Jackson, down a dirt road that’s overhung with dense trees. You let your eyes trace over his profile; the strong, curved line of his nose, dark stubble that’s flecked with grey. His jaw is set, but he’s nodding along with the music. He catches you watching him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes your thigh again, kneading the flesh there.

“You gotta stop looking at me that way, baby,” He says, shifting the fabric of your dress so that he can drag his hand further up your leg, the heat of his palm almost feverish against you.

You shift in the seat, open your legs wider, encouraging him to move higher still and then turn into him, press you lips against the juncture of his throat, inching your own hand over the front of his jeans where he’s already half hard.

“You know there’s only so much I can take,” His voice is gruff against the lightness of the country song. “You make me wanna…”

He trails off and you huff a laugh against his collarbone, move your mouth to his ear so that you can say, “make you wanna what, Joel?” into it.

“Pull this truck to the side of the road, for a start.” He says, turning his head to look at you.

His eyes are dark, expression serious, a frown creasing his brow. The hand he’s got on the steering wheel is gripping it tight, knuckles white against the dark leather of the grip. You can see the tension in his shoulders, his thighs when he shifts as you run the flat of your hand against his cock.

“If you don’t stop,” He says, voice catching in his throat, “I’m gonna- fuck, darlin’, Jesus Christ.”

He breaks off as you slip your hand suddenly under the waistband of his jeans, wrist barely squeezing between the buckle of his belt and his stomach. His cock jerks against your hand, smearing precum across your knuckles as you fight against the tight denim. “Gonna what?” You ask again, wrapping your fist around his cock, letting your thumb run over the silky tip of him. “Pull the truck over? Go on then.”

The truck veers to one side, brakes squealing out as Joel brings it to a stop at the side of the road, tree branches scratching against the windows.

“Slide on over, then,” He says, turning into you, leaning back and opening his legs so that you can climb into his lap.

His gaze is hot and hard and animalistic as you settle against him. You reach between your heaving chests to paw at the button to his jeans but he grabs your wrists, grins at you, eyes glinting.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” He says, wrapping two solid arms around and pulling you flush to his chest, mouth resting at the shell of your ear. “I’ll tell you everything I’m thinking.”

He buries his mouth at your throat, licks and sucks and nips at the tender flesh there, kneads your ass with his hands.

“I think you’re an impatient little thing who needs to learn some manners,” He says, his voice thick, “and I think I’m gonna take you to the back of this track and fuck you on the tailgate. How does that sound?”

He barely gives you a chance to answer, just tucks your dress out of the way so that he can reach down between your ass cheeks to the wet line of your panties, following the crotch round over your cunt to the hard nub of your clit, already swollen and throbbing under his ministrations.

“Joel, please,” You whine, as he teases you with two of his fingers, circling your entrance but not breaching it.

“You know better than to wear that dress, baby,” he says into your throat, “Oughta be against the law,”

He pulls back, fists a hand in your hair and drags your mouth to his. The kiss is heated and ferocious from the start; Joel pulls your lower lip into his mouth with his teeth, draws out your keening moans with a clever flick of his tongue.

“I need you, Joel, please,” You say, trying again to undo the button on his jeans.

“Ain’t room in here,” He says, reaching over the pop open his door, “in the back, like I said. C’mon.”

You follow him out and round to the back of the truck. He lets the tailgate fall with a soft clunk, takes his jacket off and spreads it out on the dusty metal of the truck bed.

“Hop on up,” He says, shooting you a grin that’s laced with mirth and heat, his eyes crinkling mischievously.

You do as he says, sitting up on the open tailgate. He steps between your thighs, presses them open with two large hands so that he can fit there. Running one hand up your chest to your breast, he presses his clothed cock against the wet line of your panties, circles his hips so that the rough denim catches against your clit and makes you moan.

When he pulls back he takes your panties off, dragging them down your legs with two fingers before pushing them into the pocket of his jeans. It makes your stomach clench, the sight of them peeking out, the pink lace a stark contrast to the worn dark denim, marking you as his. With them out of the way, Joel wastes no time in pressing two fingers into your soaking cunt, grinning down at you as you yelp at the sudden intrusion. It turns into a whimper as he bends them just so, the calloused pads of his fingertips searching out that tender spot inside that has you curling your toes and clawing at his shoulders.

“There she is,” He says, chuckling darkly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit and applying a steady, gentle pressure.

It’s intoxicating – the firm pressure of his fingers inside you, the sure, confident thrum of his thumb over your clit. It’s like being drunk on no alcohol, just Joel, his breathy sighs and warm scent enveloping you, wrapping you up in a haze of heady desire.

“Gonna come for me, darlin’?” He asks as he feels you start to tense around him.

He trails his free hand along the side of your jaw, drawing your face back to his so that he can kiss you again, swallow down your moans as you jolt and shake against him, the orgasm rising up suddenly in your belly, sending spikes of ecstasy through your quivering cunt.

“Good girl,” He whispers, drawing his fingers out.

He pulls them up to his mouth, places his fingertips against his lush bottom lip and slides his tongue over them, groaning at the taste of you.

“You wear this dress jus’ for me, baby?” He asks, fisting the fabric between his knuckles as he unbuckles his belt, “Know just how to turn me on, don’t you?”

You nod, watching him pull his cock out of the confines of his jeans. He drags the swollen, weeping head against your folds, drawing air in through his teeth as he does, hissing the breath back out.

“Good girl,” He keens, using the fist that’s clutching your dress to drag you forward in the truck bed so that he can line himself up. “Feel how hard I am for you, hmm, baby? Get me so goddamn worked up I can’t think straight.”

He presses the thick length of himself against you, covering his shaft with your slick. He pulls back slightly, places the fat head of his cock at the entrance of your cunt, curses through his teeth as he inches inside, a drawn out, breathy “fuck, baby”, that has desire coiling up your spine. A muscle jumps in his jaw as you watch his face, watch his eyebrows pull up as he sinks into you, the slight tilt to his mouth, a steady slow breath pouring out of him with the effort of not slamming into you in one hard thrust.

“Okay?” He asks, holding himself still when he bottoms out, waiting for your confirmation that he can keep going.

“Move, Joel, please, God.”

A chuckle echoes deep in his chest at this, and then he wraps his arms under your thighs, pulls you firmly into him and drags himself out before slamming back inside. He sets a punishing pace. It’s all you can do to grip onto his shoulders, dig your fingernails into the firm muscles of his back and let him fuck you, his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. You watch the beads of perspiration rise on his forehead and cheeks, trace them as they roll down his face to his neck, the tendons there straining as he continues to pound into you. He’s quiet, mostly, grunting and cursing in a rasping voice, fuck, that’s it and Jesus Christ, baby.

“Got the softest pussy I’ve ever felt, darlin’.” He praises you, pressing kisses to your forehead, the side of your neck, groaning as he drags his teeth against your jaw, “gripping me so fucking tight.”

A familiar heat is coiling up inside you again, making your stomach clench and your toes curl in the boots you’re still wearing. Joel knows, can tell by the way you squeeze your eyes tight shut, hands gripping his forearms where they hold your thighs up. He changes the angle, shifts his hips so that his cock hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, spikes of pleasure sparking in your cunt right through to the tips of your fingers. You come around his cock, fingernails digging into the hard muscles of his arms, no doubt leaving indents that will mark him as yours when you return to town later.

“That’s it, baby, comin’ all over my cock like a good fuckin’ girl.” He presses his lips to yours, licks his tongue into your mouth, teeth biting into your bottom lip, pain blossoming into pleasure.

He slows his thrusts as you come down from your high, dragging his cock against the roof of your cunt and running a hand up your side, over the curve of your hips up to your breast. He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, soothes your moans with his mouth on yours, swallowing them as they fall from your lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” He says, picking up the pace again, snapping his hips to yours, fisting his hand into your hair. “Can you give me one more? One more and I’ll come in this perfect cunt, hmm?”

He reaches between your writhing bodies, presses his fingers to the bundle of nerves above where he’s thrusting into you and draws circles over your clit. The pressure is firm and fucking perfect, Joel’s fingers confident and sure in what they’re doing. He knows your body like the back of his hand, has spent hours learning how to make you come. It only takes a few minutes before you feel yourself tightening around his cock again, eyes squeezing shut, but this time he lets go of your thigh with his free hand and grabs your chin.

“Eyes open, baby, I want you to look at me while I make you come.”

And you do, locking your eyes onto his. His pupils are blown wide, eating into the chocolate brown of his irises. His brow is furrowed with the effort of fucking you, making the lines that paint his face stand out. There’s a bead of sweat sliding down one cheek, and he bites his lip between his teeth as you come, cunt clenching around him.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, good girl” He keeps circling his fingers as you come, drawing out your orgasm, his voice vibrating in your chest. “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna come. Shit.”

He groans, holding himself still as he spurts inside you, ropes of come painting your cunt as you contract around him. You’re both breathless then, panting and holding each other, your fingers pinching his skin, his hand tangled in your hair.

“I can’t believe we did that.” You say, suddenly laughing as you realise how reckless you’ve been, out here in the middle of nowhere, Joel’s gun long since forgotten on the back seat of the truck.

“Well, you know better than to wear that dress,” Joel says, pressing his lips to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, the side of your neck. “You make me wanna…”

[pierre-chevrolet]

Exploring the Future: A Deep Dive into the 2024 Chevy EV Lineup

In this day and age, drivers planning to switch from the gas pump to the charging station are spoilt with options, including a range of amazing Chevrolet vehicles. The 2024 Chevy EV lineup includes two stylish SUVs and a capable truck, making it easy to find a model that suits your needs and budget.

[effluvlia]

Gas station at the house

Inside the Chevy Equinox EV

[canichangemyblogname]

Which of these vehicles would Tommy drive?

See Car details below:

Chevy Camaro

GMC Hummer EV SUV

Buick Enclave

GMC Sierra EV Denali

Chevy Suburban

GMC Yukon

Chevy Tahoe

Cadillac Escalade

Chevy Silverado HD

Corvette Stingray

*I chose GM because I know they’ve sponsored the show for adverts during air-time and product placements. I also tried to keep with the show’s theme of choosing BFVs (big-fucking-vehicles) for all the characters.

If you think he drives a different brand of car, give me your propaganda in the tags, as long as it’s not a Found-On-Road-Dead (Ford). Tommy is canonically a car guy; he’d never drive a Ford. (Also, Henry Ford was a fuck-ass 🙅‍♂️.) I included some options below for you to consider, as polls only include so many options.

Special Mentions:

Jeep Gladiador

Land Rover Defender 90

Toyota Land Cruiser

RAM 3500

Toyota Tundra

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Philip Elliott at Time Magazine:

The actual roadmap for 2024 might have moved when you were not looking. Maybe—and it’s a big maybe, admittedly—the biggest detour in politics right now is parked in the driveway. In ways subtle and overt, the electric vehicle has become the avatar for clean energy in the minds of voters, which may prove to be a political clunker for Democrats, despite having the stronger story to tell.  The voters most turned off by talks of Tesla Cybertrucks and Chevy Bolts? Young voters, voters without college degrees, and Latinos, according to new polling from the centrist groups Third Way and The NewDeal that is hitting allies’ inbox as you read this. Their surveys find a surprising 44% of the American electorate hold a negative view of electric vehicles. The numbers are about the same for voters in the battleground states of Michigan, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Nevada, and Georgia. That’s an anchor that no engine—powered by raw jetfuel or lithium-ion batteries—can move with so little time before Election Day in November. [...]

There’s long been a myth—and a popular one at that with progressives—that so-called Climate Voters are a sufficient force in politics to sway outcomes. This is, to be frank, not at all the case. In fact, climate change seldom merits a spot in the top-five ranking of priorities. The Third Way survey found just 4% of voters ranked climate change a deciding priority, well behind the economy, border, and democracy itself. Even amid the wave of inflation and worries about day-to-day costs, gas prices aren’t even a driving force; food, housing, taxes, and health care all outpace the price at the pump, according to Third Way’s research. 

That’s not to say Climate Voters can be ignored, strategists say. They are likely to be highly educated, high-propensity voters who favor Biden by a solid 96-point margin. (They also have checkbooks that fuel the campaign and its allies.) The problem is there just aren’t enough of them to counter their intellectual inverse, a group lumped together in Third Way research as Economy First Voters. This conservative bloc tends to be heavily tilted toward Latinos, women, younger voters, and those who lack a college degree. These voters view themselves as just trying to get through the week without the government making it harder. And for these voters, Trump enjoys a 26-point margin and opposition to EVs enjoys a 44-point toehold. For Economy First Voters, a full 64% of these voters tell pollsters that climate change will have to wait until inflation is under control.

[NOTE: Poll conducted between May 9-18, 2024.]

Could anti-electric vehicle sentiments be the reason why Donald Trump is polling well? A poll from Third Way and The NewDeal conducted between May 9th and 18th reveals that 44% of those hold anti-EV sentiments, and those holding anti-EV sentiments are more likely to back Trump in the election.

[t-top-apologist]

There's a lot to be said for Electric cars. They're heavy, somehow unreliable, massive hunks of steel and toxic chemicals by design AND necessity, sometimes very fast, serve as status symbols for the insufferable, and are known for intermittently ramming into people and other cars. When you really look at it, the electric car is as distinctly American as Apple Pie, the Chevy Small Block, and smiling at strangers on the street.

Yet many commentators overlook the most American aspect of electric vehicles: Tax Evasion.

See, despite the hefty annual registration you pay to put a sticker on your license plate each year, the real road tax for most automobiles is exacted on each gallon of fuel burnt. It's only fair, as heavier cars tend to use more fuel, meaning the vehicles that are harder on the roads and the people that use them the most will on average pay more to repair them.

You can see now how EVs throw a wrench in that equation. Not only do they weigh as much as half a dozen Honda Citys (INCLUDING the Motocompo foldable scooter), but they don't use a lick of pump gas while auto-piloting backwards off the nearest overpass.

The Federal Government is doing its darndest to make sure EVs make up the bulk of daily commuters within the next [TIMEFRAME GOALPOST MOVED TO TEN YEARS PAST CLIMATE APOCALYPSE], and local municipalities are facing the prospect of repairing roads on reduced budgets while these ion-fueled freeloaders erode the asphalt further with their multi-tonne zero-emission smugness machines.

Previously I was the one with a near-local monopoly on evading fuel tax, thanks to my advanced E85 brewing setup made from a lapsed whiskey still I found in the woods and my personal recycling enterprise (stealing used cooking oil from fast food greasetraps, fighting the raccoons for access to the greasetraps, training the local possums in counter-raccoon tactics, fighting rogue possum factions for access to the greasetraps, enabling a cycle of inter-mammalian violence so that I can fill the tank on my $200 300D wagon).

Now the municipalities are talking about "reporting mileage" and "Paying $400 yearly for infrastructure upkeep." This is what EV owners would define as an "Externality," another very American ideal.

In the long run this will probably help me. Most of my odometers are broken, and even if they aren't, the average mileage on one of my cars is 15 miles, 17 if you count the time I had to roll it backwards down a hill and push it into my garage. It's just the principle of the thing, I say, fending off another well-armed possum militia dead-set on acquiring my remaining catalytic converters.