#Engine Valve Springs

[prosourcediesel]

Heavy Duty Valve Spring Retainers for 6.0L & 6.4L Powerstroke | ProSource Diesel

Upgrade your 6.0L or 6.4L Powerstroke engine with our heavy-duty valve spring retainers. Designed for durability and performance, these retainers ensure reliable operation and improved engine efficiency. Shop now at ProSource Diesel.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

[diabolus1exmachina]

Willys Interlagos A108

The Willys Interlagos, named after the famous Sao Paulo circuit, was the first sports car made in Brazil under Alpine license from 1961 to 1966. It was offered in three versions, coupé, convertible and berlinetta. The history of Interlagos, which dominated Brazilian competitions in the 1960s, is intertwined with that of motorsports in Brazil. The Fittipaldi brothers started notably in these cars, as well as José Carlos Pace. The Interlagos A 108 was strictly identical to the French Alpine A108. Only the badges and some details like the chrome headlight rings reveal its South American origins. The engine is therefore that of the Dauphine available in three versions, 845, 904 and 998 cm³. The last two years of production, the Interlagos berlinetta was equipped with the engine of the famous Dauphine 1093 Brazil competition version. It is equipped with a 1093 cylinder head with reinforced double spring valves, Gordini camshaft, standard crankshaft, 58×80 flat pistons, 32 PAIA carburettor and SEV Marchal distributor. With a production of just 822 examples, the Interlagos A 108 is a special car in the Brazilian automotive scene. With the return of Alpine to the front of the stage, Interlagos takes on all its meaning for those connoisseurs of the brand.

[hirocimacruiser]

Daihatsu Charade DeTomaso 926R concept car from the 26th Tokyo Motor Show

An Optimum 1-Liter Midship-designed Car

Charade DETOMASO 926R

The ultimate in liter car driving. Equipped with a 926ccDOHC turbo engine mid-ship.

Charade DETOMASO 926R.

Charade DETOMASO 926R, a liter car Pioneer, pursues the ultimate in driving.

This is a 2BOX mid-engine model with the engine mounted in the rear seat, and a 50:50 front/rear weight balance for improved driving performance. This is a car that was completely tuned by the Italian company DeTomaso with the aim of making it a faster 2BOX car, rather than just a styling tune-up.

Of course, this is a first for a Japanese 2BOX car. The engine is based on the Charade 926 Turbo engine, which was produced in a limited number of 200 units last year with motorsports in mind, and is armed with a 4-valve DOHC.

The body is designed to enhance aerodynamic performance and cooling effects for the engine and suspension.

It is also equipped with top-notch Italian parts such as Pirelli's latest P700 and newly designed Campagnolo.

The Charade DETOMASO 926R is fully tuned by DeTomaso while retaining the basic Charade identity.

This machine is truly a little monster.

It is a Japanese-Italian hybrid prototype unique to Daihatsu.

Main specifications and equipment

●Total length 3,850×total width 1,640×total height 1,360mm

●Wheelbase 2,320mm

●Tread front 1,380 x rear 1,410mm

●Roading capacity: 2 people

●Engine: Water-cooled 4-stroke inline 3-cylinder DOHC (4 valves) with turbocharger

●Total displacement: 926cc

●Maximum output: 120PS (gross)

●Mission: 5 speed manual

●Brake: 4 wheel disc

●Suspension: Front strut type coil spring + stabilizer, rear strut type coil spring

●Tires: PIRELLI P700 (front 205/50VR15, rear 225/50VR15)

●Wheel: CAMPAGNOLO (magnesium alloy. Front 6J x 15, rear 7J x 15)

●Muffler: ANSA (dual exhaust)

●Steering: MOMO (350$ leather wrapped)

●Meter: VEGLIA (independent round type)

●Fog lamp: CARELLO

●Door mirror: VITALONI

●Horn: FIAMM (air horn)

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 15

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 |-| Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: When Rosie doesn't return from a mission, Frankie is forced to deal with the fallout

Warnings: ANGST. just so much. consider this a blanket warning for everything honestly

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @ginabaker1666

Files tucked beneath her arm, a cup of coffee in one hand, George strode along the halls of command, humming to herself as she went, the day as monotonous and ordinary as any other. Golden ponytail bouncing with each step, the route back to her desk was so familiar that her mind didn't even have to steer her, the movement utterly brainless as she passed Crosby's desk. Douglass stood talking with the navigator, the pair frowning in concern, but she didn't give them notice until she heard Harry speak.

"No word on Rosie, still. I'll call back in a while, see if he's made it back."

George's pace ceased so suddenly that her coffee sloshed over the side, a great brown puddle landing on the ground with an audible splatter. The two men turned to stare, frowns deepening.

"Aarons?" Croz asked, brow furrowed.

"What did you just say?" She asked.

"... I said Aa-"

"No. About Rosie. What did you just say?"

The men exchanged a wary glance, and Croz sucked in a long, deep breath.

"Rosie's plane didn't make it back with the others. We don't know if-"

That was all she needed to know. George discarded everything she'd been carrying upon Crosby's desk in a single, frantic movement, the last of her coffee spilling droplets across whatever map he had currently been working on. He let out a yelp of protest, but she was already gone, heel almost skidding against the polished floor as she made a dash for the exit, sunlight stinging her eyes after so many hours hunched over a typewriter.

Frankie. Frankie. Frankie.

The thought ran on a ceaseless loop, too panicked to even conjure a whole sentence. But she needed to find Frankie - now. Before anyone else could. If the news came from anyone but her, who knew how much worse the damage could be. George hadn't the time to think before she burst into a sprint, almost skidding against the gravel several times as her mad dash carried her towards the hardstand, sweat drenching her hair brown by the time she arrived.

Her heart was beating out of her chest, breath coming to her in quick, ragged bursts, chest heaving. Lemmons had spotted her the moment she approached, expression already contorted in a miserable scowl, rubbing the grease from his hands with a tattered old rag.

"George-"

"Where's Frankie?"

"She's working on one of the ATS trucks. But George, Rosie's-"

"I know," She uttered, barely more than an exhausted huff as she broke into a run yet again, heartbeat pounding so hard she could barely hear anything else.

The ATS depot was deathly silent as she arrived, the scene almost unnerving. There was not another person in sight, everyone else off on the day's supply runs. As for Frankie, she stood bent over the engine of one of the remaining trucks, one hand propped against the hood to keep it upright, muttering to herself as she tinkered and tweaked, her other hand lazily wrapped in a rag to keep the first away as she poked around inside. George's thundering footsteps pittered to a stop just behind her, fighting to breathe again, desperate to regain some composure before she had to deliver the news.

Frankie never glanced up, assuming the new arrival to simply be another ATS worker. "Yeah, I think it's a problem with the valve - I'll have to get a new spring," She mused, eyes narrowed.

"Frankie," George urged, voice coming in little more than a croak. Frankie paused then. As time had gone on, she'd stopped making sure she was on the tarmac the second Rosie's plane touched down. If there was another pressing job to do, she could get it done and find him after interrogation, so sure had the pair of them became that he would always make it back. After all, he'd returned from fifty-one missions - would else could say that? She'd gotten too comfortable, too complacent in the knowledge of his competency. And now she was paying the price.

Turning to look at George, red-faced and panting, tears in her eyes, Frankie felt her blood run cold. Instantly she was back in the mechanics' hut, more than a year ago now, opening her arms to George as the news of Curt's death arrived. The situation seemed so eerily similar all of a sudden, that her first instinct was to ask after Blakely. Even with Everett safely on the ground, it somehow seemed more plausible that something had happened to him than it did Rosie - the idea that Rosie of all people hadn't made it back didn't even cross her mind at first.

"... George?"

George swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that were forming. Her mouth had gone utterly dry, the act of speaking tearing painfully at her throat.

"Frankie... Rosie's plane didn't make it back."

She didn't flinch, eyes glassy, gaze fixed on some invisible midpoint, never quite settling on anything real.

"Did his chute go up?"

"We don't know."

George had expected her to cry - to let out one of those terrible sobs, or even to empty the contents of her stomach onto the ground below like she had when Egan had gone down. She'd expected her to fall apart, to make it messy and loud.

Her silence was so much worse.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie was floating - the feeling of her feet rooted against the ground suddenly ebbing away, as if she had broken free from her body and began to slip upwards out of her own skull. She could hear nothing save for the thumping of her heartbeat, the sudden swell of blood leaving a prickling sensation in her fingers, as if her hands were being stabbed at by a dozen tiny needles, burying beneath the skin at the softest parts of her. Any colour that remained to her had drained from her face, skin left a cadaverish grey as her mouth gaped open, any and all moisture sapped from her throat until every breath felt like sandpaper scraping against raw flesh.

George was trying to speak - she could see her lips moving, yet no sound permeated her thoughts. What was she saying? It didn't matter. How could it? If it couldn't bring Rosie back, it wasn't worth a damn thing.

Screwing up the rag in her hand, Frankie tossed it blindly into the open engine of the truck she'd been working on. She moved past without a word, shoulder brushing against George's as she began to walk away, relying on her body to move her feet, trusting it was working even when she couldn't feel the press of gravel beneath her. She couldn't feel anything. It would've been terrifying, but that was a feeling too.

"Frankie-" George croaked, but with a lift of Frankie's hand she was silent, jaw snapping shut, eyes red with tears as she watched her best friend leave, overwhelmed by the unknown. Because she simply couldn't say that Rosie was dead. But she couldn't say he was alive either. And that was worse, in a way - its own unique form of torture.

The hut was empty, an eerie silence hanging over it as Frankie entered, letting the door swing shut with a creak behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath and letting it seep outwards again, the pain in her throat still tender. Everything here was unchanged. How could everything look the same? How could something so fundamentally shift within her, yet the world outside remained exactly as it was? It almost didn't seem real. Here, in the same old hut, the one Rosie had never been allowed to enter, it seemed easy to pretend nothing outside of these metal walls had happened. He'd never permeated this space, so his absence didn't leave the hole it did everywhere else.

But then there were the poppies.

Tucked inside that battered old book George had given her years ago, which sat as ever on the nightstand, the edge of one of the pressed flowers peeked into the light, a tiny glimpse of red against the aged, yellow pages. It had been the best part of a year since the day he'd given them to her, but in this preserved state they'd never lost their colour, as bright as the day she'd first seen them.

Striding towards her bed, Frankie stopped just before it, flicking open the battered cover. Seeing the flowers there, scattered atop one another like they always were, flicked some kind of switch within her. A terrible scream left her, batting the book with one hand as it went spinning across the room, the fragile flowers scattering in all directions. An anguished sob ripped through her chest as she felt her strength leave her, collapsing against the bed as she fought for a breath. Egan's jacket was still hanging over the end of the bed frame. It wasn't cold here, but she put it on anyway, zipping it up as far as it would go as she tucked her chin into the collar, inhaling the smell of old cigarettes that had never gone away.

When her mother had died, had her father felt like this? If so, it was a miracle he'd lived this long.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Snow stuck to his eyelashes, freezing air battering his cheeks, and Rosie wailed through gritted teeth as one of the Soviet soldiers helped him up into the back of a truck, his arm sending shockwaves of agony rippling through his body. He wasn't quite sure where he was - even less sure where he was going. If he considered every single problem the situation posed, his mind might have crumbled in on itself. So instead, he thought of only one.

"I - I need to get back as soon as I can," He stammered, the cold chattering his teeth so fiercely that it was difficult to even speak. "My - my wife, she's waiting for me... She's a mechanic at the airfield - sh-she won't know what's happened," Rosie pleaded, receiving nothing but blank stares from his surrounding company. Either they didn't understand a word he was saying, or they simply didn't care - both options struck him as equally fair.

Everyone had a wife waiting at home, someone they wanted desperately to return to - what difference did his make to anything?

But it was Frankie. Frankie made all the difference in the world. They'd understand if they'd only met her - seen her smile, heard her laugh. Or at least, they would in Rosie's mind. Because how could someone meet Frankie and move on? How could she not become the centre of one's world?

He'd called her his wife without even thinking about it. The word felt at home on his tongue.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Crosby glanced up as a knock sounded against the doorframe. George never stepped into the room, merely hovered in the hallway, coffee steaming in her hand, tiredness tugging at her features. "Any word?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No."

She took a deep breath, nodding as she turned away, and he listened to her footsteps echo down the hall until she was gone. Passing through the next room, she brushed by Blakely's desk without so much as a glance, and his gaze followed her with a mournful frown until he couldn't stand to let her take another step alone.

"George," Everett breathed, pushing himself up from his seat. She trudged so slowly that he scarcely had to make an effort to catch up, and with a gentle hand on her back, he guided her swiftly around the corner, out of view of their coworkers.

"Hey. Hey," He cooed, cupping her jaw with both hands so that she'd meet his eye, her expression awash with exhaustion. "Baby, c'mon."

"It's been a week," George sighed. "She's not getting better. If anything, it's just getting worse."

"She's still up there?"

"Yeah."

The morning after the Riveters had gone down, Frankie had packed up her personal effects and rented out the hotel room above the pub that she and Rosie used to spend the night in. She was yet to come out. When George tried to visit, sometimes she'd let her in, but sometimes she'd simply be left out in the hall, talking through a locked door, desperate for a response. She wasn't going to work. She wasn't showing up in the mess hall to eat. The room itself was mercifully cheap, but nevertheless, if she persisted to occupy it, she'd run out of money eventually.

"... Call her dad," Blakely said.

George considered this. "Yeah. You're right he should - he should be here. But I dunno how I can get him to come, he can't drive with his leg, and he's got the kids to look after, and-"

She had begun to ramble. He pressed his forehead against hers, taking in one deep breath after another until she joined in, breathing in synch until she felt her heartbeat slow.

"I'll drive. You stay with the kids. It's alright."

"But we've got so much work to-"

"George," He spoke firmly. "It's alright."

She sighed, nodding, the faintest of smiles beginning to manifest. "Yeah... Love you."

"Love you."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The bed sheets were pulled up over her head, isolating her from the sunlight that peeked through the curtains as Frankie lay curled up on her side, picking at the hem of her blanket until it frayed. The room was beginning to smell. Well - not beginning. It had passed that point yesterday. But she hadn't noticed, or just simply didn't care. She didn't care about much of anything, not if it wouldn't bring Rosie back.

A firm knock sounded at the door. Frankie threw the sheet off, squinting in the light as she stared, hoping the sound - and whoever was causing it - would go away.

Another knock.

She huffed, calling out. "George, I don't-"

"Come on, petal."

There was that voice - that warm, grumbling, wonderful voice that took her back to her childhood whenever she heard it - to curling up in her father's lap and pretending to fall asleep so that he'd carry her to bed, to Christmases and birthdays at a two-person table, singing and laughing like they were the only two people in the entire world worth being with.

Frankie was in tears before she'd even opened the door.

No matter how tall she grew, he was always overwhelmingly huge, arms like tree trunks as she threw herself into his embrace, staggering out into the hallway. The relief was immediate, his soft shushing blowing warm breath against her scalp as gentle hands stroked her hair and squeezed her tight. He herded her back into the room without her even realising, closing the door behind them with the slightest of clicks.

"Blimey. What's all this then?" Her father breathed, surveying the state of the place. Clothes were tossed over every available surface, save for the ones that were littered with empty cups and food wrappers, every single thing dropped without any intention of ever being picked up again.

Frankie sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand as she glanced around. She hadn't noticed how bad it had gotten, hadn't broken out of her trance for even a second long enough to realise that she was rotting here. Her father pushed the window as far open as it would go, and she blinked at the feeling of fresh air on her face.

"Sit down, then," He nodded, and she did as he asked without a second thought, perching on the edge of the bed, hands pressed together, squeezed between her legs like an anxious child. His huge, calloused hands reached for her, tucking hair behind each ear until her face was in full view. "There we go."

The bedframe creaked beside her as he sat down, the entire mattress shifting beneath his weight, the silent feeling of presence infinitely more comforting than anything else she could imagine.

"I don't know what I'm doing," She confessed. "... What did you do? When mum died."

Her father sucked in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if picturing the woman whose face Frankie could only recall from photographs.

"...I got on. My Hazel was... the second-best person I've ever met. But she gave me the first," His arm wrapped around her, squeezing her shoulder so tightly she had no choice but to lean in, resting her head against him. "It felt like everything was supposed to stop. But the morning after she died you still woke me up at three in the bloody morning, screaming your head off 'n all. And the next morning, and the next. Everything kept going, and you needed me more than ever - and you were so tiny that I never wanted to put you down for a second, I just wanted to look after you forever."

He beamed down at her, and she choked out something between a sob and a laugh as he continued. "I moved your cot into my room, and I'd just sit there and watch you sleep for hours. I couldn't sleep, so I made sure I'd be there the second you woke up, so you'd never have to cry... You find something that needs you. Even if that something happens to be the littlest bundle of trouble you've ever seen-" She squirmed as he dug a finger into her side, letting out a giggle. "- you find something else. Or someone."

Frankie sniffed. "I don't think any-"

"Don't give me any bullshit, now. Those planes fly 'cause of you - the ones that make it back make it back because of you. And if you can't do that, do something smaller. George needs you."

"George doesn't need me-"

"George is sittin' on the living room floor at home playing dominoes with Jill right now, just so I could be here. You think that girl doesn't need you? You need her - why wouldn't it be the same the other way? When you started tellin' me about her in your letters, I thought 'Oh brilliant, she's found a nice bloke to look after her, all's right with the world'. Now, it turned out she wasn't a bloke - just a funny nickname - but I was bloody right about the rest, eh?"

Now she let herself smile, biting back another sob as she nodded, lips parted in the best grin she could muster.

"Dad," Frankie croaked. "... I was gonna marry him."

"I know. Course you were. But you'll marry someone else - or you won't. I didn't. D'you think my life hasn't been worth it in a million other ways?" He asked. She shook her head.

"We're gonna get up. We're gonna clean up all this shit. You're gonna come home for a couple days and then you're gonna get back to it, yeah?"

Her father rose to her feet, brow raised expectantly as he awaited a reply. Frankie sniffed, nodding as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with both hands.

"Yeah. Yeah."

He had already begun to gather up the litter before she could even stand, calling back over his shoulder. "And you're gonna give George a hug for me."

She let out a burst of laughter, feeling tears well in her eyes all over again. "Always," Frankie affirmed, chuckling. "... Dad?"

"Yes, m'love?"

"... Love you."

Her father stood up straight, turning to face her, a sympathetic smile creasing his perpetually reddened cheeks.

"Love you more."

The realisation that Rosie was no longer the last person she'd said those words to almost knocked her backwards, swiping the breath from her lungs.

But then she steadied herself, fists clenched.

"Love you most."

[disease]

"WOODEN HAND WITH ENGINE VALVE AND SPRING" MAN RAY // circa 1926–30 [gelatin silver print | 6 3/8 × 8 3/4"]

[bikebound]

For Sale: Honda "CB530TT" Street Tracker

For Sale: 1975 Honda CB500T “CB530TT” street tracker by John Wood (@woodysmobikes) of Sudbury, MA, USA. As featured on BikeBound.com and for sale via BikeBound.com/Classifieds. From the ad: Up for sale is my 1975 Honda CB500T street tracker. This bike is well sorted and ready to ride! Engine: • 530cc big bore pistons from Team Hanson Honda • Head completely rebuilt with new valves, guides, seals, cam chain • Barnett clutch with new Honda springs • New points • Carbs are dialed in for my location • Exhaust is custom by me, with vintage Kerker muffler Chassis • Custom seat and tail section • de-tabbed frame • custom “mid set” controls • Amazing A&P brake caliper, ss lines, brembo 12mm master • rear brake has cable conversion • Hagon shocks out back • Race Tech gold valve emulators up front, fresh oil and seals • motogadget speedo and blinkers I’ve owned this bike for 15 years, my dad had it before that. All work done by me save machine work and seat cover. Bike is garage built, but built well. I regularly do 300+ mile days on this bike and it’s a blast on twisty roads. More photos / info / price: https://www.bikebound.com/advert/honda-cb-500t-street-tracker/

[hazel-of-sodor]

Something Holy This Way Comes

Ch.20 Letters

Other Stories

Other Chapters

Cassandra lounged in the evening light, enjoying the first signs of spring. Robert was reading her the latest letter from the North Western, this time it had been sent from their No.3.

“Percy managed to bury himself in a snowdrift near Ulfstead…”

“Of course he did.” Cassandra interrupted lazily, “near the road bridge I’d wager.”

“...he dislodged the snow from the cliffs above when whistling at a rude lorry on the road bridge,” Robert laughed as he read.

Cassandra shook her head as the other engines laughed, “I told him, but what do I know? I’ve only been running the line for forty years.”

Tyto snorted, “I think he takes you warning him as a challenge.”

“It feels like it at times,” Cassandra sighed, “it's not all his fault though.”

“The big engines mentioned his memory being affected…” Ceri said cautiously.

Cassandra nodded, “It comes and goes, but most of his accidents are caused by that.”

Robert continued, “James received a new coat of paint, but was then asked to cover coal trains while Jupiter goes in for overhaul. He has been insufferable.”

The three North Western engines all burst out laughing.

“Oh noooo…,” Ceri said.

“I'm so glad I'm not at Tidmouth right now.” Tyto laughed.

“James is your No.5 right, the one who kept coming up with schemes to keep from being painted black under the other railway?” Abbey asked.

“The same,” Cassandra chuckled, “he's very proud of his red paint, and always does his best to stay clean for as long as possible when repainted.”

“And instead he got put on coal duties,” Ceri laughed softly.

Robert shook his head and continued, “Eagle asks that Cassandra and Screech keep Tyto out of trouble.”

“We have been trying.” Screech said lazily.

“I’m not that bad.” Tyto protested. She was ignored.

“Jinty thought it would be funny to play a prank on Gordon and tell him that he overslept and was late for the express…so there is now a new record for the westward run of the Wild Nor’Wester.”

Abbey glared over at Enid, “Don’t even think about it.”

The engines chuckled as Enid protested her innocence.

Cassandra chuckled, “She needs to watch out, Gordon will get even.”

Robert read on, “Edward says to tell you hello and that Duck is managing the branch well in your absence, even if the news the quarry is buying a diesel has Daisy unusually smug, even for her.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, “of course she is.”

“Why are they buying a diesel,” Ceri asked.

Cassandra stretched as she answered, her valve gear creaking as she did so, “most of the Quarries on my line use older engines as shunters, but they're wearing out. They companies came together and decided the first to get a new engine would try a diesel. The Ffarquhar Quarry Company shunter is the oldest, former Sodor and Mainland. They're being donated to the Suddery Rail Museum, as any overhaul to bring them back into service would risk having another engine waking in their frames, so they've ordered a class 04.”

Abbey glanced over at the lazily lounging tank engine, “...you already knew.”

“Of course. It's my branchline.” The tank engine said simply.

“And you didn't tell Daisy.”

“And deal with her being that smug? No thank you,” Cassandra snorted, “I told Percy just before I left.” 

Ceri burst out laughing, “oh that's genius, he would tell her without even thinking about it.”

“And I don't have to deal with it.” Cassandra confirmed smugly.

Robert smirked, “Toby says to tell you that he knows what you did.”

Cassandra just chuckled.

“Eric says hello to his little sister…”

“I am the oldest!” Cassandra protested

“...and that he is enjoying his time as Tidmouth Station pilot.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cassandra could help but smile as she rolled her eyes at her younger sibling’s cheek.

“Eric is the engine built after your design right? Abbey asked.

“Yes, but he is a bit larger, an 0-6-2, which he claims makes him the big sibling, even though I’m almost forty years older than him.”

Robert suddenly smirked at the next paragraph and held it up for Cassandra to read. Her smirk joined his.

“I have good news,” she said.

“Oh?,” Freda said. She had been polishing Screech’s fittings with Gywn.

“Your new engine arrives next week,” Cassandra said smugly.

“What!?” The question came from several different angles.

The tank engine's eyes sparkled with mirth, “Part of the reason I was sent here was to see if the Uman and Din would be a good home for one of the engines I helped save. They’ve been overhauling her since I sent word shortly after I arrived. She's probably just finished being run in.”

“Won’t the Other Railway try to stop you from giving us an engine?” Becca asked hesitantly.

Cassandra shook her head, “As far as the Other Railway knows she was scrapped so they won't have any idea where you got her.”

“Are they a Swindon engine?” Enid asked hopefully. 

“It doesn’t matter if they are.” Abbey said firmly, “we’ll welcome them all the same no matter their origin.”

“Of course!” Enid agreed, “I’m very grateful that any engine is willing to make their home with us, and very happy Caomhnóir trusts us to take care of them…but I would like to see more of our cousins find a home here.” She said quietly.

Cassandra chuckled, “I understand the feeling,” she said warmly, “you’re all family.”

Enid nodded.

“...which is why I chose a Swindon built engine.”

She chuckled at the Uman and Din's happy whistles at the news.

[medfetabdl]

Got this fun little toy today. It’s an oxygen concentrator. It was the cheapest one I could find. I wanted to be able to take the oxygen from the concentrator and have it go into the CPAP machine I have. So I designed and 3d printed an adapter. The first one I printed just took the oxygen tube and fed it directly into the CPAP’s inlet. I didn’t realize that it used the same hole to also let the exhaled air come out so that adapter went in the trash. I printed another version with some holes in the sides to hopefully let the air out and I even made a little sleeve to go around it so the hole size was adjustable. I didn’t like that one because I wasn’t breathing just the oxygen anymore and the holes were too small. So I ended up designing and printing the adapter in the pic. This one was kinda totally over engineered. I wanted the oxygen to be able to come in and then have some kind of valve so that when the exhaled air came out the pressure would open the valve and let the air flow out and then immediately close as soon as the exhaled air came out. This type of valve could have been totally over engineered with springs and all kinds of parts but I went the dead simple route. I found an O ring from an old hose in my workshop and then I designed the adapter around it so it could be used as the valve. The pressure causes the O ring to bend a bit and lets the air out and then it immediately bends back. The same type of primitive valve can be found on a standard oxygen mask.

Honestly I love engineering stuff like this it’s a ton of fun. And having a 3d printer has opened so many new doors for me in my projects. I also gave my monitor arm a paint job and made some much better hooks to hold all the cables. The oxygen concentrator was $150 on eBay, DM me if you want the link. Also you can’t tell in the picture but the adapter was printed in 2 parts and then I plastic welded it together with my soldering iron. I also don’t have a very expensive 3d printer, it’s a Creality Ender 3V2 that I’ve added a few modifications to and I run custom firmware. My preferred slicer software is Ultimaker Cura. And my CAD software is Autodesk Fusion. If you into making things all this stuff is definitely within the realm of possibility, you can get a creality ender 3 on sale for about $100 and you can get free CAD software.

[weergang]

New Nozzle

If you know cars or trucks, you might think this is a big fuel nozzle. It's a nozzle for a 500 kW auxiliary engine.

But this is the nozzle for our 12000 kW main engine, both 4 stroke 6 in line funny enough.

Let's install it on the fuel valve/ nozzle body. We need a nut, a small spanner and a bit of hydraulics to torque it to the required 1600 Nm.

Now we put the internals in it, those allow us to regulate the opening pressure. This injector came out of the engine with a broken spring!

Testing! The opening pressure is set to 600 bar.

[video in a reblog, I hope, it doesn't want to load?? why tumblr?]

All good, let's wrap it up and put it stand by for future use. Oh, and a picture of how dirty the nozzles come out of the engine, (running on Heavy Fuel Oil), yes these nozzle tips are use and throw away parts for us.

[90s-shitbox]

The Mitsubishi Galant AMG: A Unique Blend of Japanese and German Engineering

The late 1980s and early 1990s were a time of significant innovation in the automotive world, with manufacturers pushing the boundaries of performance and design. One of the most intriguing collaborations of this era was between Mitsubishi and AMG, resulting in the creation of the Mitsubishi Galant AMG. This vehicle remains a fascinating piece of automotive history, representing a blend of Japanese engineering and German tuning expertise.

The Mitsubishi Galant AMG was produced from 1989 to 1991. At a time when AMG was primarily known for its work with Mercedes-Benz, this collaboration with Mitsubishi was unconventional but visionary. The project aimed to infuse the Galant with performance enhancements that would set it apart from its peers.

The Galant AMG's modifications included high compression pistons, titanium valve springs, and a special intake manifold in a 4G63 engine. These upgrades significantly boosted its performance, making it a competitive vehicle in its class.

Aesthetically, the Galant AMG featured a distinctive body kit, AMG badges, and unique alloy wheels. The interior boasted real wood trim and special upholstery, emphasizing its luxury status.

The limited production of approximately 500 units adds to the Galant AMG's allure as a collector's item. Its blend of Japanese reliability and German performance tuning continues to captivate car enthusiasts.

Though some purists criticized the collaboration, many appreciated the innovative spirit and the performance enhancements AMG brought to the Galant. This unique partnership demonstrated the potential of cross-cultural engineering collaboration.

The Mitsubishi Galant AMG stands as a testament to the possibilities that arise when different automotive philosophies unite.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1949 Delahaye 175 S Saoutchik Roadster

Saoutchik was a cabinet maker when he moved to Paris from his home in Ukraine around 1900, but he didn’t take long to establish himself in the fledgling automotive coachbuilding industry and he showed a consistent flair over the next 50 years which puts him among the very elite of automotive designers.

His designs borrowed little from other designers, and along with names such as Figoni et Falaschi, Chapron, Franay and de Letourner et Marchand, Saoutchik was one of the foremost designers of exquisite Art Deco coachwork during the 20s and 30s.

Saoutchik was commissioned to produce the spectacular work-of-art by flamboyant English collector, Sir John Gaul. The design was based on the first post-war Delahaye chassis from a 175 S Roadster (chassis number 815023) producing 165 bhp from an engine much larger than the pre-war Delahayes ran – a 4,455 cc naturally aspirated overhead valve inline six cylinder engine with four-speed electro-mechanically actuated Cotal Preselector gearbox, Dubonnet coil spring front suspension, De Dion rear axle with semi-elliptic springs, and four-wheel hydraulic finned alloy drum brakes. The wheelbase was a whopping 116 inches.

The car was unveiled at the 1949 Paris Auto Show, and was exhibited at all the major European concours events that year, from Paris to Monte Carlo to San Remo, scooping the pool wherever it was exhibited. It won best-in-class in the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance in 2006 just a few months after a complete restoration. Just a few months later, the car was honored again, winning People’s Choice at theprestigious Amelia Island Concours d’ Elegance.

Having fulfilled its exhibition duties, it then passed through a succession of other flamboyant owners, including actress Diana Dors.

The final word on this stunning automobile goes to Ian Kelleher, President and Chief Operating Officer, RM Auctions

“Following the financial depression of World War II, there were few collectors with the means, flamboyance and flair to commission a car as exotic as this Saoutchik Roadster. Arguably the most desirable post-war, coachbuilt automobile of all time, it is truly a masterpiece of the coachbuilder’s art. Eye-catching and exotic, it is wonderful to drive and combines superlative styling on a chassis of competition quality.”

Courtesy of RM Auctions

[diabolus1exmachina]

Siata 208 CS ( 1 of 6). 

Societá Italiana Auto Trasformazioni Accessori (SIATA) created a marvelous assortment of machinery in its 45-year history under the guidance of the Ambrosini family. Founded by Giorgio Ambrosini in 1926, Siata specialized in performance modifications for Fiats, creating the overhead-valve conversions, multi-speed gearboxes, superchargers, and multi-carb intakes that competitive Italians wanted for their diminutive cars. The Italian auto giant conspicuously ignored—with few exceptions—the high-performance market as the Agnellis concentrated their empire around sensible, reliable, and mass-produced cars of small proportions.Siata received substantial financial assistance from Fiat following the Second World War, and by 1949 they were producing small automobiles which wore custom, house-labeled coachwork. Firmly grafted to Fiat and its engineering, Siata took a giant leap forward with the arrival of Rudolf Hruska in 1950. Hruska had worked in Porsche’s design office before the war and later collaborated with Carlo Abarth on Piero Dusio’s Cisitalia Grand Prix project. Fiat itself plotted its re-entry to the top ranks of Italian performance automobiles in 1950 with the introduction of their two-liter V-8 (dubbed "Otto Vu"), whose development was entrusted to Siata and executed in total secrecy by Hruska’s team.

The unusual oversquare, 70-degree V-8 engine featured all-aluminum castings with wedge-shaped combustion chambers. Induction was through a pair of dual-throat, downdraft Weber carburetors. With its high-revving short-stroke design and 8.5:1 compression ratio, prodigious power was channeled through a four-speed manual gearbox. Hruska planted the engine into a tubular chassis, and this became the basis of Fiat’s 8V.

Debuting at the 1952 Geneva Salon, the 8V caused an absolute sensation perhaps best equated to a meltdown of Italy’s motoring press. For many, the Siata-developed, Fiat-badged supercar defied belief. In particular, the advanced chassis featured a fully independent suspension with coil springs and telescopic shock absorbers at all four corners and was a marvelously sophisticated platform for its time, with supple and predictable handling that amazed drivers accustomed to the rigidly sprung, “flex-framed,” live-axle sports cars of the time.

Approximately 200 Tipo 104 engines were made to supply the 114 8V examples which Fiat ultimately produced. Eighty-five or so surplus engines were thusly returned to Siata, which seized the opportunity to supply them with additional house-made upgrades and implant them into the very chassis from which the earth-shattering Otto Vu had been developed.

The resulting Siata 208 CS was available as an attractive barchetta-like Spider or streamlined berlinetta, which Siata commissioned from a small pool of local coachbuilders including Bertone, Vignale, and Stabilimenti Farina. It is said that Siata openly encouraged the carryover of major styling details which these same companies were providing to Ferrari during the same period.

Perhaps the shapeliest design ever rendered upon the 208 CS, however, was executed by Balbo of Turin. Just nine berlinettas were made, of which only six examples are known to remain extant.

[hirocimacruiser]

What are old cars like to drive now?

Mazda Familia 3 door full time 4WD1600DOHC turbo review.

The second generation FF Familia tends to be overshadowed by the success of the first FF Familia. The Familia underwent a Key Concept model change in 1985, and the sports version of the 1.6 (twin cam turbo + full-time 4WD) became popular. Yasushi Shimono drove to Osaka for the later model after minor changes.

Text | Yasushi Shimono Photos Chihiro Abe

The other day, I rented a Familia car in Takamatsu, Shikoku. If you see Nippon Rent-a-Car, Toyota Rent-a-Car, and Nissan Rent-A-Car lined up at the counter in the airport lobby, if you're a car fan, you should probably rent a Mazda Rent-A-Car at this time of year.

It's a personal choice, but the Familia 1500AT I rented was actually very nice. The engine and suspension have the solid feel of a German car, and it feels great. Even though I've already driven over 20,000km, I can barely see any wear and tear.

During my summer vacation two years ago, I took a Familia rental car at the station in Tsuruoka, Yamagata Prefecture, and it was a great ride, and my family was happy with it.

For test drives, members of the media always ride in the manufacturer's so-called PR vehicles.

However, when they later try the same car in a rental car, they are often disappointed to varying degrees. I don't have the space to write about the reasons in detail here, but Familia is an extremely rare example of people rediscovering their charm through rental cars. It feels like a very seriously made car.

I am holding this.

FULLY MASCULINE NOUN CAR

In downtown Osaka, I was given a ride on a nostalgic Familia. 1988 model 3 door twin cam turbo 4W.D. It is a full-time 4WD high-performance model that was part of the second-generation FF Familia series that debuted in 1985.

I splurged on expensive 200,000 yen 0Z racing aluminum wheels for the car I bought this spring. There is a bright red mudflap in the wheel arches.

The guard hangs down. The hobby of the owner, Mr. M (35 years old), who really wants to drive a Lancia Delta Integrale, seems to be depicted on the outside.

The inside can also be customized.

It is. The front seats are BRIDE bucket seats. The handle is MOMO's Prototipo. At the tip of the shift lever is a plastic shift knob that looks like a white ball.

The main body of the 1.6LDOHC turbo engine has not been modified, but the muffler and air cleaner have been replaced with "HKS''. The suspension also uses Mazda genuine sports springs combined with GAB dampers. I'm not Kiyoshi Nishikawa, but I get the strong impression that he was trying to do things one by one, starting with what he could do. Mr. M, who works as a tire wholesaler, is a pleasant young man. It is the year of the year. When I pushed in the tape whose head was peeking out from the set, it played Mr. Children, which doesn't really suit Osaka (?).

However, once it started running, the Familia Integrale was a much more radical car than the standard.

First of all, the suspension is much harder than you might imagine from the specs. The ride quality is almost that of a competition vehicle, reacting honestly to the bumps and undulations of the road surface and transmitting short, jerky vibrations.

I didn't think it was power steering at first either. I slowly turned the steering wheel to turn off the engine and realized for the first time that it had power assist. That's how responsive it is. Basically, the normal engine is so energetic that it's hard to believe. Power is already 140 yen on NET display. However, it is more powerful than the face value, and at the signal Grand Prix the acceleration of all four wheels is like that of a rabbit.

I'll show you.

Even though it is a turbo, it starts to crash immediately after idling.

Delivers comfortable torque. The response in the low rotation range is also not bad. Tachometer red zone from 7000rpm. However, the latest 4-valve It's not as smooth and light as the unit.

It has been replaced with an air cleaner for competition. So, at the top end of 6500 or higher, the engine noise, mainly the intake noise, becomes louder.

Air conditioner control panels, air vents, and

-Dark areas where stereo units, ashtrays, etc. are crowded.

There was a designer who once described the center part of the dash as ``the most expensive part of the car's interior,'' but this car has a panel that says ``FULLTIME 4WD'' embedded in part of it. There is. It was kind of noisy. There is also a shiny silver switch inside the spring, and this is for locking the center differential. The owner once benefited from being muddy.

Apparently there is.

The turbo is effective without any noticeable bumps.

It starts to work, and what's more, it works like a turbo. I miss the way the green snail lights up in the instrument panel every time the turbo kick explodes. What's more, every time I shift up and release the accelerator, I hear the resonant whine of the turbine, which is nostalgic. I wasn't able to do it this time due to time constraints, but I was able to drive on mountain passes and some dirt roads, and it still looked really interesting. Manly and sweaty, a perfect masculine noun.

It's Luma.

Of course, the current Familia, which no longer has a sports model in its lineup, is not such a macho car. However, the Familia has always been a car that has not had a fancy feel to it for generations. Fancy is something like ``a womanly thing that a man has come up with.'' I like the character, which is unusual for domestically produced vehicles, but I'm sure there are people who say that's why it doesn't sell well.

PIC CAPTIONS

The second generation FF Familia underwent a full model change in January 1985. It has a 3/5-door hatch and a 4-door sedan body. Initially, it started with 1.3ℓ and 1.5ℓ NA and turbo units, but a 1.6ℓ turbo unit was soon added. The photo is of the later model. The body size is: total length x width x height = 3990 x 1645 x 1405mm. Wheelbase 2400mm.

The steering wheel has been replaced with "MOMO" and the seat has been replaced with "BRIDE". When the New Familia was announced, the company emphasized the improved quality of the interior, saying, ``If the packaging is the same, the quality of the interior is important.''

With minor changes in 8 years, NA unit

The remaining old E-type units were wiped out and replaced by B-type units. Photo of 1597cc 16V DOHC turbo with 140ps @ 6000rpm and 19.0kgm torque @ 5000rpm

Mr. M's Delta Familia has a majestic red mudguard. The ``GAB'' and ``HKS'' stickers and white OZ wheels clearly reflect the owner's taste.

[lunas-nargle]

↳four

chapter four of "meddle about" series brian o'conner x reader

iv. the shitty, yet perfect car

"What about parts and service?" Mia asked as she held a folder full of papers in her hands. Y/n and Letty stood by a car, fixing it up. 

"Hold off on that." Dom answered.

"But, Dom, I don't know what to do with--" Mia cut herself off as a nasty, old wrecked, car was backed into the garage. 

"All right, what the hell is this?" Dom asked Brian, coming closer. Everyone else came closer as well, wanting to know what the hell that thing was. "What do you got there?"

"This is your car." Brian said, proudly.

"My car?" Dom pointed to himself as Jesse hit on the side of it with his fist. "I said a ten-second car, not a ten-minute car."

"You could push this across the finish line, or tow it." Y/n said making Letty laugh. 

"You couldn't even tow that across the finish line." Dom said.

"No faith." Brian shook his head a little with a smile, as the group laughed.

"Oh, I have faith in you, but this isn't a junkyard." Dom said, gesturing to the car. "This is a garage."

"Hey, pop the hood." Brian told Jesse

"Pop the hood?"

"Pop the hood." Brian grinned at Dom. The team moved the car into the garage where Jesse opened the hood, making it fall completely off. 

"Two J.Z. engine. No shit." Jesse said. 

"Goddamn, look at that thing." Y/n leaned closer to inspect it. 

"And what did I tell you?" Brian smiled, crossing his arms.

"I retract my previous statement." Dom said, a little impressed.

"You know what?" Jesse said holding onto the crowbar he used to open the hood. "This will decimate all after you put about fifteen grand in it or more, if we have to overnight parts from Japan."

"We'll put it on my tab at Harry's." Dom said. 

"Yes!" 

"I gotta get you racing again so I can make some money off your ass." Dom said to Brian. "There's a show down in the desert called Race Wars and that's where you'll do it." Dom started to walk away but stopped and turned to Brian. I'll tell you what. When you're not workin' at Harry's, you're workin' here. If you can't find the right tool in this garage, Mr. Arizona, you don't belong near a car." 

Y/n walked closer to Brian with a smirk, she got close enough to feel his breath on her face, "Guess your his bitch now." She chuckled at her comment before going working on her car.

The next day after a morning at the garage, the Toretto family decided to make the team a family dinner. 

"Mia! Y/n! Come on, the chicken's dry already." Dom called out to them as Monty and himself grilled the chicken. 

"Oh, shut it, we're coming!" Y/n called back to him, as she, Mia, Jesse, and Brian walked out the door bringing the things to set the table. Once the table was set and the food was placed onto it, they sat down, ready to eat. 

"Wait. Hold up." Dom said, as Jesse grabbed a piece of chicken. "Because you were the first out of everyone here to reach in to get the chicken, you say grace."

Everyone bowed their heads, and locked their hands.

"Dear heavenly, uh--" Jesse blanked for a moment, making Y/n want to burst out laughing. 

"Spirit." Leon finished for him.

"Spirit. Thank you." Jesse continued. "Uh, thank you for providing us with a direct port nitrous, uh, injection," Y/n let out a quiet snort making Brian nudge her side in amusement. "Four-core intercoolers and ball-bearing turbos, and, um, titanium valve springs. Thank you."

"Amen!" Leon said, as the rest of them clapped.  

"He was prayin' to the car gods, man." Letty said, amused.  

"If he's not the best--" Dom said with a smile, as he passed the plate of chicken around.

"Look who it is." Leon said. Y/n turned her head to see Vince walking towards them. "Old Coyotes 'R' Us. I thought you we're hungry, pumpkin."

Y/n's face dropped from joy to annoyance. Brian saw this and placed a comforting hand on her thigh. She looked at him and then down at his hand. He quickly pulled it away and before he could apologize, she put it back, placing hers on top of it. 

"You know, I gotta eat." Vince said. 

"He's always hungry." Letty said, blankly.

"All right, sit down." Dom waved him over. As Vince passed, he rubbed Dom's head inaudibly saying thank you. Vince greeted Mia before patting his brother's shoulder. His eyes fell onto Y/n as he sat down but she converted hers to Brian, who smiled at her making her smile back. 

After dinner, the team went to the living room to watch a movie. Y/n decided to wash the dishes, opting to do it then rather than later. 

"You need a hand with anything else?" Brian asked, bringing in the rest of the plates. 

"No, I'm good." Y/n said, focusing on the dishes. "You can go join the boys watchin' the movie."

"No, you see, the cook doesn't clean where I come from." Brian said, slipped beside her. He took a towel and started drying the already clean plates and cutlery. 

"Yeah?" Y/n questioned, glancing at him. "I'd love to go there." She then remembered something from a few days ago. "Hey, you remember you were gonna ask me something the day of the race?" She asked after a beat of silence. She stopped and turned, leaning her back against the sink. "What was it?"

Brian sighed and sat the plate he was drying down, "I was gonna ask you out. Which reminds me, do you wanna go out with me?"

Y/n tapped her lips in thought, "Hmmm, I don't know. I don't really date my cousin's friends."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll have to kick his ass then."

Y/n tried to hid her smile as she nodded her head, "Oh, yeah, I'd love to see that one. I would even pay to see it."

"Okay, but seriously. Am I gonna have to get on my knees and beg you or?" 

Y/n smile grew even more, her heart bursting with adoration. "I don't know. You on your knees sounds like a good sight to see."

Y/n's head turned at the sound of the microwave opening. Vince let out a wheeze as he popped in a bag of popcorn. 

"Wash my car when you get done." he said, laughing.

"Excuse me?" Y/n glared at him. 

"No, Y/n, I'm talking to the punk. And wear your favorite dress, 'cause when you're done, I'm puttin' you on the street where you belong, cutie." Y/n bit her tongue so hard she could taste blood. Vince laughed before looking back at the microwave. He pushed some buttons and hit the side. "Is this thing broken? What's wrong with this thing?"

She couldn't stay quiet anymore. "V?" She walked closer, grabbing his attention. "V, what was that Cuban restaurant you wanted to take me to? The one with the picadillo and the--"

"Little red candles and the wooden table?" Vince grinned.

"Yeah," Y/n said, coming a bit closer. "the plantain too. I see it all over the place, what's it called?"

"Cha Cha Cha." Vince said, still grinning. Y/n grinned back and she turned to Brian, walking closer to him. "Well, you can take me there. Does Friday night at 10 sound good to you?"

"Yeah, it's perfect." Brian said. 

"Good." Y/n said, looking down at his lips before going back up to his eyes. The two of them looked at Vince, who was backing out of the kitchen. He hit the door as he walked, angry.

"Make your own goddamn popcorn!" they heard Vince shout. Y/n placed a hand over her mouth to keep in her giggles. Brian smiled, not believing he's got a date with the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. 

[1863-project]

As a Guy who Fixes Machines for a living, but unfortunately doesn't have Much experience with engines, *but* has read a Ton about them: please tell me about steam engines and/or their Repair Quirks and Logistics. Infodump Away :chinhands:

I'm going to be honest with you - this is one of the most flattering asks I've ever received in my 14+ years on this website.

Steam locomotives seem pretty overwhelming at first because, as you'd expect, there's a lot of moving parts, and they're actually huge. Like many large animals, people often don't realize how big they can actually get until they're in the presence of one. The one I drove, Strasburg #90, weighs in at 212,000 lbs - and she's smaller than a lot of the active steam locomotives operating today. 106 tons is nothing to sneeze at, and she's still considered smaller.

You probably don't need this in layman's terms, but I'm going to try to keep the explanations easy to understand in case anyone who doesn't work with machines reads this.

How do the beasts run?

Continuing the metaphor of these things basically being really large animals, you have to feed and water them. Early steam locomotives ran on wood, but as time went on the most common fuels became coal and oil, and today some can even run clean on vegetable oil or torrefied biomass. The fact that they need to be fed and watered fairly regularly is why there's always at least two people in the locomotive cab - you've got an engineer driving and a fireman keeping the beast fed and monitoring the water levels in the boiler.

This is a diagram of a fire tube boiler from Wikipedia. Steam locomotives generally use this type of boiler, which gives them their familiar shape. The fuel is thrown into the firebox on the left of the diagram, and the heat from the fire flows up to the tubes in the boiler. The water in the boiler becomes steam (specifically what's called "wet steam" because it's saturated). The steam rises to the highest point in the boiler, the steam dome at the top. From here, the steam is sent down into a superheater, which dries it out and produces superheated steam, and that's what's directed down to the cylinders to get everything moving. The smokestack on the right of the diagram is where the exhaust gasses are released, giving off that plume of smoke everyone expects to see.

Now that the steam is at the cylinders, the pistons can start pumping and moving the driving rods on the driving wheels (the big ones). Here's an animated gif of that process, again from Wikipedia.

At this point, it's basically like any other engine with pistons - the pistons get pumping and the machine starts operating. This whole section of the locomotive is referred to as the running gear, and includes the valve gear, connecting rods, brake gear, wheelsets, axleboxes, and springing.

Essentially, it's a steam engine with wheels that is capable of pulling incredible amounts of weight if everything is done correctly. Your average steam locomotive is still stronger than your average diesel or electric locomotive is. Depending on what you needed your steam locomotive to do, the size of the driving wheels would differ - locomotives built for high speed tend to have really large drive wheels, whilst locomotives designed to go slower but pull more weight have smaller drivers for better adhesion and traction.

Maintenance?

As expected, since they have a lot of moving parts, steam locomotives need a lot of active maintenance. They're checked frequently, have mandated annual inspections, and are required by the Federal Railroad Administration in the United States to have a more thorough inspection every 1,472 days of active service - so it's basically 15 years or 1,472 days of operation, whichever comes first. 90, the locomotive I drove at Strasburg, is currently undergoing her 1,472-day inspection as I write this post and she'll hopefully be back in operation for her 100th birthday next year.

One of the things that's unique about steam locomotive maintenance is that the boiler regularly has to be cleaned out, which is why the boilerplate on the front has hinges - that thing's a door! This job was more dangerous historically because boilers were often insulated with asbestos, but pretty much anything operating today has had any asbestos removed or wasn't built with it in the first place. This website has a really good explanation of the process of cleaning out and fixing up a locomotive boiler for a 1,472 day inspection, complete with photos!

In terms of steam locomotive shops, I'm biased towards Strasburg because I grew up going there all the time, but they really do perform incredible work. Late last year, one of their locomotives, #475, had a run-in with a crane left on the track due to a misthrown switch, and her smokebox took some damage. Fortunately, the damage was minor, and they were able to get her repaired in a mere 96 hours.

She now looks like this:

They opted to braze weld her and didn't smooth it out as a reminder to crews to stay vigilant, so she now has some really cool battle scars.

I'm not as well-versed in repair since I don't have hands-on experience with it (yet), but once I can start volunteering I'll hopefully have some more stuff to talk about since I'm hoping to learn to work with these machines more closely! (And drive. Drive all the time. Drive forever.)