#Ford touring car
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ads-of-yore · 1 year ago
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There are many more than 5 faces hidden in here so... what's the catch?
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bigboppa01 · 11 months ago
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flmboyz · 6 months ago
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1964 Falcon
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carsthatnevermadeitetc · 1 year ago
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Ford Explorer Limited XLT "Jurassic Park," 1993. Explorer 07 was one of seven Ford SUVs prepared by George Barris for the original Jurassic Park movie. EXP 07 didn't feature physically in the film, it appeared on Ray's browser as a Safari Tour Ride vehicle as he highlighted EXP 04/05, which were destroyed in the movie.
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march-hare01 · 1 year ago
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frdesignia · 8 months ago
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Renderização de SuperCarros // I.A. FR ART DESIGN
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skylarbee · 1 year ago
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there are so many things happening here: miles coming on for 505, james ford being there, alex and miles holding/shaking hands, miles kissing jamie's head... + alex and jamie smiling so sweetly after being touched by miles. the power of miles kane, everyone.
(via inesdaday's IG story, 19.10.2023)
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scionshtola · 5 months ago
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ardor
pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul word count: 2.1k | rated: Explicit | read on ao3 notes: another fic in the rodeo au verse, where Y'shtola is a geologist come to survey the land of the ranch that Cori works on [divider credit]
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Seated in the passenger seat of Corisande’s pickup, Y’shtola was growing increasingly desperate. 
Only a few steps outside the truck’s door was the spot where she and Corisande had first kissed beneath the starlit sky. A long way off the main road, it was the perfect place for both privacy and a picturesque view, the green and flowered countryside stretching in all directions. 
Kisses had come easily since then. Chaste brushes of their lips when Y’shtola left the ranch for the day; sweet, smiling kisses an hour or two later, their legs dangling from the bed of the truck; featherlight against her knuckles when they helped her out of the truck; deep and lingering against the door of her motel room when they saw her to her door at night. 
To Y’shtola’s dismay, they had yet to progress beyond that. It wasn’t for a lack of desire on her part, and didn’t seem to be for Corisande either—she felt their hands warm on her sides, pulling her closer, and she saw the reluctance when they pulled away from her, their hesitancy when they parted for the night. 
But they did pull away every time, their hands staying sweetly on Y’shtola’s waist or the back of her neck, leaving them both wanting. More and more Y’shtola found herself distracted by the prospect of sleeping with them. Her mind drifted to the ways they might touch her, with competent hands used to hard work, and the ways she might return the favor, with the kind of zeal she typically reserved for mapping the ground she worked on. 
She’d had a moment of shining hope earlier in the evening: she and Corisande on the picnic blanket after sharing the meal they’d packed, her legs thrown over theirs as they traded kisses, Corisande’s hand on her bare knee below the hem of her dress. Until Corisande pulled away, their cheeks warm, muttering about getting Y’shtola back to her motel before it grew too late. 
But even now, as she waited for Corisande to get in the truck, Y’shtola wasn’t completely without hope. She would simply have to be more direct. 
Corisande slid gracefully into the truck and, just as Y’shtola had hoped, leaned down to kiss her. Slow, lingering, all the time in the world in this space between the end of their date and dropping Y’shtola off at her room. 
Y’shtola seized her opportunity. She slipped her hand lightly up the back of Corisande’s neck until she could tangle her fingers in the thick curls of their hair. They responded in kind, cupping her neck gently, their thumb gliding across her jaw and, encouraged, Y’shtola pressed forward. She rose slowly to her knees on the bench seat, kissing Corisande deeply as she moved closer.
She half expected Corisande to pull back—this was already more intimate than they had yet been. Instead, she grinned into the kiss when Corisande’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer.
She wriggled her way into Corisande’s lap, uncomfortably caught between the hard leather of the steering wheel and their chest. Perhaps she could maneuver them to the other side of the cab, or onto their back—or onto her back, Corisande’s lean muscle on top—
“Y’shtola.” Corisande pulled back slightly, her fingers curling into the fabric at Y’shtola’s waist. Y’shtola paused, biting back a desperate sigh at the touch—how she longed to feel it beneath her dress, her deft hands against her skin. She waited, forehead pressed to Corisande’s, giving her time—if not space— to voice her thoughts.
But hardly a second passed before Corisande leaned forward again, chasing Y’shtola’s lips with her own. She kissed her deeply, clutching at Y’shtola’s hips until she was flush against her. 
Delighted by the turn of events, Y’shtola slipped a hand between them, plucking at the buttons of Corisande’s plaid shirt. She had undone half of them and slipped her hand inside their shirt, cupping their breast through the tank top they wore beneath, before they pulled away again.
Y’shtola sat back, ignoring the way the steering wheel pressed into her back. The setting sun cast a golden light through the partially rolled down windows, falling warmly across Corisande’s face. She pulled her hand away from their chest and cupped their cheek instead, an ache in her chest forming under their open, searching look. 
“What is it?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle her. Despite the hesitancy, there was a longing in Corisande’s expression that she did not wish to extinguish. Whatever was holding her back, they could only work through it if Corisande shared.
Corisande swallowed, and seemed to change her mind. “Nothing,” she said, her eyes darting to Y’shtola’s lips. “It’s nothing.”
Y’shtola would not let them away so easily. She curled a finger under Corisande’s chin, lifting their face to hers, a hairsbreadth of space between their lips, but did not close the gap. “Corisande,” she said, gently but firmly, and a tiny thrill trilled down her spine at the way their eyelids briefly fluttered closed, their breath quickening against her lips. “Tell me.”
“I like you,” Corisande said in a rush of breath. Her grip on Y’shtola’s waist tightened reflexively, and Y’shtola’s pulse thrummed in her body at the pressure. Every place their bodies touched was a beacon of heat against her skin, and she had to hold herself still against the urge to press closer.  “A lot.”
“I gathered that much.” An obvious admission, but it pleased her to hear it anyway. A small bloom of warmth unfurled inside her and she leaned down, rewarding them with a kiss. “I feel the same.”
“I know,” Corisande said, their tone so perfectly pleased and sincere that Y’shtola could not help but smile. She felt their own grin when she kissed them again. “I just thought—I wanted the first time we—”
Corisande cut herself off, heat blooming in her cheeks. “I was just waiting for the right moment, is all.”
Y’shtola brushed a wayward curl out of Corisande’s face. “That’s very sweet.” Romantic. A complicated tangle of emotions knotted itself in her stomach. She’d never had much time or use for romance before, not when casual sexual relationships could get the job done without any distractions from her studies. She was still growing used to the way Corisande did things—the dates after work, the walking her to her door, the slow dances under the light of the moon. Things she hadn’t even known she would enjoy until it was Corisande doing them for her. Doing them with her. 
Maybe she could return the favor. 
“I suppose I was holding out for somewhere nicer than my truck,” Corisande said, still sounding a bit sheepish, though she kept her gaze on Y’shtola. 
Y’shtola leaned forward again, not quite brushing her lips against theirs. “Do you want to kiss me, Corisande?”
Their eyes dropped to her lips as they answered. “Yes.”
The corners of Y’shtola’s lips lifted into a satisfied smile. She lowered herself into their lap, her chest flush against theirs when she pressed a kiss to the side of their neck. “Do you want to touch me?”
She couldn’t see Corisande’s expression now, but her breathily exhaled “Yes” was more than enough encouragement. Y’shtola traced the buckle of Corisande’s belt with one finger, tapping the center, and asked, “Do you want me to touch you?”
Corisande’s chest hitched before she answered. “I do.”
“Then I would say now is the right moment, wouldn’t you?” Y’shtola pressed another kiss to their neck, just to drive home her reasoning. 
She had just enough time to glimpse Corisande’s growing grin before they kissed her. The urgency that had driven Y’shtola to this moment returned, twice over, echoed back to her in the way their mouth met hers—hot and open and seeking. She resumed her earlier task, undoing the remaining buttons of Corisande’s shirt and sliding her hand beneath their tank top. She felt the quiver of their belly beneath her touch as she glided her hand over their skin, felt their gasp against her lips when she took the slight weight of their breast in her hand, rolling her palm across their nipple.
Corisande’s own hands were busy, gliding over Y’shtola’s arms, chest, waist, heat trailing in their wake that left her craving their touch on bare skin. Their fingers traced the neckline of her dress, skimming the top of her breasts. They moved down her body, cupping and kneading through her dress, lower and lower until their hands rested on her knees, thumbs running soothing circles over her skin. 
And then finally, finally, Corisande’s hands found their way beneath her skirt, moving decisively up her thighs to the join between Y’shtola’s legs. She brushed against her lightly, but before Y’shtola could admonish her for teasing, Corisande pushed her underwear aside with a touch that brought a whimper from her lips. She canted her hips, seeking more of their touch—warm, deft, sure, just as she had imagined it would be.
Corisande broke away from her mouth, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. She followed her fingers' earlier path across the neckline of Y’shtola’s dress and Y’shtola, impatient and desperate, reached down and tugged at the ties until the front of her dress fell open. She cupped her own breast, lifting it, pleased when Corisande’s head dipped lower to meet the gesture with her lips. 
A knot formed once more, the threads of Y’shtola’s pleasure coalescing into a bright, hot, point low inside her. She gripped tightly at the seat behind Corisande, holding herself up while they kissed her, touched her, the rhythm of their fingers growing faster, more urgent. A well timed flick of their tongue across Y’shtola’s nipple coincided with a brush of their palm against her clit, and the threads of her pleasure pulled taut. 
She moaned, her back arching, her fingers grasping at the leather beneath them. Corisande wrapped an arm around her waist and Y’shtola sagged against her, letting her do the work of holding her up, her hands and lips still moving against Y’shtola as she rode her climax out. 
Corisande seemed intent on building her to her peak once more—and, Y’shtola suspected, likely beyond once more. But Y’shtola’s thoughts in the previous days had involved much more reciprocal scenarios.
Y’shtola made quick work of Corisande’s belt and the button on her jeans. A soft sound escaped Corisande when Y’shtola’s fingers pressed against her center, already slick with her desire. Y’shtola fixated on the sound with a greedy desire, desperate to draw it out of her as she dipped inside her, to capture the sound with her lips as they kissed. Corisande’s head tipped against the  window behind her, eyes closed, and this was better than anything Y’shtola’s imagination had conjured—Corisande under her, soft and warm around her fingers, breath hitching in her chest, one hand clutching desperately at Y’shtola’s waist, the other creating an erratic rhythm between Y’shtola’s legs.
It was not long before Corisande came with a soft, quiet cry. Y’shtola kissed her through it, savoring the slight pain of Corisande’s fingers digging into her waist, a delicious heat pulsing within her. She kept kissing her even as she steadied, as Corisande’s hands picked up its pace—not quite as gentle or as clever as before, but just as sure, just as capable of bringing Y’shtola gasping over the edge.
After, Y’shtola rested her head on their shoulder, and a strange contentment fell over her. Not just with having sated her desire, or theirs, but also with the way they held each other, with Corisande’s lips brushing a featherlight kiss to her forehead. If they had not been cramped in the driver's seat of Corisande’s pickup, she might’ve wanted to stay in the circle of their arms a while longer. 
Y’shtola pushed herself up and leaned back as far as the steering wheel would allow. With another touch to their chin, she lifted Corisande’s face until she could meet their gaze. She had only meant to kiss them before shifting back into her own seat, but the sun had not quite finished setting, and she was caught once more by the way the light fell across them. Gold limned the curve of their cheek, their parted lips, the disarrayed splay of the hair that framed their face.
“What is it?” Corisande asked, amusement evident beneath her curiosity.
“You’re beautiful,” Y’shtola answered, a simple declaration of fact. A feeling she did not yet want to name welled in her then, more than affection or that strange contentment, more than simple want or need. 
And then Corisande smiled at her, her green eyes bright, and Y’shtola’s stomach swooped in a way she had long thought herself inured against, and it didn’t matter that she would not name the feeling, because there was no denying its presence. 
But she didn’t have to think on it for long, because Corisande leaned forward to kiss her. Y’shtola, allowing herself back in the warm circle of Corisande’s arms, met her in the middle. 
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grayrazor · 6 days ago
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What's your favorite 1960s coupe or sports car? (not exclusive to those pictured)
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opelman · 10 days ago
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Spa Summer Classic 2023
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Spa Summer Classic 2023 by Ste Tit
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musicandotherstuff · 2 years ago
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James Ford interview about Alex Turner for NME magazine
March 27, 2023
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umiboutique · 2 months ago
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Classic Ford Model T Replicas vs. Modern Cars: Which is better?
The Ford Model T Replica is one of the most significant automobiles in history. It was an affordable, easy to operate, and durable model. When it comes to buying a classic replica car, a question usually arises in mind as to what makes it a preferable choice for car buyers, especially classic car enthusiasts and event organizers. Let's explore the benefits of classic cars as well as modern cars.
Benefits of classic cars
Eternal designs
Replica vehicles are adored for their timeless designs and graceful curves. The sense of craftsmanship and intricate detailing makes them stand apart in the crowd. The aesthetic appeal of a classic replica vehicle goes beyond mere transportation. Their timeless designs have stood the test of time and make the owner feel proud of owning it. 
Simple mechanics
The classic vehicles of the bygone era have simple and easy-to-understand design mechanics. It makes them easy to engage in DIY maintenance and even helps in encouraging a deeper connection between the driver and the machine.
Sensory experience
It is a sensory experience to drive a vintage car. There is an absence of electronic aids and driver-assistance technologies, which makes the driver focus on the basics such as the feel of the road, the sound of the engine, and so on.
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The benefits of modern cars
Safety
Modern cars are adorned with advanced safety features. These cars feature cutting-edge safety technology features like adaptive cruise control, lane departure warning systems. All these features make them safer than conventional vehicles.
Comfort and convenience
Modern cars equipped with many comfort and convenience features such as plush interiors, ergonomic seating and infotainment system. 
Performance 
Modern cars are equipped with latest technology. With turbocharged engines and electric propulsion systems, these cars ensure better performance and efficiency. Also, with features like increase comprehension ratios, these cars are more efficient than their conventional counterparts.
Classic replica car: Blending the appeal of classic cars with modern functionality
As we found, there are different advantages to owning a classic vs. modern car. One of the best ways is to choose replica cars that combine the best features of both. In other words, it means these cars have modern functionality without losing the essence of the classic style of the car. Some renowned manufacturers are engaged in making exact replicas of classic cars with modern features. It means these cars give you a sensory experience; they have simple mechanics like a classic car.
Apart from it, these manufacturers provide customized solutions based on your needs. Whether you need a Ford Model T replica or an old-mobile curved dash replica car, these manufacturers can create the perfect cars to meet your specific requirements. It is prudent to do some research to find reputed manufacturers to buy classic replica cars at the best prices. One must go through reviews and ratings of the service providers to choose the best manufacturers offering quality replica vehicles at the best prices in the industry.
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bigboppa01 · 1 year ago
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flmboyz · 5 months ago
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1963 Ford Falcon
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swpics · 3 months ago
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The BTCC is Britains favourite national motorsport. See report from Oulton Park 2024 round in latest issue of Classic and Competition Car. This Mondeo was at Heart of England Retro and Classic vehicle show, also in this issue. Free to read at www.classicandcompetitioncar.com
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march-hare01 · 1 year ago
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Ford Falcon XYGTHO Phase 3 in Surfer Orange
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