#General Motors T-Car

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Vauxhall Chevette 2300 HS Rally Car, 1976. The Chevette was Vauxhall's version of the GM T-car, it became one of the first hatchbacks in its class in the UK. The fact that the T-car was rear wheel drive meant a fairly easy transition to a Group 4 rally car. Vauxhall's 2.3 litre 4 cylinder engine was fitted with a Lotus DOHC 16 valve cylinder head and a Getrag 5 speed manual transmission. The DTV HS proved to be a successful rally car achieving a number of wins for drivers such as Pentti Airikkala, Jimmy McRae and Tony Pond. For homologation purposes there was also a road-going version

[untouchvbles]

Buick Grand National at Hot Rods On Hampton (2024) in Butler, WI.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x03

so there aren't al l that many costumes to talk about this week from a min cast perspective as pretty much everyone is either in uniform, or a costume they've been wearing for the previous two episodes!

I do have a few things to talk about though so I'm still writing this meta and then I'll be gearing myself up for next week when I have a feeling I'll be up to my eyeballs in new costumes!!

Check theory

The danger around Jared played out - he large bold check signalled that he would be in danger - and he met a grim end!

Pink Theory

I feel like I'm spending every episode playing spot the bright pink and this one came to the pink party as well - we have Corey's dad in this pink sweater and then Corey's two siblings in pink.

Its really interesting to me that we're not seeing this bright pink on any of our mains up to this point (Athena has worn pale pink but not bright pink)- its always been on guest cast (Marisol, Lola, Norman, the mom trapped in the car) and there's a fairly even split between the characters who are in one episode and the multi episode arc characters.

I've already pointed this out but the various traits associated with bright magenta/fuchsia pinks are as follows

Things that are considered positive traits for this shade of pink are; intensity, acceptance, kindness and it's supportive and uplifting nature. It's connected to naive love (as in lust rather than the passionate and enduring love of red) can also be considered a nurturing colour.

Negative traits are; intensity, volatility, arrogant and impatient, irritability and irritating and frustration. it is also said to be a stress inducing colour and is said to be overly emotional and childish.

Stripe Theory

Then we have the stripes - Corey (who I'm convinced is autistic but thats maybe just me projecting!!) is in stripes pretty much the entire time.

The only exception is when the family is on Manzanillo - when he is wearing a watery themed shirt - again separating him from most of the rest of the family - who are all in floral prints (older brother is all in white and not the floral Hawaiian prints but he and his sister (I think they're meant to be twins?!) switch between who is wearing the bold print and who is in a white top throughout the episode)

Mom wears stripes as well - before she gets onto the ship - we see her in this striped coat. Dad and the sister also wear stripes and check scarves, showing that the entire family is in peril, but the largest amount of stripes are saved for the ones who will be in the most danger - which makes total sense from a pattern theory perspective.

An amusing aside that had me giggling - this top is shear perfection when paired with the 118 deciding their new moto is who cares!!😂

Right off to the firehouse to finish up! - I've mentioned before how uniform variation is used to separate out a character where needed (I wrote about it in my 6x09 meta) so here in the firehouse we have two separations going on - Buck and Eddie are the only ones in t-shirts - separating them from everyone else.

In connection to this separating them from the rest of the firehouse crew is that yellow rag Buck is waving around - it feels a little bit like that red one we saw him with several times in season 6 - the season of red flags.

In the same way t hat red cloth was like a red flag, this reads like a yellow flag - now yellow flags are interesting. In shipping terms they were historically a signal of quarantine (this isn' the case any more), and in sports generally they are used to denote hazardous conditions (motor racing and on beaches relating to surf and currents).

But the more interesting yellow flag concept is the yellow flag in a relationship - generally speaking they are indicators of things that could become problematic and turn into red flags if not dealt with or communicated about (yup communication again). Paired with the fact that Buck and Eddie have been 'singled' out through their uniform, its telling us issues ahead (even if we didn't know about them) and that its their dynamic that is going to be tested and that they are going to need to communicate.

Now all those yellow hoses hanging around in the back ground and then one hose physically connecting them - is certainly a choice (remember they could have used one of the non yellow hoses if it wasn't important) and a pretty loud one. I go on and on about yellow lines of communication, a lot, and I have in my metas for this season so far, but here we have another example of yellow ropes.. lines, cables etc.

The really really key thing here is that we haven't actually seen Buck and Eddie connected by a yellow anything since the end of season 3 and having not seen them connected with a yellow anything since season 3 - when their respective yellow lines got cut/burnt. This one here is about , a yellow line of communication being re-established. What adds to this is the directorial choices - the yellow flag is waves around before they connect themselves with a yellow line (hose) - as a piece of directorial foreshadowing I am in love - its telling us the Buck is the one who is the creator of the yellow flags (read his jealousy) and he is the one with the yellow rag (in the same way he was the one with the red rag previously), but that it will ultimately lead to Buck and Eddie reconnecting after those flags are raised and dealt with. I cannot stress enough the importance of that yellow line between them being reconnected - it really speaks of their communication improving and that we'll see them operating on a level we haven't seen before - they cut their yellow lines at the time when Eddie was changing his will, and whilst they have spoken on important topics etc since then, there has always been something in between them - they haven't had a proper full cards on the table conversation. My feeling is that we might be about to get that (especially combined with what we know from what Oliver and Ryan have teased!)

Then there is Chimney who is separated from everyone else by virtue of being the only one in a long sleeved shirt. If you watch the scene through, and pay attentiion to the background, you'll see all the firefighters in either short sleeve shirts or wearing bomber jackets. there is one exception - a guy carrying a medical bag who I'm pretty sure is meant to be a representaion of Hen's reinstatment to the 118 as he crosses Chim at the time Chim announces Hen has been reinstated!

Thats all from me this week - hope you enjoyed! I'm off to prepare myself for Thursday night!!!

Tagged peeps below!

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @rogerzsteven @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @bi-moonlight @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud @tommykinarddd @satashiiwrites

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Handsy little backpack (modern!Aegon II Targaryen x reader)

Based on this request

synopsis: Aegon finally persuades you to take a drive on his beloved motorcycle, Sunfyre, with him. Which in the end has to get cut short.

warnings: not much plot, pwp, porn without plot, oral (f revieving), piv sex, afab reader

word count: 1.4k

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1, @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

You didn´t know how long it had been since Aegon had gotten his Motorcycle, Sunfyre. To him the machine was his one and only, to you however it seemed more like a deathtrap. More than once he would try to get you to drive with him, but you always refused. Until today.

It was the weekend and the sun shone as it hadn´t been in a long time, while it still wasn´t too hot. Deciding it was a good idea for a little picknick date at the lake close by you text Aegon and begin packing a basket full of snacks and drinks for the two of you to enjoy. What you had forgotten over the anticipation, was that your car was in the repair shop at the moment and neither of your parents was home at the moment for the two of you to borrow either one of theirs. Which left only one option if you didn´t want your date to fall flat. Sunfyre. And while you agree to getting on the motorcycle, your hands and legs tremble slightly as you put the helmet on and swing your leg over the machine after the snacks had been secured.

“ You´ll be fine.” Aegon reassures you with a grin. To him your caution was nothing but cute. “I´ll make sure nothing happens.”

You take a nervous breath before replying to him. “I know. I trust you.”

“Just not Sunfyre?” He asks with a chuckle, already knowing your answer.

“Just not Sunfyre.” You confirm his suspicions.

“Believe me, you´ll love it by the time we stop. Just wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight. Wouldn´t want you to fall off mid drive, would we?”

“What?” You shriek, prompting him to laugh out loud.

“Don´t worry. Just hold on tight.” He says over the noise of the starting engine. And so you make your way out of the driveway and onto the streets.

At first you tightly hold onto his waist, where he initially placed your arms, afraid to let go of him. But the longer you drive you start to feel more secure and actually start to enjoy the experience. It feels freeing in a way, though laying yourself into the curves of the road is still stay kind of scary. Getting more brave, your arms loosen, for your hands to lay high on his sturdy upper thigh. The fabric of his jeans is rough against the pads of your fingers. Seeing him on Sunfyre had always driven a firey pit of desire to your stomach, but sitting on the machine with him, the flames fanned out to rush through your veins. Mixing in with the adrenaline, to make for almost torturously heightened senses between your legs. When you feel your desire pool in your panties, your hands create a mind of their own. Slowly the wander along his thighs and plush hips. Grabbing at the soft flesh gently. Inching closer and closer to the apex of his thighs, as you press your breasts against his back. Feeling the breath in him quicken as your hands continue their voyage, you even imagine hearing him moan. When you get onto a particularly straight road, your hands go from running over the inside of his thighs to his confined cock. Already half hard from your close proximity. A curse escapes under your breath, gentle fingers continuously teasing him over the thick fabric of his jeans until his length twitches against your hand. To your surprise Aegon stops at the side of the road at the next chance.

“You are playing a dangerous game, doll. You know that?” His voice is strained and muffled through the helmet.

“I can´t help it, baby… You´re making me all hot and bothered.” You shoot back in a breathy tone.

“Alright, that´s it. We´re gonna go back. I need you.” He starts the motor up once more and you barely get a chance to hold back onto him as he speeds off on the way you just used to get where you were. Half way to your picknick.

However you can´t really get mad at him for turning around in the face of your panties sticking to your core, with need collecting in it. All together you reach your place in what you´d guess is half the time you took to drive out. All but throwing the helmets on the sofa as you enter the house, running to your room. All the way there his hands are all over you. Caressing and groping at your plush flesh as some kind of revenge for what you had done to him earlier.

When you finally reach your bedroom, you kick the door shut just a second before Aegon picks you up and throws you onto the mattress. A yelp leaves your lungs as your back hits the bed. His lips lock with yours in the most desperate of touches, during which his hands wander down for his fingers to hook underneath the waistband of your panties. With a swift tug on the lace fabric he pulls them down to your ankles. The Jeans shorts dropping to the ground with a dull thud, while the lighter fabric hung there. As soon as that was out of the way Aegon shoved your shirt up to expose your tits. Mouthing at the mounds until you were a whiny mess, writhing underneath him and his cock strained against his boxershorts torturously.

“Egg please… I need you…” You whimper, letting your head fall back as you push up onto your elbows.

“I need you too, but first I need to taste you.” His words are broken up by the short and wet kisses he trails down your middle until he reaches your center. Taking his place between your legs, he immediately starting to hungrily lap at your folds as if it would be his last meal on death row. Groaning and whimpering against your cunt, his hands kneading the supple flesh of your upper thighs as he does.

“I´m about to…” You keen. Unable to finish the sentence as he flattens his tongue against your clit. The stimulation to the bundle of nerve pushing you right over the edge.

Yet Aegon doesn´t even give you time to calm down fully before he turns you onto your stomach. Propping your knees up onto the mattress, your hips still shaking and little cries of your past peak leaving your lips, you feel one of his needy hands squeezing the flesh of your ass. The sound of his belt buckle opening filling the room and falling to the floor with the same dull thud as your shorts had. There is no time to be wasted afterwards. Both of Aegon´s hands tightly grip your hips and pull you into him, pressing his hard length in between your cheeks, another strained groan falling from his lips.

“Please, Egg. Don´t tease.” You beg. Earning a breathy chuckle from him as your back arches instinctively to press even closer to him, but nonetheless he complies. Pushing himself inside of you.

“Oh gods, your so tight.” He groans, while you let out a gasp and grip the sheets in a vice grip. Even after so many times you would probably never get used to the way he stretches you out. Or the way his tip reaches your sweet spot in the most perfect of ways, that made your legs feel like jelly and him hold you up by the hips as to not let you fall flat onto the bed.

“You´re squeezing me so perfectly… Fuck… ´m not gonna last long.” He stutters, leaning forward to nibble at your exposed neck. Sucking a mark into the sensitive skin right underneath your ear.

The sound of his hips slapping against your ass grew louder and faster soon. True to his words, he didn´t last much longer. Coming deep inside of you with one last groan. Of course not with out snaking one of his arms around your middle for his fingers to play with your clit until you had reached your second orgasm.

The two of you collapse onto the mattress in a heap of sweat, heavy breaths and happy smiles. Just in time for you to hear the front door being opened.

“Honey, I´m home!” You hear your mom call out. Shooting back a quick response you rest your head on Aegon´s chest.

“You know… If every ride on Sunfyre ends like this, I might not be so cautious anymore.” You whisper and press a kiss over his heart. The two of you sharing a laugh.

[nessieart]

The Way Back. III

wc: 5.4k Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere. eventual Steve x Reader, Bucky Reader. AN- sorry this took forever! please enjoy it!

Previously:

It's cold, was your first thought. It's cold and damp, and there's so much pain. Somewhere. Everywhere.

You groan, shoving your forehead into the gravel beneath you. Whatever happened, it hurts like hell. Placing one hand on the ground, and the other on your chest, you pull yourself up. Sitting back and finding a wall behind you.

Convenient, you think. So you lean back against it, resting your head that pounds with every breath you take and beat of your heart.

It's bright when you peek an eye open, and then slam it shut again.

Maybe I'll just rest here awhile longer.

--

A door opens not too far from where you're sleeping against the wall. Passed out. Unconscious.

Foot steps leisurely make their way towards you until they stop.

There's a shuffling noise that stirs you into consciousness, a pause, then hurried shuffling and scuffing of soles against gravel. Frantic hands hover over you, muffled words you can't really hear, like you're underwater. Matted hair is pulled back from your face as fingers tip your head from side to side.

You groan, it's scratchy as it climbs your throat. The pounding in your head is so loud that you barely hear the person talking to you.

"Honey, hey, can you hear me?" He asks, a light hand on your shoulder steadies you.

Your eyes peel open, vision blurry as you try to bring the man into focus.

"T-Tony?" You ask. The man - Tony? grunts, he brings your face back towards him.

"Hey, kid, stay awake," he responds, "we'll get you some help. Come on," you feel hands grab you, hoist you up into strong arms. He smells like motor oil and machinery, expensive cologne, and whiskey.

You sigh as you sink into his hold, "Tony…" you mumble. A pained noise escapes your lips when he shifts you in his arms. A hand moves your shirt to the side, your scar on full display. Dim and cracked. Red, raw, and bloody scar out for all eyes to see.

"What on Earth is that, sir?" Your eyes flutter at the new voice, Vision?

"I have no clue. Let's hurry and get her to the hospital."

He moved you to the awaiting town car, slipping into the back seat with you in his arms.

"C'mon, kid, I need you to keep those eyes open," he tries to pinch your arm, a light tap on your face to get you more awake. What the hell happened to you?

"C-can't…tired. So-sorry, Tones," it's a whisper, but he hears you. He hums.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. The car begins to move down the road, the light rocking is soothing, and you're soon drifting off to sleep.

"But I'm not who you think I am."

&

You awoke late in the night. He was across the room reading, his glasses low on his nose, and a small table lamp next to him was the only source of light in the room.

"Tony?" It wasn't loud, but he heard you. You coughed to clear your throat, and the man was up and at your side with a cup of water in a blink of an eye.

"Hey, kid, don't talk, alright?" He tips the cup to your lips, and you take generous gulps. "You've been out for a few days."

You study him with your one good eye. He certainly looks like Tony, but younger.

His lips tip up into a smirk, "Not sure who this Tony guy is, but he must be missin' you, honey." He takes a seat on the bed by your hip. "You kept calling me Tony. Would mumble a few other names in your sleep, too."

"He's - he's my best friend," you tell him. "Something happened. I don't -" You swallow the lump in your throat, "don't know what happened to him."

"Name's Howard. You were barely conscious when I found you in the alley. I didn't see anyone else around, sorry." He studies your face for another minute, trying to gauge what your reaction might be if he says the wrong thing.

"Where you from, kid?"

"New Mexico, but I've lived in New York for a while now."

Howard hums and nods, "With this guy Tony? Tony, what? Maybe I know him."

"Tony Stark."

Howard hums, eyes searching your face. "Sorry to tell you, but I think I'm the only Stark in the tri-state area."

Your eyebrows scrunch, "But," you blink at him slowly. It hurts to think, so you close your eyes for a moment. There's a warm hand on your arm. It's comforting, but foreign.

&

You might have fallen asleep mid conversation with Howard. It was early morning now. He had a change of clothes for you neatly folded on the bed by your feet.

You were sat up in a hospital bed, a bandage around your head, hands, and chest. There's a phantom pain in your ribs like someone's trying to pull you apart from the inside. It hurts every time you breathe too deep.

"I don't understand," you rasp. It's difficult to talk above a harsh whisper still. You sip the water he gave you.

He places his hands in his slack pockets, the worry creasing his brow. He said his name was Howard.

Howard goddamn Stark was standing in your hospital room. A very fancy one, from the look of it. He probably pulled some strings to get you in here.

Howard's mouth purses, his eyes searching your bruised face. You have a split lip, fractured cheekbone, and a fading puffy, black eye. Not to mention all the other injuries that litter your body that he can't see.

"Whats not to understand, kid?" He sits on the chair next to the bed. "I didn't know your name when I brought you here, so I made one up," he shrugs like it was the easiest explanation in the world. "Don't like it?"

You scrunch your nose - much as you could. Howard explained that it was December 1942.

"Charlotte Stark? Seriously?"

He shrugs again, "Charlie, for short, if you prefer. Said you were my sister. It was a last-minute decision!" Howard's hands come up in defense, "and it was easier to fake documents for a relative than any Jane off the street."

You sigh, then sip more water. You suppose that makes sense. "I need to find a way back to my friends. It's important."

Howard looks out the window. There's snow gathered in the corners, frost creeping up the glass as his eyes search for something you can't see. It takes him a few moments to speak before he looks back at you.

"Why don't you focus on getting better first, kid? We can figure out all the other stuff later. After you heal and rest." Howard squeezes your arm before he gets up.

"Those clothes belong to a friend of mine, hope they fit," as he heads for the door, he stops at the threshold, "everything's going to be alright, kid. Promise."

&

It's been two months since you left the hospital, and living with a millionaire in 1943 isn't that much different than living with his billionaire son in 2013.

"Did you go through my closet again?" Howard stood in your doorway, hands on his hips as he narrowed his eyes at you.

You closed the journal you were writing in before you turned to meet his gaze, "y’know, Stark, it would be easier if you just got me my own pair of pants and coveralls. I told you I don't wear skirts and dresses."

He sighs, "we'll I thought you'd grow out of that," he rolls his eyes and dodges the pen you throw at his head.

It's been like this for the last two months. Easy banter. You were used to trading jabs with Tony, and Howard wasn't much different. It felt familiar. Howard has argued about your choice of wardrobe since you moved in. And it's a losing argument. He sees that now.

You were hoping he'd get over seeing you in pants and overalls, but he's just as stubborn as Tony. Maybe the other way around if you think about it.

Howard turned to leave, "Fine, Stark, let's go." You stare at his retreating form with wide eyes for a moment, "Hurry up before I change my mind," he calls from the hallway.

You scramble out of your chair, haphazardly shoving the journal into the drawer of your desk and grabbing your things as you hurry to keep up with him.

"You really mean it?" You ask as the two of you exit the mansion. Jarvis is waiting by the car for you both, and he drives you downtown.

"'Course, kid," he shrugs and ruffles your hair.

After shopping for a whole new wardrobe, Howard had Jarvis drop him at work.

"Hey, why don't you come in?" he nods over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder at the building. This wasn't the normal area for his office building, and you know that.

"An antique shop? Is there something you need to tell me, Stark?"

Howard laughs loud, hand going to his stomach, "nah, it's a secret," he barely whispers. He tugs your hand and pulls you from the car and into the shop. There's an elderly woman behind the counter that looks up as you two walk in. She tries to hide a smile, but it breaks out across her face when Howard greets her and gives her a wink.

"And this is my sister, Charlotte," he introduces you. You're still trying to get used to the foreign name, but it's growing on you.

"Why, I didn't know you had a sister, Howie."

Howard shrugs, one hand in his pocket, and you step forward, hand stretched out, "Please, call me Charlie," you shake her hand with a polite smile. The older woman nods and gives you a kind smile in return.

"Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?" she says. Morning? It was mid afternoon.

"Yeah, but I always carry an umbrella," Howard answers without missing a beat. He takes your hand and loops it through his elbow as he leads you to an elevator. Which wasn't there a second ago.

After the doors shut, you stare at the side of Howard's face. There's a slow smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. He's insufferable, just like his son. You roll your eyes at him and wait until the lift opens again.

When you step out of the elevator, you're above a lab. The messanine connexts to a viewing room on the left, and the stairs to the right lead to the lab. It's a massive space underground. The window on the side of the room barely peaks out to the street where you see shoes shuffle by.

There, in the center of the room, are machine parts, the skeletal outlines of it resemble a giant coffin. There's a few people to the side of the room chatting as Howard brings you down the stairs.

You stop at the bottom step, eyes roaming around when they land on a woman. Her back is to you, and she's talking to an older man with glasses in a lab coat. He has kind eyes, you think. His gaze shifts over the woman's shoulder to Howard, then to you.

When the woman turns to see what took her companions' attention, you freeze.

Peggy Carter. Her eyes find Howard, and she purses her lips, giving him a stern look. Then they find you, and you're staring at her like a deer in headlights.

Because, seriously, what the hell.

Howard tugs your hand and forces you to follow him, you gulp as you near them.

"Stark," Peggy greets, her eyebrow arches up in greeting.

"Pegs," he winks. "Doc," he nods to the man in glasses.

They exchange pleasantries for a moment, and you're trying not to draw attention to yourself. Maybe the floor will swallow you up. You have a pretty good idea what this place is now, who these people are, and who they're working for.

Howard slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, "This is Charlotte," he says to the two," my sister." He grins and puffs his chest out a little every time he mentions you to someone knew, like he's proudly bragging that he gets to call you his sister.

It makes your heart thud, and your stomach flips.

You smile up at Howard, there's a burning in the back of your eyes that you blink away. You're really glad you get to call him your friend. Your brother.

Peggy tries really hard not to scoff, but it comes out anyway, a snort of a laugh that she stifles quickly, "Sister? Since when?"

"Hello, Ms Stark," the man with kind eyes and glasses says to you, "Abraham Erskine. This is my colleague, Margaret Carter," he motions to Peggy. Her bright red lips are pulled in a thin line as she nods to you.

You pull your shoulders in tight, "H-hello," you squeak out. "Nice to meet you," You didn't think meeting your childhood hero would be this nerve-racking. Heat floods up your neck to your cheeks and ears as you hold eye contact with Peggy.

Howard squeezes your shoulder, "She's been out of town for a few years. Haven't ya, kid?" You hum in agreement, nodding along. Still doe-eyed and full of nerves.

"Howard, a word?" Peggy tilts her head to the side, Howard nods and gives you another squeeze before he lets you go to follow her.

When the two depart, Dr. Erskine turns to you with a knowing smile. He must know. Dr. Erskine is too smart not to know you're not Howard's sister.

"Um," you fidget. Something about him makes you want to spill your darkest secrets to him. Tell him all about your life because it seems like he'd listen. You sigh, dropping your shoulders.

"He - Howard - helped me out a few months back. I-I'm not from around here, and I was hurt really bad. He took me to the hospital when he didn't have to. I owe him. A lot. He hasn't asked for anything in return, but he keeps taking care of me anyway."

The doctor chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners, "I won't say a word," his accented voice says quietly. "Howard Stark does what he wants. Usually, there is no other reasoning than that." Erskine runs his eyes along your face. Stopping at the scar on your right brow and the one that splits your lips on the same side.

"Hurt very badly, from the look of things, my dear," he says softly. You avoid his eyes and nod. Across the room, you see Howard leaning against a table, hands in his slacks, and a smile on his face.

Peggy is gesturing around the room, and then back to Howard, he shrugs. Both sets of eyes find you, and you feel like a deer again. Howard's grin grows as Peggy rolls her eyes again.

Oh boy, this will be fun.

Howard saunters back over to you, a smirk on his lips as he leans down to whisper to you.

You send him a glare when he opens his mouth again.

"Project Rebirth?" You hiss at him, "What is wrong with you?" You poke a finger in his chest, "Don't answer that."

Howard has the brilliant idea of you joining the SSR. Which you were against. But he insisted, and Howard always gets what he wants.

You do owe him.

You drag him away and to the side of the room, far from listening ears.

You glance around the room once more before you send another glare at Howard. He's very much unphased by it.

"I can't be a part of this, and you know why," you whisper yell at him. You've told Howard the jist of how you time traveled back to 1942. Told him about your powers - which won't manifest no matter how hard you try - how they worked, and even explained the scar on your chest. You might have short circuited his brain for a minute, but once the initial shock was over, he lit up like a kid on Christmas.

The only person you've told Howard about was Tony. You left other names out, but he knows about your history with the Avengers, the battles fought. The importance of you trying to get back to your time, because of the threat of half the universe ending. The only person you felt comfortable enough to talk with that might not change the future, you hoped at least.

The future! Why didn't you think of this before!

"What? What's with the face, dollie?" Howard raises an eyebrow.

You hum, "just thought of something that could potentially send me back to my time," its muttered as you think more about it.

His face scrunches, head tilting to the side as his hands come out of his pockets. "What do you mean? You - you aren't stayin'?" Howard deflates, shoulders sagging and face falling.

Oh, Howie…

You curl in on yourself, arms coming around your body in defense, "i can't stay here forever, Howie." You glance around the room again and catch Peggy staring. Her eyes are scrutinizing, but her face is nutrual. "I - I don't belong here."

Howard pulls you into a hug, and you return it. Clinging to him like a lifeline. "Of course you belong here, Y/N," he whispers in your ear. " I think we were meant to meet. You're my best friend, kid. I'd hate to lose you."

When you separate, Howard brings a hand to your cheek, thumb wiping away a tear that fell unbidden.

"Is everything alright?" Peggy asks from across the room.

Howard's mood shifts, a smile lighting up his face, even if it doesn't reach his eyes all the way. He brings you into his side again.

"Everything's just dandy, ain't it, Charlie?" Howard squeezes you tight by the shoulders, and you nod, humming in agreement.

"Turns out, I've completely forgotten she'll be too busy to help around the place. What, with Stark Expo in a few short months," Howard leads the two of you towards the exit. " I need all hands on deck. And there's no one smarter or more organized than my baby sister! She is head of the planning committee, after all."

You choke out a noise of protest, but Howard just gives you a sidelong glance, " Yep - uh Yes! I uh. Howie just sprung this on me. As much as I'd love to join your, uh…" you wave a hand around, "I'll be swamped in meetings and - gosh. For months!"

Smooth.

"Months!" Howard parrots.

"it was wonderful to meet you, Ms. Stark," Dr. Erskine held his hand out for you to shake, you place your hand in his, and he gives you a gentle squeeze. He peers over his glasses to give you a wink.

"I'll take you home, sis, c'mon," Howard tugs your elbow.

"Oh, no. It's ok. I don't mind walking," you tell him. "it was very nice meeting you, um, Agent Carter. Doctor," you nod.

After leaving the antique shop, you decide to walk around Brooklyn to clear your head. The early afternoon sun warmed the streets as you made your way down the sidewalk.

You walked for about twenty minutes before you felt a pull. You haven't felt the slightest tug of your powers since dropping into 1942. But there it was, urging you along the sidewalk, taking lefts and rights down unfamiliar paths.

There was no sense of dread or anxiety this time, only anticipation. There was a buzzing in your ears, and it sent a shiver down to your fingertips.

You stop in front of a diner, the smells from inside are inviting, and your stomach rumbles, but the pull isn't here. It's across the street.

When you reach the sidewalk on the other side of the road, a man bumps your shoulder hard as he comes out of an alleyway.

"Watch it," he grumbles. You roll your eyes at his retreating form.

The urge to turn down the alley is strong. This must be the palce. It seems all too familiar now. Just like how you met Stephen. The further down the alley you go, you notice a boy, laying on his side, huddled in on himself.

Rushing to his side, you reach out, "Hey, kid, you ok?" Before you can touch his shoulder to make sure he's conscious, he turns over. Face beat pretty badly. Blood leaks from his nose, and a cut above his eye seeps blood down his dirty face.

You gasp. It can't be.

He coughs as he sits up, coming face to face with you. You notice a split lip as he scrubs the sleeve of his shirt under his nose to wipe the blood away. He looks a little embarrassed now that you look at him.

Those bright blue eyes avoid your gaze. When he tries to get up, you snap out of your trance. "Hey, whoa. Slow down," You brace your hands on his shoulders. He's so much smaller than the last time you saw him. Much smaller.

His clothes are a little too big, you notice. His shoes almost slip from his feet as he tries to get them under him to stand. You forget he grew up poor, barely scraping by in a tiny apartment he shared sometimes with his best friend.

"I- I'm fine," he winces as he sits back down. "Really, you don't need to trouble yourself, uh, ma'am," his eyes sweep your form and then widen at what you're wearing. "You should see the other guy."

You roll your eyes at him. It's just pants.

Name's y/- Charlotte. People call me Charlie," You stick your hand out for him to shake.

His hands are boney, fingers long and thin as they wrap around yours. He ducks his head, dirty shaggy blond hair falling on his forehead.

"Steve. Steve Rogers."

You want to laugh and say, well duh, Stevie, of course. But you refrain. Suppressing the urde to tell him everything, you give Steve a tight-lipped smile, pulling your hand back, and you examine his face again. Hopefully, he doesn't have any broken ribs or worse.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. Maybe get you to the ER," you take Steve's arm and lift him up to stand. If he's surprised by your strength, he doesn't show it.

He shakes his head, "No, really ma'am -" "-Don't call me ma'am -" "-I'll be fine. This happens all the time." Steve wiinces when he takes a step.

"Ok, Tough Guy, let me help you. Only -" You speak up when he goes to protest, "only because I want to."

You sling his arm over your shoulder. You two are about the same height.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he says quietly.

"Steven, you call me ma'am one more time, and we're gona have a problem," you send him a look, eyebrow raised, and he nods. A blush flaring up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Right, sorry," he mumbles.

Steve directs you towards his apartment building. You had to stop a few times for him to catch his breath. Once you reach the building, he stops, placing his hand on the railing and looking up the worn down steps.

"Sometimes it feels like a hundred steps," he heaves in a lungful of air, it wheezes, "other days it feels like two."

You urge him to sit. He goes willingly. "Put your head down between your knees," you sit next to him, rubbing his back. He's a lot skinnier than you thought. Touching him like this, you can feel his spine and every rib. The rattle of his breath through his body.

"That's it, slow, deep breaths," After a moment, the rattling in his chest is down to a minimum. There's a clothesline nearby with a bucket of pins in it. You grab a rag off the line, dump the pins out, and fill the bucket with some water from the spicket under the stairs.

"here," you tug his shoulder so he sits up, and bring the wet cloth to Steve's face, he winces, closing his eyes as the cold rag wipes away the blood and dirt on his face.

"Well, good news is," you say after his face is cleaned, "it's really not that bad lookin'."

When he opens his eyes, you give him a reassuring smile. "Uh, your face, I mean. It's - " You shut your mouth when he smiles, the color returning to his cheeks. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck.

Still the same Steve, you think. This one is just younger, smaller, and not battle hardened. At least not by war.

Steve looks up over his shoulder to the apartment you assume is his, "My friend and I live up there," he nods, "he should still be at work, though."

"Want me to help you inside? No broken ribs or anything?"

Steve stares at you for a moment, eyes searching your face, then down to his hands, "Why are you helping me? You don't even know me. For all you know, I could be a - uh - bad person. I was in a fight."

"I don't think you have a bad bone in your body, Steve," you duck your head to catch his eye. His one eye is starting to swell. You hum, "maybe you should put some ice on that."

Steve nodded but didn't make a move to leave. You just smile encouragingly at him. He fidgets with his fingers for a long moment. "Um, thanks, Charlie." You place your hand over his.

"Don't mention it, Tough Guy."

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the afternoon sun as the both of you sat on the back stoop.

There were footsteps approaching around the building, and the next moment, Bucky Barnes turns the corner. He's young and handsome. No trauma from war or being the Winter Soldier. There's no haunted look in his eyes when he looks from you, to Steve, and then down at your hand over his.

There's a sparkle in his crystal blue eyes, mischievous and knowing. "well, Stevie, if I woulda known you were bringin' a dame home, I woulda stayed gone," his smirk is all teeth, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he eyes you.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Show off.

Then Bucky seems to notice Steve's beat up and bruised face because he rushes forward and kneels down before him. Bucky's hands fly to Steve's face as he examines the damage.

"Jesus, Steve, what happened now?" his eyes are sad and knowing. You notice they are very expressive as they scan over Steve's face. Then he loks at you, and the bloody rag in your hand. "Thanks for bringin' him home, dollface."

The nickname makes heat rise up your chest, "Uh, don't m-mention it," you breathe out.

Steve and Bucky seem to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. Something you witnessed once, a lifetime ago, it seems.

You shot up from the steps, "I- I should go," you step backward as you talk, feet shuffling in the dirt. Bucky and Steve look up at you as you shuffle away. "My brother is probably wondering where I got off to, y'know," you laugh awkwardly, hands fidgeting with the cuff of your shirt sleeve.

Bucky stands, a hand goes through his short cropped hair, a sly smirk on his face, and his other slaps down on Steve's shoulder. The latter winces a little.

"Let me take you out, as thanks," he shrugs one shoulder when you just blink at him. "For helping Steve." You see Steve slump forward, a frustrated sigh leaving his split lips. He groans out Bucky's name, a pleading look in his eyes.

Bucky is still waiting on an answer when you look back at him, "I don't even know your name," and you shrug, "but it's ok, I'll pass."

"What?" Bucky and Steve say at the same time. You laugh. The look on their faces is priceless. You're certain Bucky doesn't get rejected often, if ever.

You back away, smiling, "it was nice to meet you, Steve," you give him a wink. "See you around, maybe."

Before you go to turn around, "James. Friends call me Bucky," he says, hands in his pockets. That damn smirk on his lips again.

"What kinda name is Bucky? See you later, boys," you see Steve hide a laugh behind his hand, his eyes sparkling with mirth. You wink at him again. You quickly turn the corner and wish your powers would come back so you could portal to Howard's. You can hear them throwing jabs at each other as you get further away, Steve trying not to laugh too hard at Bucky being rejected.

When you enter the mansion later, you collapse onto the floor in the foyer. You heave big gasping breaths as you lean on your hands. Tears spring to your eyes, and you can do little to stop them from spilling over. You didn't think seeing Steve again - or Bucky - would make you as upset as it does. The last time you saw them, you were fighting against them with Tony.

Your heart thuds painfully at the reminder of Tony and him being in space on an unknown, barren planet. Makes you sick to your stomach. You hope Stephen and Peter are okay. Stephen would have no problem getting them all back to earth with his Mystic Portal.

Child's play, Stephen would say. You laugh wetly, more tears streaking your cheeks.

"What is with all the -" Howard steps into the foyer, halts when he sees you crumpled on the floor. "Y/N! What happened?" He's at your side in a few long strides.

&

Steve feels like he's been struck by a cab. Your departure leaves him breathless, and he can't even blame it on his asthma this time.

Bucky turns on his heels to face Steve, the same far-off look in his eyes. Steve might feel his stomach drop, but he doesn't say anything. He just pulls himself up and begins the climb to his apartment.

"Stevie," Bucky calls, "Who was that broad?" Bucky scrambles up the steps to crowd behind Steve as they ascend.

Steve shrugs, "dunno, she found me in that alley - the one across the diner y'know - and she helped me home. She didn't have to, but she wouldn't take no for an answer." Steve smiles, "thought she'd knock my head in if i refused. Almost did when i kept callin' her ma'am." What Steve doesn't say is who knows how long he would have been in that alley if you hadn't come along.

Steve finds the key to his place, unlocking the door, though there isn't much to steal even if he did leave it unlocked.

Bucky follows Steve inside, closing the door behind him and hanging his jacket on the coat rack. "Stevie," Bucky tries to press. Steve lets out a huff as he collapses on the old, worn-out couch.

"Buck, you met her for three minutes, and she turned you down. Charlie's probably not interested."

Bucky plops down next to Steve, a wolfish grin on his face, "she's going to say yes, just you wait. She just doesn't know me yet." All Steve does is roll his eyes.

&

You were curled up in your bed, a warm cup of tea between your hands. Courtesy of Jarvis. Howard sat next to your legs, a concerned look on his face that refuses to leave, no matter how many times you tell him you're fine.

He had to scoop you up off the floor and bring you upstairs to your room. It took you a while before the sobs subsided to quiet sniffles. You quietly told him about the encounter with Steve and James, saying that the two of them together triggered a panic attack you weren't aware was going to happen. All because of what happened in Siberia.

Howard nodded along, giving you soft, encouraging words whenever you would pause. He took the empty tea cup from your hands, placing it on the nightstand. he waited a moment more, searching for any lingering signs of tears or heartache.

He clears his throat, "Maybe you should look for a way back to your time, honey," he says quietly. His eyes dart away from yours when your head snaps up.

"But-"

"I know," his reassuring smile is sad and doesn't reach his eyes. "Maybe you just need the closure of seeing Tony okay," It's hard for Howard to talk about his son he doesn't have, only knowing about him from the stories you've told.

"What about you?"

"You need to stop worrying about everyone ese, Y/N. And worry about yourself."

You sigh. It feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, "I'll think about it, ok?"

Howard nods, his hands falling on top of yours and then squeezing, "Get some rest, kid."

&

[littlemisspascal]

Fast Cars and Lightning Bolts Part 4

Pairing: Din x Female Reader

Word Count: 3200+

Rating: T

Summary: It’s kind of ridiculous, really, the way everything else fades away the longer you stare at Din. The gaudy banners in all capital fonts seem to blur and the colorful bouquets of balloons lose their vibrance. The Din Djarin Effect, you used to call it, a comforting distraction to indulge in when the rest of the world felt too close, too much all at once. 

Author Note: 2 years later I'm sure 99% of people have lost any care about this series, but it felt nice returning to this fic after so long away. Hope someone out there enjoys this 😊 All likes, comments, and reblogs super appreciated 💗

Warnings: Helmetless Din, dialogue heavy, racing au, heavily inspired by Ford v Ferrari, language, worldbuilding, No physical characteristics of Reader described except for having hair + a heart condition (I’m not a doctor, all medical details are fictional)

Series Masterlist

Mos Espa is hotter than you remember.

Or maybe it’s how different the city looks—flourishing businesses, smiling faces, and cleaner streets (literally and figuratively, not one piece of trash or shady character in sight)—that’s making it hard for your memories to sync with your reality. 

There’s a bustling crowd of hundreds at the Fett Motor Company Headquarters by the time you arrive. You almost forgot how overwhelming being in the midst of large groups of people can be, all clamoring for a handshake or autograph. Like feral dogs fighting over the same piece of meat, pulling and tugging until they get their portion of the prize. 

Today’s a significant one for Fett Motor Company. Not only are they announcing their partnership with you and subsequent entry into the world of auto racing, they’re also celebrating the launch of their newest model. Dozens of reporters and photographers from every major HoloNet site have come, drawn to the promise of a spectacle and juicy bits of gossip to spin a story out of.

Attending events like this has always been the part of fame you liked the least. Too chaotic and invasive for your tastes. Makes your heartbeat start to climb until it’s in your ears, an incessant reminder of your retreat from the spotlight.

There are a plethora of people in every direction you look. Do they notice your trembling hands? The bottle of pills in your jacket pocket? Can they tell you’re in over your head? 

So many people. So many pairs of eyes.

And then, just when you think you’ll be swallowed whole, there’s Peli blasting her way through the crowd with waving arms and shrill exclamations, providing you a path to freedom. The rush of absolute relief nearly has you sinking to the floor, but she’s quick to latch onto your wrist, towing you to sanctuary in a quieter room away from access of the general public.

“Thanks, Peli,” you say, letting out a shaky breath as the tension digging into your spine starts to loosen. 

“Don’t mention it, LB,” she shrugs, then nods at something off to the side. “I figured it’d go smoother if I saved your hide instead of tin can man. He looks like a biter—and not in the sexy way.”

“What?” Sometimes your engineer makes no damn sense. You look at where she’d gestured, first noticing Ahsoka (the young Togrutan mechanic had practically stubbornly glared you into letting her come along) talking animatedly to—

Your eyes widen.

“He…” you trail off, mouth abruptly dry. “He actually came?”

“Well, yeah,” Peli replies, looking back and forth with furrowed eyebrows. “You invited him, didn’t you? He told me he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Funny. Last thing he said to you, back in that diner one week ago, standing up from the table with an expression devoid of the previous softness, was, “I’m nobody’s puppet, not even yours. Find someone else.”

It’s kind of ridiculous, really, the way everything else fades away the longer you stare at Din. The gaudy banners in all capital fonts seem to blur and the colorful bouquets of balloons lose their vibrance. The Din Djarin Effect, you used to call it, a comforting distraction to indulge in when the rest of the world felt too close, too much all at once. 

You give yourself a tiny shake, forcing yourself to blink. Today’s too important for your career to lose focus.

Walking up to the pair, you greet Ahsoka first with a friendly nudge of your elbow against her arm. Blue eyes widen in surprise before she beams at you, utterly oblivious to the straightening of Din’s posture you catch out of the corner of your gaze. 

“Lightning, you made it!” Ahsoka’s one of your youngest employees, full of big emotions and just a tad bit impulsive at times, but Peli swears she’s got one of the brightest minds for vehicular engineering the woman’s ever come across in all her years. And that’s the exact kind of talent you want to surround yourself with these days.

“Welcome to the madhouse,” Din remarks dryly, and you hate the instant locking of your eyes with his, the sensation of a loss of control of your own self. You hate the reminder that for all the things time and distance have changed, there still remain some constants entirely uninfluenced by either. 

Still.  Better to have loved and lost than to have continued down the road you and your ex-boyfriend had been on, pretending things were fine when they were anything but. And having him here in Mos Espa, looking at you, speaking to you, that’s more than you had dared to hope for one week ago, parting ways in the diner; definitely more than five years ago, breaking up in the middle of your living room. 

You smile at him, unable to stop yourself. Another one of those pesky constants you can’t shake. “I’m glad you came,” you tell him genuinely. Then, a hint of teasing, “Forgot how nice you look all dolled up.”

He has ditched his usual oil-stained clothes for his clan armor, Mandalorian beskar pristinely forged by his mentor to fit his exact measurements. The rare metal glints dangerously in the afternoon sunshine streaming through the skylights, a far contrast from the soft and silky fabrics of the expensive suits other men have chosen for the occasion. It’s purposeful, this look, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. You can already imagine the numerous photos of champagne and fancy ties and plastic smiles online, and there Din will be, stubbornly resisting to blend in.

Honestly though? You would’ve been upset if he’d tried. 

His lips curl at the corner. “You don’t look half bad yourself, mesh’la.”

Maker. You’re tiptoeing the line of dangerous territory, feeling hot all over in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. And judging from that look in Din’s eyes, a daring sort of regard, the bastard knows it.

“Have you seen the new Fett Firespray?” Ahsoka asks, her voice startling you out of your staring contest. Embarrassing, how easily you’d forgotten she was standing right next to you.

“It’s uglier than a shaved bantha’s ass,” Din remarks, so utterly deadpan it takes an incredible amount of self-discipline not to bark out a laugh. 

Ahsoka huffs, the kind of sound kids make when they think an adult has said  something stupid. Maker, she really is young, isn’t she? “It wasn’t that bad. All those customization options for the interior were pretty cool.”

The unimpressed scowl twisting Din’s mouth tells you exactly what he thinks about the options. Pretty cool definitely isn’t his opinion on the matter. No, you’d bet it’s on the complete other end of the spectrum. Which means that’s where your opinion can also be found.

Ahsoka may be the brightest of her generation, but Din is Din. When it comes to cars, there’s no one’s judgment you trust more. Another constant that’ll stretch the length of your combined lifetimes.

Fennec Shand and Peli approach at your side, putting an end to your conversation with Din before you’re ready for it. Your fists clench against the nervous energy pulsing in tandem with your heartbeat, then immediately slacken upon registering the unknown Duros accompanying them, red eyes peering at you with scrutiny.

“I’d like you all to meet the senior vice president of Fett Motor, Cad Bane.” Fennec introduces with a respectful dip of her chin, hands clasped behind her back. Her hair is styled in another long braid with intricately woven orange ties holding every strand in place. “Bane, this is Lightning Bolt.”

Rather than shake your outstretched hand, Bane merely tips his wide-brimmed hat in acknowledgement. His crimson stare never lessens in its intensity, as sharp as the pointy teeth peeking from his lipless mouth when he speaks.

“Afternoon, little lady. You look…rather ordinary outside of a race car,” he says, and that’s enough for you to determine three things. One: his voice is as deep and gravelly as the depths of a bottomless chasm. Two: he’s a master at intimidation. And three: he’ll mercilessly squish you beneath the heel of his boot the second you let your guard down.

You absolutely cannot show weakness in front of him.

“Ah, well, despite what the tabloids might say, I’ve always been just a regular, ordinary mortal girl.” You force your mouth up into a small grin, tacking on a rueful little laugh you learned over the years will smooth the spikes of even the prickliest of bastards. Hard to tell if it works on Bane, his features so stoic they might as well be carved out of stone. “I brought along one of my best mechanics, Ahsoka Tano. And this is my–”

You cut yourself off, triggered by the inaccuracy. The acknowledgement that Din isn’t your anything anymore. Once upon a time you were so close you might as well have been the same person. Tangled up in each other’s souls. Indistinguishable. LightningandDin. But the way Din’s looking at you, guarded in a way you aren’t used to seeing, well. Not everything can remain a constant after five years. 

Surprisingly, though, Din saves you from having to make up a label on the spot. “We’ve met.”

The curtness of his delivery throws you off. Your eyebrows furrow, flicking a quick glance between the two men, sensing a frosty tension that wasn’t there mere seconds ago.

“Yes,” Bane says, something in the drawl of the word you can’t determine. But it definitely isn’t pleasant. “We have.”

Curiosity and wariness fizzle uncomfortably in your stomach. Here and now isn’t the time or place to ask questions. Too many eyes. Too many cameras. 

The whole thing feels very…sharp. One wrong move and someone will wind up scarred forever. The jackrabbiting beat of your heart doesn’t offer any comfort to the situation either.

A hand lightly grasping your elbow is almost enough to have you biting through your bottom lip. Jerking your head to your side, you meet Fennec’s even gaze. A calm port in this brewing storm. 

“Walk with me?” It’s phrased as a request, but you and the woman both know it isn’t one. “There are a few details I need to discuss with you.”

You nod, and follow after Fennec with your head bowed, focusing on the taps of her boots against the stone floor. She leads you to another private room, a small nook empty except for a pair of Gamorrean security guards standing near a door which opens up to the courtyard swarming with people waiting for the big news to be announced. You suck in a breath, feeling like for the first time since you arrived your lungs stretch to their fullest capacity. 

“So, what is it?” you ask. “What details do we need to talk about?”

Fennec leans back against the wall. “Before you go give your speech, I need to make sure we’re on the same page regarding our future partnership and procedure going forward.”

You try your best, but you can’t stop the incredulous arching of your eyebrow. “Are you checking that I read the fine print of the contract?”

And something interesting happens then. Fennec’s jaw quirks, the faintest, most miniscule display of unease. “Well, it’s just–”

“Page 3 paragraph 2 explicitly states that responsibility for the day to day practical affairs of the Fett race team is handled by me,” you cut in, pointing your index finger at your chest. The bottle of pills in your pocket rattles with the movement, drawing Fennec’s eyes there for a split second before your sharp glare has them recentering on your face once more.

“That’s correct,” she agrees. There’s a carefulness to her voice you’ve heard before many times in your own tone. Used when the topic of conversation is a potentially explosive one that could result in tempers flying. “Day to day stuff, that’s your job. But in regard to broader decisions that may or may not affect the wider company…” Her tongue runs over her lower lip, buying a pause to plan her next words, before she eventually comes out with, “There’s going to have to be some give and take with the gotra.”

“The gotra,” you repeat, audibly clumsy and unfamiliar coming out of your mouth. 

“Senior creatives, Lightning.” Her expression is back to annoyingly neutral. “Just so everybody involved is comfortable.”

“Well, color me confused, Fennec.” You draw yourself up to full height, arms crossing over your chest. You might not be as intimidating as Cad Bane, but no one survives long in the racing world without a bit of iron in their spine and fire in their stare. “Because up until this exact moment, I was comfortable.”

“Look out there,” Fennec says, gesturing with a tilt of her head towards the courtyard, an MC standing on stage addressing the crowd. The same one you’ll be giving a speech to only a handful of minutes from now. “What do you see?”

Your eyes drift over each of the figures. There’s an air about them, sensed even from where you stand, suggesting they’ve never changed a tire in their lives, let alone picked up a hydrospanner. They’re pencil pushers, not grease monkeys. 

“You know what I see?” Fennec asks rhetorically when you say nothing, pointing a nail painted onyx black at the door. “A machine. Thousands of parts moving hopefully in harmony because it’s my job to make it so. And it’s my job to guide you through it.” The nail’s aimed at you now. You swallow, your mouth dry. “I am here to help you, Lightning Bolt. But we have to trust each other.”

A crack splits open your chest, aching and inflamed, upon the realization that Din was right. Controlling people is their specialty. You press your lips together into a thin line, knowing the assurance Fennec wants but you’re reluctant to give it. Trusting others has never been easy for you. It’s something that must be fairly earned, not handed out carelessly. That’s how you spare yourself unnecessary pain. 

The presenter’s wrapping up his opening welcome, you can hear the applause like distant thunder. You pull out your pill bottle, mechanically opening it and popping two into your mouth, all too aware of Fennec watching the entire process. The meds taste like ash on your tongue, scraping the tender inside of your throat, but they’ll serve their purpose of keeping you numb onstage. 

Tucking the bottle back away, you start to turn for the door. “Excuse me, Fennec.”

“Lightning,” she holds up a hand, reaching for your shoulder then quickly backtracking, awkwardly hovering in front of you. “Do not go on that stage if you don’t trust me.”

You stare her down. “I said, excuse me.”

Hearing the firmness in your tone, Fennec sighs, her shoulders slumping marginally. She yields and moves out of your way.

The walk up to the stage, the shaking of hands and greetings along the way–none of it truly registers. You’re just going through the motions. Like you’re on autopilot. Like…like someone else is pulling the strings.

“Hello everyone,” you say into the microphone, voice steady and emotions tightly wound in the depths of your chest. You introduce yourself with a bright, picture perfect smile. “Most of you probably know me better as Lightning Bolt though. And like my cars, I’ll make this fast.”

The crowd ripples with laughter, softening the edges of your smile into a slightly more genuine one. Sometimes there’s no reaction, just blank stares or, worse, eye rolls. Speeches have about a fifty-fifty risk of making you feel like you’re flying high or that you’ve just struck concrete face first. You never quite know what to expect until after your first attempt of cracking the ice.

This time, you’re soaring.

“I was just a youngling when my mother told me the luckiest souls are those who know what they want to do. Because they’ll never work a day in their lives.” The crowd shifts a little and you catch a glimpse of Fennec and Bane standing together with other authoritative-looking figures, including a massive black-furred Wookiee–the gotra you were warned about, you assume. It’s the man further behind them though, beskar gleaming like there’s a spotlight trained directly on him, that has your heart leaping. “But I’ve come to learn there’s a precious few in the galaxy who find something that they have to do with their lives. An obsession they can’t shake. Pushing them to their farthest corners.”

You’re hyper-aware of the hundreds of eyes on you–of Din’s eyes on you, sunlight turning the dark brown into liquid gold smoldering in a forge–and you rapidly try to organize your thoughts as memorized words spill from your lips because time is running out and you have to make a decision.

Why is it, whenever you find yourself faced with making one of the hardest choices of your life, Din can be found at the bleeding center? Why do they always involve him?

“I’m one of ‘em.” You remind yourself to take a breath, that you have to breathe even as it feels like your insides are being crushed. “And I know one man who feels exactly the same.”

Din hasn’t blinked, staring at you like he always does in your dreams, and just like in those dreams all you want is to reach out and touch him. 

“His name…”

He’s your weakness. Always has been, always will be. 

“His name is Boba Fett.”

Time seems to stand still, captured in ice, chilling you to the bone, and Din’s eyes have widened, you can see it from here, see how he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

And you–you taste the name like poison. You’ve never even met the Daimyo, unable to cut out a hole in his schedule big enough for a face to face conversation with you. He didn’t even come out of his palace to make an appearance at his own damn car launch. You can’t pull your words out of the air though, can’t erase them from anyone’s minds because the ice shatters with roaring applause. 

You might smile, your lips are numb so it’s hard to tell. You want to say: Forgive me, love. Forgive me for surrendering to them. Maybe you would if not for the threat of the gotra hanging above your head like a knife. 

Some things must be hidden behind closed doors. And sometimes…sometimes you must put your career first above all else.

Averting your gaze back to Fennec, you nod at her as you pitch your voice over the cheers. “And together, we’ll make history. We’re going to build and race the fastest car the BEC’s ever seen. I personally guarantee it.”

You step back from the podium and wave both hands, pretending it’s excitement twisting your guts into knots. You might’ve fallen for it, if not for the last second guilty glance at the back of the crowd, stomach dropping at the lack of familiar brown eyes and beskar. 

Funny, how quickly soaring can switch to plummeting when one flies too close to the sun.

And all you can do now is brace for the inevitable impact, hoping you made the right choice.

[joezworld]

Traintober day 25

Hey guys,

I know I said I wasn't going to really participate in this year's traintober, but I ended up writing something over the last few weeks and figured I'd post it here. I'm a freelance contributor to Trains.com, the web arm of Trains Magazine, (you can read my IRL work here) and I wrote this for that. However, they have a maximum of about 4,000 words for print and 600-1,000 words for web, and this is past 7,000. So even if it makes it into print, it's not going to in its original form. So I'm giving it to you guys. Everything you're about to read is real. There's even an NTSB report on it.

Negligence and Gravity: The Story of a Train Wreck

Prologue

November 17, 1980

Cima, California - a barely inhabited place on a barely used road. A one horse town where the horse had run off. It sits at the intersection of two empty roads, with nothing to show for it but a general store-slash-post office. A true speck on the map, it likely would have been abandoned long ago had it not been for the presence of the Union Pacific Railroad, which sent dozens of trains each day past the ramshackle post office. Many trains rolled right on by, but more and more stopped, checking their brakes, cooling their wheels, or manually setting air brake retainers on each car of their trains.

They did so with good reason; stretching out beyond the post office towards the west, and paralleling the only main road, was a railroad line some twenty miles long. Part of the UP California subdivision that stretches from Las Vegas to Yermo, and then on to Los Angeles, it descends two thousand and six feet between Cima and Kelso, another barely-there town in the California desert. It was and still is one of the steepest portions of the Union Pacific system - accounting for curves and uneven geography, the UP considered the line to be a sustained 2.20% gradient. Any train that exceeded certain weight, braking force, or locomotive limitations was required to stop at Cima, and manually set brake retainers, before continuing down the hill.

As the clock ticked towards 1:50 in the afternoon, three trains entered this tale much like characters in a Shakespearean tragedy.

On the southern passing track is a long grain train, Extra 3135 West. 73 hoppers trail behind a lashup of SD40s, with dash-2 model 3135 on point. The air above the locomotives shimmers and ripples as heat from the motors, exhaust vents, and dynamic brake blisters radiates off into the mild November air.

In the center, a van train rolls past. The train, officially known as both 2-VAN-16 and Extra 8044 West, slows but doesn’t stop as it reaches the summit. Union Pacific has deemed this train capable of descending the grade with no extra precaution, and with good reason. Five locomotives are leashed to the front of this 49 car merchandise train, four SD40-2s trailing behind UP 6946 - the youngest member of the road’s 47-strong class of beastly 6,600 horsepower DDA40Xs. It’s an 8-axle titan in its last months of regular operation, with almost two million miles under its belt. The hot air from Extra 3135 mixes and whirls with the exhaust from the van train as it rolls by, the slab sides of the hoppers amplifying the bangs and squeals from 49 autoracks and piggyback flats. The noise increases as the train nears the end of the yard, the dynamic brakes already coming online as the train crests the summit. The engineer gives a blast from the horn as he passes the head end of the stopped trains, and then the van train is on its way down the hill. The caboose clears the track circuit at the far end of the passing sidings, and recedes into the distance. Within a few minutes the train is a distant shimmer as it snakes its way down the hill, an 8 million dollar steel serpent, bound for the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles.

Finally, there is the train on the northern passing siding. Extra 3119 West is not like the other two - there aren’t four or five locomotives hitched to a gargantuan train, one that stretches into the distance for a thousand feet or more. Instead, there’s a short consist of twenty cars, sandwiched between a single locomotive and a caboose. The cars are piled high with crossties, almost 11,000 of them, urgently needed by a tie gang at Yermo. So urgently, in fact, that if it hadn’t needed to stop and pin down its brakes, this lowly work train would’ve been rolling down the hill ahead of the high-priority van train.

Extra 3119 West, headed by the SD40 of the same number, has been in Cima for just under half an hour. In that time the crew had applied all the brake retainers, checked for defects, and otherwise readied their train for the descent into Kelso. Stopping meant that they’d be following the van train the whole way down, and so once the van train had gotten sufficiently small in the distance, the radio crackles. It’s dispatch, asking quite insistently if they were ready to go. They were, the engineer replies, and without any more to-do, the switch clunks into place, and the signal goes green. A double blast on the horn heralds the train’s departure, followed by the quiet squeal of brake shoes on steel wheels. There is no increased engine noise from the dynamic brakes. The train slips onto the main line, speed increasing slowly. By the time the caboose enters the main line, things are already going disastrously wrong.

Shortly thereafter, Extra 3135 powers up its train and descends the hill in a much more controlled fashion. Silence falls over Cima.

-

Negligence

November 13, 1980

The tale of negligence started three days earlier, at the Union Pacific tie plant in The Dalles, Oregon. Nestled in the valley of the Columbia River, The Dalles is nowadays best known for being the site of the worst bioterrorism attack in the United States, when members of the Rajneeshee religious organization poisoned several local restaurants with Salmonella in an attempt to influence local election turnout. However, that event is still four years into the future at this point, and the big news items in town are the May renumbering of Interstate 80N to I-84, and the March eruption of Mount St. Helens, some 65 miles away.

The Union Pacific tie plant, located between the west side of town and the newly-renumbered I-84, received an urgent order: 20 cars of 9-foot ties, urgently needed in Yermo, California. A mechanized tie gang working in the high desert is running low. Any delay will mean millions of dollars in wasted man-hours. The ties, estimated to number between 10 and 11 thousand, were hurriedly loaded into a series of F-70-1 bulkhead flatcars, modified for crosstie carriage with the addition of steel stakes down each side to prevent shifting. In addition to the 20 cars for Yermo, another group of 5 F-70-1s were being loaded with lighter 8-foot yard ties for renewal elsewhere on the California Subdivision. Inside the plant office, waybills for the 25 cars are being filled out, by hand. One of the most routine and mundane portions of loading railcars, the staff at the tie plant had made strides to simplify their workload; each waybill had been pre-filled with a seemingly appropriate weight figure: “about 60,000 pounds,” done in neat typewritten letters. This saved time, as it meant that tie cars didn’t have to be weighed, and exact quantities of loaded ties did not have to be known. Simple addition of this number to the known light weight of an F-70-1 flatcar (80,000 pounds), gave an estimated weight of 140,000 pounds per car. To the staff of the tie plant, complacent and ignorant, this seemed reasonable. They couldn’t know, because they didn’t want to, that the average per car weight of the 20 cars for Yermo was over 200,000 pounds.

-

November 17, 1980

“Urgent” might have been an understatement, when describing the journey these cars took. It took three days for the 25 flatbeds and their thousands of crossties to travel 1,260 miles across the Union Pacific system. They rolled into Las Vegas just before 1 AM on a manifest train; somehow, despite leaving The Dalles as a single block, a car containing beer had been inserted into the middle, with fifteen cars on one side and ten on the other. The how and why did not matter to the Las Vegas yard crews, who had been informed of the expedited nature of this train. Within minutes, the 26 cars had been taken off the manifest and were being shoved against a caboose that was already waiting. A third shift yard crew made quick work of the beer car and the five cars containing yard ties, but “disaster” struck when it was discovered that the caboose’s electrical system was non-functional. Somehow, despite having a major rail yard at their disposal, no other caboose could be found, and the issue could not be remedied. UP regulations forbade trains from running without rear lights between sundown and sun-up, so the highly expedited train was suddenly forced to cool its heels in the yard until lighting conditions improved.

With the delay, the new crew was scheduled to go on-duty at 8:05 AM, but just twenty minutes before, at 7:45, the Terminal Superintendent was informed that actually, the third shift crew had accidentally cut out the wrong cars - five cars of the 9-foot ties, not the five cars of 8-foot ties - and Extra 3119 West was about to set off with the wrong load. He responded with the unbelievable phrase of “Ties are ties”, and refused to have the incorrect cars set out, before reversing his decision some minutes later. While no other quotes are attributed to him in the subsequent NTSB report, his insistence on having the nearest yard crew drop what they were doing and fix the issue while he personally inspected the re-switching of the train speaks volumes on his mood at the time.

Not that he was of any help. During this frenzied switching, one car of 8-foot ties remained in the train. Its number - UP 913035 - was confused with another flatcar in the train - UP 913015. While minor in the overall sense, this slip-up shows exactly how quickly Las Vegas yard was working to get Extra 3119 West to its destination. When the train was finally ready, there were 19 cars of 9-foot ties behind locomotive 3119, and one car of 8-foot ties. As a car inspector was found, the final lading documents and waybills were presented to the engineer and conductor. Based on the flawed math of the tie plant, the train should have weighed 1,421.25 tons, however the final waybill read 1,495 tons exactly. Aside from being incorrect even against the tie plant’s figures, this weight was exactly five tons less than an internal UP tonnage/horsepower ratio that would determine whether or not the train would have to stop at Cima to apply brake retainers - with a 3,000 HP SD40, the train could not exceed 1,500 tons without incurring serious delays.

Based on the actual weight of a standard crosstie, and estimating how many were on the train, it’s likely that the train exceeded 2,000 tons.

It was customary for two car inspectors to check each departing train for defects and perform a brake test, however on the morning of the 17th, only one was available. Allegedly, he did his job and applied all due diligence, however it must be noted that no one who saw him conduct the test or the inspection lived to tell about it. Considering the haste in which the train was switched, the almost 8 hour delay due to the electrical problems in the caboose, and the close attention from the Las Vegas terminal superintendent, it’s possible that he rushed the job.

Actually, it’s certain that he rushed the job. Investigation of the wreckage would show that over half of the F-70-1 flatcars on Extra 3119 West had brakes that either only partially functioned, or did not function at all. At least three had their brakes cut out altogether. A proper inspection would have revealed that these cars were in a deplorable state of repair, with braking systems that could only be relied on for moral support, and in some cases not even that. But that would have taken time, time that the Union Pacific did not have, or rather, time that the UP did not want to spend.

Since 1979, the railroad had been pushing yards to decrease dwell times on through trains - Las Vegas yard had been given explicit instructions in writing that many high priority trains were to be given a minimal inspection, and were to be on their way again in 15 minutes. Later in the day when 2-VAN-16 arrived in Las Vegas, the head end crew noted that the train had been subject to an abbreviated inspection and air test, essentially rubber-stamping their train, and every other train that came through the yard.

So the inspector cleared Extra 3119 West, because he did know - he knew how much work would need to be done, how long it would take, how long it was supposed to take, and how much trouble he’d likely be in if he brought up the train’s condition.

-

Finally, at 10:00 AM, over 8 hours since it was supposed to depart, Extra 3119 left Las Vegas. Being technically a maintenance of way train, its crew was pulled from the extra board. While these men weren’t inept, one would be hard-pressed to find a less experienced crew on any road train that day:

David Totten, the engineer, had been with the railroad since 1974, but he had only been qualified as an engineer since January of 1979. Noted as a stickler for rules, and a capable railroader, he completed the relevant tests with a 96% score. However his road experience was limited - he’d only descended the grade from Cima 27 times in the last four and a half months.

Alan Branson, the conductor, had been with the company since 1973, but as a switchman in Los Angeles. He’d only been at his current position since April, at which time he was transferred to the Las Vegas extra board.

Cecil Faucett, the rear brakeman, had been with Union Pacific since June of 1978. He’d spent most of his time as a switchman in Los Angeles, and had only transferred to Las Vegas road service in February.

Wallace Dastrup, the head brakeman, had been with Union Pacific since May of 1979. After being briefly furloughed and transferred to Los Angeles, he was sent back to Las Vegas in late October of that year.

The oldest man on this crew was Engineer Totten, who was 31. Head brakeman Dastrup was the youngest, at just 22 years old.

-

Leaving Las Vegas, the trip proceeded normally, with the 3119 providing enough power to bring the train up the 1.00% grade that led from Las Vegas to Erie, Nevada at a steady 20-25 miles per hour. Behind them, separated by time and distance, were Extras 3135 and 8044 West. 3135, with a top speed of 50, left at 10:20, while 8044 (2-VAN-16), left at 12:05. It had a top speed of 70, and would easily catch up to the slower grain train at Cima. If Extra 3119 West had been any other train, it would likely have been profiled to wait in Cima as well, but on this day, the Van train would be following Alan Branson’s caboose all the way to Yermo.

Meanwhile, onboard the 3119, engineer Totten was discovering that his day was not going to go as planned. As the train descended the 1.00% grade outside of Erie, he discovered that the locomotive’s dynamic brakes were not functioning. This meant that the train would have to rely solely on its air brakes for the entire journey to Yermo - a daunting task considering the grade at Cima.

Union Pacific regulations explicitly ordered trains without dynamic brakes to stop at Cima and apply retainers, to maintain a speed of no more than 15 miles per hour, and to stop at the passing siding at Dawes - another speck on the map halfway down the hill - to cool not just the brakes, but the train wheels themselves.

Totten was known to be a stickler for the rules, and so he informed dispatch as he descended the grade out of Erie. Without comment, the Salt Lake City based dispatcher encoded the traffic control computer to put Extra 3119 West into the siding at Cima. At no point was there any mention of finding another engine for the train, or any other means of fixing the situation en-route.

The dispatcher, who wanted to know as little as possible, didn’t care.

-

The train rattled into Cima at 1:29, and Totten balanced it atop the summit, a location about 1,100 feet from the end of the siding. Boots were on the ground as soon as the train stopped moving, with Faucett and Branson moving up the train from the caboose, manually setting the brake retainers on the F-70-1 flatbeds to the high pressure position one at a time. The air was cool, only 62 degrees, and it was slightly overcast - a far cry from the soaring summertime temperatures this part of the state could reach.

As they worked, Extra 3135 arrived. It didn’t rattle so much as it rumbled - 75 loaded grain hoppers slightly shaking the earth as the two men worked. They probably didn’t envy the crew on that train; setting 75 retainer valves, and the long walk from each end of the train to reach them, was a daunting task.

It didn’t take long to set the retainers - at the halfway point of the train, they met head end brakeman Dastrup, who had been working his way down the train as they worked up it. He reported no defects on the head end of the train, and neither did the rear crew. They didn’t know - couldn’t have known - about the abysmal state of the flatcars; they were looking for dragging objects and hissing air leaks, and found none. Their portion of the job done, Faucett and Branson moved back down the train, leaving Dastrup to work his way back to the locomotive. It would be the last time that he was ever seen alive.

Shortly thereafter, the train began to move, engineer Totten moving the train onto the downgrade at the end of the siding to wait for the clear signal. At this point, they were waiting on the Van train coming up behind them, and then they’d be home free. In the caboose, Faucett glanced at the brake line pressures and observed nothing unusual. In the cab of the 3119, Totten was likely readying himself for the downgrade. Without dynamics, it would be a challenging descent, but the air brakes should be able to hold the train without much difficulty.

He had no idea that half his cars had non-functional brakes.

He had no idea that the train was overloaded.

He had no idea what was about to happen to him.

-

Inside the cab of Extra 3135 West, the engineer watched as 2-VAN-16 slipped by with muted alacrity. Across the main line from him, the short work train got ready to depart as soon as the switch aligned. He’d be next, and he readied himself as the other train rolled onto the main line. It built speed quickly, and soon entered the main as his watch clicked over to 1:59 PM. A few minutes later, his turn came, and the signal flashed to green. He powered up his lashup of SD40s, and the train slowly began to descend the grade in full dynamic.

-

“I keep setting air and it won’t slow down!”

-

Inside 2-VAN-16, the engineer began paying less and less attention to the tracks in front of him, and more attention to the radio beside him. 3119 West was having some difficulties with its braking - already a concern for any railroader, but considering that this was the train directly behind him, an elevated level of concern was prudent.

-

In the caboose of Extra 3119 West, the brakes applied as the train rolled past 17 MPH, and were not released again.

-

2.9 miles behind Extra 3119 West, in the cab of UP 3135, the engineer of the grain train could see both trains ahead of him: the distant speck of 2-VAN-16, some 7 miles away, and the work train in front of him. “That looks like it’s smoking,” he remarked to his brakeman. The two men looked into the distance; as the work train passed Chase, another former town on the UP line, it appeared to be smoking heavily - far too heavily for the short distance from the summit it had traveled.

-

On the few F-70-1 flatbeds that possessed functioning brakes, the wheelsets began to heat up dramatically. The brake shoes began to abrade from 2,000 tons of train pushing against them.

-

The Van train had cleared the passing track at Dawes, and was about 5 miles ahead of Extra 3119.

-

Inside the caboose of Extra 3119, the speedometer needle swung past 19 MPH. It was rising at a rate of 1.6 MPH every minute.

-

Things began to happen very quickly. The time was 2:14 PM

-

Following behind the smoking train, the head end crew of Extra 3135 West watched as the signal light at the east end of Chase went red-yellow-green like a slot machine. The only way for that to happen was for a train to pass through both the western home signal, and the western intermediate signal, at a rapid clip.

-

“I have 30 pounds of engine brakes!”

-

Inside the caboose, Faucett and Branson looked at the radio in horror as the speed continued to increase. They’d driven faster than this on their way into work, but now 20 MPH felt terrifying. As they flew through Chase, Branson remembered his training, still fresh in his mind, grabbed hold of the caboose air valve, and put the train into emergency. He heard the brakes come on under his feet and assumed, naively, that they’d just applied throughout the entire train. He had no idea that the brakes would only apply across the entire train if Engineer Totten had the train in emergency as well. He had no idea that by putting the train into emergency while a substantial service brake application was being made, he was causing a pressure relief valve inside the 3119 to continuously open, to try and restore pressure in the train. He had no idea that Union Pacific, in a cost-saving measure, had elected not to equip its SD40s with a brake pressure warning light that could have alerted Totten to what had just happened. He had no idea that UP’s driver training called for engineers to continue to make service brake applications in the event of a loss of braking, instead of immediately putting the train into emergency from the locomotive. He had no idea that putting the locomotive into emergency was the only way to override the pressure relief system.

He had no idea that by trying to save the train, he’d sealed its fate.

Union Pacific rules required the conductor to put the train into emergency if a situation like this occurred. They did not require the conductor to call the head end and inform the engineer. In his panic, and going off of instinct, Alan Branson frantically ran to the front of the caboose to try and uncouple it. He would not make a radio call for the rest of the trip down the mountain.

-

With half the train in emergency, and the relief valve drawing air away from the few brakes that worked, Extra 3119 West began falling down the mountain.

-

Gravity

The story of gravity begins in the cab of the van train, still some five miles ahead. As the engineer kept his attention on keeping his train in line, the radio issued forth the latest news on the disaster unfolding behind them. “I’ve made a full service application, and it’s not slowing down. We’re going about 25 and still speeding up!”

In the cab of an eastbound train, waiting for its chance to climb the grade out of Kelso, the dispatcher’s lackadaisical response could be heard easily. “So you’re not going to be able to stop at Dawes?”

“No. I don’t think we can stop at all.”

The dispatcher said nothing in response.

In the cab of the Van train, the engineer realized exactly what was going to happen. He began notching back the train brakes, and slowly throttling down the dynamics to idle. With one hand on the radio and one on the throttle, he slowly began advancing the throttle even as he called for permission to exceed his 25 MPH speed limit.

The permission he was given would be the last time that the dispatcher offered any meaningful help during the runaway. There was no talk of programming the switches at Dawes to allow the Van train shelter, to offer the four men aboard their one chance at safety. Instead, the dispatcher, hundreds of miles away in Salt Lake City, sat back to watch the chaos unfold, seemingly believing there was nothing he could do to help.

-

Two minutes later, at 2:17 PM, the two trains were still separated by five miles. 2-VAN-16 was just clearing the west end of the passing track at Dawes.

Four minutes later, and Extra 3119 was screaming through Dawes at 62.5 MPH.

5 miles ahead, 2-VAN-16 was running for its life, all five locomotives running flat out in full throttle. For now they had the edge, but they were trying to outrun gravity. All they could hope for was that the rolling resistance of the runaway would eventually cause it to stop accelerating.

-

Three minutes later, and false hope reared its ugly head. Accelerating at a “phenomenal” rate, the speedometer inside the 3119 reached 80 miles an hour and pegged itself there. David Totten, who had been broadcasting his train’s terrifying plunge down the hill over the open radio channel, had no idea that the needle was incapable of indicating a number higher than that.

As his train raced towards destiny, Engineer Totten kept relaying the same false information: “80! We’re doing 80!”

Inside the cab of the 6946, this incorrect information alleviated some worry - if 3119 was topping out at 80, it was possible to use the Van train’s nearly 19,000 horsepower to simply outrun the runaway - once they got past Kelso, at this point a short distance away, the grade lessened to 1%, and the force of gravity decreased.

Then there was an alarm blaring in the cab, and the train began to slow down as they roared into Kelso, the engine RPMs dropping suddenly, horrifyingly. They’d tripped the DDA40X’s overspeed sensor as they passed 75 MPH, and the entire train began to shut down on them. Chaos reigned in the cab for a minute, as the engineer frantically canceled the alert, managed to avoid the penalty brake application, and brought the train back up to full power. Their speed dipped all the way down to 68 before they began accelerating again.

It’s not known what was going on inside the caboose of the Van train, but the 3119, smoke and sparks flying from its wheels, must have been visible behind them.

--

Kelso

The station at Kelso was a tired, yet gorgeous, Spanish Colonial Revival structure located on the north side of the tracks. For a generation it had been a bustling hive of UP crews; a locomotive watering hole and a depot for eastbound helpers. The advent of diesel locomotives, and the elimination of manned helpers on Cima hill had resulted in the station becoming a shell of its former self. The only ties to its former past was the lunch counter, which still served hot meals and cool drinks to the town’s few dozen residents, and the skeleton UP crews stationed at this depot, so far into the desert that not even TV signals could reach it.

On the lunch counter, a cup of coffee cooled, its drinker nowhere in sight. Anyone and everyone who had been in the station were now outside, standing under the trees that lined the old platform, obscuring the station from sight. A few more were on the other side, standing near the MoW sidings on the south side. Further west, beyond the Kelbaker road level crossing, the crew of an eastbound freight waited in “the hole”, their eyes transfixed on the spot in the middle distance where the rails gently curved into view from behind the trees.

The radio continued to issue David Totten’s cool, calm, and collected reports of 80 MPH. With the train out of sight, it sounded like things may end with everyone walking away, but those listening closely heard his reports of an ever-shrinking distance between his locomotive and the caboose of the Van train and shivered.

The blare of a horn sounded, echoing across the desert. A second horn, almost as loud as the first, soon followed, a long continuous noise that would continue for some time, like the seventh trumpet of the apocalypse.

The broad nose of the DDA40X came first, the Van train rocking and rolling behind it as it charged forward. All five locomotives were in notch 8, the sextet of EMD 645 prime movers throwing up huge clouds of exhaust as they ran for everything they were worth. The horn sounded for the crossing, and then the train was past them, 49 high sided autoracks and TOFC cars whipping past with an almighty roar that was over almost as soon as it began.

The caboose zipped past the eastbound in a flash of Armor Yellow, and was gone into the distance. The blaring horn kept sounding, and heads that had turned to follow the Van train turned back to face the east.

They waited ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty.

It’s entirely possible that nobody in the crowd had ever seen a train move as fast as Extra 3119 West.

It’s entirely possible that Extra 3119 West was at that moment the fastest train in North America.

With a thunderous roar not unlike a building collapse, the train streaked through the station, horn blaring continuously. It trailed a cloud of dust in its wake like a comet; the wind its passage created roared through the lineside trees, sending dead branches and leaves flying.

In the cab of the eastbound, the head end crew became the last people to see David Totten alive. He was sitting upright in his seat, calm and collected as though he wasn’t moments away from death, his radio handset in front of his face. He disappeared from sight almost as soon as he’d appeared, and the rest of the train followed. The F-70-1 flatbeds came and went in a flash, and the caboose followed, a barely visible blur of yellow and red.

Heads turned so quickly that they strained necks. The horn echoed off the station building and the waiting eastbound, a receding roar as the train very rapidly got smaller and smaller in the distance. Within moments the only trace of the runaway train was David Totten’s voice, issuing from the radio his final reports. He became a ghost who hasn’t realized that he’s dead.

-

Less than one minute later, the train screamed past the hotbox detector at milepost 233.9, less than two miles distant. It isn’t known whether or not the detector actually found a defect with the train. It could have passed by so quickly that a proper reading couldn’t be taken, it could have still been calling out the speed and condition of the fleeing van train, or possibly it couldn’t handle a number that high; when the train eventually came to a stop, investigators found that the wheels on the flatcars with functioning brakes had reached anywhere from 400 to 800 degrees fahrenheit. The wheels on the locomotive had reached almost one thousand.

What was detected though, was the train’s speed. As the caboose ripped past the steel box mounted on the lineside, the warbling call of the detector - voiced by Majel Barrett-Roddenberry of Star Trek fame - gave a chilling indication of just how wrong David Totten was.

“… TRAIN SPEED: ONE ONE TWO …”

-

Inside the cab of engine 6946, madness was in full swing. A terrible cacophony of noises filled the cabin: All five locomotives were in notch 8, the wind whistled into the cab from worn seals, and the 50 cars behind them banged and rocked as they exceeded their designed top speeds. They were approaching 75 again as they leaned into the curve just outside of Kelso. The big Centennial didn’t like that - its huge, single cast 4-axle trucks groaned and popped in horrifying fashion as it screeched through the curve, wheels just fractions of an inch from leaping over the top of the rail. The rigid wheelsets clung to the tracks by just a hair - ironically, if the overspeed warning hadn’t tripped when it did, the 6946 would’ve likely leapt from the rails here, going into the hole at 80 plus, killing everyone in the locomotive, while leaving the rear-end crew exposed to the runaway, traveling at well over 110 into a stationary target.

On the topic of the overspeed alarm, it was being dealt with - the head end brakeman was waging war against the locomotive’s internals, prying open the cabinet holding the speed recorder, before physically interrupting the travel of the needle, breaking the instrument in the process.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and there was not a more desperate time than this; as the train rounded the curve, the Extra 3119 West could be seen clearly, moving faster than should have been possible. Their only hope for survival would be if they derailed on the curve that almost took out the Centennial, but it was not to be; the train screamed round the corner with less than thirty seconds of time separating the pilot of the engine from the back porch of the caboose.

-

Inside the caboose of 2-VAN-16, the rear end crew frantically tore cushions off of seats and wrapped them around themselves, as if that might hold off a rampaging locomotive. Hopefully they had time to make their peace with God.

-

The van train kept going. If the overspeed alarm hadn’t cut off the power when it did, and if they then didn’t derail on the curve west of Kelso, it’s possible that they could have outrun it. Extra 3119 West could have derailed, slowed, or perhaps just melted its wheels off, bringing the chase to an end.

But the overspeed alarm had cut in, and so the meeting of the two trains was made destiny by the forces of gravity, and the laws of physics. It was inevitable.

-

At 2:29 PM, 30 minutes and 23.2 miles since they set off from Cima, and 14 minutes and 18.5 miles since Conductor Branson had put the train into emergency, Extra 3119 West collided with 2-VAN-16. The runaway was traveling at approximately 118 miles per hour, while the van train was doing 80 to 85.

This 38 mph closing speed was disastrous to those in the caboose of the Van train. Both porches were crushed in immediately, and the 3119 shoved the rear bulkhead in significantly. The impact then threw the caboose from the track, separating it from its trucks and sending it tumbling down the embankment. It eventually landed on its left side and slid to a stop in the shadow of the disaster. Inside, it was carnage - both men had been thrown about the car before landing on the floor. The rear brakeman would survive with what were assuredly life-altering injuries to his face and back, but the conductor was not as fortunate, suffering mortal wounds to most of his body as he was tossed about the cabin. He would die inside the caboose within minutes.

On the train, the first collision was probably weathered by the 3119. The next three, less so. The rear three freight cars on 2-VAN-16 were triple level autoracks, each fully loaded with 15 or more automobiles. After impacting the caboose and throwing it from the rails, the locomotive continued forward, colliding again with the van train, and throwing the first autorack off the rails. After that, the process repeated for the second one, sending it flying down the embankment.

It was the third autorack that struck home. With the closing speed lowering with each successive crash, and without an anti-climber on the 3119, the autorack rode over the frame of the SD40, stripping the carbody from the frame like a filet knife.

David Totten and Wallace Dastrup were thrown from the cab as their locomotive ceased to exist around them. They landed on the desert floor, already dead from massive internal injuries. The 3119 would remain upright, and eventually came to a stop the quarters of a mile down the track, with everything missing above the frame except the prime mover and alternator.

The F-70-1s were thrown around like toys, flying off the tracks like they’d been cast aside by an angry god. Their wheel assemblies were disassembled into their component parts by the force of the derailment, followed by the cars themselves. The ties were next, flying through the air like javelins, before landing on the ground in clouds of dust, dirt, and splinters.

Finally, the caboose came to a stop. It and the last three cars remained upright, albeit derailed. Inside, Alan Branson and Cecil Faucett patted themselves down, unbelieving that they’d lived through the day.

-

The incredible speeds the runaway reached, and the tragic deaths of three men, triggered a full NTSB investigation. Swarming over the wreckage like flies on a corpse, they recovered a trove of evidence - the locomotive, its brakes abraded and wheels metallurgically altered after reaching almost a thousand degrees. On the ground they found throttle levers, brake controls, the locomotive data recorder, and the air brake valve, all normal in function. The destruction among the flat cars was so total that only 32 of 160 brake shoes, and 78 wheels were recovered. Of both of these, well over half showed no signs of overheating or abrasion, as if they’d never been applied. The rest showed evidence of extreme over-use, as they tried and failed to hold back the train.

The evidence thus far was concerning, to say the least. A train with no dynamics should have been able to make it down the hill… if it had working brakes. If it truly weighed what the waybill said it did.

The NTSB organized a test train shortly thereafter. They salvaged portions of the ill-fated train, including the last three flatbeds and 9,695 of the ties that had been scattered along the lineside. They gathered 17 more F-70-1 flatbeds - between this test train and the wreck, most of the railroad’s 55-strong fleet was involved in the investigation - and loaded them up, before hauling the train back up the long hill to Las Vegas. There, Union Pacific did everything they didn’t do for Extra 3119 West:

They weighed the train on the yard’s scale, and found that even with 1,000 fewer ties, the train still clocked in at a gargantuan 1,948.25 tons.

They inspected the train, and found that of the 20 cars, 16 of them had some kind of brake malfunction. Ten had partial brake function, while six had none at all. The three cars salvaged from the wreck train were included in the former group.

For two whole days, with NTSB investigators watching on, crews from the Las Vegas car department labored frantically in the winter sun to remedy the train's numerous faults. Remember that the single inspector on November 17th had been given scarcely 15 minutes.

When the test train was finally made operable, Union Pacific sent it down the mountain using only the train’s air brakes. They probably thought quite highly of themselves when the train reached Kelso safely, however the specifics of that test were dramatically different than the events of the 17th. To start, the 20 F-70-1s were probably in the best mechanical condition they’d been in for years, thanks to the train being properly inspected. This meant that when the test train descended the hill, it did so with all 160 brake shoes pressing against the wheels.

Furthering the point, the brake shoes were aided by a skilled hand at the controls - Union Pacific, so eager to prove that a train could make it to the bottom of the Cima grade entirely under air brakes, had pulled a highly experienced road supervisor out of retirement to run the test train. Again, remember that David Totten had been an engineer for just shy of two years.

As the investigation dragged on, further evidence came to light: UP’s training for engineers prioritized the use of dynamic brakes, and paid comparatively little attention to running a train with only air brakes down a grade. In fact, the railroad paid so little attention to air brakes that it was found that the UP’s rules regarding steep grades such as the one in Cima were laxer than any other railroad in the country, and were so lax that they fell afoul of the FRA’s minimum requirements for air brake regulations.

With this in mind, the fact that the railroad’s own rules had created a series of unsafe situations for crews seems totally unsurprising: applying the emergency brake from the caboose, not informing the head end if the emergency brakes are applied, and having engineers keep making service brake applications instead of applying emergency braking, were all the wrong moves to make in a situation like the one that happened to Extra 3119 West. A new crew like David Totten, Alan Branson, Wallace Dastrup, and Cecil Faucett, all fairly fresh from their training and relatively inexperienced, followed that training all the way to the end, because they thought it would save them.

-

In the end, the NTSB found that the accident was caused by a variety of factors: UP’s poor maintenance and inspection practices, inadequate training of train crews for hill duties, the underestimation of loads at The Dalles tie plant, and the improper actions of the dispatcher on that day.

Poor maintenance, bad management, a nonexistent culture of safety, and lax training. These are all things that have plagued the railroad industry from day one. The NTSB can only recommend changes, not enforce them; they must rely on the railroads to make the fixes. Change training practices, create better rules, enforce higher maintenance standards - all basic tenets of safe railroading, yet still sorely needed.

So, has Union Pacific made those changes? Has this happened again?

In a very real sense, the answers can be yes, and no, spending on your outlook:

Since 1980 there have been two more runaways on the Cima grade, the most recent one in 2023, and the other in 1997. The circumstances of the two runaways differ - and in the case of the 2023 crash, haven’t yet been fully investigated - but the fact remains that Union Pacific once again allowed a 100+ MPH runaway down the hill not once, but twice. Furthermore, severe under-estimation of railcar loads has caused several other fatal accidents just within the LA Basin, most notably the 1989 Duffy Street wreck, when inaccurate knowledge of the weight of bulk trona and failing dynamic brakes sent a Southern Pacific freight train hurtling down Cajon Pass, and into a residential neighborhood.

However, on the Union Pacific at least, a greater respect for life and safety has been given in the years and decades since the accident. Neither inadequate dynamic brakes, nor improperly maintained brakes, have sent a train flying off the rails on the Cima Grade. The two subsequent accidents, while catastrophic, occurred without loss of life, making the 1980 runaway the last fatal crash on the hill.

Did David Totten, Wallace Dastrup, and the unidentified brakeman of 2-VAN-16 die in vain? Will their story be forgotten to the annals of railroading? Only time will tell.

[freetheshit-outofyou]

little nuggets from the Duncan v. Bonta, No. 19-55376 (9th Cir. 2021) ruling. California's magazine ban. Judge Roger T. Benitez (St. Benitez) is dropping truth bombs all over Rob Bonta, Attorney General of the State of California.

“Rather than re-tell the long history of large-capacity magazines in this country, we offer some highlights:

 • The first known firearm capable of firing more than ten rounds without reloading was a 16-shooter invented in 1580.

• The earliest record of a repeating firearm in America noted that it fired more than ten rounds: In 1722, Samuel Niles wrote of Indians being entertained by a firearm that “though loaded but once, . . . was discharged eleven times following, with bullets, in the space of two minutes.” Harold L. Peterson, Arms and Armor in Colonial America 1526–1783, 215 (2000). DUNCAN V. BONTA 133 • At the Founding, the state-of the-art firearm was the Girandoni air rifle with a 22-shot magazine capacity. • In 1777, Joseph Belton demonstrated a 16-shot repeating rifle before the Continental Congress, seeking approval for its manufacture. Robert Held, The Belton Systems, 1758 & 1784–86: America’s First Repeating Firearms 37 (1986).

• By the 1830s, “Pepperbox” pistols had been introduced to the American public and became commercially successful. Depending on the model, the Pepperbox could fire 5, 6, 12, 18, or 24 rounds without reloading. • It took several years for Samuel Colt’s revolvers (also invented in the 1830s) to surpass the Pepperbox pistol in the marketplace.

• From the 1830s to the 1850s, several more rifles were invented with large ammunition capacities, ranging from 12- to 38- shot magazines.

• By 1855, Daniel Wesson (of Smith and Wesson fame) and Oliver Winchester collaborated to introduce the lever action rifle, which contained a 30-round magazine that could be emptied in less than one minute. A later iteration of this rifle, the 16-round Henry lever action rifle, became commercially successful, selling about 14,000 from 1860 to 1866.

• By 1866, the first Winchester rifle, the Model 1866, could hold 17 rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber, all of which could be fired in nine seconds. All told, Winchester made over 170,000 copies of the from 1866 to 1898. See Norm Flayderman, Flayderman’s 134 DUNCAN V. BONTA Guide to Antique Firearms and Their Values 268 (6th ed. 1994).

• A few years later, Winchester produced the M1873, capable of holding 10 to 11 rounds, of which over 720,000 copies were made from 1873 to 1919.

From this history, the clear picture emerges that firearms with large-capacity capabilities were widely possessed by law-abiding citizens by the time of the Second Amendment’s incorporation. In that way, today’s large-capacity magazines are “modern-day equivalents” of these historical arms, and are entitled to the Second Amendment’s protection.” Pages 132-134 “Characterizing my car ban analogies as “inapt,” the majority says that California’s magazine ban is more akin to “speed limits.” But in attempting to trade my analogies for a more favorable one, the majority misses the obvious point: that in every context except our distorted Second Amendment jurisprudence, everyone agrees that when you evaluate whether a response to avoid some harm is “rational”—much less a “reasonable fit”—you takes into account both the gravity of the possible harm and the risk of it occurring. The majority here completely ignores the latter. Perhaps if I use the majority’s own analogy it might click: If California chose to impose a state-wide 10 mph speed limit to prevent the very real harm of over 3,700 motor-vehicle deaths each year experienced from driving over 10 mph, no one would think such a response is rational—precisely because, even though the many deaths from such crashes are terrible, they are a comparatively rare occurrence (although much more common than deaths caused by mass shootings).” Page 152 “The majority also relies on the argument that limiting magazine capacity provides “precious down-time” during reloading, giving “victims and law enforcement officers” time to “fight back.” But here again, that same “down-time” applies equally to a mother seeking to protect herself and her children from a gang of criminals breaking into her home, or a law-abiding citizen caught alone by one of the lawless criminal mobs that recently have been terrorizing cities in our circuit. The majority focuses only on ways higher capacity magazines might cause more harm in the very rare mass shooting, while dismissing the life-threatening impact of being forced to reload in a self-defense situation as a mere “inconvenience,” and characterizing as mere “speculat[ion] . . . situations in which a person might want to use a largecapacity magazine for self-defense.”

Ultimately, it is not altogether surprising that federal judges, who have armed security protecting their workplace, home security systems supplied at taxpayer expense, and the ability to call an armed marshal to their upper-middleclass home whenever they feel the whiff of a threat, would have trouble relating to why the average person might want a magazine with over ten rounds to defend herself. But this simply reinforces why those same judges shouldn’t be expected to fairly balance any Second Amendment test asking whether ordinary law-abiding citizens really need some firearm product or usage.” Pages 164 and 165

[amnottrak-official]

Sydney Trains T set

Class of electric train operating in Sydney, Australia

The T sets, also referred to as the Tangara trains, are a class of electric multiple units that currently operate on the Sydney Trains network. Built by A Goninan & Co, the sets entered service between 1988 and 1995, initially under the State Rail Authority and later on CityRail. The T sets were built as "third-generation" trains for Sydney's rail fleet, coinciding with the final withdrawals of the "Red Rattler" sets from service in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Tangaras were initially built as two classes; the long-distance G sets and the suburban T sets, before being merged after successive refurbishments.

Quick Facts T set, In service ...

Design

Vestibule

The Tangara is a double-deck four-car set, with the two outer cars being driving control trailers (carrying a D prefix) that are fitted with one pantograph each and the middle two cars being non-control motor cars (carrying an N prefix). All sets are equipped with chopper control.

Unlike most other Sydney Trains rolling stock, the seats on the suburban T sets are fixed, meaning that half the seats face backwards. Former G sets, however, do have reversible seats.

History

Initial delivery

In July 1986, the Government of New South Wales awarded A Goninan & Co a contract for 450 carriages. In 1993, it was decided that the last 80 carriages of the order would be built to a modified design to operate peak-hour services to Wyong, Port Kembla and Dapto. In 1996, five spare driving trailers were ordered.

The Tangara name is of Aboriginal origin, meaning to go.

Two subclasses of Tangara were built, the suburban sets targeted as T sets, and outer-suburban sets originally targeted as G sets. The T sets replaced the first generation of Sydney's electric rolling stock.

The G sets differed from the T sets in originally having manual door buttons, high-backed reversible seats, toilets, fresh water dispensers and luggage racks. Additionally, the G sets were delivered with a revised design at the front and rear of the train, notably an angular cutout in the bottom of their noses. Additionally, the pinstriped grey panels below the cab windows were replaced with light orange panels for improved visibility. All T sets have a number plate below a hundred while all G sets are numbered at or above

T sets

G sets

Original liveries

The first train (set T20) was unveiled at Sydney Central in December 1987, heavily promoted as the "train of the 21st century", operating a promotional service on 28 January 1988 targeted as TAN1, and entering regular service on 12 April 1988. The final T set (set T59, formerly T92) was delivered in February 1994 and the final G set (set T100, formerly G32) in October 1995.

The cars built were:

T set driving trailer cars: D6101-D6284 with additional spare cars D6285-D6289

T set non-driving motor cars: N5101-N5284 with additional spare car N5285

G set driving trailer cars: OD6801-OD6840 with additional spare car OD6841

G set non-driving motor cars: ON5801-ON5820

G set non-driving motor cars with toilet: ONL5851-ONL5870

Set G7 was fitted with an AC drive system for evaluation purposes with the existing DC stock and compatibility with signalling and communication systems on the network. G7 was scrapped in 2005 at Maintrain, Auburn after the Waterfall rail accident, as all four cars were beyond repair.

Upgrades in the early 2000s

Original interior

First refurbishment

When first introduced, the T sets were fitted with passenger door release handles to prevent loss of air conditioning at stations. These were later disconnected (and later removed) due to passengers not getting used to opening the doors for themselves when needed. The seats originally had fabric upholstery, but this was gradually replaced by blue vinyl.

In the early 2000s, all Tangaras were updated with a new CityRail corporate appearance. This involved painting the passenger doors and much of the front and rear ends of the trains yellow. Blue and yellow stripes along the bottom of the carriages were replaced by a single yellow stripe and updated CityRail logos were placed on the driving cars.

In late 2005, 15 V set carriages were suddenly withdrawn due to the discovery of corrosion in their underframes. G sets began to operate more off-peak Intercity services to Port Kembla, Kiama, and Wyong to cover for the withdrawn V sets. H sets started entering service in December 2006. The newer trains feature a very similar level of passenger amenity to the G sets and can be seen as a continuation of the design. Their introduction lead to a change in the role of the G sets. From 2007, the G sets were progressively redeployed to suburban services, providing extra capacity on high-demand existing services such as on the Western line and allowing new services to be introduced. By 2008, G sets were often used on peak suburban services that extended into intercity areas, such as services to Springwood (via the Western line).

Conversion of G sets to T sets

A converted G set

In 2009, the conversion of G sets to T sets began, to improve their suitability for suburban working as H sets took over their outer suburban duties. Conversion work consisted of the removal of toilets and their replacement with additional seating. Other work included the installation of new handrails and hangers and the recoding of cars and sets. The carriage numbers were kept, however the O (outer suburban) prefix was dropped. OD became D, while ONL and ON became N. The set numbers were reclassified from G1-30 to T100-130. G4 was the first to be converted (into T104). In 2010, sets being converted started receiving a full interior refurbishment as part of the program to refurbish all the Tangara carriages. In 2018, sets T14 and T121 (ex G21) both became mixtures of T set and ex-G set carriages, with both sets swapping two carriages with each other.

Upgrades in the 2010s

T sets

Ex-G sets

Second refurbishment

In 2010, a refresh of the Tangaras commenced with the interiors repainted, and new seating upholstery and handrails fitted.

In July 2013, Sydney Trains trialled rearranging the seating on the upper and lower decks of two carriages. There were 16 fewer seats per carriage; 3x2 seats were replaced by 2x2 seats in one carriage (N5134 on set T78) while in the other carriage (N5131 on set T77) there are double seats on one side and a bench style seating on the other. Both carriages were later returned to the normal 3x2 arrangement.

In 2014, phase one of a technology upgrade program, aiming to improve reliability and upgrade ageing components, was underway. A contract for phase two of the program, aiming to extend the life of these trains and bring technology into line with newer trains was awarded to UGL Limited in August 2015. This was expected to be completed by July 2018. The expected completion date was revised to 2019, however as of February 2023 only 2 sets have entered service with the second phase upgrades.

The first phase of the program involved upgrading the passenger doors to cut down on vandalism, as the steel panels on the original doors were prone to being kicked out by vandals. The door kicking incidents often led to unnecessary delays as the guard had to lock off the affected carriage. The new lightweight passenger doors have a similar design to the doors on the M sets. This phase of the project was completed at the end of July 2016. The first set to receive the new doors was T96, in October 2014.

The second phase of the program was initially set to include destination indicators and digital voice announcements, which were installed in T72 and T106, were not installed in other sets due to delays and issues with the DVA system. The upgrade still went ahead however, with vestibules given modifications including marked priority seating and Automatic Train Protection (ATP). The first sets with this revised phase 2 upgrade, T52 and T73, re-entered service on 12 November 2021. As of 26 February 2022, sixteen sets have entered service with the upgrade.

The program includes overhauling air conditioning units, Static Inverter upgrades, and modifications to the Driver's desk/cab.

Other anti-vandal improvements included the introduction of 'Mousetrap' sensors. Trialed in 2015, these sensors are able to detect vapors from strong permanent markers and spray paint; triggering an in-built camera feed which is relayed to Sydney Trains staff as well as the Police Transport Command. They were then installed in most converted G sets.

Service

Lines serviced

The Tangaras usually operate on the following lines:

T1 North Shore & Western Line: Emu Plains to City via Parramatta, City to Berowra or Hornsby via Gordon

T4 Eastern Suburbs & Illawarra Line: Bondi Junction to Waterfall & Cronulla via Hurstville & Sutherland

T7 Olympic Park Line: Lidcombe to Olympic Park

T9 Northern Line: Gordon to Hornsby via Strathfield

South Coast Line: Waterfall & Thirroul to Port Kembla

Since 2013, their operation on Sector 2 has ended timetable services with all of them being displaced to Sector 1 since A sets do not operate on that sector.

Incidents

Wentworthville derailment

Driving trailer car D6127 and motor car N5127 were both involved in the Wentworthville train derailment on 27 December 1989, the first major accident involving the Tangara fleet. D6127 was written off, having collided with the platform. N5127 was sent to Dunheved on the Ropes Creek line for training fire fighters, along with S Set car C3866.

Vineyard collision

On 10 February 1994, set T99 travelling from Richmond towards Blacktown collided with a van at the level crossing at Vineyard. The first 3 cars derailed in a zig-zag format, starting a nearby grassfire.

Unanderra derailment

On 24 January 2009 at 2:35 AM, set G4 (now T104) was departing from Unanderra towards Wollongong and derailed due to the train passing a signal at Danger, and the catch-points derailing the train to avoid a collision with a freight train. The first 2 cars and the front bogie of the third car derailed and stopped safely 50 metres from the signal. Subsequently because of this incident, G4 was the first G set to undergo conversion to suburban T set T104.

Carriage pierced by guard rail

During evening peak on 15 January 2014, motor car N5222 on set T10 was pierced by a guard rail near Edgecliff railway station while on a service to Cronulla. Issues with the train were already developing on the previous run, triggering wheelslip sensors on the train multiple times. As the train entered the Eastern Suburbs Line, a strong burning smell was reported at several stations. It was later revealed that an incorrectly repaired axle on N5222 led to the force of the 440-tonne train picking up the piece of guard rail.

Kembla Grange derailment

On 20 October 2021 at 4:09 AM, Tangara set T42 derailed near Kembla Grange station on a level crossing. It was caused by a motor vehicle that was stolen and driven up the rail corridor near the railway crossing. Car D6212 fell onto its side and car N5212 also derailed, while cars N5211 and D6211 did not derail and only had minor damage. There were no serious passenger injuries or deaths as a result of this incident, however two passengers, as well as the guard and the driver, were hospitalised to be checked. The Driver was badly injured during the rollover of the Driver trailer carriage. T sets usually don't operate through Kembla Grange, however due to industrial action on the day of the incident banning the usual H sets, they were used.

4D

4D at Spencer Street

Main article: 4D (train)

A train bearing strong resemblance to a Tangara, known as the 4D, was built by A Goninan & Co in 1991 for the Public Transport Corporation. Although outwardly similar to the Tangaras it was mechanically very different being built to be compatible with the Comeng trains operated in Melbourne. It was included in the sale of Hillside Trains to Connex Melbourne in August 1999. It wasn't successful and after spending large periods out of service, being withdrawn in December 2002 and stored at Newport Workshops. The 4D was bought by CityRail for parts and then scrapped in March 2006 by them at Sims Metal, Brooklyn, Victoria. The G sets' cab ends have a design similar to the 4D, with the bottom part being bent inwards.

Notes

Former G sets are 81.21 m (266 ft 5 in).

Former G set cars are 20,385 mm (66 ft 11 in).

Former G set cars are 53 t (52 long tons; 58 short tons).

Former G set cars are 45 t (44 long tons; 50 short tons).

This person sent the same ask 3 times in a row and I read all three just to make sure they were all the same

yay train facts! I have a fun train fact: they are very yummy to eat 😋

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Opel Kadett GT/E Group 2 Rallye Car, 1975. Introduced at the Frankfurt Motor Show, the Group 2 version of Opel's T-car used a 210hp version of their 2 litre 4 cylinder engine.

[untouchvbles]

Buick Grand National at Waukesha Cars & Coffee (2023) - Meet 6 in Waukesha, WI.  

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Top 10 Innovative Cars

The cars of today owe a lot to the vehicles that came before them. Car design has always been about innovation and breaking new ground, but it's rare to find an automobile that can genuinely be said to have changed everything that came afterwards. The cars in this list were not your average motors - each and every one of them had an influence that reached far beyond their original conception. Here are the unique stories of ten of the most innovative and influential cars ever produced.

Ford Model T (1908)

The first massed produced automobile.

The Model T - colloquially known as the Tin Lizzie - is generally regarded as the first affordable car in the world, and the vehicle that opened up a world of automobile travel to the middle classes. Ford's assembly line production made it all possible, setting a standard of manufacturing that influenced almost every industry in the world. Produced between 1908 and 1927, more than 15 million Tin Lizzies were sold, and the car gave mobility to the masses. For that reason, it is often considered to be one of the most influential developments in the history of design and production.

Rolls Royce Silver Ghost (1908)

The first military car.

At the time of its development, the beautiful Rolls Royce Silver Ghost was considered to be at the forefront of luxury car design. However, it was to become something much more important than a toy for the rich. In 1914, all Silver Ghost chassis were re-purposed to form the basis for a brand new armored car, and the vehicles ended up playing a significant part in World War I, the Irish Civil War, the Turkish Wars and even World War II. In doing so, the Silver Ghost gave birth to the modern concept of mechanized military conflicts and ended the days of the horse cavalry.

Austin Seven (1922)

The first 'people's car'.

The Austin 7 is a legendary British car that was hugely successful both in its home country and abroad. It is often seen as the forerunner to the modern automobile as we know it, and made a huge impact on the economy car market that was comparable to the innovative inroads made by the Ford Model T fifteen years before. It is seen as the first 'people's car' that further popularized motoring, and it was re-bodied to form the basis for the first cars produced by BMW, Nissan, Lotus, Jaguar and the Australian firm Holden.

Volkswagen Beetle (1938)

The mechanical innovator that became a cultural icon.

It's hard to find another automobile with the rich history of the Volkswagen Beetle. The brainchild of Ferdinand Porsche, it was one of the first rear-engine automobiles and was specifically designed to travel at 100kph on Germany's autobahn highway system. It also featured one of the world's first air-cooled engine designs, but its impact went way beyond its mechanical innovations. Its production lasted for 65 years between 1938 and 2006 - the longest ever run for a single design concept - and it was the first car to truly become a cultural icon (helped by the 'Herbie' films of course), showing that motor cars had a place in wider entertainment.

BMC Mini (1959)

The early 'hot hatchback'.

Another car that gained an influence outside of the motoring world is the much loved BMC mini. It was conceptualized as a car for everyone and went on to be produced in over 100 variants in countries all over the globe. It was also one of the first modern front wheel drive cars, and made the idea of the small 'hot hatchback' cool. This simple, little car which came to symbolize the 'swinging' 60s, was one of the first efficient 'city' cars and became a rally car, racing legend and movie icon in pictures like The Italian Job.

Citroen DS (1955)

The groundbreaking car that influenced car design for years.

The Citroën DS always occupies high places when experts are looking to crown the best car of all time, and with good reason. This executive car was years ahead of its time and it's widely accepted that every modern car model can in some way trace its design back to the DS. It was the first mass production car to include disc brakes, featured an aerodynamic body design considered futuristic at the time but standard today, it had hydraulic suspensions and revolving headlights, and sold a then-record 12,000 units on its first day of release. It remains one of the most influential automobile designs ever produced.

Jaguar E-Type (1961)

The luxury icon of the 1960s.

The Jaguar E-Type is one of the most beautiful sports cars ever to grace the road, and a legend of 1960s design. At a time when most cars were more about practicality than style and performance, the E-Type boasted top of speeds in excess of 150mph and could travel 0-60mph in under 7 seconds. It was the first production vehicle that didn't feature a body fixed to a separate chassis, instead, it employed a 'racing design' where the body was attached to a tubular framework. It will always be associated with high performance and sleek sophistication, and it influenced sports car designed long after it left the production line.

Lamborghini Miura (1966)

The world's first super car.

The Lamborghini Miura was the world's first super car, and pushed the boundaries of what people thought was possible in automobile design. It ushered in the era of the high-performance, two-seater sports car and was lightning quick - comfortably the fastest road car in production when it was first released. The design shared much more in common with the race cars of the day, rather than the sleek touring car designs that had previously been favored by car firm bosses, including Ferruccio Lamborghini himself, who objected the original concept for the Miura, forcing the company's engineers to design it in their spare time.

Chrysler Minivan (1983)

The first ever multi-passenger mini-van.

In 1983, Chrysler effectively invented the Minivan and changed the way cars were conceptualized for good. The Minivan's design grew from the need for a vehicle suitable for larger families, which still retained the driveability of a normal car. It looked boxy, but had a sliding side door that made loading the kids in the car easy, yet it was small enough to fit in a standard parking spot. Owning one came to symbolise both financial, adult success and, paradoxically, 'lost youth' in 1980s America. The car changed the landscape of automobile design forever. 

Toyota Prius (1997)

The world's first mass-produced electric hybrid vehicle.

The Toyota Prius was the first mass-produced hybrid, electric vehicle in the world, and its influence is probably yet to be fully realized. Just as the Model T and Austin 7 brought automobiles to the masses, the Prius broke new ground in the important quest for an electric powered alternative to modern gas guzzlers and remains one of the most environmentally friendly cars sold to date (now in its fourth generation, it remains in production). For all these reasons, the Prius deserves its place on this list of the most innovative car designs of all time.

[carnutzphoto]

1948 Tasco - Prototype

Taken at the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum - August 2023

A group of investors wanted to build a suitable American sports car for a European type racing event to be held at Watkins Glen, New York. Gordon Buehrig was part of the group of investors, and he also performed the design work. He oversaw the production of this single prototype vehicle. The aluminum body was built by the Derham Body Company of Rosemont, Pennsylvania. It was the first car in the world with a T-top roof, an idea that Gordon Buehrig patented. He later sued General Motors for infringement when the 1968 Corvette came out with a T-top roof. The front fenders of the Tasco are made of fiberglass and the roof panels are Plexiglas. The name Tasco stands for “The American Sports Car Company”. SPECIFICATIONS Model: Prototype Wheelbase: 110 inches Engine: Mercury V-8 Transmission: Three speed manual Displacement: 239 cubic inches Horsepower: 150

[hirocimacruiser]

Feel, 295ps.

Maximum output 295ps /6,500rpm

Maximum torque 38.76kg-m/5100rpm

To the world of Tommykaira.

Tommykaira

TUNED IMPREZA

Vehicle price (5M/T)

[Type-RA] ¥3,870,000

[Type-RA BASIC] ¥2,945,000

Prices do not include options. Prices may vary.

Transmission: 5M/T

Engine: 1,994cc, horizontally opposed

DOHC16 valve air intercooled

Turbo fuel injection EGI Maximum output 295ps/6,500rpm Maximum torque 38.76kg-m/5,100rpm

TUNED IMPREZA M20b

It is possible to turn in at once while maintaining high speed just by early steering operation and acceleration while being aware of the load. In addition, the Tommykaira-tuned boxer, which has greatly improved both torque and power, shows a sharp start-up acceleration while listening to the thick music of yesteryear. Tommykaira's ability to keep up with the accelerator opening, whether it's a starting dash on an uphill slope or overtaking acceleration when selecting a high gear. The intense acceleration G that makes the inside of the head go white has reappeared as a "hyper-dimensional" complete machine that surpasses even that machine.

Using the lightweight and compact "Impreza WRX Type-RA" as material, Tommykaira has completed a tuning complete machine.

Unlike a pure rally machine, the M20b achieves maximum fun handling while pursuing safety as it uses general roads as its stage. The difficult-to-control posture changes due to 4WD are trained with overwhelming 295ps high power and exquisite sustain.

TUNED LEGACY M20tb

Vehicle price (5MT/air conditioner standard equipment

¥3,980,000

Optional costs are not included. Specifications and prices are subject to change. There are settings.

A wagon-shaped sports car. It's time to talk about wagon power and handling.

From GT to sports car. Tommykaira's fastest wagon.

A high degree of perfection unique to Tommy Kaira's complete car that pursues total balance. The suspension has also been significantly tuned to match the power of 270 horsepower. Seasoned to pursue the fun of sports driving while making the most of the charm of 4WD. There's nothing like a wagon that's as well suited to the circuit.

Kyoto Design Excellent Product

Tuned Legacy M20tb

TOMITA dream factory

Kyoto/35 Kinugasa Goshonouchi-cho, Kita-ku, Kyoto-shi TEL 075-464-3311

/**618-1 Kn's Factory TEL 0427-48-4640

/*2-19-1 TEL 096-325-0251

2/ 4591 TEL 053-585-0530

Tommykaira M20tbM20bM20bWAGON

Also available at the dealers listed below.

Tokyo Subaru Motor Co., Ltd. / 2-13-11 Hongo, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo TEL 03 (3814) 7117 Kanagawa Subaru Motor Co., Ltd. / 3-18-20 Owada, Chigasaki City, Kanagawa TEL 0467 (52) 2511 Kyoto Subaru Motor Co., Ltd. / 5 Kisshoin Ishiharado Nishimachi, Minami Ward, Kyoto City TEL 075(671)1111

[bhavesh99]

Best Vintage Cars

The Allure of Vintage Cars: A Journey Through Time and Automotive Craftsmanship

Vintage cars are more than just vehicles; they are a celebration of automotive history, craftsmanship, and timeless design. These classic cars evoke nostalgia for a bygone era, reflecting the innovation and artistry that defined early motoring. From the elegance of pre-war automobiles to the muscle cars of the 1960s, vintage cars represent a passion for engineering and a love for unique, hand-crafted machines.

This article explores the world of vintage cars, their significance, the different eras they represent, and why these beautiful machines continue to capture the hearts of collectors and enthusiasts today.

What Defines a Vintage Car?

The term "vintage" often refers to cars that were manufactured between the 1910s and the 1930s, although the exact definition can vary depending on the region or collector's club. In general, vintage cars are those that are at least 30 years old, and they can be further categorized into different eras:

Brass Era (1885–1915): These are some of the earliest cars, named after the brass fittings and fixtures used in their design. They often have exposed radiators, gas lamps, and large, spoked wheels.

Vintage Era (1919–1930): This period saw the rise of closed-body cars (those with roofs) and significant advancements in car production, most notably with the mass-production techniques pioneered by Henry Ford.

Classic Era (1930–1970s): While not technically considered vintage by purists, classic cars—especially those from the 1930s to the 1970s—are highly sought after for their design, power, and cultural significance. This era includes pre- and post-war models as well as the iconic muscle cars of the 1960s.

Each of these eras contributes a distinct chapter to the story of automotive evolution, from early experimentation to the development of powerful, stylish machines.

The Evolution of Automotive Design

The design and technology of vintage cars reflect the era in which they were made. Cars from the early 20th century were often hand-built, with intricate detailing and a focus on luxury and craftsmanship. As industrial processes improved, cars became more affordable, and automakers began to focus on performance and innovation.

The Brass Era: The Dawn of Motoring

The Brass Era, from the late 19th century to the early 20th century, marks the birth of the automobile industry. Cars like the Ford Model T, introduced in 1908, revolutionized personal transportation by making cars affordable to the masses. Before that, cars were largely bespoke creations, crafted by skilled engineers and craftsmen. Brands like Rolls-Royce, Cadillac, and Packard became synonymous with luxury and elegance during this time.

The early cars were often open-top vehicles with large, brass fittings such as radiators, headlights, and horns. These cars required manual cranking to start and often featured wooden frames and bodies, giving them a unique aesthetic appeal. Despite their simplicity compared to modern cars, these vehicles were groundbreaking in their design and engineering.

The Vintage Era: The Rise of Style and Sophistication

The 1920s and 1930s, often referred to as the Vintage Era, saw car manufacturers refining their designs and offering more powerful and luxurious models. This period is when cars truly began to transition from functional machines to symbols of status and wealth.

Automobiles like the Rolls-Royce Phantom, Bentley 4½ Litre, and Bugatti Type 35 exemplified the blend of performance, style, and elegance that defined the era. Innovations in suspension, engine design, and aerodynamics began to make these cars faster, smoother, and more comfortable to drive.

During this time, design became more focused on aesthetics, with streamlined shapes, luxurious interiors, and increased attention to detail. Coachbuilders such as Pininfarina, Zagato, and Mulliner worked with manufacturers to create custom, hand-built bodies for wealthy clients, each car becoming a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

The Classic Era: The Birth of Iconic Automobiles

The post-World War II era, particularly the 1950s and 1960s, brought about the rise of the classic car era, with manufacturers producing some of the most iconic cars in history. This period saw the birth of legendary American muscle cars like the Ford Mustang, Chevrolet Corvette, and Pontiac GTO. These cars were built for speed and performance, capturing the excitement and freedom of the open road.

On the other side of the Atlantic, European manufacturers like Ferrari, Jaguar, and Aston Martin were creating cars that combined performance with unparalleled beauty. The Ferrari 250 GTO, Jaguar E-Type, and Aston Martin DB5 became symbols of automotive excellence, admired for their sleek designs and powerful engines.

The classic era also saw advancements in automotive technology, such as disc brakes, independent suspension, and more efficient engines. These innovations made cars not only faster but also safer and more reliable, increasing their appeal to both collectors and drivers.

Why Vintage Cars Are Still Relevant Today

In a world dominated by modern cars loaded with advanced technology, vintage cars still hold a special place in the hearts of many. Several reasons contribute to their enduring appeal:

1. Timeless Design

Vintage cars are celebrated for their timeless design. Unlike modern cars, which are often subject to rapidly changing trends, the design principles of vintage cars are rooted in elegance, craftsmanship, and simplicity. Whether it’s the sleek lines of a 1950s Porsche or the imposing grille of a 1930s Bentley, vintage cars have an aesthetic appeal that transcends time.

2. Mechanical Simplicity

While modern cars are packed with computers and electronic systems, vintage cars are admired for their mechanical simplicity. Enthusiasts appreciate the hands-on nature of maintaining and restoring these vehicles. Many vintage cars can be worked on with basic tools, making them a rewarding project for hobbyists and collectors who enjoy tinkering with engines and components.

3. Historical Significance

Each vintage car tells a story, representing a specific time in automotive history. Whether it’s a 1930s Mercedes-Benz from the pre-war era or a 1960s Chevrolet Camaro that captured the spirit of American muscle cars, these vehicles serve as living history, offering a glimpse into the design, technology, and culture of their time.

4. Investment Potential

In recent years, vintage cars have become a popular investment for collectors. Classic models, particularly those that are rare or have historical significance, have seen significant appreciation in value. Cars like the Ferrari 250 GTO or the Aston Martin DB5 are now worth millions, making them highly coveted pieces in the world of automotive collectibles.

5. Sense of Community

Owning a vintage car often comes with a sense of belonging to a passionate community. Vintage car enthusiasts gather at car shows, rallies, and auctions to celebrate their shared love for these machines. Clubs and associations dedicated to specific makes or models offer a space for enthusiasts to exchange knowledge, share restoration tips, and enjoy their cars together.

Restoring and Maintaining Vintage Cars

Restoring a vintage car is a labor of love, requiring time, dedication, and often a significant financial investment. Whether it’s sourcing rare parts, rebuilding engines, or refinishing interiors, the process can be both challenging and rewarding.

One of the main challenges of restoring vintage cars is finding original parts. Many manufacturers no longer produce parts for older models, so collectors often rely on specialist suppliers, salvage yards, or custom fabrication. Authenticity is key in restoration, with original parts and materials enhancing the car’s value and historical integrity.

Maintaining a vintage car also requires careful attention to detail. Regular maintenance, such as changing the oil, inspecting brakes, and checking the electrical system, is essential to keeping the car running smoothly. While vintage cars may not be as reliable as modern vehicles, their mechanical nature makes them easier to repair for those with the right knowledge and skills.

Conclusion

Vintage cars represent more than just transportation; they are a celebration of history, design, and engineering. From the earliest Brass Era automobiles to the classic muscle cars of the 1960s, these vehicles evoke a sense of nostalgia and admiration for a time when cars were not just mass-produced machines but works of art.

Whether it’s for their timeless beauty, historical significance, or the thrill of restoration, vintage cars continue to captivate collectors, enthusiasts, and drivers alike. As symbols of a bygone era, they remind us of the artistry and craftsmanship that once defined the automotive industry, ensuring their place in history for generations to come.

[hunty627]

More and more stories that Grant can make up with his model trains when he rebuilds his model railway layout.

Dulcie’s ghost. Daisy the diesel railcar could see Dulcie the Great Western autocoach was feeling uneasy because she’s gone through some bad experiences with a man called Mr. Clark.

All buttered up. A new blue saddle tank engine named Rebecca came to Sodor for her first day. But she accidentally ran over some sticks of butter from the Sodor dairy. The butter made her wheels slip and slide, so she couldn’t get traction. Will she be able to solve the problem before she gets into trouble?

Madison’s motor. Madison the diesel was having trouble with her diesel motor. She had been working so hard, that she pushed it beyond its limitation. It was billowing smoke everywhere, which was bad for people’s health. Will she be able to get her motor fixed?

Intoxicated Timmy. Timmy the purple diesel was arranging freight cars in the yard, when his driver said he was running low on fuel. But being the stubborn engine he is, Timmy found he was shunting some generic tanker cars and thought they were carrying diesel fuel. But when his tank was filled with it and began to roll along, he began to feel rather uneasy. The reason why was because the tankers weren’t carrying fuel. They were carrying beer! And it got into his fuel, making Timmy feel very sick. Will the purple diesel shunter get his tank emptied and cleaned thoroughly?

Kazoos on the loose. Smokey Joe and Thomas were getting ready for the big arrival of the La-la-kazoos, a kazoo playing orchestra. Thomas was taking the players to the picnic grounds to play their music, while Smokey Joe was delivering the kazoos. But the troublesome trucks snapped the coupling and ran away with Ted the Queen Mary brake van! To make matters worse, the freight conductor had jumped clear! Smokey Joe and Thomas knew they had to work together to save the kazoos or the concert will be canceled! They had to get the conductor back to Ted so he can put on his strong brakes. But will Smokey Joe & Thomas do it in time? Find out soon!

Percy and the pizza. Percy the green engine was very excited. Reginald the baker has baked some pizza. Sir Topham Hatt has requested Percy to deliver the pizzas to the stationmasters who ordered them for their lunch. But Percy had never delivered pizza before. Will he be able to deliver the pizzas to the right stations?

Poy gives a push. Travis T. made fun of Poy for being too small for big jobs, which made her feel very sad. But when she was volunteering to work in the yard to shunt coaches, Travis got stuck on Gordon’s hill with a heavy goods train. Will Poy prove him wrong by pushing him to the top?

Boiler bother. Goliath was working exceptionally well pulling heavy freight trains across the Island of Sodor, but his boiler certificate had expired, but he was sure he can keep going regardless. But he soon got what was coming to him when he broke down due to a burst boiler tube.