#Hot Rod Baggers

[nionom-art]

EXECUTIONS OF THE GUILTY

(Miraculous Danganronpa Au)

CURTAIN CALL (ZOE EXECUTION)

Zoe is dropped onto a stage and the curtain closes on her. Her clothes change into an Alice in Wonderland Scene where she is forced to down boiling hot tea. The scene changes again, with her in a Cinderella costume and on a flight on stairs. The bell chimes so loud she loses balance and tumbles down her leg. The scene changes a final time as she is dressed as a cockroach and a giant Chloe raises her foot and she tries to run. She is stepped on and roses are thrown onto the now bloody stage. The screen zooms into the crowd with the students looking on in horror.

CHRONICLES OF SUPERKUMA (NATHANIEL’S EXECUTION)

A comic book manuscript opens up revealing a drawing of Nathaniel tied on top of a building. The screen zooms out to reveal the real Nathaniel on top of a building. An artist Monokuma begins to draw the scene adding heavy rain, where it is revealed that the pole he is tied on is a lightning rod which attracts a lighting bolt which electrocutes Nathaniel. He is dizzy and the binds burn off and he falls off, plummeting to the ground. He is saved by a Monokuma in a superhero suit and they see a hospital nearby. The artist Monokuma then draws another lighting bolt which shocks the Superhero Monokuma and he drops Nathaniel onto a railway where a train is approaching. With nowhere to go, Nathaniel is ran over by the train and the Artist Monokuma throws the manuscript into the garbage.

CLEARANCE SALE (SABRINA’S EXECUTION)

Sabrina is dropped in what looks like a giant mall. In front of her a Chloe Monokuma shoves a collar on her neck and gives her a list of things to buy. The collar is making suspicious beeping noises and a countdown begins. Sabrina rushes from store to store grabbing the things she needs, which are covered in spikes or poison, causing her hands to bleed and swell. As she reaches the end of her list the last thing she needs; a pair of shoes are at the top of a mountain of clothing and shoes. She begins to climb, with her hands leaving behind bloody handprints and just before she can reach the shoes, the clothes beneath her collapse and she falls. The countdown ends and to her surprise, it doesn’t explode. Instead she is revealed to be on a massive incinerator and the conveyer belt begins to move. She tries to run, but the clothes that dropped with her block her path and she is fed to the incinerator. On the other side pops a pair of bloody stilettos with pictures of a screaming Sabrina printed on the side. It is displayed in the mall for someone to buy.

THE PUPPET WARRIOR (KAGAMI EXECUTION)

Kagami’s dead body is strung up like a puppet with her sword sewn to her hands. A massive robot dressed like her mother holds the strings. She is in a large dojo and is faced off with harmless creatures and people from rabbits, cats, and even replicas of Marinette and Adrien. Her corpse swings back and forth easily slicing her opponents. But during a fight with an innocent person, the robot makes a mistake and Kagami’s corpse misses the opponent and they escape. Blaming this on Kagami, she puppets her body to a bagger and forces Kagami’s body to commit Seppuku. She lets go of the strings and Kagami’s dead body flops lifelessly on the ground.

DRESS UP! FINAL FASHION SHOW! (MARINETTE FAILED EXECUTION)

Marinette is in a dark room that lights up revealing a large runway. As she looks around, mannequins wearing her classmate’s clothes surround her. Suddenly a giant golden stiletto slams down near her, onto the Zoe mannequin barely missing her. The mannequins are subjected to similar fates as her classmates such as the Nathaniel mannequin getting hit by a train or a Sabrina mannequin getting set on fire, only leaving her feet. Finally, as she was battered by the weapons that were used on the mannequins, a Lila mannequin is raises up from the floor with a knife in it’s clutch. It raises it to stab her….. and then the lights go out and it stops. Marinette inches away from the mannequin and off the runway floor as she runs out of the venue.

Wow! I love these (especially Marinette’s- it reminds me of Makoto’s dream sequence in the anime).

[csajokamotoron]

Excluzív fényezéssel és gazdag alapfelszereltséggel érkezik a CVO Pan America

A Harley-Davidson® leplezte három 2024-es Nagy Amerikai Túramotor modelljét. Az új Street Glide® és Road Glide® elképesztő vizuális megjelenéssel, prémium kényelemi kiegészítőkkel és modern infotainment technológiával rendelkeznek, amelyek újraértelmezik a Harley-Davidson® Nagy Amerikai Túramotor élményt. Harley-Davidson® a túramotorok új korszakát indította el; nagyobb teljesítmény, csúcs technológia és modern megjelenés. Az új Street Glide® és Road Glide® modellek, amelyekben az új Milwaukee-Eight 117 motorblokk dübörög, erőteljesebbek, kényelmesebbek és könnyebbek, mint valaha. A legmodernebb technológiával szerelték fel őket, ideértve az új infotainment rendszert is, mindezt egy drámaian új formatervezéssel karöltve. A Custom Vehicle Operations™ (CVO™) 25. évfordulóját megünneplő új CVO™ Road Glide® ST kiemelkedik a hot rod bagger teljesítményével, köszönhetően az erőteljes új Milwaukee-Eight® 121 HO (High-Output) blokknak és az extrém alacsony áttételezésű váltóműnek, amelyek együttesen olyan gyorsulást és középtartományú tolóerőt eredményeznek, amire a dinamikus, sportos motorosok vágynak. Az új CVO™ Pan America® is napvilágot látott, mint az első kaland-túramotor, a CVO™ modellcsalád szegmensben, amely bármilyen akadály legyőzésére készen áll, amiben a gazdag, prémium alapfelszereltség segíti, mindezt exkluzív fényezéssel kiegészítve. Minden 2024-es modell tervezett érkezése a hivatalos Harley-Davidson® márkakereskedésekbe márciusig várható.„Ezek az izgalmas modellek egy új korszakot képviselnek a Harley-Davidson® számára, amelyek a következő szintre emelik a motorok teljesítményét és technológiáját, valamint azok kényelmét és stílusát.” – mondta Jochen Zeitz, a Harley-Davidson® elnöke és vezérigazgatója. „Kétségtelenül ezek a legcsábítóbb túramotorok, amelyeket valaha kínált a Harley-Davidson®.” Új 2024-es Street Glide® és Road Glide® modellek A 2024-es Street Glide® és Road Glide® erőteljesebbek, könnyebbek és dinamikusabbak elődjeiknél, míg az új formatervezési elemek összetéveszthetetlen, dinamikus dizájnt teremtenek az első sárvédőktől az oldaldobozokig. Mindkét modell modern és letisztult fejidommal rendelkezik, miközben megtartja a Harley-Davidson® eredeti DNS-ét, ami által azonnal felismerhetővé teszi őket. További kulcsfontosságú jellemzők: - A továbbfejlesztett Milwaukee-Eight® 117 V-Twin motorblokk új hűtőrendszert kapott, amely tovább optimalizálja a vezető hőkomfortját, és növeli a teljesítményt a hatékonyabb szívó- és kipufogórendszer áramlás révén. - A választható Vezetői Üzemmódok – Utcai, Sport, Eső és Egyedi – elektronikusan módosítják a motorkerékpár teljesítményjellemzőit. - Az infotainment technológiát a Skyline™ OS vezérli, és egy 12,3 hüvelykes TFT színes érintőképernyőn jelenik meg, amely kiváltja az összes analóg műszert és a legtöbb kapcsolót. Az új, 200 wattos sztereó erősítő pedig egy pár, a burkolaton elhelyezett hangszórót táplál, a még tisztább hangzásért. - A javított aerodinamika növeli a vezető kényelmét és átlagosan 60 százalékkal csökkenti a sisak rázkódását, nagy sebességnél. A hátsó lengéscsillapító útja 8 centiméterrel nőtt. Az átalakított egyrészes ülések és párnázási anyagok szignifikáns komfortnövekedést kínálnak a legtöbb vezető számára, a hosszútávú túrák során. - Ajánlott fogyasztói kereskedelmi ár a 2024 Street Glide és 2024 Road Glide esetében már 26.100 EUR-tól (adók nélkül). Az ÚJ CVO™ Road Glide® ST modell a 2024-es CVO™ motorcsalád élén A CVO™ Road Glide® ST, a Harley-Davidson® által valaha gyártott leggyorsabb, legerősebb és legkifinomultabb teljesítményű bagger, rendkívüli komponensekkel, amelyek a legmagasabb szintet képviselik a különleges motorosok számára. A mély solo ülés és a moto kormány, hatcolos kiemelővel agresszív, függőleges helyzetbe helyezi a motorost, így erősítve a hamisítatlan West Coast stílust és a stabilabb kezelhetőséget. Kulcsfontosságú jellemzők: - Két prémium fényezési opció érhető el: Golden White Pearl vagy Raven Metallic.A fejidom oldalain és a benzintartályon elhelyezett Screamin’ Eagle grafika, a MotoAmerica Mission King of the Baggers sorozatban versenyző Screamin’ Eagle® Harley-Davidson® gyári motorok inspirációját követi. A CVO™ 25. évfordulós logó, a gyári customizáció mérföldkövét ünnepli. - A Milwaukee-Eight® 121 High Output V-Twin motor kizárólag a CVO™ Road Glide® ST modellben dübörög, mindezt úgy finomhangolva, hogy 127 lóerőt (94 kW) és 193 Nm (145 lb. ft.) forgatónyomatékot produkáljon - ez a legtöbb lóerő és forgatónyomaték, amit valaha gyárilag Harley-Davidson® motorba építettek. Alacsonyabb végáttételt választottak a mérnökök, hogy minden sebességi fokozatban javítsák a gyorsulási teljesítményt. - Az alternatív anyaghasználat 363 kg-ra csökkentette a motor száraz tömegét. A kipufogók könnyű titán borítást és kovácsolt szénszálas végződéseket kapnak; a kovácsolt szénszálas kompozitot használják az első sárvédő, az ülésfedő burkolat és a tank konzol gyártásához; az olajpumpa súlycsökkentett kompozitból készül; a keréktervezés és a hullámos első féktárcsák optimális kialakítása miatt a lengő tömeget sikerült minimalizálni. - A teljesen állítható első és hátsó futómű magában foglalja a SHOWA® hátsó lengéscsillapítókat külső tartállyal, valamint fordított 47 mm-es SHOWA® 1x1 teleszkópokat. - A prémium Brembo™ fékrendszer kiváló fékérzetet és teljesítményt nyújt, ezáltal növelve a vezető bizalmát erőteljes fékezéskor is. - A választható Vezetői Üzemmódok – Utcai, Sport, Eső, Versenypálya, Versenypálya Plusz és többféle Egyedi beállítások – elektronikusan módosítják a motorkerékpár teljesítményjellemzőit. - Az infotainment technológiáért a Skyline™ OS rendszer felelős. Egy 12,3 hüvelykes színes érintőképernyő váltja fel az összes analóg műszert és a legtöbb kapcsolót. A prémium hangélményről pedig egy 500 wattos erősítő felel és a Harley-Davidson® Audio Rockford Fosgate® Stage II 6.5 hüvelykes hangszórói, amelyek a fejidomban kerültek beépítésre. - Ajánlott fogyasztói kereskedelmi ár az új 2024-es CVO™ Road Glide ST esetében már 39.320 EUR-tól (adók nélkül). A CVO™ Pan America®, a CVO™ program első kalandtúra (ADV) motorja, ami felfedezésére született, prémium minőségben. A Pan America® 1250 Special összes alapvető jellemzője megmaradt; az erőteljes Revolution® Max 1250 motorblokk, a félig aktív első és hátsó felfüggesztés, az érintőképernyős kijelző, a választható vezetési módok és a Daymaker® adaptív fényszóró technológia, amik a világ Kaland-Túramotorosai igényei alapján kerültek kifejlesztésre. A CVO™ Pan America® modellt számos kiegészítővel látták el a túra élményének fokozása érdekében, ideértve az Adaptív magasságú felfüggesztést, a tartós alumínium tető- és oldalsó dobozokat, Screamin' Eagle® gyorsváltót, a tömlő nélküli fűzött kerekeket, segédfényszóróval ellátott Daymaker® LED-es kiegészítő világítást, alumínium védőlemezt. Az előbb felsorolt exkluzív felszerelések a legmagasabb minőséget nyújtják azoknak a kalandmotorosoknak, akik a tökéletességre és még annál is többre törekednek. - Ajánlott fogyasztói kereskedelmi ár az új 2024-es CVO™ Pan America® esetében már 22.960 EUR-tól (adók nélkül). 2023-ban a CVO™ Street Glide® és a CVO™ Road Glide® modellek, új merész tervezési irányvonalat mutattak be a Harley-Davidson® Nagy Amerikai Túramotorok családjában, köszönhetően a Milwaukee-Eight VVT 121 hajtáslánc kivételes teljesítményének, valamint a korszerű futóműnek és az exkluzív Skyline™ OS által működtetett infotainment technológiának. Mindkét modell megtartja ezeket a jellemzőket, miközben izgalmas új 2024-es szín opciókkal bővülnek. Read the full article

[soberstoner16]

BMW expands its R 18 lineup to include five models with the introduction of an alluring new bagger-style variant. The practice of producing diverse motorcycles from a shared foundation is a common trend in the motorcycle world.

Similar to the approach taken by nearly every other manufacturer over the years, where sports bikes serve dual roles as tourers, cruisers, adventurers, and more, BMW is currently diversifying its model lines with impressive success.

Enter the 2023 BMW R 18 Roctane, the fifth addition to BMW’s R 18 cruiser lineup. The Roctane adopts a distinctive hot rod style, providing increased touring capacity and unique styling. It enhances the standard R 18 platform by incorporating two 27L hard cases, heated grips, high handlebars, and a standard blacked-out engine and exhaust.

A significant modification is the adoption of a larger 21-inch front wheel (up from 18 inches), extending the R 18 Roctane’s trail to 18.5cm, purportedly enhancing straight-line stability. Drawing inspiration from the legendary 1936 BMW R5, the R 18’s aesthetic is enriched with black styling details, a double-loop frame, and a rigid-style rear.

While featuring a familiar 1802cc boxer four-cylinder engine, shaft driveline, and a straightforward key instrumentation approach, the R 18 Roctane aims for a unique identity.

Creating multiple models from a shared base is one thing, but it's crucial for each to possess a distinct flavor both in terms of styling and the riding experience.

Does the R 18 Roctane successfully achieve its objectives? Let's delve into that question.

Let's delve into whether the R 18 Roctane successfully achieves its objectives.

The Roctane, building upon the classic R 18 heritage, incorporates not only a bold design but also functional enhancements for an enhanced touring experience. The addition of two 27L hard cases and heated grips underscores its commitment to practicality, catering to riders seeking both style and utility.

The standout feature, a larger 21-inch front wheel, aims to transform the riding dynamics. Extending the Roctane's trail to 18.5cm not only suggests improved straight-line stability but also hints at a nuanced approach to performance. This adjustment, coupled with the blacked-out engine and exhaust, creates a distinct visual identity for the Roctane, paying homage to the iconic BMW R5 from 1936.

The infusion of hot rod aesthetics, seen in the black styling flourishes, double-loop frame, and rigid-style rear, adds an extra layer of character to the Roctane. BMW seems to have taken a thoughtful approach to styling, balancing modern enhancements with a nostalgic nod to its historical design cues.

Under the hood, the Roctane remains loyal to the reliable 1802cc boxer four-cylinder engine, emphasizing a no-frills approach. The shaft driveline further contributes to a classic riding experience, while the simplicity of the key instrumentation aligns with the overall design philosophy.

As the motorcycle industry continues to evolve, the importance of creating unique identities within a model lineup becomes increasingly crucial. The R 18 Roctane's endeavor to offer more than just a variation on the R 18 theme is evident in the meticulous attention to both form and function.

To determine whether the Roctane truly fulfills its objectives, one would need to experience it firsthand. A test ride and a comprehensive evaluation of its performance, handling, and comfort will ultimately reveal whether the Roctane successfully strikes a balance between distinctive styling and a satisfying riding experience.

[maurodemarchi]

Harley-Davidson® do Brasil offers motorcycles for those who have a passion for adventure and freedom

Harley-Davidson® do Brasil offers motorcycles for those who have a passion for adventure and freedom

Fat Boy® 114 with new style in shiny chrome and new styles and features for the Touring line in 2021 Harley-Davidson do Brasil offers motorcyclists more performance, style, technology and freedom for the soul in 2021. Highlights include the revamped Fat Boy 114 and new styling options for three popular performance baggers : Street Glide®  Special, Road Glide®  Special and Road…

[dukes-garage]

Wheels with some sticky rubber for the

[ahoperekindledrpg]

The Start

[NSFW, 18+, Graphic Violence and Sexual Content]  ( 1 Day Before Present Time – “Bear” The Raider – Outer Rim Planet 223 )

  They had killed them quickly and it had been good. Bear had been right in assuming the mercenaries guarding the merchants caravan were carrying unloaded weapons. Few guns that he saw upon the road were loaded now. The firepower lay within the towns, guarded carefully, and those that wandered for trade or better fortune could not find ammunition or failed to conserve it.  This was the Outer Rim.  His men had carved through them, bathed the battered asphalt of the road in their blood, and begun the celebration that followed each hunt in earnest.

 “Strip ‘em?” Asked Lizard, named for his sun-scaled skin and the look of his eyes through the small sun-goggles he wore.  This world was sick with radiation.  A stripped atmosphere leaving it naked to the abusive rays of a massive sun.

 Bear nodded.  “Be quick.  That was an Imperial shuttle that went over us.”

 They had no use for the clothes. They were well-clothed. Their armors, patchwork, were already threaded with bits of metal and cloth. He watched as Lizard bent and slashed a nose from one of the mercenaries and threaded it to the necklace he wore. Bear had the most noses and ears of any in this troop. It was why he lead them. It was why he needed to watch them now.

 The merchants had lead four skinny banthas behind them, loaded heavily with goods. Bear watched as those packs were opened. Cigarettes, Imperial Credits (the Imperial Republic’s currency), and dirty water. Fresh water was hard to find now and unnecessary. The radiation did not hurt in small doses. A man might piss blood or lose some teeth but he would not die. Drugs helped with those things and they liked them anyways. On the right dose of smack Bear could rip most men apart with his hands. The Merchants did not carry it but their cigarettes would help him get it from the Black Skulls across the hills.

 It had been a successful morning.

 “Bear?” Came a voice. Cracked and feminine.

 Bear turned and saw Bird there, gangly as she was, on all fours with her pants thrust down. The pale skin of her backside was dirty from the road and sweat ran down the small of her narrow back and vanished between her cheeks. His prick swelled. Hard suddenly. He’d almost forgotten her in the high of their success.

 It took a moment to move her with his big hands. Pushing her down, lowering her as he claimed a place on his knees behind her. He coughed up a thick wad of phlegm and spat it on the head of his dick, closed his eyes, and sank into her. She gave a rough grunt of discomfort that he ignored. Pounding into her.

 She braced herself against his weight with her small hands for some time, pushing back against him, and then it was as though the air went out of her lungs and she went suddenly and abruptly quiet. The strength left her hands and she crumpled beneath him. Bear did not care. He kept pumping, feeling his moment on the horizon.

 A shot rang out and he opened his eyes. A big, booming, distant shot that sounded almost as though it came from across the ridge and upon the otherside. So far off that at first he did not feel concerned.

 Then, as he looked across his men as saw them return to their work, he saw Lizard. For a moment, Lizard was looking into the hills, and then he was lifted from his feet as though struck by some imaginary fist. It picked him up and rolled him across the roadside, where he landed, absolutely still. The sound of the shot rolled out a short time later. Followed by another as SoreFoot, to his left, crumpled.

 “Bird.” He said, and cinched a fist on the back of her vest. She was light and he was strong and even with his body aching with his oncoming climax she offered no resistance.

 “Fuck, come on!” But she did not move. He looked down and saw a neat hole behind her ear on one side and a hole the size of his fist on the other. Her brains were splattered in a wide arc across the asphalt and her eyes were pinched closed, features twisted in a grotesque and feral mask of a woman being roughly and unlovingly fucked.

 Bear pissed himself. A hot jet of urine arced from his softening prick as he stood ram-rod straight upon the road. He saw the last of his men, Wolf Moon, turn toward him in blind panic. Their eyes met and then Wolf Moon’s head exploded. One moment it was the man’s bearded face and the next it was just a shower of blood and pale bits of bone and flapping flesh. The body went down in a pile, arms twitching grotesquely.

 Looking up into the hills, Bear searched for the men who had snuck up on them. He saw nothing. It was not the Black Skulls or more Boot Thiefs. It was only the barren desert hardpan and the broken, rocky ledge. He raised his axe, terrified, and shook it. Then, impossibly far away, Bear saw the flicker of a muzzle flash. He had time to think that nobody in the Outer Rim could make that shot before everything went dark.

 ( 1 Day Before Present Time – Simultaneous – “The Mandalorian” Garrus Stark – Outer Rim Planet 223 )

 It stretched beyond the limit of his eyes and forged itself into an uneven and craggy horizon some miles ahead. Experience had taught him to measure those miles, one after another, in a scale of hours. Time was a more precious currency than miles. Value in the Imperial Republic’s Outer Rim was determined by a survivor’s measure. Imperial Credits and fresh water had become more invaluable than diamonds or gold. Even corpses, the fresher the better, had their worth in trade. This world did not always have time for the rituals and rights to which humanity had at one time been accustomed. This world was an angry, red world. The sand shifted coarsely across the hardpan on hot breezes by day and billowed against the raging, chilled winds of evening. Beneath his feet, cracked and sand-swept, a broken road stretched on like a long dead snake. Dunes had slid across large sections of it, hundreds of feet at a time, and there were places where the breeze had brushed back the sand and revealed uneven, glossy black glass where the world had been melted under the poisonous blanket of nuclear fire that had swept away the civilization that had once owned this world.  Planet 223 had become an example to the galaxy at large.  

 He walked on and squinted against the sun, despite the power mask that he wore. Beskar and Titanium, the mask gave him the look of some nightmarish haunt. His eyes were green, inhuman slashes that ran jagged down the front of his mask. His nose and mouth were veiled beneath smooth, tactical and featureless metal. The mask took hot air and filtered it into something cooler. It veiled his voice into a low, raspy mechanical growl. In the mornings when he rose from his camp and pulled it into place it turned him from a man, fair-haired and sharp-featured, into the monstrous apparition that the raiders of the road and even the brave Caravaneers from the east had come to fear.  Something all feared.  Even the Imperials.  Looking now, he let the automated computer sharpen the lenses like binoculars. The horizon immediately grew into focus, swelled up to reveal the broken and ruinous cityscape of Dodge City. He was close. He would not camp for the day. He would not stay upon the road.  His ship waited and it was finally time to get back to the planet where he had found love and destiny.

 Turning, he cut his way from the asphalt and onto the hardpan. The sand was not soft. His boots did not sink or leave impressions. This was a desolate place. It was an unforgiving and calloused place. The sun was high and merciless in the sky. Unprotected skin burned quickly here, burned near to the point of blistering within two afternoons of exposure. The experienced travelers of the road covered themselves and he was no different. Dust clung to his coat, it invaded all spaces. It took a great deal of oil to keep the leather from cracking and drying and still, in the folds where the skin of it bunched, the sand found places to hide. It was discolored now. The deep, charcoal gray was now thinner. That suited him fine. He was no carpet bagger. The trenchcoat had the unenviable job of taking the beating of the hardpan. It hid the armor beneath it, the weapons, and all else that would have made him such an obvious and easy target. The high collar of his coat, the cut of it, and the helmet were what defined him. They were his face.  The only face the Galaxy would ever know.

 The road lay in a depression between two rocky hills and he climbed the one to the left. Few people braved the hardpan at all on their own. Fewer still were brave (or foolish) enough to stray from the road. His Geiger counter buzzed gently within his mask, numbers scrolling abruptly in the Heads-Up Display it provided. This place was familiar to him and he did not startle. Radiation was a frequent danger on this planet but the hill only provoked the meter to spark a soft, pickle green. The crescent Geiger was metered into three sections. Green, which while irradiated was not inherently dangerous. Yellow, where prolonged exposure to any area or deciding to eat a material registering this high could bring on minor symptoms of Radiation Sickness. And Red, which if not avoided quickly and entirely could rapidly ruin an otherwise survivable day.

 He slowed on account of the terrain. The hardpan was unforgiving in every account. A slip could plunge him into a crevice filled with mutie snakes. It could cost him a broken ankle. Time had ensured he would not take his footing for granted and he had taken to measuring his experience in years. He had spent far longer than most travelling the Outer Rim planets . Countless years surviving in hard worlds.   This was not the first world slagged by the Empire, left broken and dead, inhabited by drifters and desperate deplorables hungry for freedom and the way to survive.  He slowed and that experience paid itself back to him. The display of his helmet flickered to alert him of movement two-hundred meters ahead of him. He picked his way across the boulder-strewn hillside as quietly as he could manage and settled upon its crest. There, under the slits of his helmet’s eyes, the ruins of a Caravan lay strewn across the black skin of the road and the hardpan.

 A pair of merchants had passed not long ago with an accompaniment of mercenaries. They wore patchwork armor and hardened faces and each lead a pair of skinny banthas burdened with bundles of material for trade and sale. The banthas were large and grotesque, as unthreaded as could be, but docile and capable and toilless as they moved along. This was the Outer Rim. The mercenaries carried blaster carbines but not one of them looked as though they were a capable shot or practiced. He had appraised them from the ridge, low and quiet as they passed, with the same scrutiny he afforded all strangers now.

 Now, strewn upon the road, the ruin of their caravan lay open as a group of eight began pillaging through it. The banthas, too far from threaded to be eaten, had been butchered crudely regardless and would be left to rot in the desert sun. The mercenaries had formed two loose lines against the ambush and been cut down where they stood. It had been fast. Not a single man had survived long enough to lose his nerve and make a break from the road. They were riddled with horrible rents and their patchwork armor was cleaved over and over. Bodies upon the hardpan did not make pools of blood. The desert, hungry for the wet, drank it up so quickly it was as though it had not been there at all. A waste for raiders, most of whom were cannibals, so survival and bestial ingenuity had taught them to line their wagons in plastic. They dragged these behind them. The raiders were dressed in clothing stitched together with the prizes of their kills. Teeth. Bones. Ears. Noses. They were festooned across their chests and necks in horrible necklaces.

 They were armed with a variety of weapons. Spears fashioned from sign-posts and machete cleavers. The truth, sad and ugly, was that few men brandishing blasters had ammunition for them. Raiders, often drug addicts with a predisposed taste for mayhem, were notorious for charging at groups of armed men. Blaster power cells were expensive and difficult to find, harder to conserve, and so the Raiders had descended upon them and ignored their lofted firearms and weak threats. A few heads lay in the sand, eyes wide with the horror of inevitability, seeing nothing and echoing the moment of grim realization that fell upon them. A few had drawn their knives. Too little. Too late.

 The man looked down upon the carnage dispassionately. His eyes counted and recounted the Raiders numbers and took stock of the ridges nearby. None of the men looked up from their pillaging to search the roadside for signals or to give any. The eight were alone. Two of them, a particularly well-decorated man and a small, stringy woman, were fucking like dogs beside the road. The Imperial Republic had not been kind to the Outer Rim planets.  Some had been slagged in the purges that followed the Emperor’s succession. This planet had gotten it worse than most because it had harbored the Rebellion. The man unshouldered his rifle and laid its long barrel on the sun-blistered surface of stone. The helmet was synced with the weapon’s scope and allowed him to magnify the scene. The ruined caravan’s strewn loot drew his immediate interest. Cigarettes, which were being gathered in a small heap at the roadside, and a few small rations were being piled into a wooden cart took his immediate interest. Drinking water was being stacked more neatly beside the Raider’s carts and he studied the big plastic jugs. It looked dirty. Unclean. It did not interest him.

 Despite eight blaster rifles there appeared to be no ammunition in the loot. The firearms had been left where the men holding them had fallen. They were in fair condition. Most likely, either through neglect or time’s course, a few would not fire. Still, in his mind, he saw the potential for parts. Repair or trade, it did not matter. There were pans, pots, and playing cards. The Raiders ignored them all. They could not trade with towns and did not care to. They traded only with the gangs that existed miles away. It was a grim exchange. The loot of the dead for drugs and liquor. This was not the humanity many had envisioned. The man frowned, took aim, and exhaled.

 He squeezed the trigger and felt the rifle kick, too focused to register the booming retort of the high-caliber round exploding from the barrel. The woman, her twisted and sallow face blistered from the sun, crumpled beneath the large man thrusting roughly into her. His eyes were closed and he did not register the sound of the shot. Two shots took two more of the men while the Raiders began to take notice and stare up at the ridges that flanked them.  He was unwilling to use Disruptor or Disintegrator rounds on petty raiders. The massive slugs were overkill as it was.  The first took the impact hard and was much lighter than he expected, lifting clean off his feet and rolling across the road. The other crumpled immediately, one hand lifted to point (wrongly) to the hill opposite where the man firing at them still crouched, and went still. He fired on until the eight was reduced to one bewildered and frightened man with pants half-done and his pecker shriveling. For a moment he though the Raider saw him. His horrible features tightened in a crude, ugly grimace up towards the proper hill. He lifted one hand, carrying a rusty and carnage-stained axe, and shook it. The last shot struck true and did not quite remove his head. Instead, as the man in the mask looked on, the top of the Raider’s skull evaporated in a puff of red and pink mist as the large-caliber round turned his head into a canoe. The body fell straight back, stiff as a board, and the booted feet twitched madly.

 The planet had been a nightmare.  Thirty days prior he had landed on its surface with Corbin Cross, one of the boss’ least favorite men, Garrus had sensed the ambush from the start.  But Corbin, while a good gun and dependable man, had not listened.  They had shot their way out, barely, as an entire two platoon formation of Storm Troopers opened fire.  Corbin had been wounded and he had left him after it was done, well-armed and hidden, before he’d taken the cargo skiff they had driven out to the rendezvous and ran it out towards the spaceport several days away to draw them off.  The Imperials had given chase, taking the bait and leaving Corbin to hide and wait for him to rescue him.  But, they had managed to disable the skiff, nearly killing him in the crash.  He’d left them dead on the hardpan and been walking since, evading their scouting parties, killing those that could not be avoided.  And now, having come across the Raiders, he had found his way back to town. The single speeder bike, veiled behind the skiff, was a ruinous thing.  Dark smoke belched from its exhaust – signs of leaking manifolds and broken exhaust trim valves.  But it ran. And it would do so – long enough for him to get back to his ship.

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

( 1 Day Before Present Time – Two Hours Later  – Corbin Cross – Outer Rim Planet 223 )

 Don’t try comms.  They’ll be listening for signals.  

               The Mando had, thankfully, not said much.  He had never said “I told you so”.  He’d never said, “You nearly got us killed.”  What he had said, two brisk sentences, had been designed to keep Corbin alive and Corbin had listened.  They had never gotten along much.  Mando was a tough one to connect with.  It wasn’t just the helmet, or the mythos, or the legend.  It was his silence.  The man spoke so little that often standing with him was akin to standing alone.  It had always felt arrogant to Corbin.  And now, suddenly, it did not.  

                 When the ambush had sprung itself – nearly all Boss Jewel’s hired hands were killed in the first few seconds.  Blaster bolts had ripped through the air and torn through the men, lightly armored or unarmored entirely, punching searing holes through their bodies and throwing them back onto the cargo decking of the spaceport.  The stink of singed flesh and blood had quickly filled the air.  Dockhands, civilians, anyone close was gunned down. Imperial Stormtroopers were remarkable shots.  They moved as units.  Silent, coordinated, fearless.  They overwhelmed you with numbers and firepower.  Corbin had scuffled with squads before but never entire platoons.  The experience was sobering.  The difference between a talented gun and experienced soldier was immense.  

 And then there’d been The Mandalorian.

                 He moved steadily from cover to cover, leading with the muzzle of the blaster rifle he carried.  Each shot that Corbin had watched him take had found a Stormtrooper. And while, so far as Corbin could tell, the Mandalorian’s blaster rifle could penetrate the Stormtrooper’s armor at this range, he always seemed to land a shot in the gaps that the armor did not cover.  Under the arms.  At the neck. They crumpled heavily under the impacts. Most were dead, Corbin reckoned, before they hit the ground.  He’d returned fire, too.  But he’d mostly found himself pinned by some crates.  Unable to move without exposing himself.  The Mandalorian had moved constantly.  In and out of cover.  Taking angles that Corbin would never have seen that minimized his exposure – turning the entire battle line of Stormtroopers so they could never all get angles on him.  Corbin watched him lean from a stack of crates and gun down an entire squad in a few short seconds, only to displace and move again, getting close to the Imperials and throwing confusion into their formations.

                 He moved more like a soldier than any mercenary that Corbin had known.  But he moved more fluidly than any soldier.  The Mandalorian never appeared frustrated, afraid, or anxious.  Instead, the armored figure had effortlessly moved through them.  He cut them down with cold, ruthless efficiency.  Gavin watched as he shot a man in the chest and dropped him to his knees, only to move past him and put two more rounds into the back of his head along the way, blowing his helmet and brain out through the front of the trooper’s visor.  Another had been too near, and the Mandalorian had swept the Trooper’s barrel aside and in the same, fluid movement drew a vibroblade and passed it along the unarmored throat until the trooper dropped gurgling, bleeding out. It was a veritable ballet of death.

                 The grenade that nearly killed him had been thrown to flush him out of his position.  Corbin had seen it too late, mesmerized by The Mandalorian, and only turned to watch it strike the deck nearby.  It’d landed a few feet behind him before going off with a massive “BOOM” that knocked him off his feet and sent him spinning to the ground.  The Mandalorian had found him there after beating the Stormtrooper’s back into cover and that’d been when he’d said those first sentences to him.  Told him not to forget.  Then, he’d given Corbin a few spare power cells for his blaster, some rations, and removed the large piece of shrapnel in his side before binding it with a bacta infused dressing.  The drainage culvert Corbin had selected was cramped but it was dark, hard to see from the outside, and it’d have to do.  And it had – for days.

                 The Imperials had not left.  Instead, through the mechanical filtered voices, he’d learned a few precious and important things.  The first was that they were hunting The Mandalorian and had not found him. The second was that, for all his maneuvers, Marlin Jewel had stumbled upon a hornet’s nest with several of his last deals in contraband and brought the wrath of a young, eager Imperial Moff named Yannix upon his head.  The show of force on this desolate world was a fraction of what would fall upon the estate if the Moff was not appeased.  They had to get back.  And this, hiding in a culvert, was not helping.

                 The Bacta had healed him.  Mostly.  It was not as efficient as a proper dip but he’d never have anticipated one.  The wound had closed and the flesh had knitted together in pale scar tissue.  It still hurt to move – but it would not be a danger to reopen.  He slid his blaster pistol, an Imperial model DL-17, infront of him.

                 The drainage culvert was mostly empty and stunk of mildew.  Corbin began to shuffle his way forward, inching along, leaving behind the mess of waste and wrappers that would leave evidence of his grim existence here.  He had not slept well in days.  The cramped quarters, the stink of the pipe, the constant presence of the makeshift Imperial Garrison being set up above his position did not lend itself to sleeping.  He wanted a shower.  A bed. A meal.  But it all seemed so impossible.  He’d made a life out of surviving, in finding a way through hard situations, but this was the hardest he had known.  His best plan was to get onboard one of the Imperial Shuttles undetected.  There, he could seal the bridge, and hopefully get off the ground.  Once he was airborne he could purge the oxygen in the rest of the craft and kill those inside.  He’d try and find the Mandalorian if no TIE Fighters were scrambled to intercept him.  But they likely would be.

 He found himself pained at the thought of leaving his savior behind.  Surprising, really.  

                 At the mouth of the pipe he fought the urge to loudly suck in fresh air.  The sweetness of it was so sharp it made his head spin and he gathered himself, here in the dark, grateful to be here.  If they found him and killed him here, at least, it wouldn’t be in that forsaken pipe. His clothes were covered in a thick layer of grime.  It was a surprise he did not feel the urge to wretch.  Instead, inspired by his thoughts of the Mando, he simply slid his blaster forward and checked it.  It looked operable.  The Power Cell inside fully charged.  It was not an impressive pistol but it was common, dependable, and did the job for a sidearm.  It was a shame that if he found cause to use it here his plan had failed and he was most certainly dead.  There were too many.  Maybe forty or more of the Troopers moving around.

                 Getting to his knees set off a fierce ache in him – and he remembered suddenly he’d been holed up in a drainage culvert for days and had not stood, or even brought his knees up bent, in as long as a week’s time. They did not respond as he was used to. It would take time.  Time he did not have.  And he realized suddenly that getting to the shuttle would be a much harder proposition than he first believed.  Two crafts loomed on the landing pad.  The first was not his target.  A Sentinel-Class transport was too large, too slow, and too hard to pilot alone. It was also still functioning in some ways as the home of the Platoon of Stormtroopers currently nearby.  His target was the Lamda-Class shuttle further along.  And now, looking at the near 100 yard stretch between his position near the pipe and the shuttle, he felt his heart sank.

                 Corbin dragged himself to his feet.  The 100 yards he had to cross was cluttered with containers, both Imperial and otherwise, and it was dark.  The Storm Troopers had no idea anyone had survived at the Space Port besides a few locals, which were human, and had treated them dismissively as cattle.  That was good.  He had areas of cover and the area wasn’t entirely locked down.  Skilled fighters, or not, the years since the Rebellion’s collapse had made Imperial Forces a far cry from the paranoid police force that so many remembered.  It was strange how he could always summon up the optimism.  It was something others had always thought was wild.  And still, even as that confidence filled him again, he felt a sinking ache in his gut at the prospect of crossing to the shuttle.

                 The blaster pistol had always been a comfort to him – it was not one now.  There were easily a dozen, or more, blaster rifles and pistols between his position near the drainage pipe and the shuttle that represented life.  He was underfed, weak from days spent in the pipe, and alone. Still, he had to try.  There was nothing but for him to try.  Corbin liked his life but had long suspected the luck would run out.  When he was younger, of course, he’d all the confidence of youth.  Death happened to those more foolish, less talented, and less lucky than he’d been.  Now, he knew better.  Death simply happened.  It didn’t consider who, or when, or where.  He checked the pistol one last time.  He flexed his legs.  And then Corbin, feeling more aware of his own mortality than he ever had, made up his mind to cross to the shuttle or die trying.

 ----------------------

( 1 Day Before Present Time – Same Time  – The Mandalorian – Outer Rim Planet 223 )

 “Query:  Master, Corbin Cross has proven to be fairly useful for a meatbag, but retrieving him seems an unnecessary risk.  Are you certain we should?”

                 The droid looked disarmingly similar to a protocol droid – tall and bipedal.  Two rectangles for eyes glowed gold, a narrow profile of features that held the vague structure of a humanoid face, but there was something cold and empty in its lack of expression.  Still, Garrus felt a smile tug at his lips beneath the expressionless mask of his helmet. Six One’s disdain for organic beings was something he’d come to find humor in.  It lightened an otherwise grim moment.  Still, he did not answer the droid, and instead fed a fresh cell into the HD-507a Blaster Rifle with a metallic “CLACK!” as his palm shoved it into the receiver.  

 “Resigned Statement: Very well, Master.  Are you going to attempt a quiet insertion?”

                 It was his preferred method and he was not surprised the droid had made the assumption.  Still, partnerships were about compromise, and The Mandalorian could not refute the cold-blooded truth that he hated the Imperials.  Now, more than ever.  A hard exit, or an easy one, did not matter.  In his mind he saw two paths converging to the same impossibly true end.  It did not matter.  Either end drenched in blood.  They all did. And so he turned to leave the cockpit and head into the hold, rifle in his hands, and spoke without looking back to the droid.

 “No time.  Come in firing.”  He said.

 “Delighted Exclamation: Oh, yes, Master!  I will be sure to eliminate all of those filthy IR meatbags.”

                 The droid’s reply was filled with audible excitement.  And, almost as quickly, he heard the familiar tones as the console echoed preemptive warm-up commands for The Unbroken Promises’ various weapon systems.  The ship’s corridors were familiar haunts. It had been his home for many years. The durasteel decking gave metallic clicks beneath the weight of his purposeful strides.  Under the leather duster his armor moved with him, flawless in fit, molded to the powerful stretch of his body.  Atop it, crossing his back and flanking his shoulders, his bandoliers were presently empty.  He turned into his quarters, spartan in décor, and moved to the far wall where his fingers made familiar movements over the false wall’s hidden keypad until it retracted.  Within, veiled in an internal vault, he found what he needed to fill the pouches of his bandolier with spare energy cells for his blaster rifle and projectile cylinders for his sidearm.  A few grenades were hung on the leather sling as well.

 Inside his helmet, through the onboard commlink, he heard the droid’s voice.

 “Preemptive Statement: Master, thirty seconds until we are in weapon’s range.  We are, so far, undetected on their scanners.”

 “I’ll be at the port loading ramp.  Engage their vehicles first.  Make it loud. Drop the ramp when we’re in position.”

 “Affirmative, Master.” The droid responded.

                 Moving, Garrus found his way to the cargo bay. His gloved hands cleared the weapon hot. The familiar weight of it in his arms, the familiar strength of his hands closing around it, and the way he shouldered it.  All at once they closed into weapon’s range and he felt the familiar sounds of The Unbroken Promises’ twin missile launchers unload their ordinance. “THUMP” went the starboard tube. “THUMP” went the port.  And briefly in the hold a flare of heat as they sent the high-explosive concussion missiles streaking towards their targets.

 “Six One, give me the feeds.”

 “Affirmative, Master.” Came the reply.

                 And at once, within his helmet, he saw Six One’s perspective as the missiles flashed out across the hardpan of the ruined planet. They elevated as they neared the spaceport, coming on quickly now, as The Unbroken Promise sped full tilt towards the spaceport.  The missiles arched swiftly down.  Striking, savagely, the Lamda-Class Shuttle amidships and detonating in a plume of fire and molten steel.  The shuttle lifted briefly off the pad, as though it was attempting to take off, before it erupted from stem to stern in a mushroom cloud of heat and fire.  It was gone a moment later.  A fin from its tail went spiraling across the spaceport, crumpling as it went.  He saw the white shapes of troopers scattering in confusion.  The other missile struck the larger troop transport in the nose.  The explosion broke the ship’s back, lifting the tail nearly thirty meters into the air, before it fell back heavily and buckled on the decking.  Men died as they were consumed by the flames and shards of steel and armor as it splintered in all directions.  A larger, secondary explosion rippled across its back to the stern as fuel lines ruptured and the sublight engines cooked off in spectacular plumes of flame and fire.

 “Master, ten seconds.”

                 It was all gone then.  The feeds from the ship’s cockpit, the noise and the thoughts.  All at once he toggled his helmet’s display to feed him with targeting data.  How familiar it was.  The sterile oxygen fed through the scrubbers of the helmet.  He was not like those Troopers.  Not like the smugglers, the farmers, the settlers, or the politicians. He was heir to a legacy.  Forged of steel.  Forged of blood.  Forged of battle.  The oath lived in him, as it had generations before.  This was the way.  The way it had been for all those who had given their life for a cause, for honor. For the countless men who had died in battle besides brothers he would perhaps never know.  They were all but extinct now.  Scourged from the galaxy by the Empire.  Broken.  Ruined. And all those had given their lives. All of those had poured themselves into battle for one another, for the creed, for the timeless bonds of brotherhood forged in war after war after war.  They were gone now.  Ghosts forgotten to time.  But they were not.  

 ----------------------

( 1 Day Before Present Time – Corbin Cross – Outer Rim Planet 223 )

                 He had made it half-way to the shuttle when he was spotted.  And they’d opened up on him.  He’d barely made the crate for cover before blaster bolts lanced crimson death through the air, cutting past him to strike the duracrete decking and strike the large loading crate he’d tucked himself behind.  He’d simply been too slow.  There’d simply been too many.  In truth – he suspected most wouldn’t have made it nearly as far.  His number came up and Corbin did what he could, cleared the pistol a final time with a quick glance, and leaned out.  The first two Troopers had moved up on him quickly, closing the distance, not respecting his ability to defend himself.  He used them to send a message.  His first shot caught the left-most trooper in the throat and torn it out, sending him backward to paw feebly at it as he bled out on the landing pad.  The other had snapped a panic shot off that had missed him.  Corbin flinched, but recovered quickly, firing a shot in reply. The blaster bucked gently in his hand before his bolt hit the Trooper square in the chestplate and staggered him, absorbing the impact.  He fired two more times.  The first glanced off the Trooper’s helmet and whirred harmlessly into the night sky. The other caught him in the much thinner armor near his underarm and punched deep, burning through him, a lethal hole that clearly took some lung with it and the trooper sagged heavily before going to the ground.  

                 The others began to take tactical positions that pinned him where he remained.  He barely made it back behind the crate as they returned fire.  But none advanced.  Wary, suddenly, now that he’d killed one of their ranks and potentially mortally wounded a second.  This was it, though.  He knew that. With grenades, maybe, he could fight his way to one of the shuttles or a nearby speeder to try and make a break for it. But he had none.  And this was not a good position to be stuck in.  Sooner, not later, they would begin to use suppressing fire to keep him pinned before flanking him.  The only question was where they would flank from first.  His guess, the most accessible position they had, was to his left.  And so, dropping to a knee, he levelled the blaster and trusted his luck.

 He saw movement and fired. His bolt didn’t land but the trooper turned to consider where it came from.  He’d chosen correctly.  The next shot struck the trooper in the belly, soaked by the armor, but he landed two more that knocked it on its back and it did not move.  Unconscious, or dead, Corbin did not know.  The second trooper was trying to run past and he fired a volley that missed him.  Cursing, Corbin immediately replaced the pistol’s power cell and unloaded the entire thing on the Trooper’s position.  In cover, the Trooper was not in harm’s way, but he couldn’t fire either. Corbin reloaded.  He had two cells left.  

 And then he felt something pass overhead.

                 The blast knocked him off his feet.  He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened until he landed on his back and turned, taking note of the fireball lifting into the sky where the Lamda-Class shuttle had just been a moment ago.  Now, all that was left was a swirling mess of twisted steel and flames, a few dead Troopers littered the landing pad. Corbin was beginning to rise, his eyes darting to a few of the cargo skiffs and speeders at the far end of the dock, his gut telling him this was his chance.  But the second explosion knocked him flat again as the Troop Transport bucked off the pad under the force of a missile strike that tore it asunder and broke its back.  Secondary explosions began to belch fire from its belly hatches before the engines cooked off and Corbin, for the first time, took a moment to recognize what was happening.

 “Mando?!”  He shouted into the commlink.

 “We’ll cover you.” Came the cold, mechanical voice of The Mandalorian.

 “I’m moving slow.”  He reluctantly confessed in answer.

                 The Unbroken Promise was unspectacular looking form the outside.  The Corellian Disc Freighter was a design from the middle of the Galactic Civil War, a YT-1930, and its flanks were painted an unimpressive grey trimmed only in red and green.  It looked battered and aged.  And, while maintained meticulously (he knew) did not appear nearly as dangerous as it was. The ventral quad cannon opened up as it descended side-long in a skid-like maneuver to the pad.  It moved rapidly, selecting vehicles as targets, and cycled through dual blasts of heavy laser cannon fire that ripped targets to pieces.  From hidden compartments two repeating blasters dropped, moving by the Droid’s command he knew, and opened up on the Troopers beginning to recover and respond to this new threat.  

                 A virtual torrent of repeating blaster fire opened up as both ventral cannons machine-gunned down Troopers caught in the open.  Their bolts passing entirely through men and their armor as though they were paper, knocking them aside with murderous ease.  Corbin was moving already, abandoning his cover, struggling forward in the open as the docking ramp opened.  The Mandalorian had his rifle at his shoulder and was firing.  Corbin didn’t bother to look back.  He did not need to.  All he knew was gratitude.  And surprise. The Mandalorian had returned.

                 The armored figure leapt down and in an instant Corbin felt lighter.  The Mandalorian had curled an arm around his back and lifted, displaying an almost unnatural strength.  The world tilted, grew fuzzy, but the last he knew was a sense of being lifted off his feet entirely.  And the vague, absent sense of relief.  

 He was saved.

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

(Present Time – “The Mandalorian” Garrus Stark - Jakku )

                 She circled to her right, away from his own right hand, with footwork much improved since their previous turn together. Here, upon the empty pad, they were free to train in the ruinous shadow of abandoned buildings and docking facilities. The morning sun was only just rising to spread a slow blush of crimson and gold along the horizon, bathing them in fresh morning light.  She circled to her right, and he cut her off, forcing her back the way she had came. She switched her feet to compensate and her left hand, predictably, lifted to afford her vulnerable jawline its protection.  It was sound technique.  And that pleased him.  She’d learned the hard lesson of passive defense and taken it to heart.  But his challenge of her path to his left hand forced her back, revealing her intent, allowing him to once again pin her on her heels.                Boxing was, between them, the most brutal of courses.  She lacked reach, size, and strength.  She lacked experience.  In their other endeavors of training she had found ways to adapt, overcome, and compensate with skill or precision.  But here, now, she retreated too readily with both feet and thought. The lesson that she would learn was a hard one.  They had been sparring for twenty minutes and already her body wore a new host of bruises. She had not, as of yet, mounted any real offense.                Respect did not keep them from this.  He did not spare her his correction.  The world was a cold place and she had asked, insisted, that he give her the means by which she might one day defend herself.  Her independence and freedom so ferociously hard-earned that it provoked her to desire to keep it by any and all means.  But, to wandering eyes, what followed would have been hard to watch.  For, in his estimation, she required a reminder of failure’s cost.                He popped her with a left-handed jab that caught her glove, skipped off it, and deflected against the top of her head.  She moved through it easily, her left hand raised, but he doubled the effort and she stepped away, trying to create space and distance. Between them, in styles, she had long ago learned to adapt to the difference in their physical prowess.  In Judo, and other aspects of training, she had moved more quickly.  In fencing she had rapidly shown promise.  But boxing was a difficult problem for her to solve.  And now, abruptly, he punished her.  Her attempt to claim space forced her to step back and to her left, avoiding his left hand, and circling her directly towards his right. He unloaded, savagely, a brutal hook that her glove mostly caught but sent her staggering.                  And he was on her then, digging his glove into her lean ribs, thudding blows that sought soft tissue and to drive the air from her.  Patient, relentless, digging as she weaved, covered, and weaved again.  Trying to keep her left hand by her ear, protecting her head, and using her elbow and arm to “chicken wing” her ribs and keep them covered.  His punishment was savage.  Relentless.  And here, here the dichotomy between their nights together and others seemed most stark. It was not a fair fight.  His size, his power, and more importantly a life within Mandalorian culture had honed him for this.  He took his time, buying space, until at last her left glove slipped down to try and cover her ribs after a particularly rough blow cut past her arm and struck her solidly.   “Oof.”  She grunted as the air nearly left her.                And then there was a low “thud” as his gloved right hand smashed brutally into her temple, driving her down into the deck and ending, for now, their brief but brutal contest.   “You defeat yourself before you begin.” He said steadily.  The blunt nature of his criticism often riled her. He did not console her with the encouraging sign of her lifted hand.  Nor did he address that the job had taken him away from her a month, returning him only the day prior, or any rumors as to it she may have heard.  This was the way it had always been between them.  And, more pressingly, she had not found a way to beat him by hand.

                 Jakku was, in a strange way, beautiful.  The bleak purity of it stretched out beyond, endless, in the shifting and rolling tides of dunes.  It was home, of course, to the usual scum and less-fortunates that the galaxy offered.  It was a hard life here.  But there was a purity in it, he found, which was why he lingered here rather than the seductive promise of Nar Shaddaa.  The girl had never seen his face.  None had since he had sworn to the code.  All she knew of him was the mask’s cold visage, pale green slits where his eyes should be, and unchanging beskar forged around him.  The voice she heard was filtered through a vocal modulator.  And, still, there was some fondness between them. She did not look capable of living alone in this place but she had, and had been doing so for long before he had helped her improve her martial arts.   “But you kept your left up this time.” He said steadily, watching her rise, his hands working the padded gloves off.  This was the most she had seen of his skin.  Hints of the man beneath.  His hands were bare, scarred, and broad-palmed with long, capable fingers.  The bulk of his armor lay aside, resting on the walkway of The Broken Promise, the ship that was his home.  An old Corellian disc freighter, The Broken Promise looked every bit as rundown and hard luck as the planet that currently held her.  Pale grey armor plating had been coated with slate grey paint once, long ago, and now showed fading and peeling from wear and tear.  The edges, chased in Crimson, had faded to a well-worn burgundy.  The massive exhaust port for her ion engine loomed over them and they retreated under the port-side of it into the shade and towards the ramp that lead into the cargo hold.                  The armor, a rig of matte black plates and nano-weave fibers, lay crumpled there.  And the Mandalorian, wearing his helmet, wore only a slate-grey body glove that veiled all his flesh (save for his hands) from view.  She was the only human, for as long as he could remember, that had even seen him in this much undress.  The bottom half of his body was still clad in armor.  Tactical leggings with tactical knee pads, greaves, and beskar thigh plates. “I got a deal for you.”  He said then, changing topics, watching her through the mask of his helmet.

[custommachines]

Nuevas tecnologías que nos facilitan la conducción, otras que nos conectan a nuestra moto, y seis nuevos modelos, incluyendo la tan deseada eléctrica Live Wire, de un total de treinta y seis… Todo esto y más es lo que nos propone Harley-Davidson con su gama 2020.

Nuevas tecnologías H-D Connect y RDRS para algunos modelos Harley-Davidson

El servicio H-D

Connect introduce la conectividad celular por suscripción en una serie de motocicletas Harley-Davidson® para mantener a los conductores conectados a su motocicleta a través de su teléfono inteligente, utilizando la última versión de la aplicación Harley-Davidson

App*. El servicio H-D Connect permite a los propietarios conectarse de forma remota a su moto y ver información clave sobre el estado del vehículo. También proporciona al propietario la tranquilidad de poder controlar de forma remota la seguridad de su moto al incluir alertas de manipulación en la app Harley-Davidson® y un servicio de seguimiento del vehículo en caso de robo del mismo. Estará disponible a partir de otoño 2019 y vendrá de serie en los modelos Touring (exceptuando Road King 7 Road King S y Electra Glide Standard ), Tri Glide Ultra, los modelos CVO y en la Live Wire.

Reflex

Defensive Rider Systems (RDRS) es una nueva colección de tecnologías diseñadas para adaptar las prestaciones de la motocicleta con la tracción disponible durante las fases de aceleración, deceleración y frenado, utilizando las últimas tecnologías de control de parte ciclo, control electrónico de frenos y control de motor. El paquete RDRS forma parte del equipo de serie de los modelos LiveWire, Trike y CVO 2020, al igual que en los modelos Special y Limited de la familia Touring. Más comodiad, confianza y control!

Nuevos modelos: Live Wire, Low Rider S, Road Glide Limited, CVO Street Glide, CVO Limited y CVO Tri Glide.

El modelo Eléctrico de Harley-Davidson, la Live Wire

El modelo LiveWire es una motocicleta totalmente nueva, totalmente eléctrica; un nuevo modelo estimulante y evocador diseñado para ofrecer al piloto una experiencia de motociclismo de alto rendimiento, infundida con un nuevo nivel de tecnología y el aspecto y la sensación de alta calidad de un producto Harley-Davidson. Propulsada por el motor de par inmediato totalmente eléctrico H-D

Revelation

, la LiveWire es capaz de acelerar muy rápidamente con sólo girar el acelerador, sin necesidad de embragar ni de cambiar de marcha. Con una autonomía a partir de 158 km**, el rendimiento está optimizado para el conductor urbano. El modelo LiveWire es el primero de una amplia gama de vehículos eléctricos de dos ruedas diseñados para situar a Harley-Davidson como líder en la electrificación de motocicletas.

Harley-Davidson Live Wire 2020

Harley-Davidson Live Wire 2020 versión Rock

Harley-Davidson Live Wire 2020 versión música electrónica

Nueva Low Rider S con chasis Softail y motor de 114 ci.

La nueva motocicleta Low Rider S adopta un enfoque basado en el rendimiento que hace hincapié en la potencia, la agilidad de conducción y el control mejorado del piloto, combinado con el carácter tradicional de Harley-Davidson. El comportamiento del chasis Softail se ve mejorado con unos componentes de suspensión de primera calidad ajustados para una conducción agresiva, impulsados por la potencia de un motor Milwaukee-Eight® 114 de gran potencia. El estilo estético inspirado en las preparaciones de la costa de California incluye un manillar elevado, un mini carenado, un asiento monoplaza y acabados oscurecidos.

Harley-Davidson Low Rider S 2020

El nuevo modelo Road Glide Limited sustituye al modelo Road Glide Ultra

El nuevo modelo Road Glide Limited sustituye al modelo Road Glide Ultra para 2020 y ofrece nuevas características de lujo de primera calidad, entre las que se incluye una pintura fileteada, un interior de carenado con acabado brillante, puños calefactados, llantas Slicer II Contrast Bright y nuevos medallones para el depósito y los guardabarros delantero y trasero. La Road Glide Limited es un modelo especializado en viajes de larga distancia en pareja, dotado del característico y aerodinámico carenado Road Glide de morro de tiburón con triple entrada de ventilación para evitar las turbulencias del viento en la cabeza del piloto. El motor Milwaukee-Eight 114 de serie ofrece un rendimiento suave y potente para viajar, mientras que la doble óptica delantera LED Daymaker® ofrece una visibilidad nocturna excepcional.

Harley-Davidson Road Glide Limited 2020

La suspensión Premium Touring incluye una precarga del amortiguador trasero de fácil ajuste para una conducción suave y segura. Los frenos Reflex

 combinados electrónicamente y dotados de ABS ofrecen un rendimiento de frenado seguro. El sistema multimedia Boom 

 Box GTS con pantalla táctil en color ofrece opciones de navegación, comunicación y entretenimiento.

La nueva opción de acabado negro para los modelos 2020 Ultra Limited y Road Glide Limited ofrece a estos modelos un aspecto enigmático directamente de fábrica. El paquete Black Finish incluye: Ruedas Slicer II en fundición de aluminio acabadas en color Gloss Black, medallones del depósito y de los guardabarros delantero y trasero en Gloss Black rodeado Charcoal, motor, cárteres y escapes pintados al polvo en Gloss Black, además de bisagras, cierres y parrilla del sistema Tour-Pak®, consola, plataformas reposapiés, manillar, biseles de relojes, manetas, palancas, espejos, faro Daymaker LED, embellecedores, luces antiniebla LED (sólo en el modelo Ultra Limited), correderas y cubiertas de horquilla, guardabarros y protectores de motor y de maletas pintados en color negro.

Nuevo sistema antibloqueo de frenos (ABS) de serie: El sistema electrónico de frenos antibloqueo (ABS) Brembo®, que antes era opcional en algunos modelos Touring, ahora forma parte del equipo de serie en todas las motocicletas Touring 2020. El ABS está diseñado para evitar que las ruedas se bloqueen al frenar y ayuda al conductor a mantener el control al frenar en línea recta.

Nuevos modelos CVO, las niñas mimadas de la Company

El nuevo modelo CVO

 Tri Glide® se une a las CVO

 Limited y CVO

 Street Glide® dentro de la oferta 2020 de motocicletas CVO de superlujo y producción limitada. Creados para clientes exigentes, los modelos CVO ofrecen acabados de alta calidad, tecnología avanzada, componentes exclusivos y una atención al detalle que bordea lo obsesivo, diseñados y ensamblados según los estándares de calidad de la fábrica y respaldados por la garantía Harley-Davidson®. El motor Milwaukee-Eight® 117 – el de mayor cilindrada y potencia ofrecido por la fábrica H-D – es exclusivo de los modelos CVO. 

Nueva CVO Street Glide, el Hot Rod Bagger

La CVO Street Glide es una arrolladora hot rod bagger de primera calidad que combina un rendimiento muscular, una locura de detalles a medida y un espectacular sistema de audio.

Harley-Davidson CVO Street Glide 2020

Las nuevas características del modelo CVO Street Glide 2020 incluyen:

Llantas Fugitive de fundición de aluminio

Consola de depósito de perfil rebajado de dos piezas 

Filtro de aire Heavy Breather con dos tratamientos de pintura

Deflectores de aire tintados en el centro del bastidor

Espejos de carenado mecanizados 

Hay tres nuevas opciones de pintura/decoración disponibles para la CVO Street Glide 2020:

Black Stardust Fade degradado a Stormcloud con sutiles gráficos resaltados con acabados en Satin Chrome y  Bright Chrome. Llantas Fugitive pintadas en  Gloss Black/Satin. Filtro de aire Ventilator.

Smokey Gray y Black Hole con nuevos gráficos inspirados en los años 70 y en la competición, resaltados por los acabados en Gloss Black, Satin Black y Black Onyx. Llantas Fugitive en Denim Black/Gloss Black. Filtro de aire Heavy Breather en Gloss Black.

Premium Sand Dune monotono perlado y sutiles gráficos resaltados con acabados en Smoked Satin Chrome, Gloss Black y Black Onyx.. Llantas Fugitive pintadas en Gloss Black/Satin. Filtro de aire Heavy Breather en Gloss Black.

El PVP para el modelo 2020 CVO Street Glide es de € 45.100*.

La nueva CVO Limited 2020, dispuesta a comerse más kilómetros todavía

El modelo CVO Ultra Limited ofrece lo más avanzado en términos de confort, lujo y estilo para viajes de largo recorrido. Las nuevas características para el modelo 2020 incluyen la tecnología Reflex

Defensive Rider Systems (RDRS), nuevo material y costuras para el asiento y el respaldo del conductor y del pasajero, y nuevos deflectores de aire tintados en el centro del bastidor.

Harley-Davidson CVO Limited 2020

Hay tres nuevas opciones de pintura/decoración disponibles para la CVO Ultra Limited 2020:

Moonlight Blue con detalles en Deep Sea Blue realizados con un estilo moderno de pintura en dos tonos y panelado, resaltado con acabados en Satin Chrome y  Bright Chrome y nuevos gráficos y medallones; llantas Tomahawk en Contrast Gloss Black/Satin.

Smokey Gray con detalles en Stormcloud realizados con un estilo moderno de pintura en dos tonos y panelado resaltado con acabados en Gloss Black, Satin Black y Black Onyx y nuevos gráficos y medallones; llantas Tomahawk acabadas en Contrast Denim Black/Gloss Black.

Premium Sand Dune monotono perlado y sutiles gráficos resaltados en Smoked Satin Chrome, Gloss Black y Black Onyx; llantas Tomahawk en Gloss Black/Smoked Satin.

El PVP del modelo CVO Ultra Limited 2020 es de € 48.100*.

Tri Glide 2020, el Trike definitivo

La CVO Tri-Glide es el “Trike Definitivo”, un trike de superlujo con un estilo distintivo, unas potentes prestaciones y una gran capacidad para viajes de larga distancia. Diseñado desde cero como una motocicleta de tres ruedas, el chasis Tri-Glide ofrece una estabilidad segura, una conducción cómoda y un manejo sencillo. Las suspensiones touring de alta gama incluyen una horquilla delantera con tecnología interna de doble válvula de flexión y una suspensión trasera con tecnología de emulsión y un ajuste de precarga mediante un mando único para ajustar el vehículo a la carga del equipaje y de los pasajeros. Un maletero integrado ofrece de 125 litros y 22,6 kg de capacidad de carga y está rematado por un portaequipajes Tour-Pak®. La CVO Tri-Glide está equipada con la tecnología Reflex

Defensive Rider Systems (RDRS) específica para trikes.

Harley-Davidson CVO Tri Glide 2020

Algunas de las características más destacadas del nuevo modelo CVO Tri-Glide:

Llantas en fundición de aluminio Tomahawk® Contrast Cut (delantera de 19” y traseras de 18”) 

Accesorios Kahuna

Collection: puños calefactados, estriberas, plataformas reposapiés para el conductor y el acompañante y terminales de silenciador.

Iluminación full led: Óptica delantera Daymaker®, luces antiniebla, luces traseras/de freno e intermitentes

Conducto de entrada de aire de carenado pintado en color a juego 

Parabrisas de perfil rebajado

Guardabarros delantero recortado para dejar más al descubierto la llanta personalizada. 

Maletero con cierre eléctrico y luz interior 

Asientos del conductor y del acompañante calefactados

Filtro de aire Ventilator con inserto 

Piñas de mandos iluminadas

Luz superior en el portaequipajes Tour-Pak 

Portaequipajes Tour-Pak

Sistema de equipaje y organizador de maletero específico CVO

Radio CB

El CVO Tri-Glide se ofrece en dos opciones de pintura: 

Blizzard White con un patrón gráfico de tres franjas, llantas en Gray Contrast Cut y acabados en cromo brillante.

Stardust negro con un diseño gráfico de tres franjas, llantas Gloss Black Contrast Cut y acabados en cromo brillante.

El PVP del modelo CVO Tri-Glide 2020 es de € 60.500*.

www.harley-davidson.com

https://ift.tt/2JcZBGX

[itsabikerslife]

March 22, 2019 at 04:29AM Video: Harley Davidson Custom Bagger Hot Rod https://www.itsabikerslife.com/2019/03/video-harley-davidson-custom-bagger-hot.html

[clubstyleeurope]

#cse • @urban_d9na Repost from @hcsky88 using @RepostRegramApp - // HOT ROD & BIKES WAS FUN 🦅🇺🇸🏍 • ⚒OUR PASSION OUR LIFESTYLE⚒ FOREVER TWO WHEELS, LIFESTYLE APPAREL👕 www.maniccrew.com 🛒 #maniccrew #maniccrewmfg #supportmaniccrew #sfv #riders #bikers #rides #rideout #harleydavidson #motorcylce #bagger #dyna #fxr #softail #sportster #chopper #bikes #lifestyle #bikelife #pin #apparel #哈雷 #ハーレーダビッドソン #狂躁人員きょうそう // https://www.instagram.com/p/Bu3dnKPgQbs/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=4toh0fryeb0x

[motosurplus]

2020 Harley-Davidson Street Glide Buyer's Guide: Specs, Photos, Price - Cycle World

2020 Harley-Davidson Street Glide Buyer's Guide: Specs, Photos, Price – Cycle World

H-D’s beloved Batwing bagger is back.Harley-Davidson calls it the “original stripped-down hot-rod bagger,” but however you spin it, that fork-mounted Batwing fairing is iconic. It’s been trolling the highways and byways as one of Harley’s most popular touring machines for almost 15 years, and for 2020, it leaves well enough alone, with a Milwaukee-Eight 107 engine as the sole powerplant option,…

[csajokamotoron]

Veronában debütált Paul Yaffe BMW R 18 Transcontinental átalakítása

Paul Yaffe, az egyedi motorkerékpárok látnoka ismét magasra tette a lécet legújabb remekművének, a BMW R 18 Transcontinental egyedi átalakításának leleplezésével. A klasszikus hot rod esztétikát a BMW jellegzetes esszenciájával ötvöző projekt, amely Yaffe kiváló tervezői képességeit bizonyítja a veronai Motor Bike Expo-n debütált. A BMW lényegének és a Hot Rod inspirációnak a megőrzése. Mielőtt belevágott volna, Paul időt töltött a BMW R18 Transcontinental megismerésével, 3800 mérföldet tekert át az Egyesült Államokon, és további 2600 mérföldet Sturgisig és vissza. Amint elkezdődött az átalakítási folyamat, Paul tudta, hogy egy olyan nagykerekű baggert szeretne létrehozni, amilyet még senki sem látott. A projekt szempontjából kulcsfontosságú volt, hogy a lehető legtöbb eredeti BMW-alkatrészt megőrizze. Paul azt szerette volna, ha egyedi alkotása autentikusan BMW-s marad, és tudta, hogy nem készülhet a meglévő termékcsalád alkatrészeiből, és nem is hasonlíthat azokhoz. Paul Yaffe’s custom BMW R-18. Finishing the project in Paul’s shop in Phoenix, Arizona, USA. Wednesday, December 27, 2023. Photography ©2023 Michael Lichter. Megrendelt egy 26" x 5,5" méretű első kereket, amelyet egy 400 font tömegű tömör alumíniumtömbből vágtak ki, és amely egy kézzel készített 180 mm széles első gumiabroncsot tart. A vázat meg kellett nyújtani és meg kellett domborítani, hogy az új első kerék elférjen rajta, és speciális kormánykifliket kellett tervezni a nyomvonal-méret korrekciója és a kezelhetőség optimalizálása érdekében. Az 50-es évek ikonikus Mercury Lead Sledjének megjelenését felölelve a csapat legyártott többféle egyedi alkatrészt, és módosította a meglévő R 18-as elemeket. Az acél első sárvédő úgy készült, hogy az eredeti R 18 sárvédőt több darabra vágták és átalakították úgy, hogy a fényszóró helyzete és az új első kerékbe való beillesztése helyes legyen. A burkolat és az üzemanyagtartály közötti rés kezelésére egy egyedi állspoilert fejlesztettek ki, amely stratégiailag elrejti a hűtőt. Ezenkívül egy exkluzív Yaffe Monkey Bars készletet is készítettek, hogy kiegészítsék az általános dizájnt. Paul Yaffe’s custom BMW R-18 detail. Wednesday, December 27, 2023. Photography ©2023 Michael Lichter. "A csapat meg akarta tartani a nyeregtáskák fedeleit, reteszeit és hangszóróit, ezért egy új "bőrkészletet" készítettek, hogy a táskák teljesen új és egyedi, nyújtott profilt kapjanak, miközben megtartották a BMW által számukra létrehozott kiváló mérnöki és funkcionális megoldásokat." Paul csapata az eredeti hátsó sárvédőt egy második R 18-as hátsó sárvédő elkészítésével bővítette, biztosítva, hogy az zökkenőmentesen illeszkedjen az új nyeregtáskák profiljához. Az amerikai custom szcéna legendája:1991 óta a custom motorkerékpárok világa Paul Yaffe-t a motorizált remekművek egyik elit alkotójaként ismeri. Ez azért van, mert Paul több mint építő vagy gyártó, ő valóban tervező. Az American Legend Motorcycle Company megalapításával kezdődően, amely később Paul Yaffe's Bagger Nation néven fejlődött tovább, olyan elismeréseket szerzett, mint az Oakland Roadster Show három "A világ legszebb motorkerékpárja" díja, az Easyriders Magazine két "Az év építője" és három "Az év trendteremtője" díja, valamint 2015-ben bekerült a Sturgis Hall of Fame-be. Egyedi motorjai világszerte több mint 300 magazincikkben szerepeltek, valamint a Discovery Channelen, a History Channelen és más televíziós műsorokban. Termékei, amelyeket hat országban működő partnerhálózaton keresztül forgalmaz, továbbra is a customizerek egy generációját inspirálják. Ahogy az építés kezdett formát ölteni, Yaffe átrendezte az eredeti R 18-as hátsó lámpákat a kézzel készített töltőlemezekbe, és klasszikus hot rod stílusban beledolgozott egy területet a rendszámtábla számára a sárvédőbe. Az eredeti R 18-as oldalsó borításokat is megnyújtotta, hogy megőrizzék eredeti formájukat, és nagyobb területet fedjenek le, valamint a tekintet a táskák irányába tereljék. Paul Yaffe’s custom BMW R-18 detail. Wednesday, December 27, 2023. Photography ©2023 Michael Lichter. Klasszikus ólomszánkó megjelenés. A klasszikus Lead Sled esztétikához hűen Yaffe két fontos alkatrészt helyezett előtérbe: a légrugózást és az oldalcsöveket. Paul és csapata egy kifinomult légtartály- és elosztórendszert, valamint egy külön keretet tervezett a nyeregtáskák mindkét oldala alá, hogy elférjenek benne a lényeges alkatrészek, beleértve a szükséges légtartályokat, egy méretes légkompresszort és a rendszer hatékony támogatásához és működéséhez szükséges összes vezérlőt, szelepeket és szolenoidokat. Paul Yaffe’s custom BMW R-18 detail. Tuesday, December 26, 2023. Photography ©2023 Michael Lichter. Az oldalsó csövek kialakítására összpontosítva a gyártócsapat arra törekedett, hogy megőrizze a jellegzetes "BMW-érzést". A klasszikus Boxer-kipufogócsövek megtartása Paul elképzelésében nem volt tárgyalhatatlan. A katalizátorokat eltávolították, helyet adva egy egyedi, perforált, nagy áramlású légterelő rendszernek. Ez az újítás nem csak a károsanyag-kibocsátási rendszert váltotta fel, hanem az optimális teljesítményhez szükséges ellennyomást is megtartotta. A hangélmény további fokozása érdekében egy precíziósan megmunkált 3 lépcsős kipufogórendszer került bevezetésre. Az utolsó simítás egy szélesre nyitott megafon volt, amely a klasszikus hot rod hangzás kvintesszenciáját adja. Minden a kozmetikán múlik. A kozmetikára összpontosítva Paul klasszikus hot rod hangulatot akart, zavaró grafikák nélkül, kiemelve a motor elegáns új profilját. A hangsúly az egyszerűségen és a csábításon volt. "Munkához láttunk, hogy tökéletesítsük az összes gyártott karosszériaelemet, és mindent üvegszerűre simítottunk." Paul Yaffe’s custom BMW R-18. Wednesday, December 27, 2023. Photography ©2023 Michael Lichter. Miután megállapodtak az időtálló, mélyfényű fekete fényezésben, a csapat figyelme a karosszéria tökéletességének elérése felé fordult. Paul hűséges fényezőjét, Hector Martinezt bízta meg a hibátlan fényes fekete festék felvitelével. Felismerve a kontraszt szükségességét, Paul a klasszikus ochs vérvörös belső tér mellett döntött. A művészet a tökéletes egyensúly megtalálásában rejlik. "A trükk az, hogy ne vigyük túlzásba!" A Guys Upholstery készítette a kortárs stílusú nyerget és a műszerfali konzolt, Hector pedig az első féknyergek színét keverte ki hozzá illő színben. "Úgy gondoljuk, hogy látványos lett!" Read the full article

[monterplant]

2022 Harley-Davidson Street Glide ST First Look Preview

2022 Harley-Davidson Street Glide ST First Look Preview

Harley-Davidson has introduced the 2022 Street Glide ST, a hot-rod bagger with gobs of power and head-turning good looks. (more…)

[ventosmotor]

Primer vistazo especial de Harley-Davidson Road King 2021: Hot Rod Bagger

La Harley-Davidson Road King Special 2021 es un modelo Touring que The Motor Company coloca en una subcategoría: Hot Rod Bagger. Para ganar ese título, el Road King Special maneja el gran V-twin Milwaukee-Eight 114 y se estrella contra el suelo con poco más de dos pulgadas de recorrido de la suspensión de las ruedas traseras. La novedad de este año es un faro LED Daymaker y un protector de motor de baja altura. El Road King Special no se trata solo de ser rápido y atractivo. ¡También tiene un boom! Sistema de información y entretenimiento Box GTS que cuenta con Android Auto y Apple CarPlay que se ve y se maneja en una pantalla táctil. Los colores siempre son una consideración importante, y la Harley-Davidson Road King Special 2021 tiene tres en oferta. Vivid Black es el color base, con un MSRP de $ 22,999. En la parte superior del rango de precios se encuentra la sorprendente pintura Snake Venom, que tiene una prima de $ 1000. En el medio, puede optar por el Deadwood Green inspirado en Sturgis por $ 23,449. Anteriormente hemos probado la Harley-Davidson Road King Special. Fotografía de Josh Kurpius, Jake Schmidt, Buddy Wilinski y Clutch Studios Especificaciones especiales de Harley-Davidson Road King 2021 MOTOR - Tipo: Milwaukee-Eight 114 V-twin - Desplazamiento: 114 pulgadas cúbicas (1868cc) - Diámetro x carrera: 4.016 "x 4.5" - Par máximo: 118 pies / libras a 3250 rpm - Relación de compresión: 10,5: 1 - Tren de válvulas: Read the full article

[hot-rod-specialties]

Our buddy Wes just brought us his custom bagger to see if the factory @harleydavidson backrest could be made to work with the aftermarket seat. After discussing it, Jarrod said it'd be just as easy to build a whole new custom seat, so that's getting underway now. #hot_rod_specialties_indy #hotrodspecialtiesindianapolis #hrsindy #harleydavidson #bagger #custombike #customseat (at Hot Rod Specialties, Indianapolis) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDMZlALJ64J/?igshid=yktumj2mkrax

[iamspeedrunner]

2020 Harley-Davidson Street Glide - 2020 Harley-Davidson Street Glide (Harley-Davidson /) Harley-Davidson calls it the original stripped-down hot-rod bagger but however you spin it that fork-mounted Batwing fairing is iconic. Its been trolling the highways and byways as one of Harleys most popular touring machines for almost 15 years and for 2020 it leaves well enough alone with a Milwaukee-Eight 107 engine as the sole powerplant option though it adds ABS as a standard feature. Fairing and loc... by @iamspeedrunner. Also, check out https://www.iamspeedrunner.com

[crazedshoppers]