#club car precedent roof tops

[mikearcyus]

Enhance Your Club Car Precedent with The Help Of A Stylish Roof Top: Options and Installation Tips

When it comes to Club Car Precedent roof tops, you have a variety of options to choose from. Each option offers unique features, aesthetics, and benefits, allowing you to customize your golf cart to your preferences. For details, you can contact Flip Fore Covers.

[deanirae]

Can you get it inside your head I’m tired of dancing?  

post 8.07 pre 8.08] crack/angst past turned unrequited deancas, implied deanbenny 2,4k [x]

The sun, also currently known as bitch, has got some serious nerve to sit where it always does, not upside down and nine miles to the left as it frankly should on this memorable fuckhat day. Where is the End of Days when it's really called for? When it should be really nigh?

Dean flips the front mirror panel down not to have to deal with at least that one disappointment. He can still see Cas's half-constipated, half-abandoned and kicked in its fluffy ass puppy face in the mercilessly annoying reflection. The obvious choice would be to not grace it with anything right now, but A – he's the one driving so his eyes can't wander off pretty far, especially in the barely sunlit grayness – and B – on his left, Sam is currently roleplaying a twelve year old girl that has her big emotional introspection accompanied by listening to Sarah McLahlan because her mean parents wouldn't let her buy ebola from the internet. Or something.

Point is, he's three hours into ostentatiously moping, trying to quietly terrorize Dean into making peace with Cas on the fly so it won't be awkward and problematique for him anymore. To Sam, Dean is just too inconvenient anytime he's inconvenient. And that, by order of nature herself, demands immediate and final stopping and ballot recounting also.

And Dean's point is, that it's not gonna happen anytime soon.

And Cas's point – assuming he’s still remotely capable of making those –  seems to be dead-set on that 50:50 face thing. And Dean regrets briefly glancing; with more or less the same intensity he regrets his whole life on the crap weather days his bones hurt harder than it should be legal.

Sam, in his hemhorroidal disturbance, reaches out to the tape deck and attempts to put anything on, but Dean feels like exactly zero of his tapes right now, so he swats Sam's hand off with a loud smack. Judging from the faces he gets for that, it's gotta be resonating in their heads a lot.

It's gonna be a long ride to Lousiana, way longer and more exhausting than the freshly puked from Purgatory one. In fact, the closer they get to Lafayette, the more tired he is and they won't start working the vetalas case until tomorrow night because apparently hanging around clubs on fridays is the new hanging downside of trees or whatever cool thing it was vetalas were doing before the rise of the all you can eat buffet of horny dicks certain they're gonna get reverse cowgirls for a two dollar drink. Or reverse cowboys. Fucking cheapskates. Some of them do have it coming. But in severe STDs, not in this.

In itself, waiting for the actual hunt really doesn't need to be a problem. It's just that Sam and Cas are fucked-bent on having it be one because—

“I said I'm going to stay with you and join you on hunts,” Cas finally snaps. „There's no need for this 'backup' as you call it, Dean.”

—Because that.

“Don't air quote it, man,” Dean mutters wearily, because of course Cas air quoted it.

“And there is absolutely no need for you to sleep in a vampire's camping truck when we have plenty of motels to pick from,” Cas rants on, zero deterred and plus ten determined, clearly not tuning into Dean's I don't wanna discuss that vibe.

Annnd because that too, yeah.

“Well I donno, I sure didn't want us to look like some sort of a hookup site for salvation army fashionistas threesome. You'll thank me later. Or you can do it now and shut up when you're done, how's that.”

“A vampire,” Sam interrupts his polished bitchface just to whine it out, which has to be peak brotherly care by his modern standards.

“You two asshats had no problem leaving me in vamp-vegas for a goddamn year,” Dean growls. “I am an adult adult and I need some me-time that isn't you time. And I'm gonna have awesome time while I'm at it. Sue me if that's a crime. Bother my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer”, says Sam.

“Aren’t you kind of a lawyer?” Dean remembers suddenly. “Or at least close enough for you two to bother each other and not me?”

“No, didn’t get to get there yet, thanks to you,” Sam mutters, also suddenly remembering the past life of his that was never meant to be.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Dean whines. “Did I set your girlfriend on fire?”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you missed me,” as if triggered by the word fuck, Cas drops the bomb with an evenness in his voice which hints at many things but Dean's brain is too stop-record screech to dissect them right now.

“What?” he blurts out, confused and affronted both.

“I thought you missed me,” Cas repeats, lower and harder like Dean's a stupid cat that won't spit out what it's chewing.

“Cas, I really don't wanna do this.”

“You kept praying to me to come back, Dean. After you were out of Purgatory. I heard you. Those were quite some prayers. Now you're putting yourself in real danger just to stay away from me. I don’t understand.”

Sam just stares at Dean, the always most helpful thing on the planet that he is. Thanks, Sam. Dean stares at the road. Cas stares daggers through the back of Dean's head. Poor Baby can't just leave this situation so she just keeps on rollin’. Nobody wins that day.

“That was before you told me you were lying your ass off just to kick me out last minute. Your subscription for my prayers and personal Jesus license have now expired, by the way. Like, the fuck does talking to you even do?”

“Fine!” Castiel snaps, so close to throwing his hands in the air for a grand effect but luckily thinking better of it since he's in a car that has a roof among other things. “I understand that you're angry—” he tries to start over, calmer, after a self-collecting breath.

“No, you don't,” Dean mutters.

“But you can't risk your life in the stupidest available way just to get back at me, Dean. Not after everything I've done to make sure you come back safe.”

Well at least he didn't include Sam in that „saving” part.

“You were there, man. You know Benny never double crossed me or you. What the exact fuck is your problem with him?”

A very angry squint-frown precedes the actual answer.

“You were his ticket to Earth. Now your life doesn't hold the same value.”

“Thanks, Cas. That's really swee—”

“You know that's not what I meant, Dean,” Cas growls in a tone that's clearly a final warning.

So final even Sam and his high horse must have heard since he steps in to defuse Cas.

“Cas, I'm not a fan of saying it, but Benny isn't a threat to Dean. I think the guy is kinda trying to settle,” he offers.

Dean smiles a little bit.

“See, Cas?”

“But I'm worried he might have more vamps trying to take him down because he pissed off every fang that ever knew him and then some. This is actual danger, Dean.”

“What?!” Castiel explodes in unbridled rage.

“Sam, have you ever wondered where do snitches go after they die?”

“Dean, you know I'm serious.”

“Ditches,” Dean concludes.

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Castiel asks coldly. “After you get killed by vampire avengers?”

“They're all taken care of, Cas. No mean jokes this time. Relax.”

“With your Winchester luck? I doubt it.”

“Oh, come on. It's not like you wouldn't bring me back even if something did happen.”

“Yes, even twice because first I would have personally destroyed you for being so reckless.”

“I know you would.”

“Guys,” Sam tries to placate, “we should all calm down and rethink how to handle it safely. It's not a good time for some jilted lovers tiff”, he begs.

Dean frowns then makes mocking faces at him to communicate that he's being a fucking douche.

“You're a fucking jilted lovers tiff,” he decides.

“We had sex, Dean,” Castiel states accusatorily.

Little does he know, he just broke Sam beyond repair. Now that the cat is out of the bag, the only thing Dean can do is to straighten some things out.

“Once,” he says, raising a finger to accentuate his point. “Cas was sure we were gonna die in the morning. We didn't, but there never was a follow up on that, so,” Dean shrugs.

“You weren't interested.”

“Says you,” Dean huffs. “I’m sorry, do you know me? Being interested in sex is in my top five pasttimes. You behaved like a brick on the other hand and I don’t know how to read concrete.”

“I don’t want to be here, good fucking God,” Sam finally yelps after a successful reboot of his brain.

Dean’s pretty sure nobody wants to be in this car right now and the only goddamn thing that could potentially make him ‘special’ right now is the fact currently Sam’s probably the only person in the Impala who has not lain his mouth on Cas’s dick. Hopefully.

Funnily enough, Cas could easily poof out without lethal injuries, but he’s dead set on staying, judging from the frown on his face that looks like a stock market crash diagram.

“I didn’t exactly see you giving me any signs.”

And set on having this conversation.

“I’m not a cat, I don’t go into heats, Cas. Can we talk about it somewhere more private? Later? Cuz everybody here wants to fucking die right now.”

“Private?” Cas asks. “If you want privacy to talk then why do you refuse to book a room with me?”

“We don’t need to share a room to have a conversation. Unless what you want it to end with is getting back on track with that last night on Earth thing we had that one time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam cries.

“Grow up and stow your crap, Sam,” Cas says unexpectedly before Dean could even bother to serve anything in a similar note.

Dean is so thrown off his equilibrium by that he puts the car to an abrupt halt. Only because he’s too deeply wired to not crash the Impala into the first available so he won’t accidentally kill Sam.

That is, if Cas’s words haven’t obliterated him already. He glances at him, just in case. Speechless as holily commanded by the celestial – potentially horny – wrath from the back seat, but at least he’s still breathing.

“Um,” he says, because someone’s gotta, because he’s still the big brother in this demented equation. “Cas, what the fuck was that?”

“Should you, of all people, really need me to be this blunt – now that the worst affairs have been settled, we could pick up where we left off, and hopefully reach a mutual understanding regarding the nature of our relationship so that doubt no longer hinders you. If it’s still something that interests you, of course. Would that be clear and direct enough, Dean?”

Well, that was… long? Long enough citations are probably needed, but, uh, yeah. S’ gotta be addressed immediately or else.

“Cas, that was 2010 and we have 2012 now.”

“It was 2012 when you prayed to me in Purgatory and it was 2012 four days ago. Granted, your feelings towards me might be very complicated, but I still can sense and read your longing,” Cas says with a weary sigh.

“Stop smelling my longing,” Dean responds with a wearier one. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“But I should explain myself to you.”

“I’m real fed up with your explanations, you know that? And we don’t got time for that, either. We need to get to Lafayette because we got a case waiting to get solved.”

“It’s because he’s waiting there for you, isn’t it,” Cas says sadly; not a question. A statement.

Dean doesn’t need to respond. Doesn’t feel like it, too.

Yeah. It’s good to actually have someone waiting for you; someone there.

Maybe it’s not that complicated, after all. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Dean starts the car. He’s got a place to go to.

The sound apparently wakes Sam from his stupor. His bright idea of the day, he turns the radio on before the awkward silence can make the universe inside of the Impala collapse on itself and on all three of them. Too late for Dean to react now; might as well get a load of the weather report.

In the back seat, Cas flicks his wrist subtly and the monotone voice sharply cuts off into static for a moment and the frequency bar moves elsewhere on its’ – or rather, Cas’s – own.  Some solitary synthesiser-made sounds drop one after another like tiny steps and Dean realizes he definitely has heard this song before at some point in his life as eighties one hit wonders ain’t no strangers to him. Oh well. Might as well not get any of the wea—

Looking from a window above, it’s like a story of love… Can you hear me?

Is he fucking kidding?!

Came back only yesterday, I’m moving farther away.... Want you near me…

“Are you fucking kidding?” Dean cries out, incredulous.

Tries to turn the radio off but it just won’t die.

All I needed was the love you gave— “You want melodramatic? I’ll give you melodramatic.” —All I needed for another day — Dean reaches out for his phone and starts typing angrily — and all I ever knew, only you.

He puts on good ol’ Fish and hopes it’s gonna be louder than Cas’s synth-pop loving. And starts driving towards where he wants to be cause he’s tired of dancing.

[jamlally]

All eyes on you pt 4

Warning: This story definitely has some Dubcon possibly some NonCon and features a Dark!Steve as well as a shady!Bucky in places. This is NOT a happy here he come to save the day fic.  If you don’t like that then please don’t read this.  It is intended for 18+ readers only 

Steve took a moment to wash his hands in the sink, the clear water soon turning pink as the blood washed away “You know, there is a lot of modern technology that I don’t get, but mobile phones, they are just so convenient,  It took me maybe 5 minutes to get your details,Gavin.  Five minutes and I knew where you lived, what you do for a living and how many parking tickets you’ve had. Once I had that information it took a few clicks and I was guided right to your door”  A low groan came from behind him and he turned as he dried his hands on a tea towel that was lying on the side.  Leaning back against the worktop he looked down at the man on the floor

 “You see, you thought you were untouchable, but it turns out that wasn’t the case.  You’re behaviour tonight wasn’t acceptable, but I think you’ve learnt that now, haven’t you ? If I were you I would avoid Nocturne, if you were to go there and make more poor choices, well what happened tonight will seem like child’s play”  

Moving forward he squatted down in front of the man who had dared to lay hands on his Belle.  With one hand he turned the mans head to face his way, holding it there until the battered man was able to open one of his eyes.  They were quickly swelling closed but for the moment he could still make eye contact, “Don’t make me come back here again, and don’t run.  Remember 5 minutes is all I took”  

He could see the fear in the guys eyes.  As tough as he had acted earlier in the night, when Steve kicked in his door, the tough guy act was dropped in only a  couple of minutes after Steve had shown him what it was like for someone to put their hands on you when you couldn’t do anything about it. 

“You’ll want to get some ice on those ribs friend” he added as he walked away pausing by the door  “And call a locksmith to fix the door up.  It looks like the lock was broken when someone tried to break in.  It’s lucky that you caught them before they did too much damage”  He glanced at his watch seeing that it was later than planned.  Hopefully he wouldn’t miss being able to keep an eye on his girl as she headed home.

He had been sure that he would miss her leaving tonight but it seemed that she too was running late.  They really were that well aligned.  He didn’t have time to get behind her and take his usual route, so instead he headed up to the roof tops, making use of a fire escape.  He could tell that she was tense after tonight, she didn’t have her ear buds in and she was moving in a more jerky way, trying to keep an eye on everything.  He as glad that she was being more aware but he hated that she didn’t feel safe.  As her pace continued to increase, he grew concerned, what had her so spooked?  He kept pace with her, he could see the subway up ahead and realised that he would need to head down to be able to keep following her.  As she came close to where she would cross he spend up and jumped from the roof landing with a solid thud onto he ground, bending his knees to absorb some of the impact, but he still felt the jolt through his joints. Super soldier serum made him stronger but his body still felt the forces and damage before his body healed.  He could see his girl up the road, checking to see that it was safe to cross, she was wiping at her face, as she stepped down, he saw her ankle turn and started to run, but he knew that he wouldn’t get there before she hit the ground.  He watched her try and brace for impact, saw her wrist collapse, her head hit the ground and then nothing.  Reaching her prone body he crouched down, rolling her to her back and gently brushing her hair out of her face.  “Belle?” He didn’t get a response, so he started to assess her condition. She had been crying, he brushed the tears from her face, his hand lingering on her skin, she was so soft and delicate - had someone else done something to his girl? or was it just hold over from the earlier events? He could see that there was a bruise on her forehead, it looked like she had managed to knock herself out. He could guess that her ankle was at best strained, at worst broken, and her wrist obviously bothered her.

 “My poor girl” He moved her bag onto her stomach and then slipped one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees before standing with her held close to him,  She felt like a feather to him, she was too light for his liking but he could help her look after herself better,  Taking a second to shift her in his arms he moved her so that her head rolled onto his chest.  Dropping his head he pressed his face into her hair taking a deep breath,  While he could still smell the scents from the club her own scent was still there.  Drawing in a second deep breath he allowed her scent to surround him and sooth him.  He The sound of a car in the distance brought his attention back to the here and now.  If someone was to see him here then they would be asking questions he didn’t want to deal with  He hadn’t been ready to meet her, but it seemed that fate had taken a hand and moved things forward. He checked the area, made note of the street name and the cameras there before heading back into the shadows with Belle held close to his body.  

The first thing that Belle noticed was that she was warm.  Warmer than she would have been if she was lying in the street, warmer than if she was in her apartment, where the heating wasn’t working properly again.  The urge to just curl up and sleep was strong,  Her head, wrist and legs hurt, and she was fairly sure that opening her eyes wouldn’t make her feel any better.  Sleep pulled at her find, becoming her to come in, but her bladder was starting to make itself known and it didn’t feel like it would take no for an answer.

Slowly she opened one eye preparing for the pain that would come when the light hit.  The pain didn’t come, so she opened both eyes and took a second to process what she was seeing.  She was in a nice room, it was very classical. there were traditional wooden features and furniture, and the room was lit with a warm yellow light that didn’t make her eyes hurt. This didn’t seem like any kind of hospital that she had ever been to.  When she tried to turn her head, the pain was there though and she couldn’t help but groan.  The sound of water running preceded what sounded like a door opening from the other side of the room.  Slowly she turned towards the noise, grimacing as she did.  In the doorway, partially in shadow was a man, and not one that she recognised. 

“H.. He…” she coughed grimacing as her head pounded.  Her throat was dry and scratchy “Hello” The figure moved and as they stepped into the light she knew for sure that they weren’t someone that she knew.  He was tall, very broad shouldered, with what looked like darker hair and a full beard.  He headed over to her bed, a soft smile on his face

“Belle” his hand reached out to her, gently touching her forehead before stroking down the side of her face, until his fingers curled slightly under her jaw in what felt like a very intimate gesture,  She couldn’t keep eye contact with him while he touched her like that,  it seemed inappropriate some how.  His fingers applied a small amount of pressure  encouraging her to raise her eyes. “I am happy to see you awake at last, I was worried about you.”

Belle tried to smile but she was sure it came out strained at best “I, I’m not sure where I am and, I’m sorry but I don’t” she pulled in a breath “I don’t remember you”

“Of course you don’t doll.  You’ve had a hard night.  We can talk more about where we are when you’re feeling up to it, but what you need to know is that you’re safe, no one can hurt you here.  Now can I get you anything ? Some water perhaps?”

She couldn’t take it all in, safe? Had someone been trying to hurt her?  That presence that she had felt,  had it been more than her imagination? Focusing seemed beyond her and she couldn’t get her thoughts in order

“Belle? Did you hear me”

The strange mans voice focused her a little “ Yes, Sorry it’s all just a bit ….. well strange.  Water would be good but ummm….”

“Yes” he smiled at her in an encouraging way 

“I um..” she felt her face redden “I need to um, use the bathroom” God she felt like a three year old having to ask for help. 

“Of course. how inconsiderate of me.  Let me help you, your ankle isn’t in the best shape”  He was already moving as he spoke, pulling back the covers.  She found she was in her vest top, bra and underwear but nothing else,  Her blush just reddened as she took in her state of undress in front of this strange man.  Before she could say anything he had picked her up in his arms holding her close and was heading across the room.  She wasn’t sure but it sounded like he sniffed her.  The bathroom lights made her wince and turn her face into his chest.

“Close your eyes” his voice was soft and soothing in her ear, and without question she did as he asked.  The light was gone and then he moved into the room,  there was some jostling and then she was set down on what felt like a toilet “Give me a second” She could hear him walking away and going through a draw, then a scratching hiss. “Ok you can open your eyes now ‘

When she opened her eyes there was a soft warm light coming from a large pillar candle that had been lit. 

“Thank you” she looked over before she dropped her eyes “I think I can probably manage this bit”  

“Oh, of course” he seemed a little caught out  “I’ll be in the other room, when you’re ready”

When the door was closed Belle took a second to pull in a deep breath and try and get her mind clear.  Everything was so confusing. How had this man found her  and who was he ?  She wasn’t going  to get answers sitting here uncomfortable. The relief she felt on being able to control her bodily functions was something.  As she washed up she looked over herself taking in a bruise on her head and how pale her face was.  She dropped her eyes, what a mess. and more than that she was saved by someone she didn’t even know, sure he seemed like a nice guy.  He had brought her to his home, or so she figured, and made sure that she was warm and tended to, but it was more than a little odd that he hadn’t just called for an ambulance and waited with her until they came.  The more she thought about it the more she felt uncomfortable and that feeling of panic from earlier started to come back. There had to be a rational explanation as to his behaviour didn’t there?  Maybe he didn’t have a phone, or maybe he had seen someone trying to hurt her? Belle’s breath was starting to come out in gasping pants and her hand shook as she raised it to her head, rubbing at her temple where her headache was starting to demand her attention. Pulling her head back up she could see her eyes wide and panicked looking back at her from the mirror, she frankly looked a mess. 

A soft knock on the door brought her attention back to the room, but getting her breathing under control seemed beyond her.  Her heart pounded and a matching pain drummed in her head.  Her mouth started to water and she felt like she was going to vomit, or pass out.

The door creaked open and her eyes met the blue of the stranger, the welling feeling of nausea had Belle closing her eyes, she could feel the sweat breaking out on her forehead.  She wanted to speak, to ask for yet more help, but she couldn’t get the words to form, she couldn’t get her breath to be under her control, her heart was pounding and she could see speckles around the edge of her vision. 

“Easy there” a warm hand on her cheek gave her something to focus on “It looks like you moved a little too fast, let's get you back to bed” The strangers hands were warm and firm as they  wrapped around her shoulders, they were, in some ways, comforting. He scooped her up and started to ferry her back across the room.  The motion, no matter how gentle he was made her stomach roil and Belle swallowed convulsively to try and keep her stomach contents down. She didn’t even attempt to open her eyes until she felt the cool of the bed sheets against her back.  

“Can you try and take a drink for me Belle?  If you can keep it down then I can give you something for your head”

Belle peeled one eye open and met the surprisingly blue gaze of her rescuer.  How did he know her name?

“I don’t know” Her voice was weak even to her own ears and she hated that.  She wanted to ask him the questions that kept coming to her but holding onto them for more than two minutes seemed like too much work. She felt the puff of air on her face as he sat back.  He clearly wasn’t happy with her answer but right now it was the best she could do.  She watched as one of his large hands pinched at his nose and his eyes focused on her in a way that made her uncomfortable 

“I understand that you aren’t feeling well but you need to rest and that won’t happen if we can’t get pain killers into you” 

He reached into his pocket before holding his hand out to her.  In the palm of his hand rested two small pale nondescript tablets.

“Now be a good girl and take these and rest.  We can talk about everything else tomorrow” His tone of voice was no nonsense and as much as it would be easier to take them she wasn’t in the habit of taking unknown medication from a stranger

“Um..” her voice cracked and she tried to swallow “What are they?” When she had started to speak he had looked annoyed and raised a single eyebrow, obviously unhappy at being questioned.  As she finished her question a brief smile flashed over his face

“I am glad you are aware enough to check but these are absolutely safe for you take.  They’re just some standard pain killers for your head” 

Before Belle could respond he reached out for her hand, and when he saw it tremble he gently placed it back down and help his hand up to her mouth. She could tell that he had washed his hands recently, they smelt fresh and clean.

“Open up” His hand pushed against her mouth and held it there until she opened her mouth enough for him to shake the tablets in.  He leant a little closer, he seemed to loom over her.  His eyes didn’t leave hers and for a moment she was sure that he was about to kiss her.  Her breath caught in her chest and she glanced briefly between his eyes and lips.  Even through her brain haze she was aware that this was a handsome man and he was very much in her space.  The smile on his face let her know that she hadn’t been subtle in her admiration.  As her blush flushed her face her head pounded even harder and she let her eyes fluttered closed.  

“Open up and take a sip of water doll” His voice was closer than he had been seconds before, but  she was in no condition to work out what was happening.  The water was cool and soothing as she swallowed and the warm hand that stroked her head seemed to help her relax further.  She tried to open her eyes but they just would comply.  There was a brush of what felt like lips o her head and that was the last thing she knew.

Steve closed the bedroom door quietly after getting Belle settled down in his bed.  She was here with him, in his room, in his bed!  He wad desperate to go and lie with her, but he had other things that needed to be dealt with first. The incident tonight had pushed his timetable up and now he needed to play catch up.  In his office he flicked on one of the 3 monitors sitting on his desk seeing his girl laying in his bed.  He watched her for a few more minutes,  She was at peace, where she was supposed to be.

Three hours passed before Steve was even close to being able to go to bed.  Despite it being the middle of the night he had managed to set a lot of wheels in motion to get things sorted for his girl.  Slipping into his bed with his girl, pulling her soft, warm, beautifully smelling body into his own was a dream com true.  His dick was hard in seconds and he couldn’t help but buck into her a little.  She smelt so good that he had to fight himself for control. His hips moved without thought, his dick throbbing against her ass,   She was injured and needed time to recover before things could go that far, so he had to stop, no matter how much he wanted to do more. Tightening his grip he let his eyes drift close.  This was right.

[sariasprincy-writes]

Hollow Point 26

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six (here) 

Chapter Twenty-Six Brick by brick

The instant Sakura shifted her car into park, her phone pinged. Killing the engine, she pulled the device from her pocket and unlocked the screen before she pulled up her notifications. Her brow rose when she saw a new message from Itachi.

She hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week. Which if she was being honest, she was okay with that. She still didn’t entirely know what she was doing with him and the space had given her time to breathe. Something she suspected Itachi knew she needed.

Exhaling slowly, Sakura pressed the notification. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she was relieved when all she found was the usual message: a single time and location. With the words “plus one.”

Brow furrowing, Sakura wondered who he could be bringing. It didn’t take her long to figure it out: Kisame. The Israeli agent was finally in the States. And judging by Itachi’s text, he was able to meet. Tonight.

Glancing at her watch, Sakura realized she only had a few hours until the time Itachi had given her. She could only hope this meeting wouldn’t take too long.

Without replying, Sakura darkened her phone before she slipped out of the car. Deep bass pounded through the parking lot. Its rhythm matched her footsteps as she approached the heavily guarded night club. Dressed in a black blazer and dark skinny jeans tucked into black, heeled boots, the bouncers took one look at her before they unhooked the red rope keeping the line at bay and let her pass.

Inside was even louder. The deep house music and flashing lights kept the crowd moving and the party going. Sakura took it all in. Eyeing the DJ booth as the musician spun the hot track to the bartender flipping liquor bottles before he poured a line of shots for a group of women at the bar. The floor was made of black marble, the sparkling tiles reflecting the artificial light while the crystal chandelier above made the tall roof glow. There was obviously a lot of money put in here.

Sakura smiled. That was a good sign.

Her gaze continued to wander. To the upper floor where partiers were dancing, to the VIP lounge where those with names or money or both could hang out comfortably.

Her second pass over the bar, Sakura realized she was being watched. In the corner, a man eyed her from over his drink. His gaze neither lusty nor dangerous. He was simply studying her.

This must be who she was looking for.

Crossing the room, Sakura sidled up to him, slipping in the vacant chair beside him. She didn't bother ordering herself a drink. She just turned to the man, taking in his bushy eyebrows and odd, bowl haircut. He was kind of a dorky looking dude in her opinion. But Sakura had learned long ago that weird didn't mean not-dangerous.

"You been waiting for me long?" she asked.

The guy finished his drink through his straw, the loud suction echoing at the bottle of his glass before he set it aside. "Not long."

Sakura just smiled. “Should we meet your friend then?"

“What’s the rush?” he asked with a bold smile. “We have enough time for a drink.”

Eyeing him, she reached across the bar to grab his glass and held it under her nose. She eyed him pointedly. “Coke with a squeeze of lime. You’re not even drinking.”

The man’s smile held in place seamlessly. “Three years sober. I'm a recovering alcoholic,” he admitted.

“I'm just an alcoholic,” Sakura returned with a smile before she pulled out some cash and slipped it under his drink. “This one's on me. You can buy next time.”

If possible, his smile widened. “Lee,” he introduced.

“Tsunade.”

He shook her hand before he slid off the barstool and gestured towards the far side of the club. “Let's go then. My partner doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

Sakura shot Lee a mildly unamused look but decided against pointing out that it was him that kept them waiting. She followed him towards the far wall towards a set of stairs guarded by bouncers on either side. At the top was a door that he opened without knocking.

It led to a room that overlooked the entire club. Glass windows kept most of the music at bay, but the heavy bass still thumped beneath Sakura's boots. On the opposite wall from the windows was a full bar with a single bartender. He didn’t glance in their direction as he mixed a drink for the only guest in the room.

A young woman only a few years older than Sakura sat behind the only table in the room. Even without the knife and sharpener in her hand, she looked intimidating. Her brown hair was up in twin buns, her eyeliner winged to a point and she was dressed in a black dress that made her look more dangerous than feminine.

Lee stepped off to one side while Sakura stopped some feet from the table. The two women eyed each other before Sakura nodded towards the stilettos laced intricately around her ankles. "I like your shoes," she said.

The woman paused her sharpening as she looked Sakura over once. Then a smirk curled in the corner of her mouth. "Likewise."

Smiling, Sakura approached the woman as she gestured for Sakura to join her. She lowered herself down in the plush chair across the way and leaned against the comfortable high back as the club lights flickered across the wall above the woman’s head.

“You must be Tsunade.”

Sakura nodded. “I am.”

“My name’s Tenten. But I think you already knew that.”

“Your reputation precedes you. They said you were smart.”

Tenten’s gaze flickered over Sakura’s shoulder, likely to Lee before returning to her, her face a cool mask. “Empty compliments won’t get you far here,” she warned.

However, Sakura just shook her head faintly. “It wasn’t a compliment. I was simply stating a fact.”

Tenten eyed her for a moment. When she found only truth, she sat back and waved her hand at the bartender. He appeared beside the table in an instant, sliding a martini glass into Tenten’s waiting hand.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered.

“A peach drop.”

With her order given, the bartender returned to the bar. Tenten took a long sip, her perfectly manicured, black nails grasping the delicate stem of her glass, before she set it down on the table.

“So, what can I do for you then, Tsunade?” she asked. Then she continued before Sakura could answer, “You know, you’ve actually been a massive pain in my ass the last year.”

Sakura couldn’t resist smiling faintly. “All unconsciously done. And I’m hoping to right that by this meeting.”

“Oh?” Tenten asked, her frown fading.

“You’ve been in the Underground here for a long time. Longer than anyone. Your knowledge of the area is unmatched.”

A small smile began form in the corner of Tenten’s mouth but before it could fully form it was gone. She reached for her drink again. “What is it that you want?”

“I’m hoping I can borrow some of your expertise,” Sakura said. She accepted her drink from the bartender as he returned with it before he made himself scarce again.

Tenten raised her glass to her lips, her eyes never leaving Sakura’s over the rim. “And why should I help you? You’re in league with Hashirama and Madara. Those two have been giving me grief for nearly a decade. The last thing I want is my guns going into their hands.”

“I’m not looking for weapons,” Sakura told her.

The brunette arched her brow curiously. “You want information.” She went quiet when Sakura nodded. Then she shook her head. “I’m still not interested. Simply your relationship to them could threaten my own business and my relationships–”

“I understand you have a reputation and image to uphold, but what would you say, theoretically of course, if I was to help you with your Hashirama problem?” Sakura interrupted quietly.

This time, Tenten’s drink stilled just before her lips. She cocked her brow curiously. “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a small warehouse to the North Hashirama owns, guarded by a handful of men with some crates that may be of use to you.” Then Sakura smiled. “Or so I hear.”

Tenten peered at her for a long moment before she gazed over Sakura’s shoulder to Lee. There were no words exchanged between them and with Lee still somewhere behind Sakura, she didn’t know what might have passed over his face.

Then Tenten’s gaze returned to her. “And what would you want in return for this information? Theoretically.”

“Nothing. Consider it a show of good faith,” Sakura said. And in her tone, there were no lies or ulterior motives. Simply truth.

Tenten must have realized that for a smile began to curl over her lips. “Then perhaps there is a future business relationship between us after all.”

Sakura’s answer was a pleased smile before she raised her glass to cheers it against Tenten’s. “I sincerely hope so.”

xx

Sakura was late. She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time, only to sigh when she found she was nearly half an hour behind schedule. She checked her phone again, ensuring she was in the right place before pocketing it once more.

This late at night, the streets outside the abandoned shipping yard were empty. The warehouse just inside the chain-link fence was dark. Only a stray, flickering streetlight to give her at least a little light to see.

She doubted she had anything to fear by this meeting, but she felt for her guns again, double checking that they were in easy reach. All three of them. One on each hip and another in the pocket of her jacket. Though it was Kakashi that gave her the most comfort. She knew he was somewhere nearby keeping a close eye on her. Very close.

Inside the warehouse, in the back near the empty offices, Sakura found Itachi and Kisame. They were speaking quietly, the soft rumble of their voices reaching her ears. It was only when she drew closer that she could make out their conversation.

“You’re sure she’s coming?” Kisame grumbled.

“She’s never not shown before. Just give her a little longer.” That was Itachi.

Sakura couldn’t help her small smirk as she listened to Kisame mutter under his breath. No doubt complaining about her tardiness. It stopped the instant he heard the heels of her boots.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Sakura greeted with a smile as she rounded the corner.

Kisame was leaning against a desk, dressed in a warm coat while Itachi stood some feet away beside him. He looked good in his own dark grey, hooded jacket, the material emphasizing his broad shoulders. He looked relaxed, almost bored with his hands in his pockets, but he straightened slightly when he spotted her.

Not that she could blame him. She had chosen her outfit carefully tonight from her deep purple blouse and leather jacket to her tight jeans and three-inch heels boots. It was an outfit that demanded attention and respect.

Turning her gaze from him, Sakura glanced at Kisame only to realize he had been eyeing her as well. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over critically. “You kill someone tonight, little viper?” he asked suspiciously.

Sakura resisted her frown at the nickname. Instead, she simply shot him a look. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

His eyes narrowed briefly at that but didn’t press further. Instead, he crossed his arms, making his large form seem even bigger. “You’re late.”

“And you didn’t tell us that the port in Old Town is under Akatsuki’s control,” she countered.

“I didn’t know about that,” he said with a small frown. “Itachi caught me up on what’s been going on here. I even looked into it when I returned to Israel. I don’t have any information on the port, so whatever Pein has been planning there, it's been kept quiet.”

Sakura frowned, not entirely happy. “So, you didn’t know that Uchiha Madara works for Akatsuki then?”

“Uchiha?” Kisame repeated, his gaze flickering to Itachi. “I don’t know a Uchiha Madara.”

She glanced at Itachi only to find the corners of his mouth turned down in the barest hints of a frown. Apparently he hadn’t told Kisame that part. And judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t been wanting to go into that much detail just yet.

“Madara is one of my distant cousins,” Itachi said when Kisame continued to stare at him. “He turned traitor against the CIA nearly five years ago by selling information to a lot of people that can cause us a lot of harm. My company and I have been trying to capture him ever since without success.”

“He’s an asshole,” Sakura added. “But worse, he’s powerful and dangerous and smart. He’s turned traitor against the people I’m working with to join Akatsuki.”

Kisame’s eyes drifted between the two of them as they spoke, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is that why you two are working together? You’re trying to combine forces to take this ‘Madara’ down.”

There was something almost nonchalant about Kisame’s tone. It made her eyes narrow minutely, her tone come out a little sharper. “I don’t think you realize how much of a threat he is. It’s going to take all of our resources to bring him down.”

“If he’s such a threat, how come I haven’t heard of him before now?” Kisame asked, still not entirely convinced.

“Because he uses other aliases outside the States,” Itachi interjected before Sakura could speak. “Perhaps you’ve heard of ‘Susanoo’ and ‘Shakujo’? We have information from a source in Egypt that says Madara has been sending shipments to the port in New York Tsunade’s been watching.”

“Susanoo,” Kisame repeated slowly, his brows drawing in. “I have heard that name. I delivered weapons to someone using it nearly two years ago under Pein’s orders.”

Both Itachi and Sakura stared at him. “You’re sure?” Itachi asked.

Sakura frowned when Kisame nodded. “That means Madara has been working for Akatsuki longer than he has Hashirama.”

“What else do you remember?” Itachi asked.

Kisame only shook his head. “Nothing. That was it. As soon as I got payment, I delivered the store and I never heard the name again. But now that I know that’s who you’re looking into, I can try and dig up more information.”

Itachi nodded but said nothing, his gaze distant.

However, Sakura turned back to Kisame as he continued, “There’s one other thing. In the last week, Pein has been gathering more men. I don’t know what for, but if I were to guess, he's building an army. A huge one.”

“He’s planning to expand his territory,” Itachi concluded.

“He’s done it once before, when he took over Cairo. If this port is under Akatsuki’s control, it’s possible New York City is his target,” Kisame told him. Then he shook his head. “But I doubt it. I haven’t heard anything about New York. Though I am curious, how much product has been moved into the States?”

Itachi said nothing as he glanced in Sakura’s direction. She frowned, doing the math in her head. “In just the last month, there’s been a dozen crates shipped. Perhaps more. I don’t know.”

“That’s not enough for a raid.”

“No, but Akatsuki is still planning something,” Itachi said with a frown. “And we need to strike before they do. If Akatsuki does move in, it would take us years, if not decades, to bring them down.”

“I’ll head back to Egypt and see what else I can dig up,” Kisame said, straightening from the desk.

Itachi nodded. “Just don’t do anything too risky.”

Kisame grinned at that. “I’m a double agent. Risky is the only word in the job description.”

The Mossad Officer left after that. Sakura listened to his footsteps echo back at them through the warehouse. Only once it fell quiet again, did she turn to Itachi. “Do you think Kisame will find anything that can help us?”

He shook his head minutely. “I don’t know, but we need him to. He is the only one that can find any information on Akatsuki’s motives. If Akatsuki does plan to move in, the entire country is in danger, not just New York. I know you don’t care about that, but everyone will be uprooted. Criminals and civilians alike. The entire Underground will change. It’ll be a bloodbath.”

That Sakura could agree with. Still, she said nothing. Merely frowned. It seemed like she had a lot more digging to do as well, not just Kisame.

“I should go,” Sakura eventually murmured. “See what I can find on my end.”

Itachi nodded but neither of them made any move to leave. They simply stared at one another. In that moment, she wanted to move towards him, but she knew she couldn’t. There were other things she had to do first.

Forcing herself to take a step back, Sakura turned towards the door. Only to stop when Itachi called her name. “Sakura.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, finding his expression not quite blank but not emotionless either. He looked like he was warring with himself to not reach out to her. “Will I see you later?” he asked.

Sakura knew she should say no but she nodded before she could stop herself, a small smile curling in the corner of her mouth.

Then she was out the door as well.

xx

That night, Sakura went into the Underground alone. She dug for information, offering any money anyone had on Akatsuki or Madara’s movements. And to her frustration, she found none. There were only vague rumors of new men in the area. Ghosts. Not even her best informants had anything for her.

With nothing to go on, Sakura slipped inside a bar and ordered herself a lemon drop. She sipped her drink slow, letting that sweet, sticky flavor cling to her taste buds before sliding down her throat. She stared at the wall, unseeing. Lost in thought.

She was restless. Like there was something just so obvious she was missing. A puzzle without all the pieces, a map with a hole cut out of the center.

Sighing, Sakura raised her drink to her lips again. She doubted she would be getting any sleep tonight. She thought about going to Itachi’s but couldn’t quite find it within herself to move yet as she wondered what the hell she was doing. Sakura kept telling herself he was CIA. That she shouldn’t be sleeping with him. That there was no way this could end well.

But that still didn’t stop her from wanting it. Wanting him. He was nothing like she had expected. He was uncommonly kind and honest in a world that was so cruel and full of lies. Like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for so long.

With another soft sigh, Sakura downed the rest of her drink. She was just about to order another, something a little stronger, when her phone rang. Fishing it out of her pocket, she stared at it when she found it was from Tenten. Strange, she hadn’t been expecting to hear from the woman for at least a day or two more.

“Tenten,” Sakura answered. “I hope you’re calling me with good news.”

Through the line, Sakura could practically hear her grin. “I am. I found the warehouse Hashirama was using to hoard his little collection. My men made quite a killing tonight,” she said. “I admit I was doubtful of you but you held your word. And I accept your show of good faith.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sakura said, sounding more enthusiastic than she felt.

“Which is why I’m calling you. A gift for a gift if you will. I hear you’re in the market for information on a group called Akatsuki,” she continued.

That made Sakura still. “I’m listening,” she said slowly.

“I got wind of a location they're operating out of. An apartment somewhere in downtown. Though I can’t tell you what you’ll find there. The place is all hush-hush; anyone who knows something about it won’t talk. But I can send you the address if you’re interested-”

“Yes,” Sakura said quickly. Then she cleared her throat, reigning in her excitement. “Yes, I would appreciate it.”

Tenten texted the address to Sakura. It was close. Not very far from the bar she currently sat at, but she knew she couldn’t go in alone. Her thoughts still swam with that dark night Kabuto’s men had put their hands on her.

Sakura sat at the bar a minute longer, weighing her options. Then she set some bills down on the table and stood.

The street Itachi’s townhouse stood on was still when Sakura arrived. Inside was even more so. She moved silently as she slipped her boots off, leaving them in the entryway, before she wandered further inside. It was the middle of the night. Closer to dawn than sunset, but she found Itachi in the living room. Sitting on the very couch they’d had sex on and wearing a simple t-shirt and sweats. He was reading a book but he lowered it the instant he heard her.

“Get dressed,” she told him. When his brow arched, she explained, “I have a new lead on Akatsuki. And I want you to come with me.”

Itachi didn’t ask any questions. He headed upstairs and came back down a few minutes later with a jacket and jeans. It was only once they were in the car did he speak, “When I asked to see you later, this was not exactly what I had in mind.”

She didn't look in his direction as she drove, fighting a small smile. “I know. But this might be important.”

She felt his gaze linger a moment before he asked, “So, what’s this new lead you found?”

“I got word of an apartment Akatsuki has been working out of in downtown. I’m not sure what we’ll find there, if anything at all, but I want to check it out before the trail goes cold.”

“And you trust this source?” he asked. “You're sure we’re not walking into a trap?”

Sakura didn’t think Tenten was setting her up, but she knew anything was possible. “No, I'm not sure,” she admitted. But then she shot him a small smirk. “But that’s why I brought you.”

He stared at her. And a moment later, Sakura realized what she had just implied. That she trusted him. And not just the type of trust where she knew he wouldn’t put a bullet in her back. But the kind where she trusted him enough to watch her back.

It hadn’t been what she meant, but now that it was out there, lingering in the air, she knew it was true. She didn’t quite know how they had gotten to this point, but she knew she couldn’t take the words back. She wouldn’t.

The look that passed over Itachi’s face, something soft and understanding and mutual, made her warm with something she couldn’t name. She couldn’t quite bite back her smile this time and so she turned her attention forward once more. They had to focus.

It was still a few hours before dawn when they arrived at the apartment complex. It was a tall building, likely four units across and four or five wide. Itachi put in a call to Shisui to get the floor plan before they hunkered down in a hotel across the street, directly level with the apartment number Tenten had given Sakura.

They sat there all morning, watching through the windows for any movements within the unit. An hour after dawn, when the morning rush hour was in full swing and the streets were packed with commuters, they decided to make their move.

Sakura and Itachi slipped into the apartment building easily, trailing in after a woman who left to walk her dog before they took the stairs to the fourth floor. There, they found the unit number Sakura had been given.

She picked the lock in less than a minute before she carefully pushed the door open, her gun drawn as she listened for any sounds of movement within the apartment. When she found none, she slipped inside. Itachi was right behind her, sliding the deadbolt back into place.  

They searched the place quickly, only holstering their weapons again when they found it empty. Sakura stopped in the middle of the living room, just taking a moment to look around. The apartment itself was straight out of a magazine. With its black marble floors and high, wooden ceiling, she guessed it was at least a few million dollars, if not more. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she hadn’t thought Akatsuki would waste money on granite countertops and gleaming, leather furniture.

Only when she heard Itachi’s footsteps exiting the bedroom did she turn away. “Find anything?” she asked.

He shook his head. “The bedroom is empty. Though, someone definitely lives here. There are clothes in the closet and personal effects in the bathroom.”

Sakura hummed at that but didn’t reply. She thought it unusual someone would be living in one of Akatsuki’s places of business. Perhaps Tenten had heard wrong. But the woman had been working in the Underground for near that of a decade. Sakura knew she would be able to weed out rumor from truth.

Without a word, Sakura went towards the tall, wooden corner cupboard in the corner. She pulled open the doors and began rifling through the things stored in there. She went through it drawer by drawer, only to find it mostly full of useless trinkets and extra blankets. She searched it thoroughly before moving onto the small desk beside it. Somewhere behind her, she heard Itachi doing the same. Searching for any clues, any hints of Akatsuki’s operation or anything having to do with Akatsuki at all.

A few minutes passed before Itachi spoke again. “You need to see this,” he said softly.

Sakura glanced over her shoulder to find he was standing in front of the tall, towering secretary in the corner. He had pulled the long, double cabinet doors open and was staring at whatever he had found there.

It wasn’t until Sakura was beside him that she understood what had grabbed his attention. There was a map of New York City taped to the inside of the wooden doors. Cut in half with the west side on the left and the east on the right. There were two major colors filling in the streets: one red and the other black with a few other miscellaneous shades scattered around.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a map of the Underground,” Itachi told her, looking at the small key in the corner. “The Senju’s empire is in the red and Akatsuki is in black.”

Sakura blinked. “That’s not possible. That would mean Akatsuki has control of a majority of the South side. There’s no way they’ve expanded that much that quickly.”

He didn’t reply as he folded down the middle section of the desk. Inside, there were dozens of papers. Invoices and emails and receipts of payments. They shuffled through them, reading and absorbing everything they could reach.

Beside her, Itachi paused on one page in particular. Sensing something was wrong, she stopped her own reading to look at him. “What is it?”

“You said Akatsuki had shipped in dozens of crates,” he said slowly, scanning through the numbers. “But if this is accurate, it must be closer to hundreds, if not thousands.”

Sakura said nothing as she accepted the papers from him, the furrow between her brows growing deeper and deeper the more she read. “What would they need that many guns for?” she asked. “Hashirama’s influence is strong, but they wouldn’t need that much firepower to take over his territory.”

“Unless Akatsuki is planning more than just taking Hashirama down,” Itachi suggested quietly.

Sakura turned her gaze from the documents to stare at him. “You think they plan to take over New York completely?”

He didn’t immediately reply as he reached for another paper he had already read through. “Look at this. They have paid off politicians, stock brokers, lawyers, high ranking officials,” he listed.

She took it silently, reading through the numbers carefully. “How is it possible they have this many resources in New York? All without the CIA or the FBI or anyone knowing about it?”

“Because look at the date,” Itachi said, his voice deeply troubled. “These pre-date Madara’s betrayal from the CIA. He paid most of these people off long before he even left the company.”

Sakura opened her mouth but nothing came out. It felt like a bomb had just been dropped on her and she was watching the mushroom cloud grow larger and larger above her. She couldn’t speak, she could barely think as she stared at the massive amounts of documents spread out of the desk before them, wondering how it was possible they could have missed so much.

No one would believe this. She barely believed it herself. But the evidence was laid out before her.

On a whim, Sakura pulled out her phone and began snapping photos. Taking pictures of the map, the emails and invoices scattered about. Anything and everything she could get her hands on.

Until she came upon another stack of papers. A number of emails between Pein and someone referring to themselves simply as “Leader”. A lump settled in the pit of Sakura’s stomach as realization dawned on her. It suddenly made sense why it had been so hard to prove Madara was in league with Akatsuki, why Kisame had never heard his name used before even between other members.

“Pein isn’t the true leader of Akatsuki,” she murmured.

Beside her, Itachi stood just as still, his eyes glued to another document. “No,” he murmured, so softly she nearly missed his tone of quiet apprehension. “It’s Madara. And this is his apartment.”

That’s when they heard the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt sliding out of place.

to be continued…

[animereviewsandotherstuff]

Shingu: Secret of the Stellar Wars

As I mentioned before I started watching anime a bit randomly but also more seriously before I entered high school. I would watch anything and everything that I came across, but because the source of anime I was watching was a bit unreliable sometimes I would only be able to watch a few episodes of a show before it would leave my life. Once I was able to watch anime more independently I would go back and try to find those shows that I could only watch a few episodes of. While this was mostly successful there was one series that I would try to watch but would always fail at completing it. Usually something else would get in the way. Life happens, something else takes precedence for a short while. But finally, after far too long, I have decided to go back and watch this show from start to finish. So lets see if the show was worth the time, if my white whale was worth the hunt. Lets look at Shingu: Secret of the Stellar Wars.

Shingu: Secret of the Stellar Wars is a 2001 anime that was dubbed into English in 2008. The dub was how I was first introduced to the series so it was how I watched the show this time as well. Before I get into the series itself I want to say I found the dub great. I tend to watch subbed anime more then dubbed, but that is not because I prefer one over the other. I tend to watch anime as it comes out, so I will sometimes watch it before it even has a chance to be dubbed. And since those are the voices I get used to if I ever rewatch the show I will tend to watch it in the form I am familiar with. But I have nothing against dubs in general. Sure some are better or worse then others, and older series that tended to only have half of the show dubbed was not fun, especially when I was younger, but I still think dubs can be great, and Shingu’s dub is definitely a class above. The characters are clear and understandable, there voices fit there characters to me, and the acting is well done, at least to my amateur ears. But enough of how I watched the show. Lets get to the show itself.

Shingu is a series very much of its time, the early 2000s. The show starts with aliens randomly showing up one day in the year 2070. A ship/robot thing shuts down all the communications though out japan, so only a few people are able to watch the robot with their eyes alone, most importantly an old man and a boy in a traditional school uniform. Suddenly a giant robot that looks like traditional paper craft appears and destroys the robot, literally called a hero appearing to fight evil. And it is revealed, aliens exist, the world has changed. But for the average persons life continues on like normal. And we see this in our main character, Hajime Murata, and his mother and sister going about their daily lives. Hajime goes to school, talks to his friends about the news of the aliens but its all light friendly speculation, until there is a new student being introduced, a boy in a traditional school uniform named Muryou Subaru, the same boy we saw watching the alien fight the giant. And that is considered to be the weirdest thing to happens that day.

Right from the start we are told by this that Shingu likes to focus on the mundane and the normal parts of life over the fantastical and strange, even when the fantastical and strange and complicated is surrounding everything. And that's meant to be a little reflective of real life. Sure, something massive can happen but if it doesn’t immediately effect you, more likely then not your going to go along with your life like normal. Aliens can invade, monsters and heroes can appear, but unless you are involved in it or effected by it the thing your going to care about is what your eating for lunch tomorrow or the new person you see at work. Its a very interesting perspective for the series to take. Most shows tend to focus on the fantastical because that's whats interesting. But in Shingu that's what takes the back seat.

Another great example of this is early in the series. Hajime finds the new student Muryou being challenged to a fight by a member of the student council, Kyouichi Moriguchi. The student council and the native born inhabitants of the town know something about the aliens and the paper craft giant, and also know Muryou is something similar yet different. So Kyouichi challenges Muryou to a fight and they reveal that they have strange psychic powers as they fight on the roof, but the only one who sees is Hajime. After the fight is interrupted Muryou invites Hajime to his home to let him ask any questions he wants. And the first thing he asks is not about the psychic powers, the fact that the student council or the teacher seems to know whats up, but about the fact that his last name doesn’t line up with the name on the houses name plate. A mundane question, about the mystery of a new friend and nothing about the battle he just witnessed. Again, a focus on the mundane instead of the fantastical.

While the show always pays attention to the mundane, this is not to say there isn’t a larger, more complicated story going on. A story involving the politics of an alien federation that knows about earth and treats it as a sort of private protected park, of the one town on earth tasked with protecting the planet against aliens who are not part of that federation, of alien diplomats and goverment secrets and eventually things becoming public, and always the question of who is on the right side. But while that all is happening, the show focuses on things like friendship, the sports festival, school clubs, and especially love. Love is another of Shingu’s main themes.

This theme of love does take a few different forms. The main one is that of young romance. Of a girl, the third of our main characters Nayuta, who has to deal with her developing feelings for arguably both Hajime and Muryou, which the show I feel purposely doesn’t give a conclusion to. As in Nayuta never makes a decision about which boy is her one true love, because that's not the point. The point is her developing feels of companionship and even love for others. There is a more actualized romance between Kyouichi and Harumi, between a boy who wants to be a protector but is forced to be the one protected, and the girl who must protect him with her own life if necessary. And even of the school girl crush of Hajimes sister on Moryou. But romantic love is not the only type, or else I wouldn’t say it was a major theme.  Familial love is also talked about a lot. We see Hajime spend so much time with his mother and sister, and you really get the feeling that these are people who love and care for one another in a realistic way. Muryou’s grandfather and especially sister are shown through out the series and show a really nice family dynamic. Nayuta and the rest of the student councils parents are shown throughout the series and while they are sometimes shown as playing with the backroom politics of whats going on involving the aliens they too are doing it because they care for there children and want whats best for them, to live a peaceful life. We see friendship and rivalry and relationships all based on different types of love. And at the end of the show it is love that saves the day.

Shingu’s insistence of focusing on the mundane, even its theme of love is more mundane love then the sort of over the top romantic love we usually see in fiction, is interesting when one thinks about what type of show it is. As I said it is a show very much of its time. In the wake of Neon Genesis Evangelion  there were many shows that tried to capture that same magic. This led to tons of shows that were giant robot shows that talked about human evolution, psychic powers, had aliens and philosophy, teenagers defending the earth but also at great human cost, and more times then not the good guys would turn out to be evil and our hero would have to deal with those ramifications. Shingu in some way shape or form has all of this, but most of it is again in the background. It uses those themes that were popular but instead of making them the forefront they choose the mundane parts of living and make that its focus. Where many other anime went one direction Shingu purpose goes another and tells a much different but much more interesting story. One that feels a lot more human.

One thing I want to talk about that is a small part of the series over all is that of the technology level of the show. It takes place in the future, but its not the future of flying cars and living on the moon or the usual ways that one sees the future in shows. The technology all seems possible. Everyone has personal laptops, but the computers, while imaginative, don’t seem impossible. There is no personal AI’s but instead a built in touch pad that can be used to write. The most improbable thing is the fact that the computer can be folded a second time, which is just different as opposed o impossible. They use the equivalent of smart screens and touch pads and things that weren't well known in 2001 but we have today. The only really fanciful technology is that belonging to the aliens, but they are aliens from far older and more technologically advance alien races, so that makes sense. I always really enjoy shows with realistic depictions of the future. Yes, I love star ships and space travel and time travel and science fiction that goes as far and as wild as possible. But realistic science fiction is a small sort of fun I really enjoy.

Shingu: Secret of the Stellar Wars is an amazing little show. It is definitely one of my favorites of all time. It is a calm show that is a bit of a slow burn throughout. It is not a fast paced action show, but instead it is relaxing and calming to watch. After years of trying to catch this white whale I finally captured it and found it to be entirely satisfying. I could not recommend this show higher enough. If you have a chance watch this show and experience the mundane of the fantastical. So until next time, keep on watching.

[lonedoctrine]

Welcome to our segment of the “Think Tank” where we send out a Q&A to the people, to keep building and exploring “Food For Thought” for the people. Each and every moment someone’s story is unfolding and I feel each and every one of us is significant. Together, we make TODAY better than YESTERDAY.

Our next next guest has led a life of great resilience, commitment, and compassion. Even through the harshest conditions, she's a wildflower that continues to bloom.

Think Tank

1. Give a bit of your background/context. (Where you’re from, what you do, etc.)

I am a Los Angeles native through and through. Lived in northern California for a few years after high school, but LA has my heart. Professionally I am a commercial coordinator – this means I make TV commercials for a living.

2. What are some your top values in life and, why?

Empathy & compassion are the big ones – my parents always said I had a big heart from an early age.  I have always found myself drawn to and rooting for the underdog and I yearn for an even playing field; a world where we all have the same opportunities, the same basic needs – physical and emotional (a roof over our heads, access to clean and safe food and water, and the love and support of family or friends, a world where no one is burdened or disadvantaged by lack). My heart breaks every time I pass a homeless person on the street and I am often left wondering – why them and why not me?  How is it that I get to go to work every day, come home to my (modest yet comfortable but most of all SAFE) home, eat healthy/fresh food, be warm and safe and know I am loved and this person is left cold, hungry, lonely on the street day after day.  I just don’t get it.  I try to help when I can, but am often left scratching my head when I start to compare – I look at the abundance in this world, and I mean exorbitant abundance – people that own multiple cars (for pleasure not necessity), live in mansions, wear designer clothes and eat at fancy restaurants…how can they do that in good conscience when there are people lying on the streets…let alone people, in say Africa, who don’t even have access to CLEAN WATER?!  So yeah, I think what this world needs more of is compassion…if we all cared about one another a little more, it would go a long way.

3. In your work and personal/home life what are some of the ways you stay motivated?

I have struggled with depression nearly my whole life, so staying motivated is a crucialpart of maintaining my wellbeing.  I recognize that and therefore am hyper aware & pro active of certain steps and tools that are necessary for me to stay “level.”

Tool #1 – waking up early and starting my day with exercise.  Being up early affords me a head start.  I feel like the hour and a half I spend exercising before the sun is up, not only gets me physically ready for my day (loosens the muscles, gets my blood pumping, endorphins going, etc.) – but it also prepares me mentally.  It gives me that time to mentally run through my day, play out all I have on my agenda and gets me geared up to tackle it head on. That time is essential in combating the anxiety that may come with heavily pressured work days, or days when I have a lot to get done in a little time.  That hour and a half spent thinking in silence (I used to listen to music to amp me up, but I found that it was drowning out my thoughts and have only recently noticed I do better listening to my inner voice than say Tim Armstrongs’ of Rancid. ;) ) – that time helps me not feel overwhelmed with all I have ahead of me on that day.

Tool #2 – Subjecting myself to healthy influences, mentally and physically.  I LOVE me a good murder mystery show and I have never met a cheese burger I didn’t like, but I have to keep my consumption of both in check if I am going to keep a positive, energized and hopeful outlook on life.  I find that the more I expose myself to mental downers (the news – ugh, CSI, angry rap music to name a few for me) the more I find my mental well being in jeopardy; I find myself predisposed to being agitated or weighed down/sluggish, which in turn makes me unmotivated.  Same goes with food, when I eat clean, I am physically lighter and more energized.  When I eat greasy delicious chili cheeseburgers all the time, all I want to do in nap in sweat pants.  That being said, I also think depravity is not healthy (it will make me resentful, sad), so its all about moderation.

Tool #3 – making lists.  I find, the deeper I get into this whole adult hood thing, the more things there are to get done and the less time we have to do them.  Sometimes I can feel completely overwhelmed by all my responsibilities that I will be completely paralyzed/unmotivated because I don’t know where to start. Making lists so I can compartmentalize and better see the big picture and this decipher what demands my current attention and what can be addressed at a later date, setting reminders (“hey Siri, set a reminder” – literal life game changer for me, thank you apple) – both of these things really help keep my momentum moving forward.

4. We speak of “Food For Thought” that provides a means of making TODAY better than YESTERDAY. What do you do or do you have a daily routine to keep your mind on the right track?

Well, I feel I addressed some of this above but I can expand a little.  A big part of keeping my mind on the right track is controlling my inner dialog.  I struggle with my own perception of myself (body image, self worth) and I often catch myself speaking really negatively about myself and that is something I make a conscious effort to combat. Lately (and I mean only super recently) – I have been trying to flip the script by saying positive and hopeful things about myself.  I am currently working hard to get healthy (physically) and though my physical progress has been minute, I am praising myself every day for getting up and out of bed and exercising.  When I start to go down an anxiety black hole in work because my load is “too much to bear,” I remind myself – “I have done this before and I will do it again.  My colleagues have chosen me to work alongside them for a reason; I am beyond capable and skilled and over qualified and I will excel in this and all that I do because of my strong work ethic and unfaltering, well sometimes faltering but always getting back up, attitude.”  

5. What are your top three favorite books, movies, or shows and, why?

Favorite books – “Beach Music” by Pat Conroy, “Summer Sisters” by Judy Blume & almost anything by Michael Connelly, my favorite probably being, “The Poet.”

My love for these three books are all deeply rooted in the memories from the time in my life I was at, when these books came to me. When I was in my early 20s I had just moved back to LA and into my first apartment alone.  I was scraping by, paycheck-to-paycheck and I could not afford cable.  My grandpa started a book club with me; every month he would give me 5 books that I had to read, and to this day he has never recommended something that didn’t move me in some way.  

“Beach Music” is an incredible story about life and love and the journeys we all take and it was just a really powerful read.  All of Connelly’s works are really well written.  Probably my favorite thing about his books is that they are all set in Los Angeles and he constantly references little places that only natives would notice or recognize.  I can close my eyes and instantly be transported to my first apartment in the Hollywood hills; lights dim, crickets chirping, 1950s slatted windows letting in a crisp breeze… (I can even see the crimson red bed sheets I was lying in when I was reading “The Poet”).  I remember turning the page and the protagonist (Harry Bosch) found himself in his apartment off Woodrow Wilson drive and the murderer was creeping up his back stairs unbeknownst to him…Woodrow Wilson drive was literally less that a mile from my apartment; all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got chills.  I remember calling my grandpa late that night, after 10pm, and scolding him for giving me this book – such a terrifying and salacious read, I could not put it down and I just remember his laughter and commiseration because he felt the same way when he read it…such special memories, and a bond that we still share - to this day we have both read almost every one of Connelly’s works and we still come together to share stories about our reads.

Judy Blume, I don’t think I need to expand much here as her reputation precedes her.  But, “Summer Sisters” was her first adult novel and I was 14, and traveling with my best friend from kindergarten, when my mother gave us both a copy.  The story is set around two girls, different in so many ways but the same at the core and it follows their friendship from elementary school through adulthood.  This book lined up with both our lives in so many ways and I can again, close my eyes and be transported to the deck of a ferry boat in the Mediterranean (side note, how lucky was I?!) eating chocolate with Erica (my bestie) and eagerly turning each page, we could not read the book fast enough!  I have since re-read the book over 10 times and recently gifted my copy to my little sister on her graduation from junior high (at age 14) and she read it while traveling with me (in the Mediterranean no less!) and it’s just continued to impact my life in so many lovely ways.

6. If you could chose a superpower or spirit animal what would it be and, why?

I don’t quite get the spirit animal thing; blame it on my lack of imagination so I guess I’ll go with super power?  Though I really am not one for the fanciful ideas, I prefer to stay rooted in reality but I guess that sounds like a conversation to explore with my therapist.

If I had to choose, I guess I would say flying? Birds have always seemed so free and to watch one soar is just a magical experience and I suppose it would be nice to see how that feels.  Also, would be awesome to beat traffic – ha!

7. If you could call your younger self, what sort of advice would you offer?

Funny that this question should come up, as I found myself actually yearning to talk to my younger self just the other day.  I was going through a keepsake box when I stumbled upon my journals from high school.  As an adult, I have always owned my upbringing, “the fast life, growing up way too quick, exposed to so much at a young age because of distracted young parents & living in a big city” but re-reading these journals, combined with all the emotional work I have been doing in therapy lately, I found myself desperate to hold the younger me, shower her in love and reassure her that everything would work out as its meant to. You see I had a tough time in high school – dabbled in drugs and boys at an early age, which derailed my path and shifted my priorities.  That, combined with a brutal divorce, distracted (neglectful seems harsh but accurate?)/busy parents & a falling out with my friend group, which left me “completely alone,” basically plunged me into a really dark and deep depression.  Reading my words back, I was gifted with the perspective and able to see that it was all really a cry for help, for love, and most of all for accountability.  I found myself lost in the shuffle and desperate for a place to belong.  Only now am I finding that I have to create that place for myself and to lift the responsibility and subsequent disappointment off of the other people in my life.  When I allow myself to be the filler of my own cup, I can be fulfilled and happy – when I look to others for validation, love etc. – I open myself up for disappointment.  Mostly, if I could talk to my younger self, I would pull her into a deep embrace and tell her she’s worthy of the love she so desperately craves.  I would tell her life is so much bigger than high school and though it seems hopeless, things will change and shift and these years will just be a drop in the bucket.  I will reassure her that her parents did the best they could and inadvertently taught you what to do/not do, and hope that you will be given the opportunity to right those wrongs with your own children at some point in life.

To learn more VISIT www.patreon.com/lonedoctrine 

[robertkstone]

2020 Porsche 911 S/4S Cabriolet First Drive: Vitamins and Exercise

During an intense day spent driving the all-new 992-generation 2020 Porsche 911 S and 4S around the Attica peninsula below and around Athens, Greece, I sensed that my heart was spending a great deal of time at an elevated rate. My pasty winter-in-Detroit skin was equally conscious of and grateful for the overdue dose of vitamin D it was receiving in the nearly draft-free cockpit. This drive felt like the healthiest activity I’d engaged in since the warm weather departed the Michigan peninsula.

Sure, most Porsche press drives are fun, but this one was extra fun thanks to a mechanical problem with an airplane in L.A. See, that plane’s snafu prevented my driving partner from attending, so I got to do the whole thing solo (missed ya, @nireson—mean it!). Whether dancing or driving, my natural tendency is to let it all hang out a bit farther when nobody’s watching (or hanging on for dear life). This is especially true when I’m leading a superior dance partner who’s forever sending the message “C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Let’s recap some of the highlights of the 911 Cabriolet that we laid out when the Cabrio was first teased in January. The new top—designed in house at Porsche like every convertible top that’s preceded it—employs a clever magnesium structure with three large panels that stow in a stack above the glass rear window and ensure that the fabric never balloons or flaps at top speed (188 mph on the 4S and 190 on the rear-drive S if you’re planning to take factory delivery for an autobahn vacation, which we highly recommend). The top goes up or down 2 seconds quicker than its predecessor (in 12 flat) at speeds of up to 31 mph. It’s controlled by buttons clearly marked with open- and closed-roof icons, set above a button that controls the clever mesh windscreen.

More good news: Somehow the engineers managed to improve the car’s dynamic torsional rigidity by about 10 percent—that margin sounds small, but when coupled with two other key suspension upgrades, it satisfied the team in Weissach that the Cabrio can now handle the optional PASM sport suspension (part of a $5,460 Sport package) that used to be reserved for coupes only. For 2020 it stiffens the springs and anti-roll bars, and it lowers the car by 0.4 inch. Those other key upgrades: Next-gen Bilstein adaptive dampers can now be fine-tuned midstroke on the millisecond level; the old ones could only change their damping rate at the top or bottom of a stroke event. New staggered 20-/21-inch wheels wearing 245/35 and 305/30 tires and wider front and rear track widths (1.8 inches in front and 1.4 inches in the back) allow the springs to be located slightly farther outboard, increasing their “leverage” on the car to inherently reduce roll. The shock upgrade does wonders for improving both handling responsiveness and ride comfort.

Back to my twisty-road drive/fitness routine. Not far from our coastal hotel, I headed up into the volcanic and tectonically upheaved rocky hills, starting out in the 4S. Early on I encountered some peculiar pavement that seemed to approximate the grip level of a polished garage floor even when dry. I was amply informed about it—in advance by the event organizers and at the time by the car’s controls. The steering wheel effort dropped commensurate with the friction coefficient; the brake pedal and my ears sensed the slight anti-lock braking and stability control intervention entering and leaving the turn. (I nominate this as the reference car for brake and electric power steering feel, by the way.) Such honest, forthright communication ensures that the driver’s heart rate is consistently elevated by exhilaration, not fear—a much healthier cardio stimulus.

On the slightly broken stretches of pavement I start doubting that 10 percent rigidity improvement statistic—there’s just no cowl shake or floorpan juddering at all. “Mr. 911,” August Achleitner, explains that the sense of rigidity is further enhanced by supporting the back of the powertrain via mounts on the cylinder head rather than via a plate mounted across the back of the engine, which could flex a bit. Cycling through the Normal, Sport, and Sport Plus drive modes, I’m pleased by the lack of an obvious difference in ride quality in a straight line and by the absence of harshness in bumpy corners.

Another clearly communicated message when the Sport modes are engaged: “Woo-hoo, the Feds aren’t sniffing our exhaust now!” Auto stop/start gets switched off and precious dino-juice gets injected for no other reason than to provide those lovely audible pops and burbles on overrun. And the almost overeager automatic downshifts in these modes remind me of Chester the cartoon terrier forever asking Spike the bulldog, “Wanna beat up that next turn even harder, huh, wanna?!?!” The PDK’s gear selection was so spot on that I only touched the shift paddles once, to limit speed on a downhill stretch.

The best fitness routines involve periods of rest, and coastal towns in between the hills revealed the new Cabrio to be better than its predecessor in this respect, too, thanks to improved driver assist systems, including a lane keeping assist that manages not to pinball off the side-marker lines without strictly lane centering, either, as that might foul the natural on-center steering feel. Adaptive cruise provides stop-and-go functionality, and when the car notices you’re squeezing through a tight space, it automatically calls up the surround-camera view. So solicitous. The optional 855-watt, 13-speaker Burmester sound system has soothing powers and offers impressive dynamic range, though the spatial imaging doesn’t seem as obvious as in other systems, and enough of the system’s brilliance gets lost with the top and windows down that if that’s to be your usual driving mode, you might as well save the $5,560. It still sounds pretty great with the windows and wind-blocker up.

After lunch I strapped into a rear-drive S and was instantly aware of a much greater inclination to gently drift when launching from a stop into a right or left turn. The stability control gets a pretty good workout much of the way through first gear, but at higher speeds wheelspin was much less evident (possibly thanks to unnoticeable electronic machinations of the $3,170 Porsche Dynamic Chassis Control and/or the $2,090 Rear Axle Steering).

There are nits to be picked. As noted on our First Drive of the coupe, the two outermost gauges may as well be devoted to diet tips and Oprah’s book club recommendations because nobody’s going to see them. Sadly, the right one includes the pretty important fuel gauge, so try to remember to move your head occasionally and check that one. I also wish Apple CarPlay would share my Spotify artist and song info with the car’s home screen. And finally, I’m not in love with the turbo engine’s exhaust note, and Herr Achleitner says these Euro versions actually sound a bit better thanks to their particulate filters.

Watch for a GoFundMe page I’m planning to launch to finance a study proving that 911 Cabriolets qualify as health supplements so that I can defray the hefty monthly note with funds from my Health Savings Account.

2020 Porsche 911 S/4S Cabriolet BASE PRICE $127,350-$134,650 VEHICLE LAYOUT Rear-engine, RWD/AWD, 4-pass, 2-door convertible ENGINE 3.0L/443-hp/390-lb-ft twin-turbo DOHC 24-valve flat-6 TRANSMISSIONS 7-speed manual, 8-speed twin-clutch auto CURB WEIGHT 3,550-3,650 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 96.5 in LENGTH X WIDTH X HEIGHT 177.9-178.4 x 72.9 x 50.7-51.2 in 0-60 MPH 3.5-3.7 sec (mfr est) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON Not yet rated ON SALE IN U.S. Late summer 2019

[supersassybouquetearthquake-blog]

Demolition Derby.

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[theauctionmap-blog]

Auction - Cory, IN

www.ucmarshall.com * 1986 Toyota PU Truck 199K * Allis Chalmers 180 Tractor * Woods XBB72 6 Ft. Bushhog * John Deere Lawn Mowers * Guns * One Person Sailboat * Garage/Shop Tools * Pallet of Terre Haute 1960s Era Landscaping Brick * Primitives & Antique Tools * Vintage Octagon Bumper Pool Table * Lowrey Organ * Garden Tiller * Furniture * Glassware * Antiques/Collectibles * Advertising Items * Lawn & Garden Equipment * Holiday Décor * Horse Carousel Collection * Household Items * Garage Items * Lrg Assortment of Cabinets/Storage/Shelving/Organizer Units * Shop Items * Auction Date & Time: Saturday, October 28th, 2017 at 9AM (ET) Seller: Everett & Jeanette Huffman, Estate Auction Location: 8525 South Dearborn Street, Cory, Indiana 47846 Personal Property Preview: Friday, October 27th, 3pm-6pm (ET) Tractor/Vehicle:1986 Toyota Pickup Truck w/ long bed 199Kmi, ext cab, 4 cyl 4 spd runs great!; Allis Chalmers 180 diesel tractor w/ wheel weights & front weights, tires good shape, recent oil change w/ 3pt hitch; 6ft Woods bush hog brush bowl model BB72 Xtreme rotary cutter 3 yr old; John Deere D130 hydrostatic lawnmower 22 hp John Deere engine; John Deere L118 Limited Edition riding mower hydrostatic w/ 20 hp B&S eng (needs work); Huskee 17 cu ft trailer for mower; Guns: Ithaca Gun Co. Inc M-66 Super Single lever action 410 bore 3” chamber shotgun SN# 660707918; J. Stevens Arms Co. .22 S-LLR pump action visible loading repeater rifle SN#J0470; Ranger .22 LR, bolt action rifle w/magazine; Lawn/Garden/Shop/Antiques/General Items: assort hand/garden tools; metal files; shop vacs; hand chem sprayers; pitch forks; painting supplies (brushes etc); wood tennis rackets; lawn/leaf bags; assort lawn chairs; sm pet carrier; fishing poles w/ reels; fishing tackle; antique glass eye wood fishing lures; wheel chalks; 2)gas leaf blowers; assort wood ladders; steel animal traps; several hoses; tarps; assort wire; assort hand tools (wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers etc); assort socket sets; lawn mower parts; files & rasps; assort light bulbs; assort sm hardware (nuts, bolts, nails & screws etc); Sears battery charger; 4) Homelite weed trimmer; garden chemicals & fertilizer; old door knobs; primitives single tree, axes, shovels; assort metal and plastic gas cans; 2)inflatable canoes; power sander; various elect supplies; bungie cords & rope; fire extinguisher; assort iron pipe; wood ext ladders; camo hunting blind; canvas bin for lawn sweeper; tomato cages; plastic hose reel; outdoor A-frame swing; wheelbarrow; prim walk behind garden tiller; pull behind metal lawn aerator; Troy Built Pony walk behind rear tyne tiller; metal turbine roof caps; 2) 6ft sickle bar sections; in-dash Pioneer radio smart phone comp/Bluetooth/Sirius radio ready IN BOX: Power Pro Craft jumper start and power station; Waggoner heavy duty power painter airless paint sprayer; computer speakers; prim hand scythe; rope hammock; ext cords; assort chains; tractor clevis & hitch pins; Tru test lawn spreader; assort grinder wheels; 2 chimney brushes; hand truck; 6ft dbl door metal storage cabinet; vise grips; wire brushes; Tripp Lite power protection surge suppressor; hand wood planes; deep well sockets; metal tool chests; assort wood shelving units; assort storage cabinets; prim 2 dr wood cabinet; 2) medical utility carts; extra wide & reg size sleeping bags; CB radio; Sony radio disc player; ipod radio player; various automotive supplies; golf clubs & bags; vent covers; Ameristep multipurpose pack & blind; dry spreader seeder Agrifab; 3.5hp 20in walk behind lawn mower; Black & Decker elect trimmer; Echo weed trimmer w/ line; 2)plastic tool boxes; outdoor toys; plastic watering cans; car care supplies; assort oils & lube products; 4 dr metal file cabinet; coal bucket; Model 74 115V, 100amp arc welder; 7 metal survival supply containers by Office of Civil Defense/Dept of Defense; group wood handle hand saws; staircase hand rail; 3)metal rail snow sleds; Radio Flyer wagon; upholstered child’s rocking chair; old child’s wood blocks; boy’s Huffy bike arrow mini chopper style; girls sm huffy bicycle; Men’s Huffy Scout 3 bike; GE elect metal blade fan; Master Mechanic 16 gal wet/ dry vac; Speedway Series 12 spd drill press; 6 ft 2 dr metal storage locker; floor brooms; Speedway Series ¾ hp 8” wheel grinder on base; 2 J Marttiini filet knifes; Buffalo Tools 2 hp elect air compressor; 2hp charge air compressor; treble light; Power Craft elect hand drills; elect motor; Stocky elect fence charger; small metal parts cabinets; King Craft palm sander; plastic truck tool box; approx 10ft hard plastic/composite sailboat w/ 2 sails & seats; assort lumber; prim True Value metal wheel barrow; Agrifab 38” lawn sweeper; metal radio estate cart model 76 capacity 5.5 cu ft w/ metal wheels; 2)Minn Kota trolling motors; plastic drain pipe; roofing paper; primitive wood box; plastic flower boxes; metal trunk; Culvert Better Seed Corn Hybrids sign; metal tractor step w/battery box; 13)plastic milk crates (Wanzer’s, Cedar Hill Farms etc); metal milk crate; plastic buckets; 6 shelf metal wire display rack; outdoor table umbrella; wood & metal fence posts; plastic trash cans; firewood; wood & metal fence gates; old oil cans; bike tire pumps; glass oil container spout; 18V cordless drill; pallet of 1960s Terre Haute Brick; sm pile cinderblocks; landscape timbers; selection poplar wood boards; Household/Furniture/ Collectibles: yellow vasoline glass candle holders & bowl; collection of carousel horses (some musical); Octagon 3-in-1 bumper pool table w/cues, balls etc & 5 chairs; 7.5ft white pine artificial Christmas tree in box; tall nut cracker soldier statue; assort crocks; St Claire paper weight; assort knick-knacks; angels; vintage cork bottle stopper; clear cut glass dishes; upholstered couch; assort upholstered chairs; bowls; vases; approx 20 pc vintage pink/green beverage glass sets & goblets; vintage green blendo water set; assort water sets; cake stand w/dome lid; assort end tables; assort lamps; assort Christmas & holiday items; 6) glass holiday martini glasses; glider rocker; round single door cabinet end table; 4)dr oak cabinet; The Nestle Co. Inc. clear teacups; Coors porcelain mortor & pestle USA 522-000-B-3; clear etched glass relish dish; Budweiser Millennium high ball clear stemmed beer glasses; ceramic pedestal fruit bowl; clear glass plant frogs; crystal ring holder; assort clear candy dishes; vintage mirrored trays; assort linens; sake set in box; binoculars; handmade Mexican leather purses; assort clothing accessories; glass mixer bowls; Corning Ware dishes; old shot glass; ceramic nativity scene; Home Medics facial steamer; NIB Rabbit corkscrew; hand crafted/painted dishes by Noritake; Yashica w/Sunpak 45mm auto 101 flash camera; mechanical music dolls; Liebermann Elegance doll in box; glass bake dishes; Duralex dishes; Fuji film fine pix A610 Olympics stylus pocket camera; assort Tupperware; Stroh’s metal cans; vintage purses; assort umbrellas; new certificate of excellence for years of service; assort costume jewelry; 2) matching twin bed set; wicker storage shelving unit; nice 5)pc bedroom suite (queen sz bed, chest of drawers, mirror dresser, 2)night stands, head/foot board); wooden jewelry cabinet; Ionic Breeze air purifier; wood computer desk; assort baskets; painted bookcase w/cabinet & drawers; set 30 Americana Int’l Edition Encyclopedia; Samsung VRT top load wash machine; Kenmore 600 front load elect dryer; utility table; 2 dr wood entertainment center; Life Style Cardio-Fit exercise machine; hide-a -bed couch; white 9dr dresser; mission style oak glider rocker w/ottoman; assort VHS/DVD movies; canning supplies; pressure cooker; elect frying pan; 2) utility carts; white Westinghouse chest freezer; GE 8-track tape player works great!; metal floor fan; retro bread box; lg assortment 8-track tapes; metal office desks; bowling balls & shoes w/ case; 2) upright Kirby vacuum (Classic, Legend 2); lg plastic drink dispenser; assort vintage picnic baskets; leather hand bags; old horseshoes; retro alum stackable warmer; retro plastic food storage container; 37.5” x 26.5” wall mirror & lots more! For Terms, Photos & Sale Flyer go to: www.ucmarshall.com Auctioneer’s Note: We are honored to conduct the Public Auction for the Huffman Family Estate. We have a great selection of items to spark everyone’s interest. This will be approx imately a 4 hour sale. So come on out and bring a friend and enjoy your auction experience. Port-A-Pot will be available. Announcements made at day of sale will take precedence over printed, oral, electronic statements, etc. All Items sold AS IS, WHERE IS, with no warranties expressed or implied. Must have FOID card for the purchase of guns or ammo. Auctioneer is acting only as an agent to the Seller(s) and is not responsible for any accident or liability. United Country – Auctions, Appraisals & Realty, LLC and their agents and the Seller(s) reserve the right to preclude any person or persons from actively bidding in any form if there is any question as to the person or person’s credentials, behavior, suitability, etc. to participate in the bidding process. Terms of Personal Property: Cash or Check with proper ID at day of sale, Credit Cards (Mastercard, Visa, American Express, Discover) w/ a clerical fee in the amount of 3% of the total purchase charged to the buyer for the use of credit cards. Not responsible for any thefts or accidents. NOTE: WE DO NOT USE THE 6% BUYERS PREMIUM ON PERSONAL PROPERTY—-REAL ESTATE ONLY. NOTE: The Auctioneer may use any dollar increment during the bidding process he feels is appropriate. Read the full article

[itsworn]

Petty, Shelby, Smokey, Garlits, Granatelli, and Parnelli Set The Pace For 1967

1967.

The minds of future automotive archeologists will surely be blown by all that occurred this year, on and off the track. We’d advise them that the hundreds of race cars frozen in black-and-white in the Petersen archive only begin to tell this season’s big stories. Investigating their builders, drivers, successes, and struggles for this final installment of Power Struggles led us down many rabbit holes, into some dead ends, and to the conclusion that American auto racing in 1967 was better than ever before—if not the best ever, period. Eleven of those months offered major events, at least in southern California. The best Grand National stock cars were already trading paint in January on Riverside’s road course. On a Saturday night in November, six teams of top Funny Cars—30 different drivers, plus standby alternates—squared off at brand-new Orange County International Raceway in the Manufacturers Meet.

There were no shortages of race cars or controversies in between. Two years after Chrysler pulled out of NASCAR and just as Ford was ending its 1966 boycott, both factories threatened to flee again in protest of Bill France’s acceptance of each other’s questionable “optional accessories” and one radically streamlined, supposedly independent Chevelle. While General Motors officially extended its own corporate ban of all motorsports into the new year, rabble-rousers Smokey Yunick and Curtis Turner sat on the Daytona 500 pole, more than a dozen race-ready examples of the recently released Camaro materialized for Sebring’s Trans-Am series opener, and aluminum rat motors overpowered the sporty-car competition in the U.S. Road Racing Championship and Can-Am series.

Thanks partly to a booming muscle-car craze, drag strip staging lanes were filled four and five days a week. Thirty-two-car, open-qualifying Top Fuel shows were not uncommon. So many “hot cars” entered NHRA’s February opener that the Winternationals instituted side-by-side qualifying, thus ending a time-honored, time-wasting tradition of single runs prior to eliminations. Another historic first was the all-dragster, one-day PDA Meet at Lions, headlined by 64 blown fuelers (though “only” 62 starters survived brutal qualifying attrition).

Oval-track traditionalists convinced that mid-mounted V8s were the worst idea since women in the pits tried every trick short of sabotage to convince USAC to outlaw the pistonless powerplant entered by the influential Granatelli brothers. The little car with the big engine could’a, should’a, would’a won Indy, but for the best-known bearing failure in history. Collateral damage beyond the one-off gearbox included the end of a Firestone winning streak dating all the way back to 1915. When the Firestone-shod STP Turbine crapped out four laps short of certain victory, A.J. Foyt sped past on Goodyears.

Goodyear provoked and fought tire wars on multiple fronts. M&H Racemasters had been standard dragster equipment for the decade since Marvin and Harry Rifchin rendered recaps obsolete by molding all-new slicks. That monopoly was broken by gifts of Blue Streak tires, cash, and rides in the original Goodyear blimp. Lots of pro racers jumped the blimpless M&H ship, including Don Garlits—who dramatically switched back for U.S. Nationals eliminations, chopped four tenths from his previous-best e.t., and won drag racing’s biggest event on Racemasters.

Most of these historic events and innovations are illustrated here by one or more archive photos. As in all previous installments of this series, unpublished outtakes enjoyed an edge over images found in the author’s private collections of Petersen’s big three monthlies: HOT ROD, Car Craft, and Motor Trend. (Digital HRM back issues are accessible at Club.HotRod.com by Platinum-level members of the HOT ROD Club.) For every negative approved for publication by editors, hundreds more were doomed to decades of darkness in steel drawers.

We’re going back for more of those. Another pictorial historical series, similar but different, debuts in the next HOT ROD Deluxe (Jan. ’18). We’ll begin by winding the clock back to 1955, when Robert E. Petersen instructed photographic director Bob D’Olivo to start tracking, numbering, and preserving any film exposed and processed by PPC employees. Subsequent years will be covered chronologically, one per issue, through the ’50s and into the mid-’60s. So, stick around. Your eyes will be among the first to see images previously seen only by the long-gone employees who shot, processed, rejected, or filed film that’s waited five or six decades to be appreciated.

Power Struggles Series

•Part 1, 1955: Nov. ’15 HRD

•Part 2, 1956: Jan. ’16 HRD

•Part 3, 1957: Mar. ’16 HRD

•Part 4, 1958: May ’16 HRD

•Part 5, 1959: July ’16 HRD

•Part 6, 1960: Sept. ’16 HRD

•Part 7, 1961: Nov. ’16 HRD

•Part 8, 1962: Jan. ’17 HRD

•Part 9, 1963: Mar. ’17 HRD

•Part 10, 1964: May ’17 HRD

•Part 11, 1965: July ’17 HRD

•Part 12, 1966: Sept. ’17 HRD

•Part 13, 1967: Nov. ’17 HRD

An odd, mostly unwritten, near-universal requirement for dragster drivers to complete winning rounds “without outside assistance” stemmed from an era of stripped-down rail jobs pushed by healthy youths in T-shirts and jeans. By 1967, a typical Top Fueler weighed upwards of 1,300 pounds, and its pilot wore a hot, heavy, aluminized firesuit. Some strips further demanded that helmets and even face masks remain in place. These program interruptions delighted fans, who cheered the pusher as he passed and again when his win light finally flickered, and proved irresistible to photographers and editors. Drag racing’s original jungle man, “Jungle” Larry Faust, advanced the hard way during Riverside’s 32-car HOT ROD Magazine meet after Don Prudhomme red-lighted and this car’s clutch fried on the starting line. He returned in time for the semifinals, but must’ve been all worn out, falling asleep against dark horse Glenn Brown (7.41/213.76 to 7.29/212.76), the eventual runner-up. Ironically, Faust’s frustrating outing generated the most publicity of a solid career driving fuel cars for Gene Mooneyham. Bob D’Olivo’s photo is an outtake to at least three different angles appearing in postrace coverage (June ’67 HRM; July ’67 CC).

Smacking a wall and shedding a front wheel just 15 laps into the Motor Trend 500 didn’t stop Curtis Turner from grinding the mile and a half back to Bud Moore’s pit. The damage proved irreparable, however, after rain arrived later this afternoon and NASCAR locked up the cars for a week, on jack stands. When the race resumed, teams were forbidden from any preparation beyond tire inflation. (See Apr. ’67 HRM & MT.)

Like you, we saw this and assumed that the flying ’58 Fairlane surely was done for the day, if not forever more. Research revealed that regional racer Frank Deiny miraculously bounced back for a second-place finish (to Oren Prosser) in Riverside’s Permatex 100 undercard. We also learned that Deiny drove Grand National cars, though never finishing higher than 30th, and is better known as the founder of Speedway Engineering.

Eventual Motor Trend 500 winner Parnelli Jones provided plenty of excitement enroute, spinning out both weekends in virtually the same spot, then recovering in Riverside’s notorious Turn Six. He became the first event champion not named Gurney since 1963’s inaugural. Note the unprecedented sheetmetal stretching that factory teams applied to FoMoCo’s new Fairlane-Comet intermediate. Beyond chopping, channeling, and flaring, some cars sported shortened A-pillars that drooped the roof edges but maintained stock windshield height in the center, where inspectors measured. The streamlining and tunnel-port 427s were loudly protested by Chrysler, which threatened a repeat of its 1965 boycott over NASCAR’s failure to enforce its own rules.

Even Ford’s powerful new tunnel-port 427 must’ve struggled to deliver the Wood brothers’ team to the winner’s circle. Leonard and Glen Wood, who’d crewed for Dan Gurney during his last three (of four straight) Motor Trend 500 wins, came aboard only after Cale Yarborough crashed their Fairlane in practice. The brothers brought along their stash of state-of-the-art, tunnel-port 427s prepared by Holman-Moody.

All we can tell you about this fluke photo is that it came from the shutdown area of Bee Line Dragway near Phoenix during AHRA’s Winter Nationals. None of our usual sources could identify the car or off-road driver, who’d presumably been blinded by oil gushing from the valve-cover breather. We say fluke photo because the preceding frames on this roll are all low-speed parachute shots of Funny Cars slowing to make a turnout. Instead of running for his life when the speeding fueler approached, CC staffer Bob Swaim turned, refocused, and stopped the action for us to enjoy, 50 years later. (See Apr. ’67 HRM & CC.)

It’s awfully tough to stump the network of geezers responsible for identifying numerous cars and people depicted in past Power Struggles, but nobody remembers this manpower struggle during NHRA’s Winternationals. (Help, readers?) Drag Racers Inc. members pointed out that the combination of blown Chrysler and skinny slicks indicates a Top Gas transplant. (See Apr. ’67 HRM, CC & MT; Aug. ’67 HRM, CC & MT.)

After taking a year off from rocking the Brickyard establishment, Mickey Thompson held a February press conference in Irwindale, California, to unveil his most-radical setup yet: a slingshot-style Indy roadster driven by the front wheels, steered by all four (a la hook-’n’-ladder), and pulled by a three-valve (two intake, one exhaust), all-aluminum engine based on a small-block Chevy. A single Crower roller cam in the conventional location actuated one exhaust and two intake valves per pent-roof chamber. Thompson also cast new injectors to squeeze between the dual rocker shafts. Gary Congdon was driving both here and at Indy, where neither this car nor a rear-engined backup got past practice sessions. CC’s Dan Roulston reported that the team ultimately combined surviving parts and pieces from both Huffaker cars into a hybrid that got stranded in line when qualifying closed. (See May & June ’67 HRM; May & Aug. ’67 CC.)

Only after scanning and enlarging this frame did Smokey Yunick’s silhouette emerge from what had looked like a weird shadow or film defect in the original negative. MT photographer Bob D’Olivo got the candid shot prior to the Daytona 500. Curtis Turner debuted the famous “second Chevelle” on the pole with a record average of 181.541, breaking Daytona’s 180-mph barrier and leading the rest of the field by fully three mph. After losing Smokey’s 404-inch “qualifier” motor in a 100-mile qualifying race, Turner stayed in the top five in the main event and led repeatedly before blowing the race engine, too. Nonetheless, this was the most-impressive, most-publicized effort by any Chevy race car since GM halted direct and indirect support in 1963. Mario Andretti went on to win for Ford, his only NASCAR victory. (See May & July ’67 HRM; May ’67 MT.)

It’s hard to believe now that such an itty-bitty spoiler caused a humongous ruckus, but Ford’s brass had been simmering since mid-1966, when Dodge rushed the aero aid into its retail catalog and NASCAR blessed it as a legitimate option. The added downforce transformed ill-handling Dodge Chargers into leaders virtually overnight. Chrysler countered that Ford’s new 427 heads, tunnel-port intake, and headers were not production items, nor were chopped, channeled, sectioned, widened Fairlane and Comet bodies. At Atlanta, Chrysler officials actually encouraged its factory teams to boycott the rest of the season—a plot unrealized only because the Pettys refused to go along with fellow owners Ray Nichels and Cotton Owens. Meanwhile, David Pearson’s Charger was getting checked against one of the plywood templates introduced at Daytona. (See June ’67 HRM; Jan. & June ’67 MT.)

Smokey’s slippery Chevelle met a violent end during Atlanta 500 practice. After lapping effortlessly at 151 mph (while other teams struggled for 149), Curtis Turner smacked the wall, got airborne, and flipped approximately 10 times. He was knocked out but reportedly unhurt. Yunick (at right, pointing, in a rare bareheaded photo) yanked the Tri-Powered 427 and tranny before getting the wreck crushed into a four-foot-square office decoration. (See June ’67 HRM & MT.)

We’re hoping that some of you—ahem—”mature” Midwesterners will fill us in about butchered Chevelle panels wrapped around an old altered chassis. We picked the shot from Detroit Dragway’s AHRA Grand Nationals to illustrate how Funny Car variety was probably peaking in this last season before rules makers began banning Jeeps and roadsters from major events. (See Aug. ’67 HRM.)

Determined to demonstrate that the traditional kings of the sport could draw big crowds without Funny Cars, novice promoter and United Drag Racers Association board member Doug Kruse persuaded Lions operator C.J. Hart to host an all-dragster show paying the largest cash purse ever, from $5,100 to the Top Fuel Eliminator to round money for all qualifiers. Imagine a single Saturday of qualifying and eliminations for 64 blown fuelers, 16 Top Gassers, and 16 injected Junior Fuel rails. The respective winners were Don Prudhomme, Bob Muravez (aka Floyd Lippencott Jr.), and longshot Tom Barres (Jr. Fuel)—plus the estimated 16,000 to 17,000 fans who arrived before Hart had to lock the gates of the overflowing facility two hours early. In addition to pounding out countless aluminum race-car bodies, Kruse designed and assembled the twin-engined Invader roadster that won back-to-back AMBR awards in 1967-1968. He passed away this June 19, just shy of the 50th anniversary of his inaugural, incomparable Professional Dragster Association Championships. (See Oct. ’67 HRM & CC.)

A broken axle instantly spoiled Mark Donohue’s day in Loudon, New Hampshire—but not a season that produced Trans-Am wins with Roger Penske’s Z-28 and the U.S. Road Racing Championship title in Penske’s Lola-Chevy Mark III. This car was the main testbed for joint 302 development by Traco, GM engineers, and Smokey Yunick (who later shared the recipe with HRM readers, Mar. ’68 issue). Vince Piggins, Chevrolet’s racing boss, is often credited for successfully mating 327 cranks to 283 blocks, though countless drag racers did it first, dubbing the resulting hybrid a 301. An entire injected-nitro category, Junior Fuel Dragster, was based on the combination (up to 310 cubic inches).

Sir Mick never could stay away from the salt for long. Getting back to Bonneville with a canopied Indy car should’ve made some news, but we haven’t found a single published photo or any mention of the effort. (See Nov. ’67 HRM.)

This classic Wendover, Utah, photo almost didn’t make the final cut for lack of IDs, but it’s just too cool to put back into the file drawer. Whoever they are, these bikers were responsible motel guests: Another frame on this roll reveals a protective tarp beneath the tools and the British double. (Do you think the leggy blonde is bored yet?)

We ran this scan past Don Garlits—who always remembers everything—but Big doesn’t know what prompted his reaction, nor whom he was signaling, at Indianapolis Raceway Park. Don is sure about the day it happened, pointing out the rotating M&H slicks borrowed from James Warren and Roger Coburn for Labor Day’s eliminations. After he and James both advanced out of the semifinals, Garlits famously offered to return the rubber, his opponent famously declined, and this extra-long (175-inch), super-light (1,170-pound) slingshot won the U.S. Nationals in a career-best 6.77 seconds. Immediately afterwards, he fulfilled a vow to shave his beard in front of fans if he ever ran in the sixes. (See Nov. ’67 HRM & CC.)

If forcing those newfangled Funny Cars into heads-up dragster classes was NHRA’s plot to eliminate them as early as possible, it backfired when Dick Jesse’s radically sectioned, blown GTO and Gene Snow’s injected Dart respectively trophied in BB/ and CC/Fuel Dragster at Indy to qualify for Super Eliminator (which Snow also won). “Mr. Unswitchable” really was: Jesse stuck with Pontiac power long after other Poncho heroes defected to 392 or 426 Chryslers.

Darlington’s Southern 500 was among Richard Petty’s 10 straight NASCAR wins between August 12 and October 1. In a season that will undoubtedly never be equaled, he won 27 of 48 races driving the same ’66 Belvedere that won 13 times the previous year. In the process, he broke another record that folks figured would never be threatened: 54 career wins scored by his daddy, Lee. Darlington Raceway’s enthusiastic flag waver must’ve been wearing insulated underwear on that hot hood. Directly below sat a destroked Hemi whose 404 cubic inches netted a 206-pound weight break for short tracks, improving handling and fuel mileage. (See Nov. & Dec. ’67 MT.)

The hard-fought Trans-Am series’ manufacturers’ championship came down to a Mercury-vs.-Ford showdown in the last of 12 races—and a missing gas cap—at Kent, Washington. Needing to finish one spot higher than the Mustangs, Dan Gurney’s factory Cougar fell back to third after acquiring a black-flag penalty for spewing fuel, a punctured rear tire, and a smashed windshield that forced him to push against the broken glass to see. In the absence of Jerry Titus’s wrecked Mustang, teammate Ron Bucknum held onto the second position (behind winner Mark Donohue) necessary for owner Carroll Shelby to secure a second title for Ford in Trans-Am’s second season. (Drivers would not be awarded individual points until 1972.)

Joseph Granatelli impressed the L.A. media by firing up the turbine (note exhaust heat) at a press party in early April, then drove the car from of the stately Ambassador Hotel’s courtyard to a makeshift photo studio nearby. HRM’s Ray Brock and Eric Rickman teamed up for the static photography.

The sexy skin was among the earliest computer-designed, wind-tunnel-tested race-car bodies. Racing weight of 1,750 pounds was distributed 60/40, left/right, and 45/55, front/rear.

A unique four-wheel-drive system evolved from the mechanism custom-built by Ferguson Formula in England for the previous season’s STP Novi. The engine’s projected four-to-six mpg (doubling Indy’s typical fuel mileage) enabled a small, 48-gallon kerosene load to be strategically distributed inside the chassis.

Little-known factoid: Those perfect rows of rivets were proudly installed by Jim Lytle, who previously built and drove the pair of Allison-powered ’34 Fords known as Big Als I and II. The youngster tried but failed to convince boss Ken Wallis that a race car—unlike the aircraft he’d designed—needed U-joints in the drivetrain to ensure survival throughout practice laps, qualifying, and a 500-mile race. He said he quit after Wallis took issue with the suggestion and demeaned him as “a drag racer, not an engineer” who “should do more riveting and less talking.” Lytle predicted to friends that the car would be fast, but would not finish.

Publisher Ray Brock’s Aug. ’67 HRM editorial lobbied USAC not to penalize future turbines for performance that might’ve been achievable with conventional Indy power: “We think that a Ford or Offy engine in this very same chassis would outrun the rear-engined cars.” A left-foot-operated flapper later attached to the exhaust pipe functioned as an air brake, partially compensating for the absence of compression braking.

In one year, Novi diehards Andy (in suit), Joe, and Vince Granatelli graduated from perennial backmarkers to feared frontrunners while generating priceless publicity for STP.

Note how the turbine’s intense exhaust heat distorts the background. The round shield enabled crewmen to access nearby components during pit stops.

When Andy rushed to meet his coasting driver on the track, the turbine was running perfectly, but no power was reaching the wheels. Only later did he realize that had his crew left the disabled car where it stopped, instead of pushing it back to the pits, Parnelli Jones would’ve been awarded third place, instead of sixth.

The post Petty, Shelby, Smokey, Garlits, Granatelli, and Parnelli Set The Pace For 1967 appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/petty-shelby-smokey-garlits-granatelli-parnelli-set-pace-1967/ via IFTTT

[mybubblyface-blog]

As the car entered Citepus Beach, your eyes will be spoiled with sandy beaches and the sea on the way to Cimaja Beach Club.

To live and work in Jakarta means layered of pressures, start from the professional life and personal life too. That’s why me and my best friends like to getaway on the weekend from the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle.

The best area for relaxing weekend getaway is the beach! There are several beaches nearby Jakarta that can be reached within a day. This time, we decided to go on a weekend adventure trip to Cimaja Beach of Pelabuhan Ratu and stay at Cimaja Beach Club, a famous accommodation among the surfers and also famous for its delicious breakfast.

How did we experience our trip to Cimaja Beach Club? Read more!

1. Cimaja accommodation vs holiday goals vs budget

We want to go on a relaxing holiday by the beach with limited budget. Cimaja Beach Club is the accommodation that meets our need because it sits right in front of the Cimaja Beach.

Cimaja Beach Club

The price for two persons and an extra bed is affordable for the 3 of us with breakfast included. So, it’s sooo…… within our budget! There are 3 selections of breakfast from Pancakes, Big Breakfast, and Granola. We were actually finding difficulties when we have to decide what we want for breakfast, we wanted them all!

Pancakes for breakfast, anyone?

The staffs are amazing! They are very kind and attentive, always ready to give information everytime we asked. And they have 2 friendly Dalmatians that company us when we hang out at the Common Space.

Trooper & Feder

You can check out Cimaja Beach Club website through the following link: http://www.cimajabeachclub.com/ for the accommodation price. Jeremy, the owner, is very responsive and he speaks Bahasa Indonesia too! Too bad we didn’t have the chance to meet him when we stay there.

2. How to get to Cimaja?

We were looking for a cheap yet convenient transportation to reach Cimaja Beach. So we decided that we are going to mix our transportation. We started to check other options of transportation by checking the train schedule and whether the accommodation provides train station pick up, etc. We wanted to arrive at Cimaja at lunchtime, so we made online reservation for the 08:00 am train depart from Bogor to Pelabuhan Ratu. We also made reservation for a car pick up at Cibadak train station where we got off from the train.

Train boarding pass

These are our transportation details to Cimaja Beach Club (CBC):

From Jakarta to Cimaja Beach:

Commuter Line from Jurangmangu to Bogor station 8,000

Pangrango train ticket Bogor Paledang – Cibadak Executive class 50,000

Car pick up from Cibadak station – Cimaja Beach Club 117,000

From Cimaja Beach to Jakarta:

Car pick up from Cimaja Beach Club –Cibadak station 117,000

Pangrango train ticket Cibadak – Bogor Paledang Economy class 25,000

Commuter Line Bogor to Jurangmangu station 8,000

Total cost per person 325,000

We departed from Jurangmangu at 05:00 am and arrived at Cimaja Beach Club at 13:00 pm. With a mix of transportation types, we have reached our destinations with affordable price yet still have the comfort that we need.

If you want to follow our way of transport, here a few tips:

From Bogor Commuter Line station, you have to walk out of the station and cross the street to reach the Bogor Paledang station.

Carry a backpack to bring all your necessary items, it will make you easier to walk without quickly feel exhausted.

Pangrango train Executive class is very comfortable with reclining seats and most likely full like the economy class, where you have to sit on a non-reclining 3-seater.

Be careful when you use the toilet because the train rail is not always flat due to the contour of the terrain. You will experience minor shakes, so please consider that when you are doing activity in the train especially in the toilet.

All the car drivers only know fast or super fast driving and they are most likely tried to precede other vehicles including buses. I would suggest you to drink Antimo, dimenhydrinate tablets for dizziness and wear your seatbelt eventhough you are sitting in the back.

Backpack troops!

Of course, there are many other options of transportation that meets your need. You can rent a private car from Jakarta to Cimaja or other alternatives transportation.

3. How many restaurants in Cimaja?

As soon as we arrived at CBC, we immediately ordered lunch. CBC has some lunch menus with relatively same price like in Jakarta. We have ordered fish dabu-dabu with rice and also beef rendang with rice. They were delicious! I know, we’d probably tired and hungry, which makes every food are delicious. But especially the fish dabu – dabu was just fantastic. The fish were fresh and the dabu – dabu was just on the right amount to make the tastiest lunch dish.

Fish dabu – dabu over rice

In the afternoon, we went down to Citepus beach by public transportation. We enjoyed the sunset and cheap dinner by the beach. There are plenty of “warung” or small restaurant along the beach with mainly Indonesian Chinese food. We ordered meatballs soup, fried noddles, noddles soup, and none other indomie soup with meatballs ( a very typical menu, rite? ). The noddles soup was bad, so sad. But it’s fine; we can always order something to eat at CBC in case we hungry again!

You can find many restaurants around Cimaja and other beaches on surrounding areas starting from seafood and other Indonesian food. We saw one restaurant that serves pizza and pasta, but it was the only one nearby.

4. 3 things you can do at Cimaja Beach

a. Surfing

If you are a surfer, Cimaja waves are perfect for the long-board surfers. You can rent a scooter and reach other surfing beaches.

b. Eat and Eat

Whether it’s the grilled fishes and seafood, fried noddle and noddle soup, or just the simple meatballs soup, you can explore Cimaja culinary by foot, with a scooter, or by taking public transportation.

c. Being lazy

You can have a lazy holiday by walking around the beach and meet the locals catching the fishes, or read a good book while playing with the friendly dogs. You can stay inside the AC room when the heat is unbearable and turn on your playlist with a portable speaker.

There was one interesting story during our stay at Cimaja. After dinner at Citepus Beach, we realised that there was no public transportation to take us back to CBC. In the night, fishermen were renting the public transportation to go to the market. The only choice was to take the motor taxi or famously known as “ojek”.

We found an ojek and he went to find another 2 ojek because there were 3 of us. He returned with only 1 ojek, so 2 of us have to share 1 ojek. It was a unique and funny experience that we will never forget!

I wanna join them catching little fishes!

Perfect spot for afternoon beer, don’t you think? 

View from the roof top

So, what are you waiting for? Pack your backpack and head out to Cimaja for your beach getaway! Who says a beach holiday is pricey and time consuming?

If you have other weekend getaway from Jakarta, I want to hear from you.

  Looking for a getaway from Jakarta the concrete jungle? As the car entered Citepus Beach, your eyes will be spoiled with sandy beaches and the sea on the way to Cimaja Beach Club.