#f100 parts

[flmboyz]

For Sale: Ford 1963 F100

[thatpartofher]

sitting down with the woman i was many years ago, there is temptation to want to collect the fear that is about to pour out from her glances and onto the ground. i’d want to soak it up with as many absorbent words as i could possibly toss on top of the mess…

but i don’t.

instead i listen to her.

and while digesting her words i keep my eyes locked with hers, with no other plan but to spend undivided time with every single page of her stories, even the ones she wants to read out loud to me more than once. i allow space for the growing puddle of her panic to pool around our seats, and no matter the discomfort i may soon drown in, there with her i’ll be.

as each leaf falls from her book now sponging up the flood, the both of us see how the ink can now fade and she and i blend into one.

-that part of her

[automotiveamerican]

Ford Tough – A Guide To Parts and Upgrades for Mid-Year Ford F100S

To say that trucks are hot these days would be a tremendous understatement, and we’re not talking about just the classic fat-fendered ’50s pickups – which are still, and always will be popular. The Ford F-series of pickups has been a favorite hot rodding canvas for years and there is no sign of them slowing down, however the era of truck being modified is definitely a moving target. The Ford…

[penaltyboxboxbox]

i'm here for any breadcrumbs of ur android AU >:V

I ACTUALLY HAVE MORE THAN BREADCRUMBS......heres some backstory some lore its incomplete but yeah take what i have :)

COMPREHENSIVE ANDROID AU

Cars and Drivers essentially have a symbiotic relationship, the cars have been designed to require an android pilot, with their power units/batteries being linked into one another. While traditional safety concerns are not something to worry about, this link between the electronics of the car and the driver means that malfunctions and damage to the car can result in technical damage to the driver. For example, if the car's own power systems begin failing, it may begin leech too much power from its driver, spreading battery life too thinly and causing shutdown for them both. Plugging into the car essentially puts the driver into a hyper-powered state, the car becoming an extension of their body.

Drivers can accrue damage of course, and like with cars there is a limited amount of replacement parts allowed each season, with penalties being doled out if breached.

F100 models are the standard approved android for F1 Racing, replacing the previous F01 models in 2015. The androids themselves are developed by independent manufacturers, each offering specific strengths, focuses, and technologies- teams themselves are forbidden from android manufacturing, ensuring that there is still competition and markets for drivers. The main challenge for teams is to develop cars and software, and then finding android drivers most compatible with their teams systems.

When a team secures a driver, they are fitted with a new head component that visually denotes them as part of that team and also holds/runs any team specific programming, and is responsible for the main compatibility with the car. Android drivers physically cannot pilot other teams cars unless the corresponding head unit is installed.

Androids hold little personal autonomy in this world, and typically have lives very controlled by their teams, as they are as much of an asset as the cars. This may vary depending on manufacturer and team attitude/culture, with some allowing for more freedom of expression and relative "personhood" of their android drivers, but undoubtedly still will maintain a great deal of control.

LETS GET INTO THE DRIVERSSS

Charles: F100-R18 Model by Leclerc Engineering, running CL16 / A charming and quick model, it is rumored that his core programming, processing, and body itself were secretly developed by Ferrari associates rather than fully by an independent manufacturer. This has led to a bit of drama surrounding him, with people questioning the team's involvement in building an android from scratch specifically to drive their cars, but his success has not been dominant enough for people to make too much of a fuss. There has been very little data showing if Charles is compatible with non-ferrari tech, one of the few things that would disprove the rumors around him, but the team shows no signs of trying to part with him any time soon.

Carlos: F100-R15 Model by Sainz Company running CS55 / A unique model of the F100, developed off of the Sainz Company's highly successful RA7-CS model, developed for Rally driving. The RA7 was re-engineered to match specs of the standard F100, while retaining durability and adaptability aspects the RA7 was made famous for. A unique model on the track, he has faced constant skepticism for not being as well optimized.

Lance: F100-R17 Model by Lawrence Stroll, running LS18 / In contrast to other racing androids, Lance was developed with many components more traditional to companion androids, and is treated like a son by his developer, Lawrence Stroll. When not driving, Lance lives a very human life, and is the apple of his creator's eye, garnering them both criticism over Lance's belonging in such a cutthroat sport. He also faces similar scrutiny to Charles, in that Stroll owns the racing team, as well as individually developing driving androids. He continues to state that Lance was developed first as a son, only second as a racing driver, and his model has shown compatibility with other teams cars.

Fernando: F01-R02.WDC Model by FA Alonso Kart & Sports, running FA14 / An otherwise defunct model, Fernando is still running despite it all. New softwares that he should not be compatible with, upgraded parts that should not fit, he somehow manages to make work, and deliver consistent results.

This can be credited to a massive electronic overload during a crash in 2015, in which he suffered a complete system malfunction. He appeared to just need a reboot and recalibration, but the incident unknowingly released previously encrypted team information into Fernando's memory and bypassed/disarmed a number of obsolescence measures that had been placed on his model, allowing his internal AI and adaptive systems to essentially run free.

Logan: F100-R23 Model by Sergeant Manufacturing, running LS2 / The only American made model on the grid, which has faced some scrutiny, as the crossover from American motorsports to International has not yet been the smoothest. A very new and untested model as well, approved for F1 in 2023, he has not proven to be the most compatible with the current Williams car, frequently facing technical issues.

Oscar: F100-R23 Model by Webber Technologies, running OP81 / Oscar's model was developed under the Australian manufacturer Webber Technologies, basing his internal systems off their previously successful F01-R02. He faced controversy when entering the Mclaren team, as Webber Technologies had a long term testing deal with Alpine while developing their F100 and his accompanying OP81 programming. While it is insisted that procedures were properly followed when erasing proprietary Alpine information from the OP81 program, some are suspicious due to his high level of success upon entering the Mclaren. Some theorize something else entirely, that Webber had been secretly testing Mclaren software in the OP81 system for much longer than anticipated, and optimizing the android for their car specifically prior to signing.

[jewishregulus]

friday snipbit !!!

thank u for the tag @soreddieforit !!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️

here is a little not edited thing i’ve written for the thoroughfare by ethel cain fic :>>>>

Regulus is sitting on the pavement outside of a shitty gas station with a piping hot coffee burning the pads of his fingers in one hand and a pack of Marlboro Reds in the other when he sees the red pick-up pull in to the lot. It’s got a layer of dirt crusted across the bottom, and a few dents scattered across the side like it has been around for some years and seen some things. A 1975 Ford F100. It’s a flashy car, rarer than most around these parts. Must have been a family car.

He takes a long sip of his coffee, burning his tongue in the process as he watches the driver pull next to the gas pump. Regulus has a game he likes to play with these strangers in which he comes up with an elaborate story of how they’ve ended up here. Regulus wonders how many other people are playing along with him, and if any of them have looked at him and guessed; He’s running away from his mama and the black eye she gave him. He had to do it right then or else he would have never done it at all. Now all he is left with is a little less than one hundred dollars and bleeding feet from the walk, and he’s wasted even more of it on cigarettes and coffee he should’ve probably replaced with actual food to fuel the rest of his long walk to anywhere else. He takes another sip of the coffee and finds it doesn’t hurt as much as it had the first time.

no pressure tags @effiepotterisamilf @prongsfish @veryinnovative ❤️

[blubushie]

I promise to keep spam to a minimum, but as promised, here's some Ford and Mustang pics from the first day of the event!

(fun fact, according to the owner of both the Mustang in #4 and the last two pics which is a full racing team, the dark green in #4 is a completely custom, 1 of 1 Mustang Bullet with parts by McQueen Racing)

Sorry I saw this and all the blood rushed somewhere that wasn't my head and I blacked out for a few minutes

Is whoever had the F100 Ranger selling it and if so how much cuz I know a guy

[dronescapesvideos]

Pratt & Whitney PART 2: From The F100 turbofan That Powered The F-15 To The F-22 Raptor Engine

[gvfgal]

Bound- Chapter One

Prologue

A/n: Welcome welcome. Take a seat, buckle up, & enjoy <3

No warnings this chapter!

Word Count: 4K

March 13, 1977

Nashville, Tennessee

“To another wonderful show in another wonderful city,” Josh raised his glass in a toast as the band and their team stood around a table at the crowded bar.

“Cheers,” everyone shouted in unison before knocking back their shots.

Jake’s face hardly faltered as he did so, more than used to the burning sensation that the alcohol brought.

Sam clapped a large hand on his big brother’s shoulder, “you were on fucking fire out there, Jake. Probably one of your best shows yet.”

Jake grinned lazily, “only up from here, brother.”

The celebration rolled on, many more drinks being knocked back, and though Jake was thoroughly enjoying himself, he was just about ready to turn in for the night.

He was the only one seated at the table, watching as his friends and brothers joked around while he sipped his neat whiskey, but as his eyes scanned the bar, he stopped and locked his sights on the door.

It couldn’t be…

You were laughing as you entered the crowded bar, your arm tangled with the arm of another man that Jake didn’t recognize.

A tidal wave of emotions began to wash over him as he watched you, such a different version of the girl he once loved, and still loved.

The confidence radiated off of you as you strolled through the bar with your guy, smiling wide and waving at people you recognized. Even the way you were dressed was a stark contrast to what Jake was used to seeing you in, it was truly a sight to behold.

He didn’t know what to do with himself in that moment. Part of him wanted to run to you and take you in his arms, kiss you and beg you to come back to him. Another part of him wanting to cower away in the corner, ashamed for the mistakes he made that drove you away from him, the mistakes that brought a brutal end to the beautiful memories you guys shared so many years ago.

Oh, those beautiful memories.

Jake shot up from the table, knocking his glass onto the floor to shatter at his feet.

Your eyes followed the crashing sound, and as your eyes met his, your world was once again turned upside down.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Five years ago…

June 1st, 1972

Townsend, Tennessee

You looked out into the vast field that stretched beyond the porch of your home, inhaling the country air that you loved so dearly. Usually, the field would be overflowing with life, all of your family’s farm animals grazing about. But the heat was sweltering on this particular June afternoon, and the grass, which was usually a bold green against the blue sky, had been dried out by the sun’s brutality, causing the animals to seek shelter within the barn; making your view fairly boring.

You sat on an overturned bucket underneath the shade of your porch, your long cotton sundress shaded in perriwinkle hiked up every so slightly, feet bare, cracking pecans into a wicker basket. You had taken your portable radio that usually sat in the windowsill of the kitchen, and now had it placed on the old wooden table behind you. You hummed quietly along to the Janis Joplin song that played through the static while your mom sat in her usual rocking chair positioned behind you, occupied with her own basket of pecans.

Beginning to grow bored of the task at hand, you dropped your nut cracker onto the ground in front of you, standing with a loud mewling stretch.

Off in the distance, you could hear the faint sound of a car engine approaching from the main road, and you stretched on your toes to try and see as far as you possibly could, trying to catch a glimpse of who it could’ve been.

Suddenly, beyond the cloud of dust that was being kicked up, you saw that familiar 1965 Ford F100 with slightly rusted midnight blue paint clambering its way down the dirt path, and it took all your strength to hold back the smile that threatened to capture your features.

You chose instead to let a small smirk creep its way to the surface.

“Jakes here,” you spoke calmly to your mom, although you felt like shouting it with glee, and your eyes never strayed from his approaching vehicle.

Your mom stood from her spot too, gathering the pecans she had successfully shelled.

“I’ll go get your father,” she called back as she entered the house, wearing her own smirk that you didn’t catch.

She shook her head mumbling to herself, “that girl is head over heels.”

Your mom was fully aware of the huge crush that you had on Jake, truthfully she noticed it the first day Jake and his family rolled around. Call it mother’s intuition.

But even after all the time that has passed, and the years you spent in another state for college, seeing his face still gave you that feeling.

Like the drop from the peak of a rollercoaster, that’s how you’d describe it.

Jake’s engine idled as he parked, and you leaned against the post on the house, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, eyeing him as he exited his truck.

He had on a pair of bootcut jeans (that hugged his legs and backside perfectly, you had to admit), with a muscle shirt tucked into it, a leather belt with a large buckle holding everything in place.

A very worn flannel shirt hung on his shoulders loosely, the red material practically see through. The black cowboy hat that he grabbed from his passenger seat matched his black (surprisingly clean) boots, he looked like walking sex.

You let out a silent wisp of air before he could notice before clearing your throat.

“Hey Jake.”

It came out a lot softer than you intended, and you cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic.

You grinned through it anyhow.

He slammed the door of his truck shut, smiling at you broadly as he looked up at you on the porch.

As he fixed his hat on his head, you could swear you saw his eyes drop down to your lips, and briefly, oh so briefly, down to your chest, but that might’ve been wishful thinking.

“Howdy,” Jake tipped his hat as he approached you.

How cliché that a country Tennessee boy greeted you with a “howdy”, yet for some reason, the way it sounded rolling off his tongue struck you right in the heart, you could’ve grabbed your chest in a dramatic fashion from the way it pained you.

Out of things to say, you simply watched as he made his way up onto the porch leaning opposite of you on the other post, his smile never leaving.

“It’s a hot one, ain’t it?”

His face was alight with the way he smiled, and you couldn’t manage to form words.

You nodded softly with a bashful smile. Your display of shyness made Jake chuckle.

“Still ever the shy one. I like your dress.”

You looked down at your attire. Even though it was plain, it was one of your favorite dresses.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

He laughed at you calling him his full name, then turned to look out over the field that you had been admiring just minutes before. A warm breeze that came through caused his wavy, untamed locks to blowout behind him from under his hat, and you swear the entire scene needed to be captured and blown up into a large print so that rich snobs could bid millions just to have it hanging in their homes.

You opened your mouth to say something, what exactly, you were unsure of, but just as you began to form words, your loud father swung the creaky porch door open.

“Jacob Kizka,” his voice boomed as he grabbed up Jake’s hand and shook it roughly like only your father could.

“Mr. Y/l/n, good to see ya sir.”

The aggressive handshake didn’t seem to bother him any.

“Let’s go around back and I’ll show ya where that fence needs patching,” your father directed, getting straight to business.

Before following behind your dad, Jake turned to your mom and gave her a tip of his hat, “Mrs. Y/l/n”, he then turned to you, his smirk suddenly reappearing on his face, “Y/n.”

With that he turned and made his exit, and you almost couldn’t help but take a long hard look at his ass as he walked away.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jake had spent the entirety of his afternoon repairing your fence, and you spent the entirety of your afternoon watching him.

From the window above the sink in the kitchen, you had the perfect view of him as he worked tirelessly on the task, and you had come up with every excuse possible, to spend as much time in the kitchen as you could, to steal as many glances as you could.

And now that the sun had begun setting, it was time for you and your mom to prepare dinner.

Perfect.

You stood at the sink, scrubbing away at a pot that had to be spotless by now, watching as Jake tossed tools into his tool bag.

He’d shed his flannel a few hours back when the heat of the day approached, and his muscle shirt clung tightly to his form due to the full sheet of sweat that coated his body.

You could feel your mouth slowly begin to salivate as you watched his muscles flex upon making different movements, and when he stood taught and ran a hand through his hair, head thrown back to face the sky, the picture of some sexy men’s care commercial, the pot you were vigorously scrubbing hit the sink with a loud clank, startling you out of your trance.

“Sorry,” you looked over your shoulder to apologize, and when you turned back to the window, Jacob had suddenly disappeared.

Slightly disappointed that your show had come to a close, you grabbed up the pot you had over cleaned and moved it to the stove where your mom already had her hand out for it.

The echo of boots hitting the wooden panels of the floor sounded through the house, and before you knew it, Jake was standing in the entryway of the kitchen, slightly sweaty, with his flannel thrown over his shoulder.

He shot you an unreadable expression, one that froze you even further into the ground, and as hard as you tried, you couldn’t pull your eyes from his face.

There was a smear of dirt across his right cheek, underneath his eye, and you imagined for a moment, sitting on his lap in the bathroom, wiping the day's work from his perfect face.

“Fence is all fixed up,” he spoke to your mom, who’s back was still turned as she slaved over the stove, yet his eyes stayed trained on your figure.

“Oh Jacob I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your help,” your mom exclaimed, still oblivious to the stare down you and Jake were having.

“You know my husband always says he can do those things, and always ends up calling you” she continued as she finished mashing potatoes and dropping a slab of butter down into the pot. She wiped her hands on a rag then turned to face the two of you.

You averted your gaze quickly and busied yourself with another pointless task, Jake smirking at your back.

“Why don’t you join us for dinner,” your mom continued, “there’s plenty to go around.”

You grimaced, as much as you were enjoying being around Jake, you didn’t think you could take the closeness much longer. With every minute passing you became more and more unraveled. Soon enough you were sure to lose your ability to speak all together.

“That sounds like a damn good idea to me,” your dad bellowed as he entered the kitchen, rubbing over his stomach.

Jake very much noticed your reaction to the invitation, but it only made him want to accept it that much more.

“I think I’d like that.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Dinner was pretty quiet on your end. Your parents engaged Jake in conversation for the most part, and you’d chime in with the occasional head nod every once in a while to appear as if you were engaged. When Jake asked you questions about Berkeley and the Peace Corps, your answers were short and to the point.

Other than being ridiculously shy, you were slightly irritated at the way that Jake was getting a kick out of your uneasiness. All through dinner he was sending you shit eating grins, or staring at you as your eyes bounced around the room, refusing to look at him, chuckling all the while.

He thought it was funny that after all these years, you still acted like that bashful 5 year old he met all those years ago. He found it cute. Endearing. It reminded him of simpler times, times when he could hardly get enough of you.

And hell, sitting here now, he felt as if he still couldn’t get enough.

“So Jake, you and the boys still rockin’ the house down?” your dad wiped his face with his napkin.

Jake smiled, “still rockin’. We actually have a gig tonight at the Blues Corner,” he turned to you then, “you know you could come y/n. The boys would love to see you.”

“Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea, y/n.”

The table was quiet as everyone watched you, waiting for your answer. You tumbled a million different excuses around in your head, but at the end of the day, none of them were believable.

Then it hit you, it had been years since you’ve been able to hear Jake play, and the feeling that the memory brought you had you rather eager to experience it again.

You sighed, “sure, why not? Sounds fun.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After dinner, Jake said his goodbyes and told you he’d be back by 9 to pick you up. You helped your mom clean the table then raced up the stairs to get ready.

You don’t know how you did it, but you managed to pull it all together by 9pm sharp. Your hair was in its usual curly state, bangs hanging just above your eyes. Your dress was clover green, hanging loosely at your mid thigh with light brown embroidery on the trim. The sleeves were flared, and you threw a brown vest over the top, completing the look with your trusty brown cowboy boots.

As you spritzed perfume along your collarbone, you saw Jakes headlights pulling back up in the driveway. Grabbing your brown fringe saddle bag from the back of your door, you gave yourself one final glance in the mirror, nodding at your appearance.

“I’m out. I’ll see y’all later,” you called to your parents as you jogged down the stairs towards the door.

They were sitting in their twin arm chairs in front of the Tv, your dad nursing a beer and your mom working away at a sudoku puzzle as the news lulled in the background.

“Be safe,” your dad called back.

“Have fun,” your mom added.

Jake was standing beside the passenger side of his truck as you exited, dressed a little more debonair in a pair of black jeans and a blue linen shirt. Only a few buttons towards the bottom were fastened, and he had an array of necklaces decorating his chest, and his long hair was pulled into a bun at the base of his head, a black brimmed hat on top.

You’d never seen him dressed like this before, but you liked it very much. He looked so much more mature than you remembered him last, more of a man than the silly teenager you were used to.

You knew you were staring, but you just couldn’t will yourself to look away.

As you approached the car, Jake pulled your door open for you, giving you a nod, “you look gorgeous, y/n,” he complimented with a shy grin.

You smiled back, “thank you. Not so bad yourself Jacob.”

He shook his head, closing the door behind you once you were in.

“Jacob,” he chortled under his breath.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The drive was slightly awkward. You sat looking out the window as Jake flipped back and forth between radio stations, then fiddling with the air vents, anything to keep himself busy.

After the silence between you became unbearable for Jake, he spoke up, “so,” he cleared his throat, “are you excited to see us play? It’s been awhile.”

You pulled your head to look over at him with a half grin, “yeah, I am actually. I miss the days when I got to watch you guys for hours.”

Jake beamed, sounding distant as he recalled those memories, “you used to love it.”

“I did. I just hope you guys have gotten better,” you jabbed.

Jake laughed out loud, “oh come on, we weren’t that bad. I was just always nervous to play in front of you, that’s all.”

You felt blush rising to your cheeks, “you were nervous?”

Jake looked at you briefly before looking back at the road, “yeah. You made me nervous, I wasn’t used to playing for pretty girls just yet.”

“But now you are?” you teased further.

He smirked, “I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I don’t believe my eyes. Y/n y/l/n in the flesh,” Josh shouted loudly as Jake approached the stage with you.

You couldn’t help but smile seeing your old friend again. Josh looked a lot more mature too, only his hair was a mess of curls instead of long like his twin’s.

“Sammy, Dan, come check this out,” he continued as he threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you in for a squeeze, “it’s good to see you, mama.”

“Good to see you too, Josh,” you hugged him back. As Sam and Danny approached you, your eyes bucked.

“Holy shit you two got tall.”

They enveloped you in a group hug, sandwiching you between their towering frames.

“That, or you’re shrinking,” Sam laughed, “but you’re still pretty, so that’s what matters.”

“And Danny, your hair,” you reached up and pulled at one of his bouncy curls that hung at his shoulders.

“I was inspired by you,” he shrugged.

Jake aided you in ordering drinks for the group, and you all hung around as the boys set up their equipment, talking and catching up on time lost.

After about half an hour, it was time for the boys to perform, you had the best seat in the house, right in front of where Jake stood tuning his guitar.

Finally, Josh tapped on the mic and got the attention of the slightly crowded bar, “good evening everyone, you all look lovely tonight. We’re Greta Van Fleet uh, and we’re gonna rock with you guys for a little while, is that alright?”

Someone in the bar whistled loudly, and the rest of the room erupted into cheers.

Danny let off a four count with his drumsticks, Jake strummed the first note on his guitar, and the room was filled with a funky upbeat tune.

You were completely mesmerized as Josh belted out a long run, all of the boys completely engulfed in the music. You didn’t recognize the song, so you figured it was something they had written themselves, and it was incredible.

Sure, they had always been pretty good, but this was unlike anything you’d ever seen or heard before. From every note that Josh hit, every pluck Sam and Jake made on their instruments, down to every strike Danny landed on his drum set, it was perfection.

You could see it clear as day, the four brothers, up on a big stage, playing to adoring crowds as they jammed together like they always had. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Throughout the few songs they performed, Jake’s eyes would constantly find yours, one time you even swore he sent you a quick wink.

And although you were enjoying seeing all of them up there, you were completely raptured with Jake.

He had acquired a thin sheen of sweat over time, partly from the blinding stage lights and partly from how intensely he was playing.

His hair, which he had freed from his hat and bun before the show, was sticking to the sides of his face, and everytime he threw his head back, his face contorting as he produced beautiful sounds from his Gibson, your legs squeezed together a little tighter.

Jacob Thomas Kiszka was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, that was a fact.

The boys finished their set with a rendition of Elvis’ ‘That’s Alright Mama’ that had everyone in the bar rocking to the beat, Josh animatedly whining on stage as he crooned the notes out

The bar was buzzing with excitement as the boys bid farewell from the stage, and after a thousand thank yous and handshakes, they were finally returned to you.

“Time for shots,” Sam cheered, “I’m ready to fucking party.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hadn’t been this drunk in a long time, and you were a giggling mess in Jake’s passenger seat as he drove the two of you home after the bar.

It ended up being the most fun you’ve had in awhile, Jake and the boys, as usual, bringing you out of your shell more than anyone else ever could.

Jake was by your side all night, talking and laughing with you as you shared your many stories from your college days.

He had forgotten how much fun it was to be with you, and for a moment that night, he felt guilty for the way you guys grew apart in highschool, wishing so badly he could rewind the clock and redo it the right way.

But right now, as you sat in his passenger seat, as beautiful as you’d ever been, all he felt was gratefulness.

“What are you snickerin’ about over there,” he teased as he glanced over at you.

You had discarded your boots and had your feet kicked up on the dashboard.

“I just can’t believe you guys were that fuckin’ amazing,” your words were slightly slurred.

Jake smiled, “you really liked it?”

“Liked it,” you sat up and looked directly at him, no longer laughing, “Jake I loved it. I’m serious, I've never heard anything like it. The way you guys just commande the room from start to finish… It's amazing. I mean you guys seriously need to be playing on big stages. Huge venues. Small town bars don’t do you guys justice.”

“Well, that’s the plan. Hopefully we can make it happen.”

Your eyes were glued to his profile, “I think you can do anything you put your mind to Jake.”

He turned to look at you, your eyes locking momentarily.

Jake swallowed hardly before turning on his blinker and turning into your property.

You were silent the rest of the way as he pulled in front of your house, undoing his seat belt and coming around to get your door.

You allowed yourself a moment to gain your balance, before walking alongside Jake to your front door.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that made you bold enough to say what you did next.

“Still walking me all the way to my door like we’re in the fourth grade?”

Jake scoffed nervously, looking down at his feet, “yeah. Guess some things never change, huh?”

You smiled at his shyness, deciding against giving him a hard time, “I had a lot of fun tonight, Jake. Thanks for the invite.”

“I had fun too,” he looked back up at you, “I’m glad you came. It was nice looking out and seeing your face again.”

It was your turn to be nervous now, and you fiddled with the fringe on your purse.

After a moment of lingering silence, Jake spoke up again, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently, “you take care, alright? I’ll see you around.”

“You too, Jake.”

His eyes dropped to your lips momentarily, before looking back into your eyes, letting go of your hand.

“Night.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Chapter Two

[annamadsen]

Mother Nature has a fever.

PART TWO

photographer / art direction : Anna Madsen (a.m.whispers)

film : Kodak Gold 200 / 35mm / homemade lens filter

film camera : Nikon F100 + 50mm lens

film lab : Indie Film Lab

location : Maine, USA || 2021

model : G

[transportaplooza]

Reviving the Legends: The Timeless Appeal of the 1963 Ford F100

In the grand tapestry of automotive history, certain vehicles stand out not just as icons of their era, but as enduring symbols of automotive excellence. Among these legends, the 1963 Ford F100 holds a special place, embodying the spirit of American craftsmanship, durability, and style.

Let’s take a journey back in time to explore what made this truck a timeless classic.

A Design Ahead of its Time

The 1963 Ford F100 represented a significant evolution in truck design. With its clean lines, bold grille, and iconic round headlights, it was an aesthetic departure from its predecessors. The design language exuded a sense of strength and purpose, while still maintaining an unmistakable elegance.

But it wasn’t just about looks. The F100 was built to work. Its robust chassis and suspension were designed to handle heavy loads and rough terrain, making it a favorite among farmers, tradesmen, and adventurers alike. Whether hauling cargo on the farm or navigating rugged trails, the F100 proved itself as a reliable workhorse.

Power and Performance

Under the hood, the 1963 F100 offered a range of engine options to suit various needs and preferences. From the dependable 223 cubic inch inline-six to the potent 292 cubic inch V8, there was an engine configuration for every requirement. These engines delivered ample power and torque, ensuring that the F100 could tackle any task with ease.

Additionally, the F100’s optional four-speed manual transmission provided precise control over gear selection, allowing drivers to optimize performance for any driving condition. Combined with its sturdy construction and responsive steering, the F100 offered a driving experience that was both exhilarating and confidence-inspiring.

Enduring Legacy

Beyond its capabilities on the road, the 1963 Ford F100 left an indelible mark on popular culture. It became a symbol of American ingenuity and resilience, appearing in countless movies, television shows, and music videos over the years. Its timeless design and rugged performance have earned it a devoted following among collectors and enthusiasts, who continue to cherish and preserve these iconic trucks to this day.

In recent years, there has been a resurgence of interest in vintage trucks like the F100, as drivers seek out vehicles with character and personality in an increasingly homogenized automotive landscape. Restored examples command premium prices at auctions, while aftermarket suppliers offer a plethora of parts and accessories to keep these classics on the road for generations to come.

The 1963 Ford F100 is more than just a truck; it’s a piece of automotive history. Its timeless design, robust performance, and enduring legacy have cemented its place in the hearts of enthusiasts around the world. Whether you’re a collector, a weekend warrior, or simply someone who appreciates fine craftsmanship, the F100 represents the best of American automotive engineering. And as long as there are roads to travel and adventures to be had, the legend of the F100 will continue to inspire generations of drivers to come.

[randomvarious]

Alexkid - "Sandfrancisco (F100 Tsunamix)" Live and Rare 1998 Future Jazz

Plays: N/A on Spotify // 430+ on YouTube

Kind of a weird explainer about the multitalented Alexkid here that I found on Resident Advisor, but I think it still works in order for you to get a decent idea of what this dude's about…

So, there's this super cool guy named Alexkid. He's been doing awesome music stuff for almost three whole decades. First, he was in Paris, but now he lives in Berlin, which is far away. People really like him because he's really good at making music and he loves playing with music machines, like big musical toys. When he was a kid, he liked music gadgets more than video games, unlike his friends. He started with music machines and it led him on a big adventure of making cool music and working with others. Alexkid can do lots of things like a superhero. He can be a DJ (that's like the person who makes everyone dance at a party), a music maker, a tech expert, and a sound scientist. In the past, he made special music albums that everybody loved. He was also like the DJ boss at famous places where people dance. Like the Rex Club or Watergate. He's part of different music groups, and he's known by big music labels like Rawax, Fuse, Rekids, and other labels with weird names that sound trendy. His music stories are magical. They can make you feel like you're dancing at a concert or dreaming in a magical world, all from listening to his music. Even though he's always looking for the perfect music beat, he's also like a jazz explorer, finding cool sounds even when they seem a little strange.

So, Alexkid's still going today, but what this little bio fails to mention is the label where it all started for him as a solo producer in the first place: F Communications, which was co-founded by French dance music legend Laurent Garnier himself in the mid-90s. It was on this Paris-based dance and electronic outfit that Alexkid would spread his wings and end up spending somewhere around a full decade, with one of his first releases there being a three-song 12-inch / Maxi-CD single called Castlesmadeofsand, which came out in 1998.

Now, on Castlesmadeofsand is a simply terrific, ten-plus-minute piece of free-ranging, disco-jazzy deep house called "Sand Francisco," which has this dub-funky bassline and backbeat to it that sounds like it may have been inspired by the sound of the Golden Gate city's own insular house scene itself. And judging by its criminally low play counts on both Spotify and YouTube, odds are good that you've never heard this gem before, but ya really gotta give it a listen, because it'll give you a good window into the type of sound that Alexkid's been more or less known for crafting across the genres that he operates in—one that that Resident Advisor summary up above manages to describe rather well, despite its odd, child-aimed tone.

But then after you listen to *that* song, you also have to hear the track that this post is *actually* supposed to be about: the "F100 Tsunamix" version of "Sand Francisco," which only exclusively appeared on a wonderful and aptly titled F Com double-disc compilation called Live and Rare, which came out the same year as Castlesmadeofsand and served as the label's 100th ever release.

This is a tune of pure future jazz (or nu jazz, if you prefer) excellence that drops out the four-on-the-floor San Fran housiness of the original and replaces it with something that sounds more akin to a live, in-studio replication of something like a James Brown-styled drum break. And then above that drumbeat, Alexkid once again manages to channel that "dreaming in a magical world" type of vibe, this time by loading up his tune with a super thick and unrelenting deluge of cosmically funky, 70s-inspired synthesizer wonderment. Its backing, squealy strings have a way of signifying the incalculable vastness of outer space and its extended solos then represent our own adventurous exploration of it 🤩. Unlike the original deep house version, this one takes way less time to get going; by the 16-second mark, we've already been catapulted directly into the thick of it all, whereas with the original cut, there's a whole lot more slow building that takes place in order for us to really sink our teeth into its eventually tasty meat 😋.

So, if you've never heard of Alexkid before, now you have. And while these two tunes certainly aren't the ones that he's best known for—"Love We Have," from his 2003 LP, Mint, has over 2.6 million combined plays across both Spotify and YouTube, for example—these still serve as a stellar slice of some of the gold that he was spinning in the late 90s as a young pup in his early 20s.

[flmboyz]

Clean F100 build from #outcastautoworks

Go check their website for some nice parts for your F100 x Crown Victoria frame swap.

[ab4eva]

Babe!!!! I didn't realize you reached 500!!! I'm so proud. 🥹🖤

✨️ Could I perhaps get a little drabble? Doesn't matter if it's Austin or Elvis, whichever one you feel like writing! 💋 I've been trying to work on my truck lately (it's a '72 F100 custom!), idk if you might be interested in doing something with that. 👀

I'll be happy with whatever you decide; I'm so excited for you!!!! You deserve all the love + support in the world! 💯

Steph, you’re such a darling and it always makes me happy to see you on my feed! I hope you like this little drabble and please excuse any vintage car ignorance on my part! 💓

-

You were stranded. On the side of the road. In the middle of nowheresville Texas. Dusk was creeping up, the wide, flat sky changing quickly from peachy orange to deep turquoise and everything in between.

“Damn, damn, damn!” you spit out, kicking the little pebbles that dotted the side of the road, stirring up a dust cloud that caused you to sneeze. You sighed as you hoisted the hood of your vintage 1972 Ford F-100 pickup truck. You were in the middle of restoring it to its former glory and had decided to take it on a road trip to visit a friend in west Texas. Which admittedly was maybe too far of a drive for a truck that wasn’t quite up to snuff, as of yet.

The sound of a car pulling onto the gravel behind you snaps you out of your reverie and you do a double-take as the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen steps out of his car and hovers near the open door, careful not to spook you.

“Everything ok?” His deep voice sends a shock of something through you, you’re pretty sure it’s desire but there’s a tiny chance it could also be embarrassment. You were an independent woman, one who had the situation under control, and the thought of a man coming to your rescue rankled you a little bit. But he was awfully handsome, and definitely not from around here. His leather jacket and boots betrayed this fact, as did his perfectly tousled sandy blonde curls, a jawline sharp enough to slice through the thickest of glass and his sparkling ocean eyes.

“Yeah…fine,” you stammered, silently cursing yourself for being flustered. “Just a little trouble with overheating. I’ll get her fixed up without too much fuss.” He walked closer, hands in his pockets and whistled low, taking in the vintage truck you were so proud of.

“Wow,” he murmured, running long, delicate fingers across the minty paint. “She yours?”

“All mine,” you said proudly. “I’m restoring her myself, whenever I have the time.” He looked impressed at that, and gave you an unreadable look.

“Anything I can help with? I’m Austin, by the way,” he said, smiling and sticking his hand out. You felt a shiver snake up your back as you took his hand in yours and were suddenly quite happy your old truck had chosen this road, this night, to break down. He held your hand, still shaking it, both of you looking into each other’s eyes before breaking into matching, bashful grins. You didn’t really need any help, but you weren't about to tell that to the cutest boy you’d ever seen.

[convexly]

nine years, part three by Danielle Nelson Via Flickr: Plus nine days, because I can't keep up these days. Grateful for such a lovely wedding all those years ago, and for all the time since. Image made with my Nikon F100.

[parasite-core]

AITA for killing my ex-lover seven times?

Hear me out, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I (M25) was murdered by my ex-lover (M47) when he found out from his sister (F100) that I was a double agent for their mother (F…really really old). Don’t worry about the ages, there’s magic involved, they’re witches and all that, it’s not important. The important part is me, I came back to life, but with my memories all screwed up. So I ended up running around following my own footsteps with a bunch of lovable weirdos for months before I found out I’d died and who killed me and then met him again. He made the whole villain offer to ‘come back to my side’ and all that. So we killed him. Seven times, because of a stupid immortality curse he had. And I ripped his heart out.

In my defense, his sister is planning to freeze the entire world in eternal winter, so arguably it’s just preemptive self defense since I’d be one of the suckers who’d die when the world gets iced. So, AITA?

[hemanuely]

Veículos Para The Sims 2 (Parte 1)

1# Pickup

Peter Pinker (tumblr.com)

2# La Croix recolours of Mickyss Rideable Bike

Mod The Sims - La Croix recolours of Mickyss Rideable Bike

3# 2015 Citroen DS4

Mod The Sims - 2015 Citroen DS4

4# 2 Pink Recolors of VoVillia's 2007 Jaguar XK Convertible

Mod The Sims - 2 Pink Recolors of VoVillia's 2007 Jaguar XK Convertible

5# 2015 Audi Q7

Mod The Sims - 2015 Audi Q7

6# 1965 VW Bug "Herbie" recolor (now with required mesh)

Mod The Sims - 1965 VW Bug "Herbie" recolor (now with required mesh)

7# 2012 Ford Focus 5D

Mod The Sims - 2012 Ford Focus 5D

8# Chevy Suburban

Mod The Sims - Chevy Suburban

9# Airwolf

Mod The Sims - Airwolf

10# Ford F100 + Blanket 4t2

Nika Onishko : Ford F100 + Blanket 4t2 (you can find them in... (tumblr.com)