#honda accord radio

[jrnerad]

2024 Acura TLX Type S: Sports Sedan or Luxury Sedan?

Acura says the TLX Type S is the quickest, best-handling all-wheel-drive sedan in its history. But can it provide its unique brand of performance in the midst of a brutal Maine winter? That’s what Co-Host Chris Teague set out to find this past week as he road-tested the car. Certainly the 2024 version of the Type S has the specs to get the job done. It features improved throttle response in the…

[caraudioexpertaustralia0]

Headunit With Carplay For HONDA ACCORD 8TH 2008-2013 HIGH | 9INCH

Headunit With Carplay For HONDA ACCORD 8TH 2008-2013 HIGH | 9INCH

[yahoo-a-post]

Jamming away to a great song.

Nice evening! Look at the clear sky!

Waiting in the parking lot jamming away loved one should be okay at the clinic 👌 😌

[shift-shaping]

If anders had a car what would he have

Choice 1: former taco truck that still says "CRISPY TAD'S TACO TRUCK" in really faded letters on the side, except the TR in TRUCK have been graffitied over into an F. air conditioning works but never shuts off. no license plate. he's never opened the freezer and never will.

Choice 2: 2003 honda accord with a bunch of cat-related bumper stickers. passenger seat is gone. can't open glove box because there are too many napkins inside.

Choice 3: station wagon with mismatched wheels. rear bumper no longer present. one window has been replaced with a trash bag. radio stolen in 1997 and never replaced. 1/4 chance a random dude is sleeping in it at any time.

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Call me old school but "modern" cars are way too overkill.

My car (a used 2010 Honda accord) was totalled and I'm currently renting a 2018 Ford edge from my insurance company while I find a new vehicle.

Now driving this thing feels like driving a damn spaceship or the DeLorean from Back to the Future. There's just so many damn buttons, dials, lights, and just fluff in the dash and center console it's straight up hard to drive. On closer inspection, at least 5 buttons control the light above the driver and passenger's head.

Like what is all this??? Why do we need this many buttons???

And the stick for changing gears? It's that little dial in the second photo. You swivel it to change whether you're in park, reverse, drive, etc. I feel like it's gonna just randomly pop into a different gear while I'm driving!

And why the touch screen?? We don't need a massive ipad embedded in the console! Touch screens are not safe to drive with! I almost got in another accident trying to turn down the AC because I have no tactile feedback in the controls!

By old car was built like this:

Most of those buttons were for the radio. Dials for the AC and how to direct it, and those dials clicked when you moved them so you could tell how far they'd moved. The stick shift clunked when you moved it so you could tell how many times it had been moved and you felt it lock into place. Only a couple buttons on the steering wheel, three for cruise control, three for the audio system. And even this was the most buttons I had to learn ever! I'd argue some of the 'features' in that car were kinda useless and needless to have and just took up space!

Maybe I'm just crotchety and old (I'm 24 lol) but we don't need all this shit in cars! It's straight up distracting and unnecessary. It's a car. It gets you from point A to point B. I don't think you'd ever catch my driving a car any newer than like 2014.

[mitchipedia]

I loved the Radio Shack TRS-80 Model 100

I used a Radio Shack TRS-80 Model 100 computer in the 1980s, and loved it.

I worked for a community daily newspaper, the New Jersey Herald in Newton, NJ, 1985-89. I drove 40 minutes each way from the newsroom to cover city government meetings in Vernon, NJ. After the meeting, I’d write my article on the Model 100 in the lobby of the city municipal building.

To submit the article, I’d use a gadget called an “acoustic coupler.” This was two suction cups with speakers and microphones inside them, attached to each other by wires and plugged into the computer by another wire. I’d drop a bunch of quarters into the phone—later I used a calling card—punch the number into the phone, attach a suction cup each to the earpiece and mouthpiece of the payphone, press a couple of buttons on the Model 100, and the article would upload automatically to the newspaper publishing computer. It took a minute or two to finish. Connetions were shockingly slow then. When the article was done, I’d call in to the newsroom to double-check to be sure the article made it and then hop in my Honda Accord and drive back, chain-smoking the whole way.

When I arrived at the newsroom, my editor would have already edited the article and it would be ready for my revision.

I suppose I’d like to play with a Model 100 for a minute sometime in the future, but I have no desire to own one today. Today’s technology is so much nicer. Still, the Model 100 was great for its day.

Photo by NapoliRoma - Own work, Public Domain, Link

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Yo La Tengo - Idiot's Delight with Vin Scelsa, WNEW, December 28, 1997

If all had gone according to plan, I would've seen Yo La Tengo (AKA The Best Band) live in concert for the first time in many many years this past week. Alas! Georgia Hubley underwent knee surgery recently, putting her out of commission for a bit, pushing the shows back to early next year. It's OK — I am sure that Georgia will return more powerful than ever.

In the meanwhile, let's check out this vintage radio broadcast, freshly uploaded by friend of the blog Dave Marin. James McNew is on winter break, so it's the Georgia & Ira show here on Idiot's Delight, which means we get to hear some fairly unique arrangements: an acoustic "Sugarcube," a drum-machine-led "Little Honda" and a terrific acoustic re-imagining of "Autumn Sweater." You're also going to get a lovely cover of Dave Davies' Kinks deep cut "This Man He Weeps Tonight," which is true perfection.

Elsewhere, host Vin Scelsa tries to draw Kaplan and Hubley out on a possible sample of The Who's "Armenia City In The Sky" hidden secretly within the grooves of "Moby Octopad" ... but once he actually plays the songs, his theory is disproven. I can see what Vin means, though!

[lil-shiro]

the first car I ever drove/learnt to drive in was a beat up Honda accord made the same year I born that my dad bought and fixed up for $3000. the AC barely worked, there wasn't even aux, but there was a sunroof and a radio so I guess that was all I needed. the lack of backup camera meant I learned to reverse with an arm around the other seat of the car, so in the end it was worth it since that's fucking hot

[carsforsaleinusa]

Super Clean Honda Accord runs n drives no issues at all,everything works,fresh oil change, new brakes,sunroof,leather interior,Bluetooth radio,tinted windows,fully loaded v6 ,feel free to come check it out today 3500$$$ solddddddddddd

[elegantgrace]

Gun For Hire 0.0

Beginning disclaimer: This is a mercenary for hire X Task Force 141, the mercenary is a female. But take it as you will ☺️ Thank you for reading and I won’t hold you up any longer, enjoy! 💚

‘I don’t trust what’s going down in Las Almas, you’re on deck, keep your head down, don’t get caught. -W1’

I watch the message pop up on my screen, the dark background contradicting the blip, following the message, a bank deposit of $4,000, and the smile that rarely crosses my lips pulls up.

Clicking my tongue and stretch my neck, rolling my head in a circle and side to side before rising to my feet, thankfully living close to the border already. Las Almas just twelve hours out. Grabbed my pre-packed bag I head for the door and to my vehicle, a shitty ‘91 Honda Accord but whatever kept a low profile, I was happy with it, and I took off.

———

Twelve hours later

Parking my vehicle and killing the lights I wait on the streets for anything unusual, the storm heavy in the sky and I frown, could have looked up the weather forecast before traveling but not packing anything heavy is everything I lived by. I roll down the long sleeves squeezing my upper arm and reach into my glove compartment, pulling out a pistol checking the ammunition and grabbing onto my holster as I attach it to my waist.

The streets seemed dead for the most part, as dark military grade vehicles pulled through the cobblestone streets, men in dark gear jumping out of them raised their guns and pointed them towards civilians, and I shrunk down in the drivers seat. The screams are what made me grit my teeth, my jaw clenching as the rounds went off, something was indeed wrong.

More vehicles drove past as other men started walking the streets, two men walking toward my car with flashlights on and I turned the safety off on my gun, “I don’t see shit” one whispered

“They’re special forces, of course they got away”

“Shut up and keep looking”

The lights went into my window and I glared at the two men, “get out of the vehicle” one spoke behind a mask and I sat up, reaching for the handle. I step out, keeping my gun hidden behind my thigh before inhaling.

“You’re killing innocents” I say causing a fit of chuckles from one of the men.

“Darling, nobody’s truly innocent” he spoke before reaching for the trigger, I raise my gun and shoot two rounds to the head and point the gun at the other man.

“Easy now” he spoke and I only smiled.

“I would, but I assume I’m getting paid to kill you fucks” I chuckle before shooting his shoulder causing him to cry out in pain before I approach him and grab his own gun and shot him in the head. Cold? Sure. But this is about money, and morals.

Quickly ducking into the shadows with just my pistol again I watch a man stumble into the streets, his shoulder bleeding and his body shaking, he leaned against the brick corner and tried for the radio at his hip, “this is Bravo 7-1, in the blind, how copy?…” his words quiet. “Ghost this is 7-1, do you copy?” His voice sounding urgent and I tap my phone in my front pocket, thinking.

So much money, for an unclear assignment. But the names sounded familiar, something Laswell ran across with me, making sure I knew who was apart of the team in case of emergencies. I watched him make for the main road and fall to his hands and knees.

“I see” is all I say as I make for the man.

~.~.~.~.~.~

End Disclaimer: This is based on a CharacterA.I I created! The first scene is kicked off with Soap falling in Las Almas in Modern Warfare 2

Check it out for support! And I hope to see you soon 💚

[euryalex]

Resident Evil: Genesis

After her partner is brutally murdered in front of her, Joey Hudson is transferred to Raccoon City, leaving Great Falls, Montana, where she’s lived her entire life. Turns out, she asked to be transferred after following a lead about her partner, Danny's, murderer. While Danny’s death was covered up as an accident, despite Joey’s report that he was attacked, she only grew more suspicious and decided to dig deeper. Her search led her to Umbrella Corporation – based in Raccoon City, Illinois, which is why she transferred: to get to the root of the problem.

Series Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be tagged when the next chapter releases!

Major thanks to @cobb-vanthss and @inafieldofdaisies for your help, and to everyone who replied to the WIPs I posted 💖

Chapter 1: Welcome to Raccoon City

Joey Hudson never liked driving at night, especially during the hot summer weather when the aircon in her car was broken. The headlights of her dad’s old rusty Honda did nothing to light up the road, which formed a dark wall surrounding her. There was no traffic due to the time, but despite that, she drove way below the speed limit anyway. The heat made her dizzy, and the last thing she wanted was to faint behind the wheel.

According to the map, now resting on the passenger seat, the motel she’d booked a room in was close, and she could finally sleep. Then, she could wake up early and continue her trip to Raccoon City. She had it all planned out: She’d focus on her career, but not too much so that her coworkers still invite her to after-work drinks at a nearby bar called Atlas Raccoon. She’d be designated driver – not that she didn’t like drinking, but she liked living, thank you very much – and arrive home around eleven PM in her already furnished apartment. She enjoyed planning things out. 

Once she found her footing in the city, she’d look for friends outside the police department, get to know the people, and maybe – a hefty emphasis on maybe – find someone to settle down with. 

She was ready to leave her past of Great Falls behind and everyone she used to know along with it. 

The welcome sign of Sunshine Motel awaited her in the distance, one of its two lights flickering. The parking lot was largely empty and ominously silent. Joey didn’t know what to expect, but something felt off. 

She brushed off the feeling, blaming it on anxiety due to her new job. The street lamps lighting up the parking lot were nearly dying, only filling Joey with more dread. There was something – no, someone, and she could feel their presence. Yet, when she looked around, there was no one to be found. 

Hesitantly, she pulled out the black duffle bag, which was resting on the backseat, before she took immediate steps to the reception. 

The warm summer air did little to cool her down, and the reception wasn’t much better, despite a fan at the desk cooling the room at its highest setting. A radio on a drawer unit near a window played a slow jazz song. Random clutter filled the desk, and posters of Raccoon City, either showcasing its new businesses or asking for help, covered the walls. A dusty computer at the desk showed the screensaver, showing that someone hadn’t been there in a while. Judging by the desk chair, which was shoved backwards, Joey came to the conclusion that someone might’ve left in a hurry. 

Nonetheless, she tapped on the call bell and waited. And waited. And waited... 

She blinked to stay awake as a yawn overtook her. Annoyed, she tapped the call bell a few more times, this time more aggressively. She just wanted to sleep – was that too much to ask? 

A door, tucked away in a hallway away from the reception, creaked open, and Joey sighed in relief. 

“Finally,” she breathed, “Sorry, I just want to get to my room...” 

She trailed off as her gaze fell on the figure approaching her. The woman had brown, graying hair. She wore a lilac V-neck cardigan sweater covering a white floral t-shirt and a purple skirt that reached below her knees. But that wasn’t what Joey was focusing on. 

Instead, she took note of the glazed-over, pale eyes, the blood covering her otherwise neat clothes, her dishevelled hair... The woman’s arms were raised, reaching for Joey. Her left shoulder reached lower, probably due to a part of her neck that was bit off. 

Joey recognized the look. She’d seen it only a few weeks prior before she’d been transferred to Raccoon City. But she’d never forget it. 

“Hold on, I’ll take a look,” Danny said, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door of the patrol cruiser. Joey looked up from her milkshake, ready to put it down in the cupholder, as she looked at the body on the road with worried eyes. She mentally cursed her partner – she liked working with him, but clearly, they needed to work on, well, working together. 

He kneeled next to the lifeless body, putting two fingers on their neck as he checked for a pulse. A moment that seemed like an eternity passed, and he stood up, turning to Joey with a blank face. He shook his head and Joey sighed. Another poor unfortunate soul whose death would need to be solved. 

Joey took the radio and gestured to him, letting him know she’d call 911. 

“Dispatch? This is four-Alpha-Alpha-Foxtrot-seven-five, requesting-” 

But she couldn’t finish her sentence. 

She looked up briefly, but that was enough to see the once-lifeless corpse stand up on shaky legs. It struggled to balance until it latched onto Danny’s shoulders, swiftly biting into his flesh at the jaw. Danny met Joey’s gaze as she looked in horror. Danny fell to the ground, his body hitting the asphalt, but that didn’t stop the corpse from feasting on his flesh. 

Joey got out, the sounds of the car door opening alerting the killer. Its cold, empty eyes met Joey’s, and she didn’t hesitate to pull out her gun. There was no hesitation that this was no mere human, but she still ordered the person to stand back. 

It stood up, stumbling over Danny’s body instead, and Joey shot, the bullet flying through the shoulder. But, unfortunately, that didn’t stop it either. She fired again, hitting its chest, and it fell. For a brief, fleeting moment, Joey felt relief, but the moment was quickly cut short when it somehow got up again. 

Joey’s eyes widened, and she forced herself to aim for the head. 

Now it stayed down for good. 

But Danny didn’t. 

As the thing that killed him fell on him, he seemingly awoke. His neck cracked as he turned over, crawling out from under the body. He was fixated on Joey, crawling as he struggled to stand up like a newborn deer. 

“This can’t be happening...” she muttered to herself as she stepped backwards. 

Danny’s once hazel eyes were now a sickly white color, with its veins more apparent. Every bone and joint in his body made a crunching noise, and Joey had to take deep breaths to keep herself from vomiting. The missing part of his face, which showed off how part of his denture was missing, didn’t help either. 

She had to do something, but she couldn’t. 

“Hello? Hello?! This is Dispatch, requesting communication!” 

Joey returned to the car, slamming her door shut before crawling into the driver’s seat. Danny always left the keys in the ignition, something Joey always scolded him for – but this time, she was glad. 

Danny – or what was left of him – had finally found a way to stand up. The headlights lit up his disfigured features. She couldn’t let him live. It was too dangerous, but how could she be the one to kill him? 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she pressed her foot down on the gas pedal. 

She had to run. 

Stumbling backwards, she shoved open the door. Over the shoulder of the undead woman, she saw another similar figure stalking towards her. 

The bell above the door chimed, and Joey’s attention was caught by something hitting the window – or rather, someone. A man with short, blonde hair slammed against the window, his jaw unhinged as it swung back and forth. 

She ran, clutching her car keys in her hand, the metal digging into her skin as she secured her duffle bag on her shoulder. Once she reached her car, her hand shook as she tried desperately to unlock it. Finally, after missing the keyhole, she successfully entered her car and turned on the ignition, watching as the undead only came closer. 

She was wide awake now. Sleep would have to wait, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and rest. 

As she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her trembling hand reached for the radio. She needed a distraction, and anything would do. Some Johnny Cash song played, comforting her as she drove into the night. 

Her hands tightened their grip on her steering wheel as she yawned, her eyes tearing up. Her mind was screaming to get some sleep, but she couldn’t. Her only hope now was to get to her new apartment and wake up before noon. For a moment, she considered looking for a payphone to call the station to let them know what happened, but the dark roads made it impossible to see. 

Her apartment had a phone, or maybe it’d be easier to find one in the city. 

As the trees surrounding the road slowly started to thin, a city came into view, its skyscrapers reaching the skies as the summer sun began to rise over the horizon, peeking out between the buildings. 

“WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY – HOME OF UMBRELLA”, the sign greeted her. She slowly rolled her window open, letting the fresh air in to keep herself awake. The city still seemed miles away, but the fact that it was in sight reassured her. 

Her apartment building, according to the map of Raccoon City chief Irons had e-mailed her, was located on Fox Street, close to Ennerdale Street, which, in turn, was where the police department was located. The street itself was empty and quiet. The sounds of distant traffic were the only thing Joey could hear as she unlocked the front door of the building.  

The small entrance hall smelled weird, but she ignored it and went straight for the elevator, where she was greeted with an ‘Out of order’ sign. 

Just her luck. 

There was a cramp in her knees as she walked up the stairs. At this point, she was seconds away from dropping onto the floor and sleeping right there, but she powered through and reached the third floor. She heard a television playing loudly from one of the apartments, the news was on, and she decided that, at that moment, she couldn’t care less. 

The next thing she remembered was her loud alarm clock waking her up. Joey groaned, trying to block out the noise with her pillow, although it did little to silence her alarm. She slammed her hand blindly on her nightstand, stopping when she hit her clock. The blinding sun shone through the windows, and she mentally made a note to buy some curtains.

Stretching her arms as she got out of bed, she made her way to the windows and stared for a moment. The view from her window, which was marketed as a ‘beautiful view of the city skyline’, was probably copied from another advert, Joey realized, as she stared at the wall of the neighboring building. What she hoped would be a new start had already left a bad first impression on her. With a deep sigh, she walked over to her bathroom and, as she passed the small kitchenette on the way, realized she had to get groceries.

Technically she didn’t have to go to work yet – the letter stated they’d expect her at two in the afternoon. However, Joey had just planned on getting started early. She shook off the thought – groceries would wait until after work.

She approached her suitcase, which she had left open near the bathroom so she could change into her sleepwear the night before. Digging through it, she retrieved her toiletry bag – filled with essentials to last her a few days – and some clothes. The hinges of the bedroom door let out a high-pitched squeak, loud enough to catch Joey’s attention, but instead of stopping to check it out, she turned on the bathroom light and got ready for the day.

For a day like this, she picked easy clothes that wouldn’t be too hard to take off, so she could change into her uniform at work quickly.

In another compartment of her suitcase, she kept all her paperwork, which included a map of the city that she’d drawn a route from her apartment to the police station on. The way to the station was simple, really, as it was right in the centre of the city and, if the silhouette on the map was anything to go by, the building was huge.

The city had a whole different feel during the daytime. Where the city was dark and deserted at night, the day showed how alive it could be. Parents were walking their kids to school, people in suits were busy talking on the phone as they walked to work, other people were opening their stores …

As Joey turned the corner at the movie theatre, she could see the police station in the distance, the letters ‘R.P.D’ rising above the busy road. For the first time since she left Great Falls, she felt relief wash over her.

This was the new beginning she needed.

[caraudioexpertaustralia0]

Headunit With Carplay For HONDA ACCORD 7TH | 2007 | 10 INCH

[mkt-magnovite-2024]

SUZU-KAHE-KI?

Hirotaka thought of fulfilling his long-standing dream which was Kizashi. Suzuki has been showcasing a concept car named Kizashi in different motor shows for a long time.

The concept 1 of Kizashi was showcased in 2007. Then again concept 2 was shown in 2007.

And then in 2008, the Kizashi Concept 3 was shown at the New York International Auto Show.

 In 2011, Maruti Suzuki aimed for the stars with the Kizashi. This sleek, sporty sedan promised European handling, punchy power, and a shift towards a premium image. The car itself was a technical marvel, with a responsive engine and sharp dynamics. But despite its brilliance, the Kizashi's Indian journey was tragically short-lived, selling a mere 5,000 units. 

Secondly, Suzuki's brand image in India was at odds with the Kizashi's aspirations. 

 Buyers associated Suzuki with affordable, fuel-efficient cars, not sporty sedans. The Kizashi's premium positioning felt like a disconnect, leaving potential buyers confused. Finally, the lack of a crucial diesel engine option, essential for fuel economy in India, dealt the final blow.

because this car got five-star ratings

in Euro NCAP and all other NCAPs. Now this car was very good but still, in 2014, Suzuki discontinued it in India and then in 2015 it completely disappeared from the world.

And after this, Suzuki never launched a proper D-segment car And as soon as the car came into the market, it proved that even a Suzuki car can be made big and powerful enough to compete with Honda and Toyota and even the Germans. This vehicle received very good ratings and within the first year of its launch, it also received two awards from Auto Pacific in America for annual vehicle satisfaction. Also, this car received two motoring awards in New Zealand in 2010 and according to Consumer Digest, it was a Best Buy car in 2011.

 The big problem with this car was people were not buying it. And this was not happening only in India but also in the US market, only 5000-6000 units were being sold annually,

in Canada, only 600-700 units were being sold and in Japan, only 3379 units

were sold from 2009 to 2015. out of which 1 quarter of the car was purchased

by Japan's national police agency alone.

 that Kizashi was one of the most powerful sedans available in India. It was Suzuki's brand image and this was the thing that Suzuki was trying to change with this vehicle.

Now, we people of India believe that Suzuki can make smaller cars only. Similarly, people all over the world also believe something similar.

 Task At Hand 

You are the CMO of Suzuki India and have decided to ‘relaunch’ the Kizashi in Indian Market.

 Deliverables:

1) PPT consisting of: -Phase-wise Implementation Plan, Product life cycle, Budget for relaunch and marketing campaign, Marketing Strategies (2 conventional & 2 unconventional), SWOT analysis.

2) Facebook, Radio & Newspaper campaigns

3) Make STP and make Competitive Analysis based on your STP

Submission deadline: 12:45PM

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Call me old school but "modern" cars are way too overkill.

My car (a used 2010 Honda accord) was totalled and I'm currently renting a 2018 Ford edge from my insurance company while I find a new vehicle.

Now driving this thing feels like driving a damn spaceship or the DeLorean from Back to the Future. There's just so many damn buttons, dials, lights, and just fluff in the dash and center console it's straight up hard to drive. On closer inspection, at least 5 buttons control the light above the driver and passenger's head.

Like what is all this??? Why do we need this many buttons???

And the stick for changing gears? It's that little dial in the second photo. You swivel it to change whether you're in park, reverse, drive, etc. I feel like it's gonna just randomly pop into a different gear while I'm driving!

And why the touch screen?? We don't need a massive ipad embedded in the console! Touch screens are not safe to drive with! I almost got in another accident trying to turn down the AC because I have no tactile feedback in the controls!

By old car was built like this:

Most of those buttons were for the radio. Dials for the AC and how to direct it, and those dials clicked when you moved them so you could tell how far they'd moved. The stick shift clunked when you moved it so you could tell how many times it had been moved and you felt it lock into place. Only a couple buttons on the steering wheel, three for cruise control, three for the audio system. And even this was the most buttons I had to learn ever! I'd argue some of the 'features' in that car were kinda useless and needless to have and just took up space!

Maybe I'm just crotchety and old (I'm 24 lol) but we don't need all this shit in cars! It's straight up distracting and unnecessary. It's a car. It gets you from point A to point B. I don't think you'd ever catch my driving a car any newer than like 2014.

[thekimspoblog]

Episode 1:

“November”

Description:

“The Year was 2016. The result of the presidential election set the whole country reeling. Confused about morality, confused about reality! Kim Wexler was no exception. And so she returned to the only person she could trust.”

Cold Open:

Fade in from red-orange to the back of a woman’s head. The ponytail seems familiar, but as the camera rotates around her, the face is revealed to not be any established character (ideal casting: Hadley Delany). The woman is battle-hardened, wearing a bulletproof vest and camouflage to blend in with the scrub of the desert she’s crossing. She walks slowly and carefully holding a metal detector. She stops to dig a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. Her gloves are tattered, and the fingers that poke through are black with dirt. On the scrap are gps coordinates: 43.9479° N, 104.8614° W.

The map on her cell phone suggests that she is already at the precise location; she should be right on top of it. Still, it takes hours of walking around before the metal detector begins to chirp. Digging at the spot with a shovel takes another hour. At the sound of the shovel hitting metal, the woman falls to her knees and begins to dig the lockbox up with her hands. As the camera pulls back from the dig site and pans upward, the sound of sirens gets louder and louder. Off in the far, far distance is a towering inferno and clouds of black smoke. The city is burning.

Title Card:

White cursive over a black background reads “Slippin’ Kimmy”. The theme song is ethereal and haunting, with bells, strings, and woodwinds. A trail of footprints represent the ellipsis on both sides of the text. Blue flowers sprout from the “i”s in the name, and the footprints turn dark red.

Episode:

[Ext. B&W wide-angle shot of Route 550, Colorado Turnpike]

Over the sound of wind and crackling radio static, “Tide is High” by Blondie fades in. A second-hand white Honda Accord speeds northbound (right-to-left), leaving the road signs shaking in its wake.

[Int. car]

Kim Wexler is singing along with the radio at the top of her lungs. She adjusts the rearview mirror. Everything else is black and white, but the blue of her eyes are an exception. So is the blue road sign up ahead: “ADX Montrose: 3 Miles”.

[Int. Prison visitation lobby]

A color TV is mounted to the wall. The broadcast has been monopolized by Donald Trump’s ugly orange mug. His image is inescapably plastered on every television in America. Text appears at the bottom of the screen, stylized after a vintage flip-clock. The numbers tick downward to “11.19.2016 1:24 pm”. Kim walks to the front desk, doing her best not to look at the TV set. The woman at the front desk recognizes Kim and already visibly dislikes her.

Kim: I’m here to see my client, James M. McGill.

She retrieves her license from her purse and hands it to the woman. The woman looks at it, then types something into her computer.

Front Desk: Your license to practice is invalid.

Kim: Really? That’s news to me. It must just be a bug, right? Someone typed the wrong information into the system?

Front Desk: No. Your license hasn’t been valid in years. You’re not a lawyer. In fact, I Googled Kimberly Wexler the last time you were here, and it turns out your name has been in the newspaper. It says you were disbarred; grand theft auto. And you’ve had the nerve to wave that card around like I wouldn’t catch on. You realize this makes my job harder, right? Years of naively letting some stranger alone with the inmates, possibly giving them weapons? I could be fired for compromising security like that!

Kim: I’m sorry. Please. Hand to god, the only thing I ever smuggled in was a pack of cigarettes. I just wanted to see my husband.

Front Desk: You’re gonna have to wait your turn like the rest. You can call him through the glass, just like everyone else. And by the way! Cigarettes clog our drains, set off sprinklers, and facilitate trading between convicts, which inevitably leads to fights. So don’t think that part was harmless either!

Kim turns around and ambles back to the rows of plastic chairs to sit down. Ok, she’d wait.

[Hours pass. Crossfade to the same shot of Kim in the lobby. By now two more women have arrived and are sitting a few chairs away from Kim talking. The flip clock ticks upwards to “11.19.2016 3:35 pm”. The voice of one of the women talking fades in]

Prison Wife 1 (ideal casting: Evan Rachael Wood): I didn’t get home from the hospital until 1 am. But it’s okay. I know he still loves me.

Prison Wife 2: Sounds like he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

When Prison Wife 1 glances in Kim’s direction, we can see her left eye is bruised black. Kim recoils a little. Her instinct is to take pity on this woman, to lecture her on abuse statistics in the hopes that would save her. But Kim stops herself, realizing how condescending and hypocritical that would be. Whether or not these women were victims, it wasn’t her job to swoop in and protect them. The woman at the desk was right; Kim wasn’t here as a lawyer. And these women were her peers.

Prison Wife 2: His parents got the money though, right?

Prison Wife 1: Yeah, but my foreman is wanting me to sign a statement saying I caused my own injuries, because I was asleep at the wheel.

Prison Wife 2: Well how does that reflect any better on them? They keep you going on three hours of sleep a night, and then it’s your fault if you’re tired? That’s bullshit!

Prison Wife 1: It is bullshit! But the important thing is the job is done. Bruce’s parents are taken care of.

Kim: Wait. So Bruce is your… ?

Prison Wife 1: Fiance. The one I’m here to see.

Kim: And his parents are… ?

Prison Wife 1: In a better home now. Thanks to me.

Kim: And this (she gestures to the black eye) happened at a construction site? Your fiance didn’t do that?

Prison Wife 1: Not directly! But I told him I didn’t want to take that gig in Lakewood. I knew it was dangerous.

Kim: You’re a construction worker?

Prison Wife 1: Carpenter. Independent contractor. I’m not an employee; they just control when I eat, sleep, and use the toilet. That’s all.

Prison Wife 2: What did Bruce do? Why’s he locked up?

Prison Wife 1: You’re not supposed to ask those kinds of questions!

Prison Wife 2: You won’t tell? Fine! I’ll go; mine’s not that bad. My Johnny stole a dog! He liked this animal, and he didn’t think the owner was taking care of her, so he stole her. That’s it! But he’s black Sicillian, so you know.

Kim: If I were you, I wouldn’t sign that admission of fault.

Prison Wife 1: But they are strongly implying they’re gonna fire me if I don’t!

Kim: Get a personal injury lawyer. A strongly worded letter is usually enough to preempt wrongful termination.

Prison Wife 1: I can’t afford that!

Kim: There are tons of affordable small practices out there. Most of the billboards I saw on my way here are for criminal lawyers, but most of the ones along I-25 are Personal Injury.

Prison Wife 1: Do you see this jacket? Look at how good a condition this jacket is in. I’ve had this jacket for eight years. I scrimped and saved for this jacket. So I might be broke, but I’m not cheap. I have taste! And those billboards? Those guys have no taste. How can I trust someone’s judgment when they’re so… tacky?

Kim: You don’t know the full story.

Prison Wife 2: What about you, Zoe DeShannel? (referring to Kim’s haircut) What did your friend do?

Kim thinks for almost a full minute, deciding what to say. There’s a flicker of guilt on her face, but then her discomfort twists into a strange smile. She leans in close to answer:

Kim: He helped me kill my boss.

Prison Wife 1: (whispering) Nice.

Prison Wife 2: Hey, I know that guy!

A guard has just entered from the hallway.

Prison Wife 2: (Running over to him) Artie? Artie! It's me; Terry? You sat 2 desks away from me in chemistry?

Guard: (a little overwhelmed) Oh Terry! Yeah, it’s been a while. How are you?

Prison Wife 2: Not good, Artie. I’m not going to lie. Hey! Hey Artie? My friends and I just really miss our boyfriends, and we’re desperate for a hero. Maybe you could unlock that door behind you and then just… count to ten?

Guard. I can escort you to Visitation. You’ll be able to talk to them over a direct line.

Prison Wife 2: See, we considered that. But we would really appreciate something with a little more physical contact? It’s very important for mental health.

Kim: And it helps deter recidivism!

Prison Wife 2: But I can understand why you’re reluctant to leave us unsupervised with criminals. I have an idea! Why don’t you stay in the room and watch us the whole time? That way, if I’m hiding contraband, you’d catch me pulling it out.

The guard ponders this offer.

Guard: I’d be risking my job. Seems like I should get to do a little more than watch.

Terry hesitates. That would be outside of her comfort zone.

Prison Wife 1: Her boyfriend is very possessive. Jealous. I don’t think he’d react well to that kind of proposition. Mine on the other hand is a little more open-minded.

Guard: I’ve always had a crush on you, Terry… But fine, I’ll take the blonde.

The woman at the front desk is glaring daggers at the hushed exchange taking place near the hallway. Artie unlocks the door with his keycard, and the four step inside the facility. 

Jimmy has been moved to Block A due to overcrowding. Staring up at the top bunk, he idly plays with a loose bolt on the bed. He jumps a little when the steel door screams open.

Guard: McGill. You’ve got a conjugal visitation.

Conjugal? What? Federal Prisons didn’t allow… Oh no. Was it Thursday again already? Kim stepped inside the claustrophobic cell.

Guard: I’m going to lock you in here until I get back.

Both wives took the guard’s hands in theirs and started to lead him down further down the hall.

Prison Wife 1: You’ve got roughly an hour and a half.

Kim: You know you don’t have to do this.

Prison Wife 1: Everything’s under control. Like I said, Bruce owes me one.

Kim gave a puzzled look. The guard turned the key in the steel door, locking Jimmy and Kim in together.

Kim: Hey

Jimmy: Yourself. What happened to your license?

Kim: I got pinched. It was only a matter of time. How are you holding up?

Jimmy: Same old, same old. You get to lift weights, pick up trash by the highway, sew made-in-America sweatshop textiles, whittle bars of soap into the shape of your childhood dog. Yes, camp is very entertaining, and they say we’ll have some fun if it stops raining.

After a pause, Kim beams at him. She moves in to embrace him and kiss him passionately.

Kim: I figured out how to get you out on parole.

Jimmy: (at the same time) You need to stop coming here.

Kim: Wait. What?