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Motor Oil Manufacturers
Sky Oil Corporation is Industries best Motor Oil Manufacturers in Delhi that supplies engine oils, gear oils, and other quality products at affordable prices.
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FLYSAK SN 20W50 motorcycle engine oil sample
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Precision Unleashed: Elevate Your Racing Experience with ROFEIBI's Supreme Racing Moto Brake Fluid
In the adrenaline-pumping world of motorcycle racing, every element plays a crucial role in achieving optimal performance. From the sleek design of the bike to the expertise of the rider, every detail matters. One often overlooked but essential component is the brake system, and in the realm of racing, precision is key. Enter ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid – a game-changer that takes braking performance to a whole new level.
Unveiling ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid:
When it comes to racing, standard brake fluids may fall short of meeting the demands of high-performance motorcycles. ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid steps in to bridge this gap, offering a specially formulated solution designed to enhance precision, responsiveness, and overall braking efficiency.
Unmatched Precision
ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid is engineered to provide unmatched precision during critical moments on the race track. Its advanced formula ensures rapid and consistent brake response, allowing riders to navigate tight corners and execute swift maneuvers with confidence. The fluid's low compressibility ensures that every input from the brake lever translates into immediate and precise braking action.
Racing Engine Oil Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) – Your Quick Guide to Key Questions
High-Temperature Performance
Racing scenarios often subject brake systems to extreme temperatures, pushing standard brake fluids to their limits. ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid is formulated to withstand these high temperatures, preventing brake fade and maintaining consistent performance even under intense racing conditions. This feature is a game-changer, ensuring that riders can push their bikes to the limit without compromising on braking efficiency.
Enhanced Wet Boiling Point
In unpredictable weather conditions, such as sudden rain showers during a race, maintaining optimal brake performance becomes even more critical. ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid boasts an enhanced wet boiling point, ensuring reliable braking even when exposed to moisture. This characteristic is particularly valuable in racing situations where the track conditions can change rapidly.
Corrosion Resistance
Racing Moto Brake Fluid goes beyond just enhancing performance; it also provides superior protection against corrosion. The fluid's corrosion-resistant properties help extend the lifespan of critical brake components, ensuring that the braking system remains in peak condition over the long haul. This is a crucial aspect for racers who demand durability and reliability from their equipment.
Compatibility with Racing Systems
Designed with racing motorcycles in mind, ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid is compatible with advanced braking systems commonly found in high-performance bikes. Whether your bike is equipped with ABS or other cutting-edge braking technologies, this fluid seamlessly integrates, maximizing the effectiveness of these systems and providing a competitive edge on the track.
Conclusion
ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid emerges as a must-have for motorcycle enthusiasts and racers alike, elevating the braking experience to unprecedented levels of precision and reliability. As the demand for high-performance products continues to grow, the strategic use of keywords ensures that this exceptional brake fluid remains at the forefront of online searches, connecting with riders who are eager to enhance their racing experience. Beyond brakes, ROFEIBI's Racing Moto Brake Fluid is the epitome of precision in the thrilling world of motorcycle racing.
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Variable Frequency Drive Market Will Reach USD 35.34 Billion By 2030
The variable frequency drive market is witnessing growth and is projected to reach USD 35.34 billion by 2030. This can be credited to the growing need for energy-effective electrical equipment like fans, motors, and pumps, and rising government guidelines in this field. Fast industrial development is also one of the major reasons propelling the need for these drives. With more and more sectors…
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#energy efficiency#HVAC#industrial applications#Key players#Manufacturing#market trends#Motor Control#Oil & Gas#Variable Frequency Drive#VFD Market
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Why Should You Choose Unnati Pump's 3-Inch Oil Lubricated Motors?
Unnati Pumps presents the perfect solution for your agricultural irrigation and domestic needs with its 3-Inch Oil Lubricated Motor range. These motors come with enameled copper wire to enable stator winding, while the pressure-equalizing rubber diaphragm shields against pressure and volume variation. Made with Stainless Steel AISI 420, the shaft offers lasting performance in extreme weather conditions. Know the full features of our 3-Inch Oil Lubricated Motor range here.
#3-Inch Oil Lubricated Motor#3-Inch Oil Lubricated Motors#Submersible Motors Manufacturer#Submersible Motors Exporter#Submersible Motors Supplier
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Industrial Overload Relays Market Industry Analysis Outlook by 2032
Market Overview:
Intrinsic safety modules are crucial components used in hazardous environments to ensure the safe operation of electronic equipment. These modules are designed to limit electrical energy and prevent the generation of sparks or excessive heat that could ignite flammable gases, vapors, or dust present in the surrounding atmosphere. By employing intrinsic safety modules, industries can reduce the risk of explosions and fires in potentially explosive atmospheres.
Intrinsic safety is a widely adopted protection technique in industries such as oil and gas, petrochemicals, mining, pharmaceuticals, chemicals, and others where flammable substances are present. These modules are typically used with sensors, transmitters, and other electronic devices that need to operate in hazardous locations.
The Global Intrinsic Safety Modules Market size is projected to grow from $2.7 billion in 2021 to a billion by 2028, at a CAGR of 7% 2023-2031.
Industrial Overload Relays: Overview Industrial overload relays are electrical devices used to protect motors and other electrical equipment from damage due to overcurrent conditions. They are an essential component of motor control systems in industrial settings. These relays monitor the current flowing through a motor and can trip the circuit if the current exceeds a predefined threshold, thus preventing overheating and potential damage.
Industry Analysis and Trends:
Industrial Automation: The increasing adoption of industrial automation across various sectors has driven the demand for overload relays. Automation requires efficient motor protection to ensure smooth operation and prevent downtime.
Energy Efficiency: There is a growing emphasis on energy efficiency and reducing operational costs. Modern overload relays often come with features that enable energy monitoring and optimization.
Smart Technologies: The integration of smart technologies, such as IoT and connectivity, into industrial equipment has led to the development of smart overload relays. These relays can provide real-time data, remote monitoring, and predictive maintenance insights.
Safety Regulations: Stringent safety regulations and standards in industrial environments have led to the increased adoption of protective devices like overload relays. Compliance with these regulations is crucial for safe operations.
Miniaturization and Integration: The trend toward miniaturization and integration has led to the development of compact and multifunctional overload relay solutions, saving space and enhancing functionality.
Customization and Flexibility: Industries often have specific requirements for their motor protection needs. Manufacturers are focusing on offering customizable overload relay solutions to cater to various applications.
Global Industrial Growth: As industries continue to grow worldwide, the demand for machinery and equipment, including motors and overload relays, also increases.
Demand and Scope:
The demand for industrial overload relays is closely tied to the overall industrial growth, especially in sectors like manufacturing, oil and gas, utilities, mining, and more. As these industries expand, the need for reliable motor protection solutions becomes more critical. Moreover, the increasing adoption of automation and the integration of advanced technologies further contribute to the demand for modern overload relays.
The scope of the industrial overload relays market extends across various industries and applications, including conveyor systems, pumps, fans, compressors, HVAC systems, and more. As technologies evolve, the scope of overload relays may expand to include smarter and more advanced features, addressing emerging challenges in motor protection and predictive maintenance.
We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.
By visiting our website or contacting us directly, you can explore the availability of specific reports related to this market. These reports often require a purchase or subscription, but we provide comprehensive and in-depth information that can be valuable for businesses, investors, and individuals interested in this market.
“Remember to look for recent reports to ensure you have the most current and relevant information.”
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Market Segmentations:
Global Intrinsic Safety Modules Market: By Company • Eaton • Rockwell Automation • Schneider Electric • Siemens • ABB • Pepperl+ Fuchs • OMEGA • Rotork • IMI Sensors • Extronics Global Intrinsic Safety Modules Market: By Type • Zener Barriers • Isolator Barriers • Converter Barriers Global Intrinsic Safety Modules Market: By Application • Oil and Gas • Mining • Power • Chemicals and Petrochemicals Global Intrinsic Safety Modules Market: Regional Analysis The regional analysis of the global Intrinsic Safety Modules market provides insights into the market's performance across different regions of the world. The analysis is based on recent and future trends and includes market forecast for the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Intrinsic Safety Modules market report are as follows: North America: The North America region includes the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. The U.S. is the largest market for Intrinsic Safety Modules in this region, followed by Canada and Mexico. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the presence of key market players and the increasing demand for the product. Europe: The Europe region includes Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe. Germany is the largest market for Intrinsic Safety Modules in this region, followed by the U.K. and France. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive and aerospace sectors. Asia-Pacific: The Asia-Pacific region includes Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, and Rest of Asia-Pacific. China is the largest market for Intrinsic Safety Modules in this region, followed by Japan and India. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing adoption of the product in various end-use industries, such as automotive, aerospace, and construction. Middle East and Africa: The Middle East and Africa region includes Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, and Rest of Middle East and Africa. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the aerospace and defense sectors. South America: The South America region includes Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America. Brazil is the largest market for Intrinsic Safety Modules in this region, followed by Argentina. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive sector.
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Reasons to Purchase Intrinsic Safety Modules Market Report:
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• To assess market opportunities: These research studies can aid companies in assessing market chances, such as prospective new goods or services, fresh markets, and new trends.
In general, market research studies offer companies and organisations useful data that can aid in making decisions and maintaining competitiveness in their industry. They can offer a strong basis for decision-making, strategy formulation, and company planning.
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#Industrial Overload Relays#Motor Protection#Overcurrent Protection#Industrial Automation#Energy Efficiency#Smart Technologies#IoT Integration#Predictive Maintenance#Safety Regulations#Miniaturization#Customizable Solutions#Global Industrial Growth#Manufacturing#Oil and Gas#Utilities#Mining#Conveyor Systems#Pumps#Fans#Compressors#HVAC Systems#Market Trends#Demand Analysis#Industry Insights#Industrial Equipment#Motor Control#Electrical Protection.
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Choose The Best Coolant for your Car & Importance of the Engine Coolant | Chemtex Speciality Limited
Use Chemtex's Engine Coolant Antifreeze for optimal heat transfer and temperature control even in the most demanding conditions.
#coolant#lubricant#oil#engine#motor#automotive#mechanic#grease#maintenance#radiator#ethyleneglycol#antifoam#heattransfer#chemicals#chemicalindustry#manufacturer#chemtex#chemtexltd
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Future of Lubricants and How German Mirror Oils is Adapting to New Technologies and Trends.
The world of lubricants is constantly evolving, with new technologies and trends emerging all the time. In this blog, we will explore the future of lubricants and how German Mirror Oils is adapting to these changes.
Introduction:
Lubricants play a vital role in keeping machinery running smoothly and efficiently. Over the years, lubricant manufacturers have been working to develop new products that meet the changing needs of industries, and the future of lubricants is looking brighter than ever. As a leading lubricant manufacturers in UAE, German Mirror Oils is at the forefront of this industry and is adapting to the latest technologies and trends.
Environmental sustainability
One of the major trends in the lubricant industry is a focus on environmental sustainability. With concerns about climate change and the environment growing, lubricant manufacturers are under pressure to develop products that are eco-friendly. German Mirror Oils has been at the forefront of this trend, developing lubricants that are biodegradable, low in toxicity, and free of heavy metals.
Digitalization
Another trend that is shaping the future of lubricants is digitalization. Smart lubricants are becoming more common, with sensors and other technologies embedded in the lubricant to provide real-time data on the health and performance of equipment. German Mirror Oils is keeping pace with this trend, developing lubricants that are compatible with digital technologies and can provide valuable data to customers.
Nanotechnology
Nanotechnology is also having a big impact on the lubricant industry. Nanoparticles can be added to lubricants to enhance their performance, reduce wear and tear, and extend the lifespan of equipment. German Mirror Oils is exploring the potential of nanotechnology, researching new materials and additives that can be incorporated into their lubricants to improve their performance and reliability.
Electric vehicles
As the world moves towards electric vehicles, the lubricant industry will need to adapt. Unlike traditional combustion engines, electric motors do not require oil for lubrication. However, other components in the vehicle, such as gears, bearings, and pumps, will still require lubrication. German Mirror Oils is already working on developing lubricants that are specifically designed for electric vehicles, taking into account the unique requirements of these machines.
Alternative fuels
As alternative fuels become more prevalent, lubricant manufacturers will need to adapt their products to suit these new technologies. For example, hydrogen fuel cells require a completely different type of lubricant than traditional combustion engines. German Mirror Oils is exploring the potential of alternative fuels and developing lubricants that are specifically designed to meet the requirements of these new technologies.
3D printing
3D printing is another area that is having an impact on the lubricant industry. 3D printers require lubricants to keep their moving parts running smoothly, and there is a growing demand for lubricants that are specifically designed for 3D printing applications. German Mirror Oils is developing lubricants that are suitable for use in 3D printers, providing reliable performance and ensuring that the printing process runs smoothly.
Automation and robotics
As automation and robotics become more prevalent in industry, lubricant manufacturers will need to develop products that are suitable for use in these machines. Automated machinery and robots often require lubricants that are long-lasting and can operate under extreme conditions. German Mirror Oils is developing lubricants that are designed to meet the requirements of these machines, providing reliable performance and ensuring that they operate smoothly and efficiently.
In conclusion, the lubricant industry is constantly evolving, with new technologies and trends shaping the future of the industry. As a leading lubricant manufacturer in UAE, German Mirror Oils is at the forefront of this industry and is adapting to the latest technologies and trends. From environmental sustainability to digitalization, nanotechnology, electric vehicles, alternative fuels, 3D printing, and automation and robotics, German Mirror Oils is developing lubricants that meet the changing needs of industries. Choosing German Mirror Oils as your car lubricants supplier means choosing a company that is committed to providing high-quality, innovative products that deliver reliable performance and help you achieve your business goals.
#Car Lubricants#Lubricant Manufacturers in UAE#Engine Oil Company#German Motor Oil#Lubricant Suppliers in UAE
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🇺🇲 Step back in time and experience the roar of the iconic AMC Javelin, a true legend of American muscle cars! Introduced in 1967 by American Motors Corporation (AMC), the Javelin was a front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, two-door hardtop automobile manufactured across two generations, spanning from 1968 through 1970 and then from 1971 through 1974 model years. It was designed to compete in the pony car market segment against rivals like the Ford Mustang and Chevrolet Camaro.
🚗💨 The AMC Javelin burst onto the scene in 1968, showcasing a sleek design and powerful engines. Styled by Dick Teague, the Javelin offered a range of trim and engine levels, from economical pony car variants to high-performance muscle car models. Its distinctive appearance, featuring a long hood and aggressive stance, turned heads on the streets and racetracks alike.
🏭 Besides being manufactured in Kenosha, Wisconsin, Javelins were also assembled under license in Germany, Mexico, the Philippines, Venezuela, and Australia, showcasing its global reach. American Motors even offered discounts to U.S. military personnel, leading to many Javelins being exported overseas.
🛞 Under the hood, the Javelin packed serious power. It was available with inline-six engines or potent V8s, delivering thrilling acceleration and speed. The AMX variant, equipped with a 6.4-liter V8, boasted over 300 horsepower!
🏆 The AMC Javelin wasn't just about looks—it excelled on the track too. It competed in Trans-Am racing, demonstrating its speed and agility. In fact, the second-generation AMX variant was the first pony car used as a standard vehicle for highway police car duties by an American law enforcement agency. Today, the Javelin's unique style and racing heritage make it a sought-after classic among collectors.
💔 By 1974, the automobile landscape had shifted. While other manufacturers downsized engines in response to changing market demands and fuel shortages, the Javelin's big engine option continued until production ceased in November 1974 amidst the Arab oil embargo and declining interest in high-performance vehicles.
🦅 The AMC Javelin embodies the spirit of American muscle cars, blending style, performance, and affordability. It's a timeless classic that continues to capture the hearts of car enthusiasts everywhere. Get ready to hit the road and experience the thrill of the AMC Javelin!
#brits and yanks on wheels#retro cars#transatlantic torque#vehicle#cars#old cars#brands#companies#automobile#american cars#amc#american motors#american muscle#amc javelin#javelin#muscle car#pony car#race car#trans am#old car#classic cars#car#american auto#automotive#chevrolet camaro#chrysler#wisconsin#kenosha#made in usa#ford mustang
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In the USA between 1927 and 1955, General Motors, Mack Manufacturing (trucks), Standard Oil (now Exxon), Philips Petroleum, Firestone Tire & Rubber, and Greyhound Lines, came together to share information, investments and ‘activities’. Their objective was to eliminate streetcars (what are called trams in Europe). These companies established various front companies, one of which was National City Lines (NCL). During especially the 1930s, NCL together with various subsidiaries bought up many electrified streetcar lines. They then tore them up. At least forty-five cities lost their streetcars. The strategy was to shift to motorized petroleum-based transport. Local citizens were left without alternatives to oil-based cars and buses. This carbon conspiracy was in strict violation of US anti-trust laws. It was only discovered in 1955, whereupon the companies were found guilty of violating the Sherman Anti-Trust Act but then subjected to tiny fines.
John Urry, Societies beyond Oil: Oil Dregs and Social Futures
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Passenger / Chapter 6
Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust
Wyoming (Part Three)
[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]
Chapter Summary: Charlie strikes a deal with the mechanic.
Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
Word Count: 7.3k+
Content / Warnings: yearning, slow burn, horny thoughts, food mention, eating, handcuffs, one bed, shower, dog grogu, guns
Notes: None really. Hope you like it, thank you for reading!
A bell chimes when Din pushes open the door to Giddyup Auto, and again when he lets it swing shut behind you.
It’s just as cluttered inside the shop as it is outside. Pornographic magazines have been stacked alongside NAPA catalogs and tattered notepads on top of tool boxes. Promotional branding from popular auto parts manufacturers patch the steel walls, occasionally broken up by snarky signs that read things like KWITCHERBITCHIN AVE and I CAN FIX ANYTHING EXCEPT STUPID.
Country music crackles from blown speakers at the back of the shop, echoing off the tall ceiling. The rough, strained sound blends horribly with a high-pitched whir coming from beneath a 1989 Dodge Ram 250.
Din inhales the scent of motor oil and metal shavings. Adolescent nostalgia wells up in his chest like pride, some vague understanding of what it means to be a man. The responsibility of maintenance. Caretaking and custodianship.
He catches a glimpse of his adoptive father wringing his hands with an oil-soaked rag while rattling off the basic components of an internal combustion engine. Then he blinks it away.
Out of the corner of his eye, you adjust your grip on the wriggling dog, slipping one hand beneath his bottom and the other across his chest. Grogu huffs at the intrusion, but once he’s steadied to a higher vantage point, he seems pleased. His ears stand at attention, jowls sealed shut, the tip of his snout twitching with curiosity.
Both you and the dog look around the garage with the same kind of wide-eyed wonder. Two explorers ready to investigate this whole new world. Din leads the way deeper into the automotive bay, following the shrill grinding sound to the old rusted-out truck.
When he comes to a halt, so does the noise, then Paul slides out from under the truck on a creeper.
“Hey there! Sorry, I didn’t hear y’all come in,” he gestures to the impact wrench in his hand as he sets it down.
“Hi, Paul,” you greet him with a cheerful smile.
Rising to his feet, he beams, “Miss Charlie, how’re you today?”
The twinkle in his bright eyes makes Din feel uneasy. Strands of gray streak his dark beard and pepper his slicked-back hair. Hard-earned wrinkles crease his face. He’s twice your age at least, and Din can’t quite determine whether his intentions are cordial or flirtatious.
Either way, you hardly seem to mind. You perk up at the attention, taking a step towards him as you reply, “Can’t complain. Yourself?”
“Oh, just fine. Annie get y’all set up at the motel?”
“She sure did. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, y’know, after being on the road for so long. Thank you for recommending it to us.”
“‘Course. Yellow Seed’s been treatin’ you alright?”
“Yeah! We got to poke around a little yesterday. Went and got supper at the Outlaw Saloon, which was good,” you glance at Din and chuckle a little, “The locals didn’t seem too keen on us. Got a few dirty looks, but that’s not surprising.”
Paul laughs at this, crossing his arms as he leans back against the truck, “Well, you know, we small town folks don’t always like outsiders.”
“I’m used to it,” you shrug dismissively, then your face lights up, “But, hey, I talked to the owner and they’re gonna let me play a couple sets tomorrow night if you wanna swing by.”
“No shit?” Paul grins and catches himself, “Pardon my language—”
“It’s fine,” you wave it off.
“Playin’ a few sets at the Outlaw Saloon,” Paul repeats, shaking his head with amusement, “What kinda music you play?”
“I know a little bit of everything. These kinds of gigs, I try to feel out the crowd. I catch a country music kinda vibe around here, so probably some Hank Williams Jr, Alan Jackson, Johnny Cash. Stuff like that,” you tilt your head at him, “Got any requests?”
“Know any Waylon Jennings?”
“Sure, I have a few of his tunes up my sleeve. Any particular song?”
“Surprise me,” he winks.
Din tries to retain his stoic demeanor despite the discomfort writhing beneath his skin. The dog must pick up on this, because he whines at his owner and starts to squirm in your grip.
Struggling with Grogu’s protest, you ask Paul, “Is it ok if I set him down?”
“Go on ahead, darlin’,” Paul tells you, then turns to Din, “How about you? Settling in ok?”
“How much will it cost to fix?”
Paul raises his eyebrows and pushes off the truck, “Right down to brass tacks, huh?”
“He’s not much of a talker,” you smirk as you set the dog on the cement floor and start roaming around the shop, leash in hand.
“I can respect that.” His gaze lingers on your wandering form for a moment longer before he looks at Din and sighs, “Well, I had some luck calling around to a few junkyards lookin’ for salvaged or used parts. Found a good price for what I need. With that ‘n’ labor, it’ll run you twenty-five hundred, long as everything goes smoothly.”
Din weighs the cost against his bank account, factoring in the motel room, gas to get to the next job, and food for a few days. It would run him dry. His stomach tightens and twists. Before he can formulate a response, you chime in.
“Is there any way we can knock that price down?”
Paul crosses his arms across his chest and gives you a sympathetic shrug, “Way it stands, ‘fraid I can’t.”
You nod as you consider this, furrowing your brow at the floor, then look up at him, “What if we make a trade?”
“A trade?” Paul frowns.
“Yeah, or, you know. Some kind of a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch ours.”
Paul’s blue eyes flick between you and Din, “Wha’d you have in mind, sweetheart?”
Din’s first instinct is to shut down the conversation. But when you glance at him as if searching for approval, he doesn’t protest. You turn back to Paul and nod over your shoulder, “I noticed your sign out front is pretty faded. I could paint it if you knock a couple hundred off?”
Paul shifts his weight to one leg and wrinkles his nose. Not sold. You don’t let it deter you.
“I’ve done murals before, so this would be a piece of cake. It looks pretty shabby now, but I can make it,” you smack your lips, “pop. Maybe it’d bring in some more business for you.”
Shaking his head, he smirks at Din, “She’s persistent, ain’t she?”
“She is.”
“I am,” you confirm with a wide, toothy grin, “Whaddaya say? I do the sign, take off $500?“
Paul works his jaw from side to side, then slackens and sticks out his hand, “Five hundred.”
“Plus the cost of supplies,” you add.
“Plus the—” he cuts himself off with an amused chuckle, “You’re somethin’ else. Fine. Five hundred plus costs.”
When you shake his hand, a victorious, blinding smile spreads across your face. The corner of Din’s mouth turns up at the sight. He fails to correct his expression as you take a step back and glance at him. His heart skips in that brief moment where his eyes meet yours, before you drop your gaze to your feet and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Blush rises to your cheeks and neck, rosy splotches that bloom soft and full in his chest.
“Whaddaya think, should $100 do it?” Paul asks.
“I think we can make that work,” you nod, “Do you have paint brushes or rollers? Sandpaper?”
“Reckon I do. Hang tight, I’ll get y’all some cash, ok?”
Once he’s out of earshot, Din studies you, wondering out loud, “Why are you helping me?”
“Rule number ten: Be a stand up tramp,” you shrug, crouching down to scratch Grogu between his ears, “Plus, I don’t know, it just seems like… the right thing to do.”
Your answer perplexes him. He can’t come up with a response other than, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you grin up at him, then rise to your feet and change the subject, “I’m hungry. We should get lunch. And maybe get some groceries, too, so we—er, you don’t have to spend as much on eating out.”
The authority with which you suggest this causes him to chafe. He wants to push back for no reason other than to reclaim the upper hand. Your reasoning is sound, though. It’s not a bad idea.
“We can do that.”
“Yeah?”
He nods.
Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, lips curving into a delicate smile. Something flutters in his stomach, frantic and timid, urging him to put up a wall between you. But he keeps his eyes anchored to yours despite his internal warning bells.
The tight wire of tension slackens as Paul returns, counting a stack of wrinkled bills, “Here you go.”
You step forward to accept the cash, “Perfect. Thank you, Paul.”
“Are y’all gonna be able to carry everything back here, or do you wanna borrow my truck? Might be a little easier that way.”
“Really?” you grin and knit your brows together into a gracious expression, “We were thinking of grabbing lunch and getting some groceries, too. Would that be ok?”
“Fine by me, just bring it back in one piece,” Paul answers, fishing a set of keys from his jumpsuit pocket and handing them to you, “Ford F-150 out front.”
“Thank you, Paul. I—we really appreciate it,” you tell him, then look at Din and raise your eyebrows expectantly.
“Yes, thank you,” Din nods in agreement.
“Don’t mention it,” Paul says, then ambles back to the old rusted-out Dodge, whistling along to some old country song.
Keeping pace at his side as he starts towards the exit, you jangle the keys and ask, “Do you want me to drive?”
“Dream on, kid,” he scoffs, holding his hand out.
“Worth a shot,” you grin and place them in his palm.
“Would it be too predictable to put a horse on the sign?” you ask, frowning at your rough outline, “I feel like there are a lot of places out here that lean into the western motif, so it might be overdone. But the place is literally called Giddyup Auto, so…”
When Din doesn’t respond, you glance up and can’t quite tell if he’s looking at you or something in your general direction.
Stupid goddamn aviators.
“You know, it’s considered polite to take off your hat and sunglasses when you go indoors.”
Again, nothing.
‘Off in lala-land’ if you’ve ever seen it.
You blink at him a few times to no reaction, then raise your voice, “Did you hear me?”
This seems to do the trick.
It’s difficult to explain how you know his eyes are on you when they are. Maybe the microscopic tilt of his head or the twitch of his eyebrows. Mostly though, you would say that his attention carries a force. One minute you’re sitting there wondering if he’s looking at you and then—bam! It hits you. Absolute certainty.
Anyway, he looks at you and asks, “What?”
“Why do you insist on wearing your Unabomber costume all the time?”
He frowns and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.
“You know, because—Oh for cripes’ sake, nevermind,” you scoff and sit up in your seat, turning your notebook to face him, “Here. Tell me what you think.”
He looks down at your notebook and pulls it closer. As he quietly studies the sketches, discomfort twists your skin raw. Imagining all the criticisms lingering at the tip of his tongue, you can’t stop yourself from speaking preemptively.
“The first one is pretty boring, but I think the font adds a little flair. I’d blend shades of orange for the background to make it stand out and white for the text.” You prop your chin up on the heel of your palm and lean forward, pointing to the second option, “I like the covered wagon as a concept, but it would take me a long time and I’m not sure if it fits the vibe since wagons are kinda slow. The horse is fast, obviously,” you tap the third sketch and shrug, “But, like I said when you so rudely ignored me, the western motif is sort of tired in this neck of the woods.”
Nodding, he comments, “They look… nice.”
Such a way with words.
You stare at him for a moment, waiting for additional input to no avail. Raising your eyebrows, you release a big sigh and fold your legs up into the booth, “���Nice.’ Ok, sure. Well, let me ask you this: Which one is your favorite?”
After a few seconds of contemplation, he taps the bucking bronco silhouetted over a mountain range, then pushes the notebook back across the table.
“Why that one?”
He shrugs, “It’s called Giddyup Auto.”
Instead of pointing out that you said the same thing earlier, you mutter, “Sure is, big guy,” and flip your notebook to a blank page, then start jotting down a shopping list, “We should get something for the pup while we’re out. I feel bad for leaving him behind.”
You wrinkle your nose at his silence, looking up to confirm that once again, he has drifted away.
Curiosity gets the best of you. You follow his line of sight, craning your neck over your shoulder to see the waitress approaching with a serving tray. Din straightens when she sets a plate in front of him.
“Ok, we have a breakfast platter number two,” she sets another plate in front of you, “And french toast with fruit.” Tucking the tray under her arm, she smiles between you and him, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” Din tells her, a small smile gracing his lips.
She nods before turning to go, dragging his attention along with her. You watch him watch her, studying his wandering gaze. A grin spreads across your face. When he notices you staring, he immediately becomes defensive.
“What?”
Dead giveaway.
Suppressing a smile, you grab a butter knife and shake your head at your plate, “Nothing.”
“What?” he asks again, this time more pointed.
“I didn’t say anything!”
He scoffs and hunches over the plate to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.
After smearing whipped butter on your french toast, you pour syrup over your plate, glancing up at him when you ask, “Do you have a crush on the waitress?”
“No.”
Denial sours the word in the most obvious way.
Raising an eyebrow, you cut your food into bite-sized pieces as you tease, “I didn’t take you for a liar, Din. But I also didn’t take you for the kind of guy who has a soft spot for pretty service workers, so what do I know?”
Of course, he doesn’t say anything. And of course, you decide to push the conversation further.
“I just mean… If you do—you know, like her or whatever—you should ask her for her number. Take her on a date. See if you can’t live a little while you’re holed up in this town.”
“And what am I supposed to do with you in that scenario?”
Twirling a chunk of french toast around on your fork, you shrug, “Maybe she wouldn’t mind your prisoner third wheeling. That’s probably not a red flag, right?”
“Not at all.”
You snort at him and he lets a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It seems to soften the atmosphere, both of you relaxing back in your seats. While chipping away at your food, you ponder a little to yourself, then out loud.
“Suppose your line of work, you don’t go on many dates, do you?”
Frowning at the strip of bacon pinched between his fingers, he tells you, “Not in the traditional sense.”
“What does that mean?”
Instead of answering the question, he pops the bacon into his mouth. When he swallows and you’re still staring at him, he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”
“Come on, Din,” you meet his flattened expression with a grin, “You so know I won’t let this go. Might as well just spill the beans.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you like a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head with equal determination.
“‘Not in the traditional sense.’ So you do have romantic or sexual experiences, but society wouldn’t typically deem those experiences ‘dates,’ right?”
He says nothing.
“Hmmm… interesting,” you lean your elbows on the table, studying him, “You seem reluctant to talk about it, which indicates… Maybe you’re ashamed of it? Although, you’re pretty reluctant to talk about everything, so I don’t know how much weight to place on that. But you’re a trucker. Transient. Don’t seem like much of a ‘family man’ to me. So, what… you’ve gotta be a hookup guy or a sex worker guy, right?”
The way he squirms at the question makes your chest tingle.
“It could be both, too. I feel like you would be more of an opportunist than a strategist when it comes to fucking. Am I right?”
His jaw shifts from side-to-side. He glances around before leaning in, “And you’re much different?”
“No, not really.”
Most people would ask follow-up questions or awkwardly segue into a different subject, but not Din. He seems as content with your answer as you are with his. But where he goes back to eating, you feel a loose end rattling at the tip of your tongue and speak it into existence.
“I think… I think people like us don’t lay down roots for anything less than the spectacular,” you search his face, “Right?”
With his fork lifted halfway to his mouth, he pauses to look at you and nod, “This is the way.”
Din brings the shopping cart to halt in the middle of the aisle when you stop to examine jars of preserved nut and fruit spreads lining the shelves.
You pull a big plastic container of generic peanut butter from the lineup and toss it into the cart, “Four dollars, twenty-nine cents.”
He jots down the price in your notebook and adds it to the running total while you wrinkle your nose at the ingredient list of strawberry preserves, then set it next to the peanut butter, “Three sixty-nine. Gotta love that food desert markup. What’re we at?”
“Twenty seven, give or take,” he answers, crossing two items off the list.
“What else we got here?” Sidling up to him, you peek at the paper, “Snacks. Wow, ok past me, very specific.”
When you start walking again, he does too, and he wonders how you can possibly smell so good without the aid of perfumes. While not a definitive scent, it inspires a sensation much like when he’s parched and sets his sights on a glass of ice water. It’s enticing, like your very foundation radiates temptation.
He cannot have this. This thing in his chest, gnawing at his bones, trying to escape. It snaps at the walls when you’re nearby, which is always.
Maybe if he could relieve some of the pressure buckling under his skin it would quiet. But he can’t, so it doesn’t.
It begs and pleads and promises to absolve him of consequence as long as he promises to move a little bit closer, hold his hand to your back a little bit longer—just one more second and I’ll be content. Maybe another. What if you slid your hand around her waist and pulled her body to yours? How would she react? I bet she would like it. I bet if you kissed her she would finally be speechless. Just a taste, please?
He comes to a stop beside you and follows your gaze to the wall of chips. Hundreds of bags in all different sizes and colors, all of them glossy in the fluorescent light.
“Well, big guy. What’s your chip of choice?” you ask without looking at him.
Grinding his teeth together, he shakes his head.
“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Too many of the same goddamn choices,” you step forward to narrow your eyes at a price tag, “Am I crazy or does that say five dollars?”
“It says five dollars.”
“What the fuck, that is obscene. Do we really need chips?”
“Does anyone?”
“I guess not technically,” you sigh and start wandering further down the aisle, so he follows you. “But we don’t have to be so utilitarian about it. Junk food is for the soul, not sustenance. And sometimes the soul needs something salty and crunchy, you know?”
Nodding, he comes to a stop and points to the display of microwave popcorn, “We could get this instead.”
“Six bags for four dollars,” you raise your eyebrows, “Salty, crunchy, and cost efficient. Hell yeah, I’m sold.”
He grabs the box of generic popcorn in question and walks it back to the cart while you meander towards the sweets. When he meets you in front of the cookies, you glance at him, “Original or chewy?”
“Original.”
“Ten four, good buddy.” You grab the blue package of chocolate chip cookies and toss it in the basket, “Do you ever get to say that on your radio? Have a real trucker moment?”
“Yes.”
“Adorable,” you chuckle, catching his gaze for a moment before you look down and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Are you gonna help me with the sign today, or do you have other plans?”
“What do you need help with?”
You exhale through slack lips, then shrug, “Well, today is just prep. I have to scrape off the old paint, sand it down, and prime. It has to dry overnight, but I think I’ll be able to finish the rest tomorrow or the next day if we get up early…” Pausing to chuckle, you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, you could help me with scraping and sanding. It’s a real bitch and would be easier with your muscle. If—well, you know, only if you want to. You don’t have to or anything…”
“I can do that.”
Your eyebrows draw together as you search his face, “Yeah?”
He nods, “It’s the least I can do.”
As the two of you near the checkout line, a frail woman with closely-cropped white curls shuffles from a back office to the one and only cash register.
“How are we doing this? Splitting it?” you swing the backpack off your shoulder and start rummaging through it, “I should have some money in my wallet. It’s not much, but it should—”
He holds up a hand, “I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
That thing in his chest whimpers when you smile at him, big and bright and gap-toothed, sparing him a polite, “Thank you,” before you start unloading the groceries onto the conveyor belt.
Balancing the tips of your toes on the highest ladder rung, you stretch your roller towards the unprimed stripe of sign, but can’t quite reach it.
“Goddamnit,” you mutter, returning all fours to the ladder with a huff, then look back at Din, “Hey, can I borrow your tall?”
Your question bounces off him with no reaction.
Between the visor of his cap and the tablet glued to his face, you can’t quite tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just plain old can’t hear you. All that’s visible is his furrowed brow. So you shimmy down the ladder and set the paint roller in the tray, brushing your hands on your jeans as you approach his lawn chair, waiting for him to notice you.
When the brisk October air nips at your dirt-caked, sweat-soaked skin, you skip closer, tapping your foot against his calf, “Hey.”
He jumps as if broken out of a trance, then raises his eyebrows at you, “What?”
“Can you help me with something?”
His mouth flattens into a straight line. He looks down at the tablet, then turns off the screen and sets it aside to look up at you.
“See the top of the sign, how it’s all shitty still?” you point at the evidence, “Can you get it for me? I can’t reach.”
“Use the big ladder.”
“I didn’t think to grab it before Paul locked up for the night.”
He releases a big dramatic sigh, glancing down at the tablet before rising to his feet. As he passes you the handle of the dog leash, you grin and plop down in the warmed-up lawn chair, “My hero!”
“Uh-huh,” he shakes his head and starts towards the drop cloth.
Beneath the lawn chair, the dog wakes from his nap and tries to follow Din, huffing and puffing when the leash goes taut, then walks back to your feet and sits on your shoelaces. His big satellite ears stand at attention while his person shimmies up the ladder with a roller brush in hand.
The two of you sit there and watch Din with the same level of ardent attention, both perched on the edge of your respective seats, unable to tear your eyes away for a second.
At first you try to tell yourself that you’re not even looking at him, just mapping out the illustration you’ll start tomorrow. But the truth is, it’s hard not to be drawn in by the view. By his panoramic shoulders and muscle-bound arms stretching out the fabric of his flannel as he rolls the brush up and down, back and forth, spreading thick white primer across the freshly smoothed wood…
Despite the waning sunlight and icy gusts spilling off the mountains, heat bubbles up to the surface of your skin.
You know that once he’s finished, you’ll go back to the motel for the rest of the night. Given the thick layer of grime you each accumulated throughout the day, showers will likely be in order. Which, of course, means stripping down to nothing while he’s in the bathroom with you. And vice versa, probably.
Your imagination wanders to his naked body and how it would feel against yours. What if you argued in favor of water conservation, asking him to join you in the shower? What if he agreed? How would he look at you without those sunglasses covering his eyes? How would he touch you if morals weren’t involved?
Din climbs down off the ladder and walks over, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, “Is that it for today?”
He replaces the hat and takes off his aviators, cleaning the lenses with his shirt as he meets your gaze. The full force of his big brown eyes turns your saliva tacky and makes your heart stutter. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.
Fuck, did he ask you something?
“Is that—? Oh, um,” you clear your throat, then nod, “Yep, that should do it. Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Flicking his eyes around your face, he nods, then turns back to the drop cloth, where he starts consolidating all the painting supplies.
With his legs stretched out across the perimeter of the bathroom’s tile flooring, back resting against the tub, Din types ‘Tom Boucheron’ into the search bar of a Portland-based web forum.
The search yields 83 matches. He starts sifting through the results, scrolling past subject lines that indicate general complaints about property management like rising rent and evictions and gentrification. Every once and a while he comes across subject lines that take on a more conspiratorial tone, though, mentioning the weight of his influence or his ties to police presence throughout the city. When he finds these posts, he clicks on the thread, copying and pasting the urls into a separate document.
He can delve deeper into these later, once he’s able to better focus. But right now, with the roaring cascade of the shower behind him and your enthusiastic rendition of Tiny Dancer by Elton John, this mechanical sorting is the maximum concentration he can muster.
Squinting at the screen, he wipes away the fog forming on his tablet. Moisture reclaims the area just as soon as it clears. He sighs and turns off the device when your vocals start ramping up to a volume he can’t ignore.
“—But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear meeee, when I say softlyyyy, slooowly—”
“Are you almost done?”
“You ruined the best part.”
“We’re going to get a noise complaint.”
You scoff, then he hears the thunk of you turning off the water. In his peripheries, your arm stretches out from behind the shower curtain to snatch the folded white towel off the toilet lid.
A few seconds later, the curtain pulls back and you announce, “I’m decent.”
He climbs to his feet while you step out of the tub, one hand securing the bath towel around your body, the other grabbing his arm for balance. Once sure-footed on the pink tiles, you let go and murmur, "Sorry,” before opening the door and padding off into the motel room.
Grogu runs into the bathroom to investigate as Din slips out and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He tries to anchor his vision to the floor, but finds his gaze drifting towards your movements out the corner of his eye. Humming to yourself, you comb your fingers through dripping wet hair and pull a few articles of clothing from your backpack.
“Are you gonna hop in too?”
His eyes tick to yours as you turn around, clutching a pile of clothing to your chest.
“Because, you know… if you need me to be in there with you or whatever, that’s fine,” you cast your gaze to the floor with a shrug.
He studies your bashful demeanor for a moment before responding, “I’ll have you sit in there with me once you get dressed.”
Without looking up, you give him a nod and walk over to the bathroom. As you put on clothing, Din uses all his will power to stare at the ground.
“What do you wanna do after that? We could watch a movie.”
His eyes cheat to the mirror on the wall, where he watches your reflection wrestle with a t-shirt. He catches a glimpse of your bare back before returning to the floor and clearing his throat.
“I thought you weren’t much of a movie person.”
“Well,” your footsteps soften onto the carpet, then your voice is closer, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time in a seedy roadside motel, I’m open to suggestions.”
He meets your heated gaze long enough for something to spark deep within his belly. The air between your body and his thickens with a palpable magnetism. His lips part to respond, but only one suggestion plays over and over again in his head. The mad yapping of that thing in his chest.
Before he can say or do something stupid, though, you look away and start fidgeting, “So, I’m dressed. Are you ready?”
Swallowing his tight throat, he pushes himself to his feet and locks eyes with you, “Go sit where I just was and put your head between your knees.”
“Wow, you’re taking this very seriously.”
“Let’s just get it over with, ok?”
You roll your eyes a little, but acquiesce.
Din trails behind you into the bathroom, shooing the dog from the room before closing the door. When he turns around, he finds you curled up on the floor, back pressed to the tub basin with your face buried in your knees.
“Like this?”
“Perfect. Stay like that, I won’t take long.”
For some reason he expected you would stay quiet while he disrobed, but you just continue talking as if you were accompanying him on any other menial task.
“I think it’s funny how you have me do this whole thing so I don’t see your dick, but when I need privacy, the most you give me is a turned back.”
Din glances at the top of your head while unbuckling his utility belt, then turns to spread it out across the bathroom counter, “That’s not the only reason I’m having you do this.”
“Then why?”
“Are you familiar with the concept of involuntary captivity?”
While you scoff and most likely try to come up with a rebuttal, he shucks off his flannel overshirt, then unfastens his shoulder holster and lines it up on the counter below the outspread belt. His hands work without much thought as he systematically unloads all three of his pistols. Eject the magazine, count the rounds, check the chamber.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Ignoring the question, he moves the unloaded guns and utility belt to a high shelf over the toilet, then pulls off his undershirt.
“Can you at least confirm you’re not gearing up to murder me right now?”
If he wanted to tear your frayed edges, he could mention that you were begging him to do exactly that less than 48 hours ago. But since you’re somehow more irritating when in a foul mood, he doesn’t.
“If I was going to kill you I would have already.” He turns on the shower and takes a step back to make sure you’re still covering your eyes, then takes off his pants.
“Would you do it if you had to?”
The question gives him pause as he pulls back the shower curtain.
“Why would I have to?”
“I don’t know, because they asked you to do it.”
He frowns, “I wouldn’t do it just because someone asked me to.”
“You wouldn’t?”
The hopeful air in your voice eats at his stomach lining. Instead of answering or clarifying what he meant, he steps into the shower.
“Ok, but let’s say they gave you a good reason, and you were going to do it… kill me, I mean. How would you do it?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Why not?”
He shakes his head and grabs a bar of soap off the shower ledge and starts to lather it against his skin.
“Are you ignoring me or thinking?”
“Ignoring you.”
“You know, I appreciate the honesty.“ Then, after a few seconds: “I promise not to leak your trade secrets, big guy. Come on, how would you do it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
With this, you go quiet.
Silence fills the bathroom for the remainder of his time in the shower, but Din’s thoughts are as loud and intrusive as your questions.
His mind becomes populated with scenarios in which you would end up in the sights of his pistol. Under what circumstances would he pull the trigger?
He imagines you stealing from him. He imagines trying to escape. He imagines it coming down to you or the money. He even goes so far as to imagine it coming down to you or him.
But each time the imaginary him goes to take aim, he falters.
While Din tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave, you survey the Room 10’s VHS collection.
“Ok let’s see,” you tilt your head sideways and read the titles, “Aladdin, Batman Returns, Twister—”
“You choose.”
Beeps sound from the microwave, then it hums to life.
You pull Aladdin from the shelf and admire the familiar cover art. Little flakes of deteriorated plastic break off the exterior and stick to your fingertips when you trace the title. You wince and mumble an apology to the inanimate object before prying it open to pull out the tape.
After feeding it to the VCR, you press rewind and hold up the cover to Din, “Ever seen this?”
When he takes a step closer to examine it, you note the details you’re not normally privy to. His damp curls and the heat of his pulse. Mostly, though, you become fixated on his eyes. Those devastatingly dark and warm eyes. His heavy brow and hooded lids, all the lines of age creeping out from the corners.
He meets your gaze and you swear you hear the snap of his full attention locking onto you when he frowns, “Can’t say I have.”
Somewhere far away, the popcorn starts popping. You feel yourself succumbing to his gravitational pull, subconsciously drifting towards him, and can’t really remember if you had a point in mind when you asked.
“It’s-it’s good,” you nod, letting your eyes drift to his mouth for a moment before you shrug, “I mean, from what I remember at least. I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It drove my grandma crazy cuz I’d make her watch it on repeat…”
It doesn’t really register how much information you’re disclosing until his eyes get all wide and doughy, at which point you take a step away from him and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, um, anyway. I liked it.”
He chuckles, causing you to grin, “What?”
“Nothing.”
His face tells you it’s definitely not nothing. It’s something if you’ve ever seen it. Something so gooey and hot it makes you ache. Dangerous, that’s what it is.
The VCR clicks and shifts gears, then the TV lights up with disclaimers. Taking it as a sign from above, you start back towards the bed and tease, “I totally get why you wear the sunglasses, by the way. Your eyes give everything away.”
Rather than admit you’re right, Din raises an eyebrow at you, then turns around to pull the microwave open before the timer reaches zero. While you slide under the covers and prop the flimsy pillows up behind your back, he pries open the steaming hot bag of popcorn and brings it to you.
“Thanks.”
He grunts in response and disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with the shiny metal handcuffs, “Lights on or off?”
“Off.”
When the lights go out, the dog jumps onto the bed, spinning around a few times before curling up into an adorable white ball. Din tosses the cuffs to your side as he crawls into bed beside you. Once you think he’s settled in, you offer him some popcorn, which he accepts.
“Do I have to put them on right now?” you ask, in reference to the cuffs.
He frowns and shakes his head, “I can wait until you’re ready.”
Nodding, you study his profile in the dim illumination from the TV. You don’t even realize you’re staring at him like a full-on creep until he says, “Stop giving me goo-goo eyes and watch the movie.”
Embarrassment flares up your neck and cheeks. You scoff, “I am not giving you goo-goo eyes,” and wriggle deeper under the covers, diverting your gaze to the TV.
I will not look at him for the rest of the night, you vow. Even if he asks me to, or talks to me, I won’t look at his stupid face until the sun comes up tomorrow.
You almost fulfill the vow, too.
Well… almost might be an exaggeration, but you make it to the end credits and that’s further than you really believed you could make it.
With the motel room all dark save for the faintest glow from the credits rolling onscreen, he asks, “Are you awake?”
You remind yourself of your promise and try to ignore him. If you say something, you’ll look at him. And if you look at him, you lose.
“Charlie?” he nudges you.
Fuck.
“Yeah,” you glance over, and of course you catch his eyes, “Is it handcuff time now?”
He nods, almost apologetically.
“Can I use the bathroom first?”
“Go ahead.”
When you exit the bathroom and turn off the light, you find the room cloaked in darkness. The only reference point you have is the red glow of 9:12 on the alarm clock. You stretch your arms in front of you and start taking cautious steps towards it.
“Oh my god, I can’t see shit.”
“Want me to turn the lamp on?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Your fingertips brush up against the bedspread, then you follow the alarm clock beacon to the side table.
“Here.”
His hand finds yours in the darkness. You grab ahold of it, trying your very hardest not to dwell on the warmth of his palm against yours as he gently guides you. When you finally settle between the sheets, he releases your hand. You almost wish he didn’t.
“Ready?”
“Sure.”
He closes the cold heavy steel around your wrist, then his. For a while, neither of you move. Anxious energy buzzes beneath your skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to trick yourself into being tired, but it only makes you notice how fucking quiet it is.
Resigning from your motionless state, you start wriggling around in an attempt to get comfortable. Din is accommodating while you do this, letting his wrist ragdoll wherever you drag it. You lie facing the wall for a while, fondling the knife you have tucked under the pillow. It doesn’t feel right. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Same problem.
Then, when you can’t stand it anymore—the dark, the quiet, the nerves—you roll on your side facing him.
“Din.”
“What?”
“I can’t fall asleep.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Din.”
“What?”
“I said I can’t fall asleep.”
“I heard you the first time. What do you expect me to do about it?”
You open your mouth to ask him to fuck you, but nerves rob your tongue.
“Just talk to me for a while.”
“About what?”
“I dunno, whatever you want.” You tuck your cuffed hand beneath your cheek and scoot a little closer.
His silence holds the weight of contemplation, so you prompt him, “What would your genie wishes be?”
“Hang on, let me think.”
A few quiet seconds go by before he clears his throat and rolls on his side to face you. The back of his cuffed hand rests against yours, which brings you a shred of comfort.
“Financial security. Property rights to some land and a house, something out in the country.”
“Like a farm?”
“Something like that. Self-sustainable and off the grid. Maybe get a few animals and so I could live off the land.”
“That’s the dream, right? Fuck off to the middle of nowhere and not have to rely on anyone?”
“Yeah, that’s the dream.”
You hum, then ask, “What’s wish number three?”
“I… I’d rather not say.”
Your gut instinct is to push back, but you resist the urge and instead tell him, “That’s fine.”
“Thank you.”
There’s enough sincerity in his voice that a tinge of guilt twists in your belly, and you feel obligated to bring up an earlier conversation.
“I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you to answer me when you were in the shower. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to shut the fuck up and let it be.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid.”
“Ok,” you wiggle around a bit and manage to find the perfect position, then close your eyes and release a content sigh.
“What are yours?” he asks.
“Mmmm… you know, I’ve thought a lot about this question—” A yawn swells in your chest, cutting you off. When it passes, your limbs feel heavy and warm. You continue, “I’d wish for the genie to be free.”
He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “And what else, world peace? An end to climate change?”
“I hear your snark, sir, and I don’t appreciate it. No, I wouldn’t wish for world peace or the end of climate change. I wouldn’t wish for anything. Tricky bastard can keep his wishes, I make my own luck.”
“Tricky bastard, huh?”
Another yawn takes over. Lethargy seeps through your body, making your worlds come out slow and murmured.
“Yeah, y’know… all the, umm… the fine print. Too many strings attached, I don’t trust ‘em.”
“You sound tired.”
You hum, snuggling deeper into your pillow, “You sound tired.”
“Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Mmmkay,” you mumble, “Sweet dreams, Din.”
#din djarin x you#din djarin x ofc#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin fic#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#passenger
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I.8.1 Is the Spanish Revolution inapplicable as a model for modern societies?
Quite the reverse. More urban workers took part in the revolution than in the countryside. So while it is true that collectivisation was extensive in rural areas, the revolution also made its mark in urban areas and in industry.
In total, the “regions most affected” by collectivisation “were Catalonia and Aragón, where about 70 per cent of the workforce was involved. The total for the whole of Republican territory was nearly 800,000 on the land and a little more than a million in industry. In Barcelona workers’ committees took over all the services, the oil monopoly, the shipping companies, heavy engineering firms such as Volcano, the Ford motor company, chemical companies, the textile industry and a host of smaller enterprises … Services such as water, gas and electricity were working under new management within hours of the storming of the Atarazanas barracks … a conversion of appropriate factories to war production meant that metallurgical concerns had started to produce armed cars by 22 July … The industrial workers of Catalonia were the most skilled in Spain … One of the most impressive feats of those early days was the resurrection of the public transport system at a time when the streets were still littered and barricaded.” Five days after the fighting had stopped, 700 tramcars rather than the usual 600, all painted in the black-and-red colours of the CNT-FAI, were operating in Barcelona. [Antony Beevor, The Spanish Civil War, pp. 91–2]
About 75% of Spanish industry was concentrated in Catalonia, the stronghold of the anarchist labour movement, and widespread collectivisation of factories took place there. As Sam Dolgoff rightly observed, this “refutes decisively the allegation that anarchist organisational principles are not applicable to industrial areas, and if at all, only in primitive agrarian societies or in isolated experimental communities.” [The Anarchist Collectives, pp. 7–8] According to Augustin Souchy:
“It is no simple matter to collectivise and place on firm foundations an industry employing almost a quarter of a million textile workers in scores of factories scattered in numerous cities. But the Barcelona syndicalist textile union accomplished this feat in a short time. It was a tremendously significant experiment. The dictatorship of the bosses was toppled, and wages, working conditions and production were determined by the workers and their elected delegates. All functionaries had to carry out the instructions of the membership and report back directly to the men on the job and union meetings. The collectivisation of the textile industry shatters once and for all the legend that the workers are incapable of administrating a great and complex corporation.” [Op. Cit., p. 94]
Moreover, Spain in the 1930s was not a backward, peasant country, as is sometimes supposed. Between 1910 and 1930, the industrial working class more than doubled to over 2,500,000. This represented just over 26% of the working population (compared to 16% twenty years previously). In 1930, only 45% of the working population were engaged in agriculture. [Ronald Fraser, The Blood of Spain, p. 38] In Catalonia alone, 200,000 workers were employed in the textile industry and 70,000 in metal-working and machinery manufacturing. This was very different than the situation in Russia at the end of World War I, where the urban working class made up only 10% of the population.
Capitalist social relations had also penetrated the rural economy by the 1930s with agriculture oriented to the world market and approximately 90% of farm land in the hands of the bourgeoisie. [Fraser, Op. Cit., p. 37] So by 1936 agriculture was predominately capitalist, with Spanish agribusiness employing large numbers of labourers who either did not own enough land to support themselves or where landless. The labour movement in the Spanish countryside in the 1930s was precisely based on this large population of rural wage-earners (the socialist UGT land workers union had 451,000 members in 1933, 40% of its total membership, for example). In Russia at the time of the revolution of 1917, agriculture mostly consisted of small farms on which peasant families worked mainly for their own subsistence, bartering or selling their surplus.
Therefore the Spanish Revolution cannot be dismissed as a product a of pre-industrial society. The urban collectivisations occurred predominately in the most heavily industrialised part of Spain and indicate that anarchist ideas are applicable to modern societies Indeed, comforting Marxist myths aside, the CNT organised most of the unionised urban working class and, internally, agricultural workers were a minority of its membership (by 1936, the CNT was making inroads in Madrid, previously a socialist stronghold while the UGT main area of growth in the 1930s was with, ironically, rural workers). The revolution in Spain was the work (mostly) of rural and urban wage labourers (joined with poor peasants) fighting a well developed capitalist system.
In summary, then, the anarchist revolution in Spain has many lessons for revolutionaries in developed capitalist countries and cannot be dismissed as a product of industrial backwardness. The main strength lay of the anarchist movement was in urban areas and, unsurprisingly, the social revolution took place in both the most heavily industrialised areas as well as on the land.
#anarchist society#practical#practical anarchism#practical anarchy#faq#anarchy faq#revolution#anarchism#daily posts#communism#anti capitalist#anti capitalism#late stage capitalism#organization#grassroots#grass roots#anarchists#libraries#leftism#social issues#economy#economics#climate change#climate crisis#climate#ecology#anarchy works#environmentalism#environment#solarpunk
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THE FIRST LAVA LAMP...?
The history of the lava lamp can be quite muddled and confusing to approach. From its original invention to its manufacturing and sale, who exactly “did it first” is often unclear. Two lava lamp companies, Lava Lite and Mathmos, are said to be the originators of the lava lamp, and both draw their histories back to inventor Edward Craven Walker… Who himself is disputed as the true inventor of the lava lamp.
So, what’s the real story?
Well, it starts sometime in the 1940s with a Scot by the name of Donald Dunnet, a motor engineer living in South East England. Little information is available on Dunnet, and the most helpful source on him and his inventions is his great-grandson Charlie Leverett, who along with his father and aunt have tried to piece together accurate information on Dunnet and his invention.
According to an old (unfortunately dateless) newspaper article, which the family uses as a source, the original invention came about when Felicity, Dunnet’s youngest daughter and Charlie Leverett’s grandmother, broke the family’s egg-timer, coincidentally while there was a wartime shortage of egg-timers in the UK. Dunnet, who was described as a part-time inventor, set out to build a replacement – imagining, instead of sand falling down to measure time, a controlled rising of oil to the surface of water. This “inverted egg-timer” would therefore be the very first lava lamp prototype.
It would not, however, be the last prototype created by Donald Dunnet. In December 1950, Dunnet applied for a patent granted in 1954 for “a display device using liquid bubbles in another liquid” – making no reference to time measurement, it can be assumed that at this point the invention no longer had anything to do with egg-timers and was instead meant to be an aesthetically pleasing display.
The abstract further describes the invention as “a display device [which] comprises an upper layer of liquid 2 and a lower layer of liquid 3 in a transparent container 1, the two liquids being non-miscible and the upper layer being of lower specific gravity than the lower layer and means 9 for heating the lower layer so that it rises through the upper layer in the form of liquid bubbles […], the bubbles being cooled by the upper layer so that they return to the lower layer.”
Further technical detail is added, but with this initial description, you may already have recognized the basic workings of a lava lamp: wax or oil heated by a light bulb at the bottom of the lamp bubbles up through the fluid filling the container (typically water); the bubbles cool down as they reach the top of the lamp and fall back to the bottom, creating a continuous flow of 'lava'.
While there are no other patents I could find for further iterations on this invention, Dunnet continued to improve on his design. The family was able to find one picture of various models created by Dunnet: one resembles a large glass jug, one a long-necked, bulbous bottle, and three resemble lanterns (interestingly, lantern designs would later be sold by both Lava Lite and Crestworth). The picture is dated "Easter 1960".
Dunnet was even featured on “The BBC Inventors Club” (date of broadcast unknown) for another of his inventions, seemingly his “cleaner for flat surfaces” patented in 1955, pictured here:
According to Dunnet’s grandson, in the 1960s, the family still owned and used one of Dunnet’s lamps, which he says “worked really well and was well developed, quite far removed from his original ‘egg timer’ based design”. He further describes this lamp as using “a Grant’s whiskey bottle with Red lava”. He also declared his intention to create a replica of this prototype based on his memories of it, but it seems pictures of such a replica never materialized.
Sadly, Donald Dunnet passed away sometime between 1960 and 1964, and would never market his invention himself. According to his grandson, his widow had his workshop completely cleared after his death, and no surviving prototypes remain. Still – thanks to newspaper articles, family testimony, the 1950s patent, and the surviving photographs of Donald Dunnet and his inventions, it seems clear that he was the true original inventor of the lava lamp, though not the one who would come to market it to the public.
Unfortunately, Dunnet seems to have been widely forgotten from lava lamp history, with many sources not mentioning him at all, and only his initial egg-timer prototype being briefly credited as inspiring Edward Craven Walker in other sources. It seems Dunnet’s family passed on his story through generations and often spoke of his invention as being stolen, though his granddaughter Linda Leverett is “not sure what really happened”, and the family primarily expresses wishing that he was better known and recognized for his creations. You can take a look at various other patents held by Dunnet here.
So then, who is this Edward Craven Walker we keep hearing about?
Edward Craven Walker (1918-2000) was a British inventor, now known as the creator of the lava lamp. In 1963, Craven Walker found himself at the Queen’s Head pub in Dorset, England. There, he spotted a “blob light” on the bar, described as “a glass cocktail shaker full of oil and water with a light bulb beneath”. This was one iteration of Dunnet’s invention – already no longer an egg-timer as is often claimed, but instead a decorative item.
Craven Walker, learning that Dunnet had died, decided to take on the further development of the lamp himself. He hired British inventor David George Smith to further develop the device. In 1964, Smith applied for a patent assigned to Craven Walker’s company ‘Crestworth Limited’ and granted in 1968, for “a display device comprising a container having two substances therein, with one of the substances being of a heavier specific gravity and immiscible with the other substance […] and when heat is applied to the container, the first substance will become flowable and move about in the other substance”.
Craven Walker named this lamp the “Astro Lamp”, and this model was sold by Crestworth starting in 1963, making it the first commercial lava lamp.
The Crestworth Astro and its variations (such as the Astro Mini) have defined the classic look of lava lamps ever since. They were greatly successful throughout the 1960s and 1970s and are now icons of the era. Crestworth would be renamed Mathmos in 1992, and Mathmos is still one of the two best-known lava lamp companies in the world.
So, what’s with Lava Lite and its claim of being “the original lava lamp company”?
In the end, it’s simply a case of international manufacturing rights. In 1965, Craven Walker sold the US manufacturing rights of his Astro Lamp to two American entrepreneurs, Adolph Wertheimer and Hy Spector, who saw the lamp at a novelty convention in Hamburg, West Germany. Wertheimer and Spector founded the Lava Manufacturing Corporation in Chicago, Illinois, and the Astro Lamp was renamed the Lava Lite and brought to the US market. In the 1970s, the rights to the Lava Lite were sold to Haggerty Enterprises, and it would be distributed by a subsidiary called Lava World International. Lava World International was later renamed Lava Lite LLC. Finally, the Lava Lamp brand was acquired by toy manufacturer Schylling in 2018. This brand, often referred to as “Lava Lite”, is the other big player in the lava lamp world. Because both Mathmos and Lava Lite originate from Craven Walker’s initial Astro Lamp, both brands still lay claim to “the original lava lamp”.
So that’s the story of the lava lamp, as best as I’ve been able to piece it together! An original invention by Donald Dunnet, developed by Edward Craven Walker, and sold in the US by Lava Lite and internationally by Mathmos. A simple but ingenious device, originally only meant as an egg-timer, which would become an icon of the 60s and the 70s, and remains popular to this day.
Did I get something wrong? Am I missing details? Do you have more information on lava lamp history? Feel free to reach out with an ask or submission!
Sources:
The History of the Astro Lamp - Designs by Donald Dunnet - FlowOfLava
The History of the Lava Lamp - Smithsonian Magazine
Donald Dunnet - Original Lava Lamps Inventor by Charlie Leverett on OozingGoo
The Mystique of the Lava Lamps - BBC
Craven Walker - The Telegraph
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Abarth 1300OT Periscopica Coupé
In 1958, the American Chrysler Corporation pursued an entry into the European motor manufacturing market by buying 15 per cent of the French Simca company's stock from Ford. At that time, however, the dominant shareholder remained Fiat of Turin, and their influence remained distinctively apparent in the engineering and design of Simca cars for several years into the early 1960s. However, in 1963 Chrysler increased its Simca stake to a controlling 64 per cent by purchasing stock from Fiat, subsequently extending that holding to 77 per cent.
Chrysler had no interest in any continuation of the previously successful Simca Abarth and Abarth Simca high-performance car collaboration, which came to a juddering halt. In Turin Carlo Abarth found himself left more or less high and dry, but the supply of basically Simca 1000 chassis floor pans, upon which the sleek and superfast Abarth Simca 1600s and 2000s had been based, left quite a number in stock, as yet unused. The popular legend is that it was upon these unused Simca platforms that Abarth then founded his 1300cc class Gran Turismo design for 1965 – the OT 1300. Abarth's technical team under Mario Colucci had developed a boxed pressed-steel chassis structure on the modified Simca 1000 floor pan to which allindependent suspension was attached with componentry drawn from the Fiat 850 shelves. The Abarth OT 1300 then emerged, to race for the first time as a prototype in the September, 1965, Nurburgring 500-Kilometre classic.
Driver Klaus Steinmetz hammered the new Coupé home to a fine third-place finish overall and the OT 1300 was up and running into the record books, becoming one of the most successful – and also one of the most distinctive – models that Abarth & C ever produced. The OT 1300's rear-mounted all-Abarth engine was overhung – in best Carlo Abarth-approved style. It was a 4-cylinder unit with twin overhead camshaft cylinder head, using a block with cylinder bore and stroke dimensions of 86mm x 55.5mm to displace 1289cc.
With two valves per cylinder and a 10.5:1 compression ratio, the engine breathed through two twin-choke Weber 45DCOE9 carburettors. Ignition was by two plugs per cylinder, fired by single distributor. Dry-sump lubrication was adopted and the power unit produced a reliable 147bhp at 8,800rpm. This lusty engine, perfected by Abarth's power-unit specialist Luciano Fochi with five main-bearing crankshaft, drove via a five-speed and reverse Abarth transaxle.
Wheelbase length of the OT 1300 was nominally 2015mm, front track 1296mm and rear track 1340mm. It featured moulded glassfibre clamshell-style opening front and rear body sections moulded by Sibona & Basano in Turin, and this pert-nosed Coupé became a familiar sight dominating its class for three consecutive years. Production of the OT 1300 began on May 15 1966 and ended on March 30, 1966, by which time the minimum production number of 50 required by the FIA for homologation as a Gran Turismo model had (allegedly) been achieved. The most distinctive single characteristic of the OT 1300 Coupé, apart from its huge International success within its class, was its adoption of the Periscopica air-cooling intake on the rear of the cabin roof. Casual onlookers would assume that the periscopelike intake fed intake air into the rear-mounted engine, but this is absolutely not the case. Instead, the water and oil-cooling pipe runs through the cockpit area heated-up the cabin to what was generally considered to be an unacceptable level for endurance racing, and the periscope intake merely blasted cold air down into the cabin to cool the driver himself...
From the OT 1300 Mario Colucci developed the OT 2000 Coupé using the 1946cc 4-cylinder power unit perfected by his colleague Luciano Fochi and with some 215bhp at 7,600rpm that largerengined model was capable of exceeding 165mph in a straight line. In fact all these Abarths with their sleek aerodynamic bodies and light weight really were exceedingly rapid by the standards of the time and within their respective capacity classes.
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Can I ask why you dislike Pixar Cars? Is it the story? The characters? The art? The fact that they're cars?
Like, no shame, I'm just curious.
It's the questions it raises.
Like, there was a Car Pope so that means there was a Car Jesus.
How did the Crucifixion go down? Did Pontiac Pilate find him guilty of blasphemy? What was he preaching? A Single Great Manufacturer instead of like various production plants? Did they nail Car Jesus to the cross by his top two tires??
What kind of car was Car Jesus? It had better have been a Chrysler.
Sarge was a WW2 vet, which means THERE WAS A CAR HITLER. And that everything that happened to lead up to WW2 also happened and probably everything that followed too.
Did someone assassinate Car JFK too? I'm assuming so and Jackie got motor oil all over her new pink paint job.
Just, there's a lot.
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