#people revving their vehicles or skidding their wheels for no reason

[fandomwriterstuff]

Getaway Car

Another plot-filled Rick Flag fic from me! I might add another chapter if this goes over well so let me know your thoughts!

~2.2k words

Rated T

You're the Suicide Squad's getaway driver and you're got a serious crush on their commanding officer, Rick Flag.

You were what one might call a liability in the operation. You weren’t a soldier under Amanda Waller’s thumb, and you weren’t a prisoner that she could threaten. You were purely there for the thrill at first. But you kept coming back for him. Rick Flag. The commanding officer of your dreams, a real hero. You weren’t sure if you idolized him or wanted to fuck him. Maybe it was a bit of both.

But as you sat in the car and eyed up the team sprinting out of the building, you skipped to your getaway song - Brianstorm by Arctic Monkeys - and revved the engine.

“Punch it, Baby!” Harley cackled as the three prisoners (plus Rick) slammed themselves into your vehicle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You thought it over as you narrowly evaded enemy trucks and sped down a dirt road. You were technically working for the law, so they shouldn’t need a getaway car, but they always were getting themselves into tight spots so you supposed it made sense.

It was a few minutes of beating drums, wild guitar solos, and Harley’s cackles as the playlist continued (House of the Rising Sun by the Animals came on just as you dared to slow down). You finally looked over to your right, and raised an eyebrow.

“You doing alright, Colonel?” You took stock of the dark, wet blood covering the left side of his face and the way he was cradling his right fist.

“Never better, darlin,” he offered you a signature smirk and you gave a nod before turning back to the road. You were on a main stretch now, paved and full of other vehicles. You’d likely lost your pursuers but it was your job to get away from them, so you kept an eye on the horizon behind you.

“How you always seem to be in the right place at the right time blows my mind, kid,” Boomer huffed a relieved laugh from the backseat.

“That’s sort of my job,” you replied in kind, smirking into the rearview mirror as you pulled onto the highway that would take you straight back to Belle Reve.

“You don’t talk about your job much though, I noticed,” he pushed and you rolled your eyes. You didn’t talk about yourself, and you didn’t talk about how you got into the getaway business.

“I like to have an air of mystery,” you caught the amused smile Rick tried to hide and brushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“What I’m wonderin,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken, his accent coming through as he leaned forward through the gap between you and Rick. “Is how a pretty young thing like you got involved with a cold hearted bitch like Amanda Waller.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel (hopefully imperceptibly), and offered a light smile over to him.

“We’ve all got a past, Boomerang Man. Mine didn’t land me in prison, but I’m still here working for you weirdos,” you laughed and signaled your exit towards the Louisiana based metahuman prison.

“I’ll get your story some day, sweet cheeks, you’ll see,” he leaned back as you showed your identification to the guard and pulled into the penitentiary.

After you let the three prisoners off at their dropoff location (like a bunch of kindergarteners going to school), you pulled up to the employee parking area.

“You sure you’re alright?” You were quieter this time, worriedly glancing over at Rick again now that you were alone.

“Don’t you go worrying about me, pretty girl,” he pulled out all the stops with the cute pet name and the thousand megawatt smile, eyes warm and inviting. You were a goner, and you immediately dropped the subject. “I’ll see you in the debrief room,” you sighed after he’d closed the door and pulled the vehicle into your spot.

Another day, another debrief with that fucking psychopath Waller.

You smoothed down your jeans and t-shirt, you might work for the (wo)man, but you weren’t about to dress like a stuck up business person, or like a prison guard. You were too young for that bullshit.

“Baby,” Amanda Waller greeted you as you passed her into the meeting room. You hid your smirk, as you always did, when you took your seat. You’d forged all of your documentation upon taking this job, knowing that you didn’t want this woman knowing anything about your personal life. She didn’t know your real name, hell, she might not even know that Baby was your pseudonym. You sort of felt bad that you hadn’t ever told Rick your name, but you couldn’t risk it.

The debrief was a mess. You’d gotten out with the information the team went in for, but two out of the four of them were injured. Including the Colonel.

“Seems like the only person doing their job here is the fucking chauffer,” Waller spat before turning her eyes on a still-bloodied Rick Flag. “You can do better than this,” she spoke quietly before walking out. The others emptied out, leaving you leaning back in your chair, cotton candy pink Barbie™ t-shirt nearly glowing in the fluorescent lighting.

“I think you’re going to give her an aneurysm. She doesn’t know your identity and you don’t follow the dress code,” Rick had his eyes closed at the end of the long table, but he somehow knew you were alone in there together. You bit your lip. So she knew ‘Baby’ was a pseudonym. Good to know.

“She can’t get rid of me, she needs me,” you shrugged, nonchalant, but this was the wrong answer and you knew it immediately. You’d been working with Rick long enough to see the telltale signs of stress. Tightened shoulders, biceps bulging in his uniform, that vein struggling at his throat.

“You should be out there living your life, Baby,” his eyes shot open, darker than you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t be working yourself to death for Amanda Waller. Not like me and these guys. You don’t have a reason to be here,” you looked down, picking at the skull ring on your middle finger. You did have a reason. You were addicted to the feeling of being near Rick. You were obsessed with the way he spoke to you, the way he leaned in close when he was joking around with you, the way his eyes lit up when you made him laugh.

“I’m not about to tell you my life story in an audio and visually recorded meeting room,” you finally spoke, tone harsher than you intended. You stood, turned away from him and towards the door, your voice carrying as you exited. “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink if you want to get anything out of me.”

You didn’t look back to see the slack-jawed look on his face as you sauntered out of the debrief room.

You were in the deep swamp lands of Central Florida this time. Not your favorite place to be. You were blasting the air conditioning in the car as Stick Up by grandson blasted through the car stereo, your favorite angry song to listen to. This wasn’t a job you wanted to be on, but you had a contract and you were making money, and you got to work with Rick again, so it was alright. But it was a new team. Harley was out of jail and Boomer was injured from a prison fight. They were the two people you normally worked with other than Rick.

You had a gut feeling that something was going to go down, but you didn’t know what.

“Start the car!” one of the new members shouted and you frowned. The car was on already. But whatever, you shifted into Drive and waited for Rick and Co. to make it to the car. Only it was just the one guy. He hopped into the backseat and stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing, get us out of here!” He was shouting but you aggressively put the car into Park.

“Where’s Rick? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Dude, get us out of here!” The man was clearly panicking, and you glanced over at the building the team were supposed to infiltrate, biting your lip.

“Baby, why aren’t you moving?” Waller asked in your ear.

“It’s just the circus freak dude, no Rick, and no team members,” you replied calmly. “What are my orders?”

“Get us out!” The circus freak dude in question (you didn’t bother to ask his name), was bemoaning your existence from the backseat and you snapped. You jerked the center console open and pulled out your gun, pointing it back at him.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut you up myself,” you put all of your fear, rage, and contempt into your glare, staring down the psycho prisoner just enough to put the fear of a woman into him, and he backed down.

“Colonel Flag is alive in there, but he’s the last one. Get in there, pick him up, and get out,” you grinned, shark-like at Waller’s voice. You could do that. You revved the engine, put the car into Drive, and hauled ass towards the building. You tuned out the moaning and wailing from the backseat and flicked the switch that activated your enhanced shields. With that in place, you drove straight towards the brick building at full speed. You could do this. You could do this. You hyped yourself up and didn’t flinch when the car made impact with the wall, immediately breaking through and skidding into a large open room. You looked around, assessing the group of men with guns pointing towards a closed door. Rick must be in there. You flipped another switch, this one with a gun sticker above it, and pulled at the steering wheel to aim the guns that came out of the front of the car. When all of the men finally turned towards you, you opened fire on them.

You’d killed for Waller before, usually by hitting people with the car, and while this was thrilling, you’d never had to actually use a gun on someone before. When they were all down, you pulled the car up, trying to ignore the crunching of bodies under the tires and opened the passenger side window.

“Get in the fucking car, Flag,” you screeched, and the door creaked the tiniest bit open. Rick peeked his head out, looked around for a hot second before locking eyes with you, and walked over before putting his ass in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know the car had a gun in it,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh she has several,” the circus dude piped up from the back, and Rick side eyed you before promptly yelling at the other for leaving him behind. You took that as your cue to get the fuck out of there.

“You haven’t said anything in two hours,” Rick finally said as you entered Louisiana. He’d been on the phone with Waller for a while and then writing his debrief up on his phone.

“I’ve never shot anyone before. It’s a tad stressful,” you didn’t let on how nerve-wracking it had been to think you’d lost him, but you especially didn’t let on how freaked out you were about opening fire on a group of over a dozen men. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the road. He nodded in understanding. You didn’t want to talk about it. You appreciated his silence. When you finally dropped the circus dude off you had about six minutes before making it back to Rick’s dropoff.

“Baby?” He asked as you slowed down for a stop sign. You hummed in question, but he put his hand over yours, and you kept your foot on the brake as he shifted the car into park. You looked over at him, a frown on your face until he reached out and cupped your jaw with one calloused palm. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and it felt like time wasn’t passing anymore.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” he murmured, and damn you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, though. He tucked a stray piece of hand behind your ear, the feel of his fingertips caressing your neck made you shiver, and he smirked at the sight. It suddenly dawned on you.

He knew exactly what he did to you. He knew exactly how he was making you feel. That turned you the fuck on. He was teasing you.

“I think I’d like to take you out for that drink tonight, darlin. Maybe you’ll give me a good story. Maybe I’ll finally get your name,” he was so close to you, and god but you wanted to kiss him. But as you leaned in, he leaned back with a growing grin.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get what you want, too,” he whispered before sitting back in his seat. “I’ll grab you after the debrief,” and that was him dismissing your advances until a later time. So, you put the car into Drive and pulled up to his drop off location. Luckily it had taken all day to get back to Belle Reve, so you’d only have to wait for the debrief to be over and it would be around eight at night. You’d finally get a drink with Rick tonight. You smiled to yourself as you pulled the car into your spot. Things would be changing.

[clintashaotp]

Author’s note/summary: I have decided to do the April challenge this year! That means I’ll be posting a fic each day this month. I’ll do my best to get one for every day, and with all the extra quarantine time hopefully I’ll be able to keep it up. So without further ado, here’s the first one. I may have lost the prompt for this, but I do remember what it was! SHIELD Natasha x HYDRA Clint, and she’s trying to bring him back to her side. I loved this prompt so it’s a little long. 

2,349 Words

I Can’t Recognize You Anymore

...

It’s been months since they’ve talked, like really talked, but Natasha hasn’t been known to give up on anyone ever. She knows him better than anyone, she keeps telling herself. There’s no way he’d just abandon her like that. He wouldn’t. 

She can still remember when she saw him standing with the rest of the HYDRA soldiers, facing against her with a stone cold face and a gun pointed at her chest. It was like a sick punch to the gut, but she had kept her guard up and managed to escape with just a few cuts. But she couldn’t shake the memory of the look on his face. 

For the first few weeks, she wondered if it was possession. She had seen what he had done under Loki’s control, and she couldn’t rule out mind control or something else. But when she started looking through his travel logs, she saw with a sinking feeling that every personal trip he had taken had coincide directly with a HYDRA strike somewhere around the world. 

She then wondered if he was being blackmailed. It was possible. Maybe someone had threatened his family, or maybe he was working with them because...she couldn’t think of a good reason. Deep inside she knew it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t stop coming up with theories. It couldn't be possible that he would turn on them like that. They were his family. 

The next time she sees his face is during a mission in Italy. She hops on her motorcycle, the hard drive already stuffed deep in her pocket, and accelerates the gas so hard the front wheel pops up off the sidewalk. 

“Get out of the way!” she shouts, and people jump off the sidewalk as she plows down the street. She can hear the roar of an approaching truck behind her and knows that it has to be HYDRA, so she revs the engine again, speeding down a sidestreet, trying to stay close to the buildings. 

That’s when a second truck skids to a stop feet ahead of her, right where the sidestreet meets the main road, and Natasha instinctively steers her motorcycle sideways, skidding to a halt right before she would have bashed her brains open along the side of the black armored truck. 

She jumps off the vehicle quickly and starts to sprint towards the nearest open store along the street, but an arrow flies just past her left shoulder and buries itself in the wall in front of her. 

“Don’t move,” yells an all too familiar voice, and she freezes. 

If this were anyone else, she would pull out her guns and shoot the living hell out of them before they could blink, but she can’t do that to Clint. She could never do that to Clint. 

“Turn around,” he barks, and she raises her hands to shoulder height, turning slowly to see eight men pointing guns at her. Clint stands on the hood of the truck, an arrow already notched but not yet pulled taught. He’s defensive, but she doesn't think he’s ready to kill her just yet. 

“This doesn’t have to get messy,” she says calmly. “Just let me go. We don’t have a fight here.”

“Nice try,” Clint sneers, and Natasha’s heart pounds at his expression. It looks like someone else is smiling out of his face. “Give us the hard drive, Black Widow.”

“You know I can’t do that, Clint,” her voice is low and calm, as if she is talking to a child, but the second his name leaves her lips his expression hardens and he pulls the arrow into position, aiming it right at her heart. 

“Don’t speak to me,” he says coldly, and though he sounds calm, he looks anything but. “Search her,” he says to the men, and they start walking towards her, putting their guns back in their holsters so they can check the pockets of her suit. 

It takes her half a second to whip out her Widow’s Bytes, and she flings them at the group of men. They all go down at once, electricity coursing through their bodies, and she takes the moment of distraction to sprint as fast as she can around the corner and as far away from Clint’s arrows as she can. 

“Fury, I need extraction now,” she barks into the com. “HYDRA came, they took the hard drive and wrecked my bike, I need a ride out right now.”

“On it, Romanoff,” his voice says in her ear, and it takes ten seconds for her to see the jet appear in the sky as its mirroring is turned off. She sprints towards it, and hears the revving of the car behind her. 

“Open the hatch!” she yells, and she sees it lower. She’s getting closer, and now she just has to outrun the truck. She glances over her shoulder to see it round the bend, speeding towards her, and she speeds up as much as she can, sprinting full tilt towards the open door. 

She dives into the back of the jet, rolling when she hits the ground, and slams the button to close the hatch. 

As it raises, she catches a glimpse of Clint’s face behind the windshield of the truck. She can barely recognize him. 

.

“What the hell happened out there, Romanoff?” Fury barks, and Natasha doesn’t reply, sinking lower into her padded chair. The Director’s office is fairly intimidating, and though Natasha doesn’t get scared by practically anything, she feels a little less than at ease under Fury’s one-eyed gaze. 

“HYDRA happened,” she replies shortly. 

“You’ve taken out thirty HYDRA agents at once before! Why didn’t you just shoot?” when she doesn’t reply, he leans over the desk, both hands on its surface, staring at her. “Romanoff. Why didn’t you shoot?”

“Clint was there,” she finally says. She doesn’t meet his eyes, looking down at the desk. “Clint was heading the team and I couldn’t shoot him.”

Fury doesn’t talk for a while. He turns to face the windows, looking out across the city below them. Natasha thinks for a moment he is going to reprimand her, but when he turns back around he hardly even looks annoyed, much less angry. 

“I don’t know what happened to Barton, but we need him. We need him back, Natasha, and if you still believe in him than I do. I trust your judgement. So what, we lost the payload, but now we need to get him back.”

“I agree, sir.”

“That’s your next assignment,” Fury says stoutly. “Find Barton. Bring him back to us.”

“I’ll do my best,” she nods. She doesn’t need an exit cue. She knows when the conversation is over. 

She turns and walks out his door, leaving him staring out the glass, trying to find answers in the dotted skyline below.

.

She hacks every file she can find, searches through the SHIELD database, and tries to find a way into the HYDRA server but is blocked by several AIs. She even asks for Tony’s help decrypting a file on Barton’s travel logs from HYDRA, but after Tony is denied access she knows she has to find another way to get to him. Little did she know that she didn’t have to look for him at all. 

When he was with SHIELD, they would go to the same coffee shop every Saturday morning and get a latte and sit under the trees in the nearby Arboretum to talk about the week, and get a little time to themselves. She hadn’t gone since he left. The memories were a little too painful, and she was trying to get over her caffeine dependency, but this Saturday she’s already in the area so she decides to stop and take a walk in the Arboretum. 

Black coffee in hand, she plugs in her earbuds and starts down the calm gravel path. The scent of flowers is heavy in the air, and she can’t help but smile. It is a nice peaceful break from the stressful hunting of her partner. 

That’s when she feels something. That familiar prickle on the back of her neck. Eyes. Someone is watching her. 

Instead of whirling around to see who it is, she pauses her music, keeping her headphones in, so she can listen. Heavy footsteps, probably boots, heavy heels, probably a man, around 6 foot to 6’3, probably around 220-240 pounds. Muscular, confident, not trying to be sneaky. 

She pulls out her phone but doesn’t turn it on. When she sees the face in the reflection of the black screen she almost drops her coffee. 

She won’t confront him, not now. Unless Clint makes a move towards her, she won’t try to strike against him. While she could probably bag him now and bring him to SHIELD, if he’s following her her, he’s either going to attack her or trying to talk. If she tries to take him in now, it will make a scene, and it’s too public to start a shooting match. 

He’s a good distance away, and she can’t tell if he wants her to notice him or not. But she doesn’t turn around to look. Her hand drifts to her pocket where she keeps a throwing knife for emergencies. If he jumps her, she’ll whip around and nail him straight in the chest with it.

She walks for a few more minutes, not checking behind her, turning her music up a little so that he can choose to approach her if he wants. 

She finally sits down on a bench at the end of the path, but when she glances subtly behind her, he is already gone. 

.

Another week passes, and Natasha can’t find any information on his whereabouts. While he was nearby recently, their job requires frequent travel, so on Monday she starts a facial recognition search among security cameras. The results take almost a week, so by the next Monday, she prints out the most relevant searches and lays them out on a desk so she can look at them. 

All of them are unmistakably Clint, and she feels a creeping, paranoid sensation in her stomach when she notices where he is. 

Their coffee shop. The gym that they always went to together. Her laundromat where she used to go every week. Her favorite jewelry store.

“He’s trying to find me,” she whispers to herself. Of course. She doesn't need to look for him, he’s looking for her. 

“Damn right I am,” came a voice behind her, and Natasha draws a gun in half a second, her fingers already hot and twitching on the trigger as she whirls around to aim her gun at the man standing in her apartment doorway. “Sorry to startle you.” he dangles a key from his left hand. “You forgot to change the locks.”

“Clint, what are you doing here?” she keeps her voice even and calm, her hands still steady on the trigger. 

“I needed...closure,” he shrugs. He throws her keys down on the floor, and pulls a knife out of his boot strap, staring at her evenly. 

Natasha takes half a second to assess the situation, and it takes a split second for her to decide what to do. Thank god she left her com on her desk after the last mission, because she reaches over and grabs it, putting it into her ear. 

“Clint Barton is in my apartment. Come and get him,” she grins, and watches his face drop slightly. 

“And here I was thinking we could have a little heart to heart,” he raises an eyebrow. 

He lunges at her, knife raised, but she knocks his arm away, punching him hard on the side of the head. He grunts but swings his leg, knocking her chair over and she leaps to her feet just in time to receive a well placed kick to the ribs. She gasps as she falls back against the wall, but uses her momentum to leap onto his shoulders, tightening her thighs like a vice around his neck. 

He struggles, and grips his knife tighter, but she hits his wrist at the perfect pressure point that makes his hand open and his knife falls to the floor. 

“Tasha,” he gasps, and it is then she realizes she’s actually cutting off his oxygen. Her heartbeat seems to slow down as his words reach her. She lets go, back flipping off of him onto the floor and drawing her gun on him, keeping it trained steadily on his chest. 

“People are coming, Clint. We’re going to take you in,” she says coldly. “You’ll pay for the people you killed.”

“I know.” his voice is low, calm, and defeated. “I know, Nat, why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care,” she spits, but they both know she’s curious. 

“I can’t kill you, but I can’t stay away from you. I can’t even shoot you. How am I supposed to go against you? I can’t do it anymore, Natasha, it’s torture.”

“What are you saying?” the trembling of her voice betrays her false calm, and she takes a deep breath, steadying her hands on the trigger. 

“I need you. I need you, Nat. I can’t stay away from you anymore. Take me in, torture me, keep me in a cell for the rest of my life. I’d rather you kill me than the other way around.”

A bang of the door slamming open alerts Natasha and Clint to the presence of the SHIELD agents in her house, and she backs up as they swarm her bedroom, pulling Clint’s hands behind his head and snapping cuffs on his wrists. He doesn’t struggle, just looks at her pleadingly. 

“Wait!” Natasha says quickly, and the agents freeze, just about to drag him through the doorway. She steps forward, standing level with Clint, looking deep into his eyes. “I’ll visit you,” she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, and backs away, letting the agents wrestle him out the door. She catches his sideways smile just before the door slams behind him. 

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [29/37]

A/N: Next update will be February 22nd. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Home Sweet Home

After another five hours of flying, most of which Yuri spent curled up with Otabek, talking softly, eating, or sleeping, they finally landed.

They did not land in a traditional airport, but in an empty field instead. From the nearby small crafts parked on or around the field, Yuri had to assume that it was some kind of airport for plane enthusiasts or something—he was too tired by the long flight to really care very much.

Unlike with takeoff, as the plane's wheels bumped and skidded across the field, the triplets seemed to be enjoying themselves, rather than the reverse, and squealed delightedly along with their father as they landed, while Yuuri looked on with an amused smile as he shook his head.

“Home sweet home!” Viktor proclaimed as he unbuckled his seat belt and moved to the back for the stroller, while Yuuri turned to the triplets and began to unstrap them.

“Yeah,” Yuri replied, more to Otabek than to anyone else, “home sweet home.”

The couple turned to look out of one of the windows. It was overcast and spitting the occasional droplet of rain, but it was not miserable to look at for one simple reason—they were free.

Yuri reached for Otabek's hand and gave it a small squeeze, which he returned at once.

“Guys,” Minami said, snapping Yuri and Otabek from their little bubble. “Stop making googly eyes at each other and let's go!”

Yuri snorted and unbuckled his seat belt, just as Viktor zipped by with the folded up stroller under his arm.

“Can...can I help?” Otabek asked suddenly while Yuuri, Minami, and Phichit all followed Viktor with a kid in each of their arms.

“What?” Yuri blinked, and the omega frowned when he saw Otabek duck his head a little like a puppy being scolded.

“Don't...I don't want you to feel like you can't do anything on your own, but it feels...right to help you right now,” Otabek explained, while he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it nervously.

Yuri reached out compulsively and gently rested his thumb on the skin below Otabek's lip, pulling on it gently until he released it, and Yuri leant in for a kiss.

“I love you, Beka,” Yuri murmured, “you know that...right?”

“I...” Otabek bowed his head, but Yuri caught his chin gently, and eased his gaze back up. Otabek's eyes were troubled, and he looked uncertain of the answer to the question. “I think so. I'm not too...broken?”

“No, of course not,” Yuri replied as he moved to stroke Otabek's cheek, and kissed him again. “Beka, you're amazing, and definitely not broken. I love you as you are, remember that, okay?”

Otabek appeared at though he did not wholly believe Yuri but nodded nonetheless, his mouth still twisted into a little frown. Yuri kissed him again, and again, grinning as he did so, until at last Otabek cracked a small grin, and chuckling, he finally returned the kisses.

“Come on, then,” Yuri said with a gentle smile, “help your poor, pregnant omega waddle his way off this plane.”

Otabek seemed to brighten at this invitation, and though Yuri did not feel he really needed the help, he let Otabek do it. It felt nice, and right, and he could not stop smiling as Otabek rested his hand against Yuri's back, then led Yuri off the plane where the others were waiting.

Outside everyone was standing by the plane while one of the plane attendants was unloading the cargo, which included a small pile of bags and an animal carrier.

The carrier was empty and Makkachin was standing with Viktor and Yuuri, nosing the triplets. When Yuri and Otabek got closer, the dog seemed to sense their presence and turned with an open-mouthed puppy grin he lurched for them, but thankfully his red leash stopped him from going very far.

“No, no, Makkachin!” Viktor said with a laugh, “you don't want to hurt Yurio!”

Yuri snorted at that, while Otabek stepped over to the bags and opened the one that read, Yurio, on the bag tag. He pulled out a zip-up hoodie and handed it to Yuri, who tugged it on gratefully. Thanks to his protruding stomach the garment wasn't nearly as baggy as he would have liked, but it staved off the slight chill in the air, and Yuri offered his alpha a grateful smile.

Yuri wrapped an arm around Otabek's waist as the pair finally headed over to the others, and at last the dog was calm enough that he did not jump up, but did sniff at Yuri's pregnant belly curiously, as though he knew that there was a baby inside it.

Despite the rain, Kelowna was beautiful. Snow-capped mountains were visible in the distance, and the field was surrounded by dense forest not unlike the kind that had surrounded Otabek's home back in Russia. A pair of multi-person ATVs were waiting for them just beyond where the plane sat; the others had all climbed into them, and were watching Yuri and Otabek expectantly.

“Come on, you guys!” Minami called, “we're taking these back to the main road, and we're driving the rest of the way there!”

“Are you sure that's the best idea?” Yuri asked uncertainly while he eyed the three toddlers perched in Viktor, Yuuri, and Minami's laps with no protection, and at the same time Otabek wrapped a protective arm around Yuri's waist, his hand pressing into the side of the omega's pregnant stomach pointedly.

“It's not far, and we're driving slowly,” Yuuri replied with a small smile. “Minami-kun and Viktor will tell you that I'm the worst at being an overbearing parent, so if I say it's okay, really, it's okay.”

Both Minami and Viktor snorted as though they were agreeing with the brunet, causing Yuuri to flush a deep red. At the same time, Yuri exchanged once last look of uncertainty with Otabek, then with a small sigh of defeat, he climbed onto the ATV with his grandfather and Phichit, who was at the wheel.

“Ready?” Phichit asked them with a little grin, and Yuri pointedly took Otabek's hand. Phichit laughed, though the sound was warm, and not cruel.

“No,” Yuri replied as he shifted a little closer to Otabek.

“Great, let's go.”

Phichit revved the engine, and Yuri shifted closer to Otabek with a soft whimper of fright. Yuri clung to his alpha, while Otabek tightened his arm around Yuri, as though remembering that Yuri did not deal well with high speed, and they rumbled off.

As promised they were not going very fast, but every bump or dip in the field that they hit made Yuri cling to Otabek tighter, and when Phichit sped up a little, both Otabek and Yuri, in eerie, perfect unison began to yell, “Baby on board, baby on board!”

“Would you two calm down?” Phichit demanded, not looking away from their path as he spoke, “your neurotic backseat driver-ness is making me nervous.”

“Yuratchka has never been fond of speeds where he is not in control,” Nikolai remarked with a warm chuckle. “He would not even ride on the back of my bicycle down to the market—he always insisted on riding his own, or we would walk.”

“Hmm, well that certainly explains a lot,” Otabek teased softly, then kissed Yuri's cheek, which was cherry red with embarrassment.

It took them less than five minutes to trundle across the field and make it to the road where Minami, Yuuri, and Viktor were already waiting with the girls by a large red van, the middle row filled with three car seats, and Yuriko, Viktoria, and Antonia were already all buckled in, each holding onto a different toy and babbling to one another happily, not a care in the world. Yuuri was folded into Viktor's arms, smiling warmly as he watched his children, while Minami's eyes were fixed on the approaching ATV, and its driver.

Phichit screeched to a halt, making all the passengers jerk in their seats, and he rushed off the vehicle and over to Minami, who smiled broadly when Phichit pulled him into a brief hug.

Chuckling a little at their sweet budding romance, Yuri climbed off the ATV more slowly, and circled to the front to help his grandfather over the uneven ground and to the waiting van. Yuri could feel Otabek following behind them, and in his periphery he saw his alpha bouncing from foot to foot, as though he did not know what to do or how to act.

For the moment, Yuri chose to ignore him, and focused his energies on guiding his grandfather to the front of the van, and helped him to climb into the passenger seat.

“You're a good boy, Yuratchka,” Nikolai said with an affectionate pat upon Yuri's cheek once he was seated, “I am very proud of you. You have endured more than anyone could ever expect of you in so short a time, and you came out of it, once more, whole, and more or less unscathed. I am so proud of you, my grandson—and, of course, I look forward to meeting my great-grandchild soon.”

Yuri felt his face flush, and he placed two hands on his stomach, just as Otabek stepped up to his side.

“It is soon, isn't it?” Yuri asked, “like a month and a half or so.”

“We're going to get you to a doctor soon,” Viktor said as he circled to the driver's seat, and climbed in before he continued to speak. “We just have to finish up some paperwork, then we'll take you to someone. How good is your English?”

“I'm fluent,” Otabek offered with a shrug, “I've had dealings with people from all over, so I speak it fine.”

“I know some bits and pieces,” Yuri replied, and shifted his gaze to Otabek. “Will you be my translator?”

“Of course, Yuri,” Otabek replied, his voice a low purr, that made Yuri's face flush pink, “I'll be anything you want.”

“—Can you be his French maid?” Phichit cut in teasingly.

“Or naughty housew-husband?” Minami added.

“Or sexy gardener?”

“Good one!” Minami praised, and the pair high-fived, while Yuri rolled his eyes and Otabek buried his red face in his hands.

“Okay,” Viktor said between chuckles, “everybody in. We still got a way's to go before we can crash.”

Still distinctly red-faced, Yuri was ushered first into the very back of the van, followed by Otabek, Phichit, and Minami, who all sat squished together in the back (Minami shamelessly perched in Phichit's lap to make room for them all, the latter couple somewhat giggly as they cuddled together) while Yuuri sat in the middle next to the triplets. He took to the task of slamming the sliding doors shut, while Viktor started the engine.

“Everybody ready?” Viktor asked as he turned to glance at his kids, who all began to giggle when he made a silly face at them. “All right! Off we go!”

Viktor pulled away from the curb and onto the street, while he flicked on the radio at the same time. Someone was talking, jabbering in English so fast that Yuri only caught every other word, but he was uncertain whether that had to do with the language, or the fact that he had been travelling for close to fifteen hours, and he was well beyond exhausted. Soon, it shifted to some music, and it slowly lulled Yuri to sleep, his cheek pressed to Otabek's shoulder comfortably, with his alpha's fingers tangled in his hair.

~*~

“Yuri,” a gentle voice said, fingers tickling through his hair, and Yuri groaned.

“Yuri,” the voice said again, “come on, baby, wake up, we're here.”

“Where's here?” Yuri asked groggily, but did not open his eyes.

“Our new home. Come on,” Otabek shook him gently, “wake up. Don't make me carry you.”

Yuri opened his eyes and immediately winced as the bright sunlight stung them. Otabek pressed his glasses into his hands hastily, and Yuri tugged them on.

“I thought you were just trying out an Elton John look,” Otabek teased as he helped a still half-asleep Yuri out of his seat belt, and it was only then that he noticed that the van was completely empty. “Those glasses are prescription?”

“Sort of,” Yuri replied as he yawned, “the trainers decided the best way to try and break me was to keep me in literal darkness for months on end, so my eyes aren't really used to light anymore. How long was I asleep? I—”

Yuri broke off as he glanced up, and gasped at what he was seeing.

It was a beautiful two-storey house built into the mountainside overlooking a crystal-blue lake. The water was dotted with large islands, and the mountainside where the house stood was surrounded by towering fir trees, giving them privacy from any possible neighbours or holidaymakers on the water.

The house itself seemed to be constructed of some sort of tan-coloured wood that Yuri did not recognize, with large, single-paned windows and a dark shingled roof with a chimney. It was a dream house, and to imagine himself living there was just short of ridiculous.

“You were asleep for barely twenty minutes, Otabek said from behind him, just before he wrapped his arms around Yuri's waist and pulled him flush against his chest. “What do you think?”

“It's...wow,” Yuri replied as he continued to stare wide-eyed at the house. “Viktor sure didn't skimp.”

“He really didn't,” Otabek replied with a soft chuckle as he gave Yuri a little squeeze. “Want to see the inside?”

Yuri bit his lip to stifle his grin, and spun in Otabek's arms. His plan for a romantic just us sort of moment was impeded somewhat by Yuri's baby bump getting in the way, but Otabek did not appear at all bothered by this, but instead chuckled warmly as he rested his hands over it, and leant in to kiss him.

“I never stopped thinking about you, Yura,” Otabek murmured, “not once. They kept telling me that you were nothing, calling you horrible names, and they would try and convince me that you were this ice-cold, manipulating...person, but I never believed it. I was upset with you, and I was heartbroken that you tricked me to get...well, pregnant, but I think I understand better now why you did it. It was to protect yourself.”

“Yeah,” Yuri nodded, “it was. At first...I wasn't really thinking about what being pregnant really meant, you know? I just...” he paused and shook his head. “It doesn't mean I don't want this baby, though. I feel like...they're mine, and I want to protect them, and watch them grow up...with you by my side.”

Otabek smiled, his bottom lip quivering a little as he gazed at the omega. Yuri leant in, one hand on Otabek's cheek, prickly and unshaven, and he pulled his alpha into a kiss.

“I always be by your side, Yuri,” Otabek murmured against his mouth, “we're free, we're safe, and I promise you that I will give you and our baby everything I can in order to have our happy little life.”

“Even if we were in a cave with nothing, I know we could make it work,” Yuri replied as he chuckled softly. “All this...” he waved his hand vaguely towards the house, “it's just icing on the cake.”

“Well, let's go look at all the icing then,” Otabek replied, making Yuri laugh as they headed inside, hand-in-hand.

~*~

The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside. The main floor was open-concept, with cream carpets in the living room, along with dark brown leather couches and armchairs around a fireplace and huge television. The sliding glass doors at the back of the space looked out on a wooden balcony stained a dark brown, and were in full view of the lake.

The kitchen, painted soft blues with a white tile floor, granite countertops, and oak cabinets was filled with top-of-the-range appliances, mountains of food, an overstuffed fridge, and gorgeous copper pots and pans hanging from one of the walls. Next to it was the dining room, with a large dark brown table decorated with a centrepiece of three tapered red candles, and in addition to the carved wooden chairs around it also sat four high chairs, all of which had been labelled, Antonia, Viktoria, and Yuriko, along with one blank one, yet to be named.

Yuri smiled warmly at the last high chair as he rested his hands on his stomach and leant against Otabek while they gazed at the piece of furniture.

Meanwhile, Yuuri was in the living room with the girls, Phichit and Minami playing with them while Nikolai looked on with a small, indulgent smile. Viktor was in the kitchen, apparently preparing a snack for everyone, with three bottles warming in a saucepan on the stove and the electric kettle had been switched on, with a line of mugs waiting to be filled. He was smiling to himself as he pulled down a box of cookies from the pantry, and the whole scene was so peacefully, wonderfully domestic that Yuri almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure that it was real.

“Come on,” Otabek murmured after a moment as he kissed Yuri's temple, “more icing upstairs.”

On the second floor of the house, they found eight bedrooms and two bathrooms. Because of so many rooms being squished together they were all modestly sized, but far from what Yuri would consider small. Like with the high chairs, all the doors had little labels on them—Phichit, Minami, Yuuri and Viktor, Nikolai, and a room for the triplets bearing all three of their names. At the very end of the hall on the easternmost side, there was a door labelled, Otabek and Yuri.

“I guess this is us,” Yuri joked, and Otabek smiled weakly. “Hey, you all right?”

“Fine,” Otabek replied, his voice a little more roughened than Yuri had expected it to be. “Just tired.”

“Well, let's test out the bed, then,” Yuri said, and felt his cheeks redden at the accidental innuendo. Otabek chuckled as he tightened his arm around the omega, and reached for the doorknob.

From the door, Yuri could see an attached bathroom and second bedroom with a wooden sign on the door, blank for the moment, but decorated with teddy bears—the baby's room.

The space was warm and welcoming, with soft grey carpeting, walnut furniture, and cream walls, with a large king-sized bed layered with too many pillows and blue-grey blankets. A huge bay window overlooked the lake, and would give them a perfect view of the sunrise every morning.

“Wow,” Yuri breathed, his eyes wide as he stared around at the room. “This is...amazing.”

Otabek stumbled a little over the threshold, and Yuri pressed a hand to his chest as he turned to see that the dark circles had returned to surround Otabek's eyes, and he looked less like he'd been awake for four or five hours, and more like he'd been on his feet for three days.

“Sorry,” Otabek grunted as he righted himself. “Maybe...just need to lie down for a minute.”

“Come on, Beka,” Yuri said as he took his hands, “let me take care of you.”

“I should...I should be taking care of you,” Otabek protested feebly as he yawned, “you're the pregnant one, not me.”

“And you went through something awful, and are doing the stupid strong and silent thing when you don't need to,” Yuri accused as he led his alpha over to the bed and forced him down onto it before he stripped off Otabek's shoes, socks, shirt, and pants, leaving him just in his underwear. “You're allowed to give yourself time to recover, you know, I won't freak out over that. Now, come on, bed.”

Otabek eyed Yuri, confusion registering in his gaze, but after a moment he huffed and shuffled under the covers, where Yuri joined him almost at once. He pressed his back against Otabek's chest, and he let out a soft sigh as the alpha wrapped an arm around Yuri's waist and gently cradled his stomach.

“Just a short rest,” Otabek mumbled softly, his words slurred. “Then...” he dropped of to sleep suddenly, and Yuri felt his hands upon his protruding belly slacken a little.

“Rest as long as you want, Beka,” Yuri whispered, “I'll take care of you until you're better.”

The baby thumped at his insides as though in agreement, and Yuri smiled.

If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P

NLMG Masterpost

[robertkstone]

2020 Porsche 911 Carrera Review: Perpetual Expectations

It’s cold. That worst kind of cold. The biting, penetrating cold you feel in your bones. It’s mid-morning at Circuit Ricardo Tormo inland of Valencia, Spain, and all of 40 degrees. The sun’s been up only an hour, and it’s cloudy. I’m not worried about the air temperature, though. I’m worried about the track temperature. The tire temperature I can fix on the warm-up laps. The track, though, that’s on nature.

I might have known I needn’t worry. Eight years ago, Jonny Lieberman and I absconded from the last Porsche 911 launch in Los Angeles with a Carrera S and a Corvette Grand Sport and quickly found ourselves in a freak rain-sleet-snowstorm in the mountains halfway between L.A. and Santa Barbara. The Corvette was nearly undriveable; the Porsche didn’t even seem to notice the conditions.

So it was familiar ground when I finally put rubber to racetrack the better part of a decade later. The new Porsche 911, referred to by its 992 internal designation among those in the know, is no more troubled by cold weather than its predecessor, the 991. I would be among the first outsiders in the world to drive the latest 911 as it’s meant to be driven, and the thought of being the first to put one in a tire wall gnawed at the back of my mind.

The 2020 Porsche 911 4S is shown here

The warm-up laps were encouraging. The surface wasn’t as skatey as I’d feared. Still, the question percolated of what would happen with me piloting 443 hp through this rear-engine sports car at the limit, when the only margin of error left is the runoff. Two hot laps put my mind at ease. By the fourth, I was sure I was just as wrong to be worried about the 992 in the cold and damp as I was about the 991. To be short: Weather doesn’t matter.

Don’t tell that to the people in Stuttgart, though. They expended quite an effort developing a Wet mode that can sense water on the road by the spray from the wheels and, when selected, apply its safety-oriented algorithms with the authority and conviction of a riled-up Southern Baptist preacher. Yes, when there’s standing water on the road, the 911’s computers can prevent even the biggest fool from lunching his car.

For us lesser fools, it’s a crutch on which we need not lean. The new 911 has grip. All of it. All the time, it seems. When it doesn’t, it has predictability. The great folly of 911s is conversely their greatest strength: They always behave exactly the way you expect them to.

In the distant past, rude behavior was far, far easier to provoke than it is today, but the result was the same. Trail-brake and turn in too sharply? Lift off the throttle too abruptly with too much steering angle? Yes, the rear of the car will try to take the lead. What makes modern 911s, and especially this new one, so great is the friendly nature of their oversteer.

Whatever Isaac Newton may have to say, new 911s don’t want to go backward in the wall unless you really make no effort to stop them from doing so. When they start to go, you remember that old driver-school chestnut and turn into the skid. Even if everything you know about controlling oversteer comes from a Ken Block video, you’ll be able to stop a 911 from doing a 180. And really, it’s only a situation you’ll be facing if you turn the entire electronic safety net off in some pre-emptive stroke of confidence.

The same rules of predictability and vehicle management apply, albeit with much less drama, to understeer. If it happens, you know damn well why; fixing it is instinctual if you remember anything at all about car control from driving school.

This predictability, and the confidence it necessarily engenders, is to me the hallmark of a driver’s car. Knowing from the first set of corners how a car will behave is what makes a great car easy to drive. Knowing where the limit is, when it’s approaching, and the surefire way to fix things once you’ve gotten them wrong puts the mind at ease. This reassurance allows you to drive a car as hard as the mood strikes you, even if it’s otherwise unfamiliar. This is what the 911 possesses.

Read our 2020 Porsche 911 Carrera S review right here.

But you know that already. If you’ve read anything about a 911 in the past decade (and as a reader of this magazine you surely have), you know the 911 in all guises is a fantastic and fantastically capable sports car that ingratiates itself with overwhelming confidence whether it has 400 horsepower or 700.

I knew it on that racetrack, even if my amygdala had temporarily hijacked my certainty in that knowledge. Trail-braking into the Turn 2 hairpin and rolling as hard as the adjective allows into the throttle, keeping that same throttle pinned under the bridge and through the kink of the back straight, then standing on the brake pedal with still a bit of angle in the steering wheel, the 911 reminded me it was just as disinclined to meet the wall as I was.

In fact, understeer and oversteer are as much coaches to the 911 driver as they are deterrents. If you’ve managed to provoke either ailment, it was for one of two reasons: Either you meant to, or you got greedy. When you didn’t mean to, you know as you enter the corner you’ve carried too much speed, braked too late, turned in too early or too late, turned too aggressively, or gotten too deep into the throttle too early. Your knuckles proportionately rapped, you promise yourself you’ll get it right the next lap.

Of all 911s, the Carrera is the least likely to ever see a track from anywhere but the parking lot. That it can be so rewarding on a closed course, though, is an important factor in the confidence you have in the car on the street. Assaulting the mountain roads of southeastern Spain, or wherever you live, the 911 behaves no differently. Indeed, you’re far more likely to induce its particular brand of driver coaching, especially with poor road surfaces, and corners designed with the path of least construction resistance (and not the racing line) in mind. Even with the electronic minders fully engaged and commensurate with the drive mode you’ve selected, you’ll test the limits of the car and its tires in a way that’s utterly rewarding without posing an undue risk to yourself or anyone else.

It’s the response in the steering, the quick ratio that rarely asks you to move your hands around the wheel, and the tenacious grip from the nose despite its inherent lightness. It’s the ever-improving feel in that electrically assisted wheel that translates the road surface to your tactile senses. It’s the response from the engine—its torque curve moved up both in numbers and revs, its horsepower curve just a little steeper on its climb to a loftier peak—that combines to make the engine feel less obviously turbocharged (noises not withstanding) and more linear. It’s the response from the brakes, an unmistakable correlation between pedal pressure and travel and the braking force returned, never changing, never fading. Yet if you still find yourself insufficiently stimulated, there’s always the stability control’s Sport setting, in practice nothing more than a more liberal tolerance for slip angle ahead of intervention.

No matter how it drives, this new 911 is not a perfect car. It has at least one glaring flaw, and it’s right in front of your face. Porsche has elected to replace 80 percent of its instrument cluster with a pair of 7.0-inch wing screens flanking the analog tachometer, the evaluation of which would be purely subjective had Porsche not arranged the digital gauges presented on them in such a way that a full 40 percent of them—that is, two of the five gauges—are almost completely obscured by the steering wheel rim.

On the left side, it’s uncritical information like time and outside temperature, but on the right, it’s engine temperature and the fuel gauge. Criticality of data aside, it’s unfathomable how an oversight like this made it to production. That there’s a curiously large amount of wasted space on the center console behind the dainty, Braun shaver–inspired shift lever is a triviality by comparison.

If a few specific interior ergonomics issues are the sole points of contention I have with the new 911, it says as much about the car as everything else I’ve written. Take a moment to remind yourself this is the base model with performance options. Just imagine what’ll happen when they put the letters “GT” on one.

IFTTT

[jesusvasser]

First Drive: 2019 BMW X4

SPARTANBURG, South Carolina — Today, we’re going to try something different: Instead of me writing this review of the new 2019 BMW X4, you’re going to do it.

Hold on, you say, I haven’t driven the 2019 X4! Probably true, since the new iteration of the X4 doesn’t go on sale until July, and I don’t recall seeing you at the press preview. But that’s why I chose a BMW for this little experiment: When it comes to product-to-product consistency, no one does a better job. If you’ve had any seat time in a late-model Bimmer, you’ll know exactly what to expect.

Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through the process. For starters, you’ll need a strong opener. A lot of reviews of a redesigned car start with comparisons to the old version; they’ll cite sales statics (200,000 sold since 2015) or tell you the new X4 is based on X3 bones and is 3.0-inches longer, 1.4-inch wider, and has a 2.1-inch longer wheelbase than the outgoing one. My advice: Don’t bother. This is a BMW and people want to know how it drives, so skip the foreplay and get right to the main event.

This puts you face to face with your first challenge: How do you describe the X4’s dynamics without veering off into cliché? Most vehicles have one overarching characteristic, and that becomes the hook on which to hang your review. The X4 reminded me of my first drive of a first-gen X6—it feels like you’re driving a sport sedan, but your eye-point seems to be about a foot higher off the ground than it ought to be. Feel free to use my idea, but if you do, I suggest mentioning that that the X4 lacks the ponderous feel of that first X6 despite weighing only 200-400 lbs less. BMW worked hard to keep the X4’s weight down and it shows.

Having not attended the press preview, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage, but I’ll give you the Cliff’s notes: BMW set us loose on the test track near the Spartanburg, SC factory where the X4 will be built, but more telling was the wet skid pad, which they had us circle with stability control shut off. We were advised to build up speed and lift off the gas quickly to get the back end loose, and then to correct it with throttle rather than steering. Booting the accelerator causes the xDrive system to direct power to the front wheels, allowing the X4 to pull itself out of the skid. It was a lot of fun, all in the name of responsible journalism, of course. Go ahead and relate this experience as if it was your own, but be sure to include some sort of don’t-try-this-at-home disclaimer. (And if you could leave out the bit about the two or three times I spun the X4, I’d appreciate that.)

This being a BMW, you’ll probably want to complain about the steering, since that seems to be the thing to do these days. BMW, like most manufacturers, lost some of its trademark steering feel when they switched from hydraulic to electric, and no one in the press seems content to let them live it down. To be fair, all of our bitching seems to be driving improvement: The 2019 X4 has a new variable-ratio setup that improves on-center response while reducing wheel-twirling when parking. It’s a good idea—General Motors started using it in the late 1960s—and worth mentioning in your review. Personally, I liked the X4’s steering, though I agree that feedback isn’t a strong point and I found it a bit lacking. I prefer Audi’s lighter steering, as I find it easier to feel the road when I’m not muscling the wheel to change direction. But that’s my opinion. Feel free to pontificate on your own.

That said, don’t get too wrapped up in the details; this is a first drive and what you need to convey is the overall feel of the car. That’s why the 2019 BMW X4 is such a good fodder for your first review, because it feels quick, stable, comfortable and confident regardless of the road surface, and that’s what BMWs do best.

Engines and performance ought to be covered in detail. BMW offers two powerplants, and seeing as you’re writing for Automobile Magazine, you should spend most of your time with the more powerful M40i. Be sure to hit the engine specs—3.0-liter turbocharged straight-six, 360 hp, 396 lb-ft of torque—but as with handling, it’s important to describe the feel of the engine. You can cite the BMW’s claimed 4.3-second 0-60 mph run, but you need to talk about how that power is delivered, with a brief turbo-lag pause before the X4 picks up her skirts and dashes for the horizon. You’ll also want to mention the instant mid-range punch, which is the real magic of a turbo-six that does the work of an eight.

I’d suggest talking about the soundtrack, too. With the 2019 X4 M40i in Comfort mode, you get a lovely straight-six wail under power that settles down to silence as the standard-fit eight-speed automatic shifts up into the higher gears. (See what I did there? I forgot to mention the tranny specs above, so I snuck it into the text. Call it a trick of the trade.) In Sport mode, the transmission keeps the revs up and the exhaust makes a lovely “POOM” noise as the transmission upshifts. Sport mode also yields some crackling and popping on the overrun, though it’s so muted that I initially thought I was hearing rocks hitting the undercarriage. I liked the soundtrack so much that I drove in Sport mode just for the noise.

Don’t ignore the four-cylinder model, though, as that’ll be the volume seller. A single short paragraph that hits the key points will suffice: Mention the numbers (252 hp, 258 lb-ft of torque, 0-60 mph in 6.0 seconds), that power delivery is smooth and strong, and that the engine note, while refined for a four-cylinder, doesn’t sound as nice as the six. That said, don’t get so wrapped up in facts that you leave out your opinions. If, like me, you think that the sound of the six is worth an extra ten grand, go ahead and say so. Remember, your readers can get facts from the brochure. They want analysis from you.

Naturally, you’re going to want to talk about the styling. Forget about the debate on whether an SUV-coupe combo is a good idea; it’s been done to death. But you might want to note that BMW has done some neat trickery with the roofline, maintaining the X4’s aggressive profile while providing a reasonable amount of back-seat headroom, though you should also consider your own dimensions. I’m 5’6” and my definition of “reasonable headroom” doesn’t necessarily match that of my six-foot colleagues. Some on our staff might debate whether a buff book like Automobile should mention the big trunk and its massive hatchback opening, but I figure it’s worth a sentence or two.

Be prepared for the occasional lemons-and-lemonade moment. In the case of the 2019 X4, BMW only had black and dark gray cars at the press preview, which is the media launch equivalent of putting a bag of poo on our doorstep and lighting it on fire. Lemons: Black is the absolute worst color for photography. Lemonade: By masking the smoked upper section of the taillights, dark colors emphasize the X4’s uncomfortable resemblance to its chief rival, the Mercedes-Benz GLC Coupe. Go ahead and mention that—some might see it as a low blow, but it serves BMW right for not giving us a broader color palette.

I always like to talk about the interior, because that’s the part of the car where the owner spends the most time. The X4 makes this easy because all BMW interiors are basically carbon copies of each other. I drove our Four Seasons BMW M550i to the airport for the press preview and darned if interior of the X4 wasn’t nearly identical to our 5 Series. The 2019 X4 has a nice bit of metal trim over the center vents, and the red-and-black color combo in the M40i Sport was very snazzy, but other than that it seems as if BMW designed the cabin with a Xerox machine. I never know quite what to say about this—do I praise BMW for consistency and ease of operation or do I castigate it for a lack of originality? Hopefully you’ll have a better take on it.

Now, no review is entirely believable if it’s all sunshine and daisies. I’m not saying you should look for things to pick on, but if you see downsides, it’s your job to report them. Me, I found the X4’s width a bit off-putting. I appreciated the extra elbow room, but considering its otherwise-tidy size, the X4 felt way too wide on some of the narrow roads we drove. If I were looking for a road hog, I’d get an X6. Aside from that, though, I didn’t find much to complain about. Don’t worry if you don’t either; a good car is a good car.

So here you are, 1500 words in, and it’s time for your wrap-up. Mention the price ($51.5K for starters, which is expensive), and perhaps a quick blurb about the competition (in this case, the Mercedes-Benz GLC, which has a bit more of an old-school-luxury interior but isn’t as entertaining to drive). End with a nice summation, perhaps saying that the 2019 BMW X4 (be sure to repeat the year/make/model in for good search engine performance) is a stylish if rather expensive alternative to mommymobile SUVs, and one that is surprisingly practical given its appearance. And that’s it—you’re done! That wasn’t so hard, was it?

2019 BMW X4 Specifications

ON SALE Summer 2018 PRICE $51,455 ENGINES 2.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-4/252 hp@ 5,200-6,500 rpm, 258 lb-ft @ 1,450-4,800 rpm; 3.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-6/360 hp @ 5,500-6,500 rpm, 396 lb-ft @ 1,520-4,800 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE 20/27 (city/hwy) L x W x H 187.5 x 75.5 x 63.8 in WHEELBASE 112.7 in WEIGHT 4,147-4,323 lb 0-60 MPH 6.0 sec (xDrive30i), 4.6 sec (M40i) TOP SPEED 130 MPH (xDrive30i), 155 MPH (M40i)

IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

First Drive: 2019 BMW X4

SPARTANBURG, South Carolina — Today, we’re going to try something different: Instead of me writing this review of the new 2019 BMW X4, you’re going to do it.

Hold on, you say, I haven’t driven the 2019 X4! Probably true, since the new iteration of the X4 doesn’t go on sale until July, and I don’t recall seeing you at the press preview. But that’s why I chose a BMW for this little experiment: When it comes to product-to-product consistency, no one does a better job. If you’ve had any seat time in a late-model Bimmer, you’ll know exactly what to expect.

Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through the process. For starters, you’ll need a strong opener. A lot of reviews of a redesigned car start with comparisons to the old version; they’ll cite sales statics (200,000 sold since 2015) or tell you the new X4 is based on X3 bones and is 3.0-inches longer, 1.4-inch wider, and has a 2.1-inch longer wheelbase than the outgoing one. My advice: Don’t bother. This is a BMW and people want to know how it drives, so skip the foreplay and get right to the main event.

This puts you face to face with your first challenge: How do you describe the X4’s dynamics without veering off into cliché? Most vehicles have one overarching characteristic, and that becomes the hook on which to hang your review. The X4 reminded me of my first drive of a first-gen X6—it feels like you’re driving a sport sedan, but your eye-point seems to be about a foot higher off the ground than it ought to be. Feel free to use my idea, but if you do, I suggest mentioning that that the X4 lacks the ponderous feel of that first X6 despite weighing only 200-400 lbs less. BMW worked hard to keep the X4’s weight down and it shows.

Having not attended the press preview, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage, but I’ll give you the Cliff’s notes: BMW set us loose on the test track near the Spartanburg, SC factory where the X4 will be built, but more telling was the wet skid pad, which they had us circle with stability control shut off. We were advised to build up speed and lift off the gas quickly to get the back end loose, and then to correct it with throttle rather than steering. Booting the accelerator causes the xDrive system to direct power to the front wheels, allowing the X4 to pull itself out of the skid. It was a lot of fun, all in the name of responsible journalism, of course. Go ahead and relate this experience as if it was your own, but be sure to include some sort of don’t-try-this-at-home disclaimer. (And if you could leave out the bit about the two or three times I spun the X4, I’d appreciate that.)

This being a BMW, you’ll probably want to complain about the steering, since that seems to be the thing to do these days. BMW, like most manufacturers, lost some of its trademark steering feel when they switched from hydraulic to electric, and no one in the press seems content to let them live it down. To be fair, all of our bitching seems to be driving improvement: The 2019 X4 has a new variable-ratio setup that improves on-center response while reducing wheel-twirling when parking. It’s a good idea—General Motors started using it in the late 1960s—and worth mentioning in your review. Personally, I liked the X4’s steering, though I agree that feedback isn’t a strong point and I found it a bit lacking. I prefer Audi’s lighter steering, as I find it easier to feel the road when I’m not muscling the wheel to change direction. But that’s my opinion. Feel free to pontificate on your own.

That said, don’t get too wrapped up in the details; this is a first drive and what you need to convey is the overall feel of the car. That’s why the 2019 BMW X4 is such a good fodder for your first review, because it feels quick, stable, comfortable and confident regardless of the road surface, and that’s what BMWs do best.

Engines and performance ought to be covered in detail. BMW offers two powerplants, and seeing as you’re writing for Automobile Magazine, you should spend most of your time with the more powerful M40i. Be sure to hit the engine specs—3.0-liter turbocharged straight-six, 360 hp, 396 lb-ft of torque—but as with handling, it’s important to describe the feel of the engine. You can cite the BMW’s claimed 4.3-second 0-60 mph run, but you need to talk about how that power is delivered, with a brief turbo-lag pause before the X4 picks up her skirts and dashes for the horizon. You’ll also want to mention the instant mid-range punch, which is the real magic of a turbo-six that does the work of an eight.

I’d suggest talking about the soundtrack, too. With the 2019 X4 M40i in Comfort mode, you get a lovely straight-six wail under power that settles down to silence as the standard-fit eight-speed automatic shifts up into the higher gears. (See what I did there? I forgot to mention the tranny specs above, so I snuck it into the text. Call it a trick of the trade.) In Sport mode, the transmission keeps the revs up and the exhaust makes a lovely “POOM” noise as the transmission upshifts. Sport mode also yields some crackling and popping on the overrun, though it’s so muted that I initially thought I was hearing rocks hitting the undercarriage. I liked the soundtrack so much that I drove in Sport mode just for the noise.

Don’t ignore the four-cylinder model, though, as that’ll be the volume seller. A single short paragraph that hits the key points will suffice: Mention the numbers (252 hp, 258 lb-ft of torque, 0-60 mph in 6.0 seconds), that power delivery is smooth and strong, and that the engine note, while refined for a four-cylinder, doesn’t sound as nice as the six. That said, don’t get so wrapped up in facts that you leave out your opinions. If, like me, you think that the sound of the six is worth an extra ten grand, go ahead and say so. Remember, your readers can get facts from the brochure. They want analysis from you.

Naturally, you’re going to want to talk about the styling. Forget about the debate on whether an SUV-coupe combo is a good idea; it’s been done to death. But you might want to note that BMW has done some neat trickery with the roofline, maintaining the X4’s aggressive profile while providing a reasonable amount of back-seat headroom, though you should also consider your own dimensions. I’m 5’6” and my definition of “reasonable headroom” doesn’t necessarily match that of my six-foot colleagues. Some on our staff might debate whether a buff book like Automobile should mention the big trunk and its massive hatchback opening, but I figure it’s worth a sentence or two.

Be prepared for the occasional lemons-and-lemonade moment. In the case of the 2019 X4, BMW only had black and dark gray cars at the press preview, which is the media launch equivalent of putting a bag of poo on our doorstep and lighting it on fire. Lemons: Black is the absolute worst color for photography. Lemonade: By masking the smoked upper section of the taillights, dark colors emphasize the X4’s uncomfortable resemblance to its chief rival, the Mercedes-Benz GLC Coupe. Go ahead and mention that—some might see it as a low blow, but it serves BMW right for not giving us a broader color palette.

I always like to talk about the interior, because that’s the part of the car where the owner spends the most time. The X4 makes this easy because all BMW interiors are basically carbon copies of each other. I drove our Four Seasons BMW M550i to the airport for the press preview and darned if interior of the X4 wasn’t nearly identical to our 5 Series. The 2019 X4 has a nice bit of metal trim over the center vents, and the red-and-black color combo in the M40i Sport was very snazzy, but other than that it seems as if BMW designed the cabin with a Xerox machine. I never know quite what to say about this—do I praise BMW for consistency and ease of operation or do I castigate it for a lack of originality? Hopefully you’ll have a better take on it.

Now, no review is entirely believable if it’s all sunshine and daisies. I’m not saying you should look for things to pick on, but if you see downsides, it’s your job to report them. Me, I found the X4’s width a bit off-putting. I appreciated the extra elbow room, but considering its otherwise-tidy size, the X4 felt way too wide on some of the narrow roads we drove. If I were looking for a road hog, I’d get an X6. Aside from that, though, I didn’t find much to complain about. Don’t worry if you don’t either; a good car is a good car.

So here you are, 1500 words in, and it’s time for your wrap-up. Mention the price ($51.5K for starters, which is expensive), and perhaps a quick blurb about the competition (in this case, the Mercedes-Benz GLC, which has a bit more of an old-school-luxury interior but isn’t as entertaining to drive). End with a nice summation, perhaps saying that the 2019 BMW X4 (be sure to repeat the year/make/model in for good search engine performance) is a stylish if rather expensive alternative to mommymobile SUVs, and one that is surprisingly practical given its appearance. And that’s it—you’re done! That wasn’t so hard, was it?

2019 BMW X4 Specifications

ON SALE Summer 2018 PRICE $51,455 ENGINES 2.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-4/252 hp@ 5,200-6,500 rpm, 258 lb-ft @ 1,450-4,800 rpm; 3.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-6/360 hp @ 5,500-6,500 rpm, 396 lb-ft @ 1,520-4,800 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE 20/27 (city/hwy) L x W x H 187.5 x 75.5 x 63.8 in WHEELBASE 112.7 in WEIGHT 4,147-4,323 lb 0-60 MPH 6.0 sec (xDrive30i), 4.6 sec (M40i) TOP SPEED 130 MPH (xDrive30i), 155 MPH (M40i)

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[jonathanbelloblog]

First Drive: 2019 BMW X4

SPARTANBURG, South Carolina — Today, we’re going to try something different: Instead of me writing this review of the new 2019 BMW X4, you’re going to do it.

Hold on, you say, I haven’t driven the 2019 X4! Probably true, since the new iteration of the X4 doesn’t go on sale until July, and I don’t recall seeing you at the press preview. But that’s why I chose a BMW for this little experiment: When it comes to product-to-product consistency, no one does a better job. If you’ve had any seat time in a late-model Bimmer, you’ll know exactly what to expect.

Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through the process. For starters, you’ll need a strong opener. A lot of reviews of a redesigned car start with comparisons to the old version; they’ll cite sales statics (200,000 sold since 2015) or tell you the new X4 is based on X3 bones and is 3.0-inches longer, 1.4-inch wider, and has a 2.1-inch longer wheelbase than the outgoing one. My advice: Don’t bother. This is a BMW and people want to know how it drives, so skip the foreplay and get right to the main event.

This puts you face to face with your first challenge: How do you describe the X4’s dynamics without veering off into cliché? Most vehicles have one overarching characteristic, and that becomes the hook on which to hang your review. The X4 reminded me of my first drive of a first-gen X6—it feels like you’re driving a sport sedan, but your eye-point seems to be about a foot higher off the ground than it ought to be. Feel free to use my idea, but if you do, I suggest mentioning that that the X4 lacks the ponderous feel of that first X6 despite weighing only 200-400 lbs less. BMW worked hard to keep the X4’s weight down and it shows.

Having not attended the press preview, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage, but I’ll give you the Cliff’s notes: BMW set us loose on the test track near the Spartanburg, SC factory where the X4 will be built, but more telling was the wet skid pad, which they had us circle with stability control shut off. We were advised to build up speed and lift off the gas quickly to get the back end loose, and then to correct it with throttle rather than steering. Booting the accelerator causes the xDrive system to direct power to the front wheels, allowing the X4 to pull itself out of the skid. It was a lot of fun, all in the name of responsible journalism, of course. Go ahead and relate this experience as if it was your own, but be sure to include some sort of don’t-try-this-at-home disclaimer. (And if you could leave out the bit about the two or three times I spun the X4, I’d appreciate that.)

This being a BMW, you’ll probably want to complain about the steering, since that seems to be the thing to do these days. BMW, like most manufacturers, lost some of its trademark steering feel when they switched from hydraulic to electric, and no one in the press seems content to let them live it down. To be fair, all of our bitching seems to be driving improvement: The 2019 X4 has a new variable-ratio setup that improves on-center response while reducing wheel-twirling when parking. It’s a good idea—General Motors started using it in the late 1960s—and worth mentioning in your review. Personally, I liked the X4’s steering, though I agree that feedback isn’t a strong point and I found it a bit lacking. I prefer Audi’s lighter steering, as I find it easier to feel the road when I’m not muscling the wheel to change direction. But that’s my opinion. Feel free to pontificate on your own.

That said, don’t get too wrapped up in the details; this is a first drive and what you need to convey is the overall feel of the car. That’s why the 2019 BMW X4 is such a good fodder for your first review, because it feels quick, stable, comfortable and confident regardless of the road surface, and that’s what BMWs do best.

Engines and performance ought to be covered in detail. BMW offers two powerplants, and seeing as you’re writing for Automobile Magazine, you should spend most of your time with the more powerful M40i. Be sure to hit the engine specs—3.0-liter turbocharged straight-six, 360 hp, 396 lb-ft of torque—but as with handling, it’s important to describe the feel of the engine. You can cite the BMW’s claimed 4.3-second 0-60 mph run, but you need to talk about how that power is delivered, with a brief turbo-lag pause before the X4 picks up her skirts and dashes for the horizon. You’ll also want to mention the instant mid-range punch, which is the real magic of a turbo-six that does the work of an eight.

I’d suggest talking about the soundtrack, too. With the 2019 X4 M40i in Comfort mode, you get a lovely straight-six wail under power that settles down to silence as the standard-fit eight-speed automatic shifts up into the higher gears. (See what I did there? I forgot to mention the tranny specs above, so I snuck it into the text. Call it a trick of the trade.) In Sport mode, the transmission keeps the revs up and the exhaust makes a lovely “POOM” noise as the transmission upshifts. Sport mode also yields some crackling and popping on the overrun, though it’s so muted that I initially thought I was hearing rocks hitting the undercarriage. I liked the soundtrack so much that I drove in Sport mode just for the noise.

Don’t ignore the four-cylinder model, though, as that’ll be the volume seller. A single short paragraph that hits the key points will suffice: Mention the numbers (252 hp, 258 lb-ft of torque, 0-60 mph in 6.0 seconds), that power delivery is smooth and strong, and that the engine note, while refined for a four-cylinder, doesn’t sound as nice as the six. That said, don’t get so wrapped up in facts that you leave out your opinions. If, like me, you think that the sound of the six is worth an extra ten grand, go ahead and say so. Remember, your readers can get facts from the brochure. They want analysis from you.

Naturally, you’re going to want to talk about the styling. Forget about the debate on whether an SUV-coupe combo is a good idea; it’s been done to death. But you might want to note that BMW has done some neat trickery with the roofline, maintaining the X4’s aggressive profile while providing a reasonable amount of back-seat headroom, though you should also consider your own dimensions. I’m 5’6” and my definition of “reasonable headroom” doesn’t necessarily match that of my six-foot colleagues. Some on our staff might debate whether a buff book like Automobile should mention the big trunk and its massive hatchback opening, but I figure it’s worth a sentence or two.

Be prepared for the occasional lemons-and-lemonade moment. In the case of the 2019 X4, BMW only had black and dark gray cars at the press preview, which is the media launch equivalent of putting a bag of poo on our doorstep and lighting it on fire. Lemons: Black is the absolute worst color for photography. Lemonade: By masking the smoked upper section of the taillights, dark colors emphasize the X4’s uncomfortable resemblance to its chief rival, the Mercedes-Benz GLC Coupe. Go ahead and mention that—some might see it as a low blow, but it serves BMW right for not giving us a broader color palette.

I always like to talk about the interior, because that’s the part of the car where the owner spends the most time. The X4 makes this easy because all BMW interiors are basically carbon copies of each other. I drove our Four Seasons BMW M550i to the airport for the press preview and darned if interior of the X4 wasn’t nearly identical to our 5 Series. The 2019 X4 has a nice bit of metal trim over the center vents, and the red-and-black color combo in the M40i Sport was very snazzy, but other than that it seems as if BMW designed the cabin with a Xerox machine. I never know quite what to say about this—do I praise BMW for consistency and ease of operation or do I castigate it for a lack of originality? Hopefully you’ll have a better take on it.

Now, no review is entirely believable if it’s all sunshine and daisies. I’m not saying you should look for things to pick on, but if you see downsides, it’s your job to report them. Me, I found the X4’s width a bit off-putting. I appreciated the extra elbow room, but considering its otherwise-tidy size, the X4 felt way too wide on some of the narrow roads we drove. If I were looking for a road hog, I’d get an X6. Aside from that, though, I didn’t find much to complain about. Don’t worry if you don’t either; a good car is a good car.

So here you are, 1500 words in, and it’s time for your wrap-up. Mention the price ($51.5K for starters, which is expensive), and perhaps a quick blurb about the competition (in this case, the Mercedes-Benz GLC, which has a bit more of an old-school-luxury interior but isn’t as entertaining to drive). End with a nice summation, perhaps saying that the 2019 BMW X4 (be sure to repeat the year/make/model in for good search engine performance) is a stylish if rather expensive alternative to mommymobile SUVs, and one that is surprisingly practical given its appearance. And that’s it—you’re done! That wasn’t so hard, was it?

2019 BMW X4 Specifications

ON SALE Summer 2018 PRICE $51,455 ENGINES 2.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-4/252 hp@ 5,200-6,500 rpm, 258 lb-ft @ 1,450-4,800 rpm; 3.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-6/360 hp @ 5,500-6,500 rpm, 396 lb-ft @ 1,520-4,800 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE 20/27 (city/hwy) L x W x H 187.5 x 75.5 x 63.8 in WHEELBASE 112.7 in WEIGHT 4,147-4,323 lb 0-60 MPH 6.0 sec (xDrive30i), 4.6 sec (M40i) TOP SPEED 130 MPH (xDrive30i), 155 MPH (M40i)

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[jesusvasser]

First Drive: 2019 BMW X4

SPARTANBURG, South Carolina — Today, we’re going to try something different: Instead of me writing this review of the new 2019 BMW X4, you’re going to do it.

Hold on, you say, I haven’t driven the 2019 X4! Probably true, since the new iteration of the X4 doesn’t go on sale until July, and I don’t recall seeing you at the press preview. But that’s why I chose a BMW for this little experiment: When it comes to product-to-product consistency, no one does a better job. If you’ve had any seat time in a late-model Bimmer, you’ll know exactly what to expect.

Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through the process. For starters, you’ll need a strong opener. A lot of reviews of a redesigned car start with comparisons to the old version; they’ll cite sales statics (200,000 sold since 2015) or tell you the new X4 is based on X3 bones and is 3.0-inches longer, 1.4-inch wider, and has a 2.1-inch longer wheelbase than the outgoing one. My advice: Don’t bother. This is a BMW and people want to know how it drives, so skip the foreplay and get right to the main event.

This puts you face to face with your first challenge: How do you describe the X4’s dynamics without veering off into cliché? Most vehicles have one overarching characteristic, and that becomes the hook on which to hang your review. The X4 reminded me of my first drive of a first-gen X6—it feels like you’re driving a sport sedan, but your eye-point seems to be about a foot higher off the ground than it ought to be. Feel free to use my idea, but if you do, I suggest mentioning that that the X4 lacks the ponderous feel of that first X6 despite weighing only 200-400 lbs less. BMW worked hard to keep the X4’s weight down and it shows.

Having not attended the press preview, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage, but I’ll give you the Cliff’s notes: BMW set us loose on the test track near the Spartanburg, SC factory where the X4 will be built, but more telling was the wet skid pad, which they had us circle with stability control shut off. We were advised to build up speed and lift off the gas quickly to get the back end loose, and then to correct it with throttle rather than steering. Booting the accelerator causes the xDrive system to direct power to the front wheels, allowing the X4 to pull itself out of the skid. It was a lot of fun, all in the name of responsible journalism, of course. Go ahead and relate this experience as if it was your own, but be sure to include some sort of don’t-try-this-at-home disclaimer. (And if you could leave out the bit about the two or three times I spun the X4, I’d appreciate that.)

This being a BMW, you’ll probably want to complain about the steering, since that seems to be the thing to do these days. BMW, like most manufacturers, lost some of its trademark steering feel when they switched from hydraulic to electric, and no one in the press seems content to let them live it down. To be fair, all of our bitching seems to be driving improvement: The 2019 X4 has a new variable-ratio setup that improves on-center response while reducing wheel-twirling when parking. It’s a good idea—General Motors started using it in the late 1960s—and worth mentioning in your review. Personally, I liked the X4’s steering, though I agree that feedback isn’t a strong point and I found it a bit lacking. I prefer Audi’s lighter steering, as I find it easier to feel the road when I’m not muscling the wheel to change direction. But that’s my opinion. Feel free to pontificate on your own.

That said, don’t get too wrapped up in the details; this is a first drive and what you need to convey is the overall feel of the car. That’s why the 2019 BMW X4 is such a good fodder for your first review, because it feels quick, stable, comfortable and confident regardless of the road surface, and that’s what BMWs do best.

Engines and performance ought to be covered in detail. BMW offers two powerplants, and seeing as you’re writing for Automobile Magazine, you should spend most of your time with the more powerful M40i. Be sure to hit the engine specs—3.0-liter turbocharged straight-six, 360 hp, 396 lb-ft of torque—but as with handling, it’s important to describe the feel of the engine. You can cite the BMW’s claimed 4.3-second 0-60 mph run, but you need to talk about how that power is delivered, with a brief turbo-lag pause before the X4 picks up her skirts and dashes for the horizon. You’ll also want to mention the instant mid-range punch, which is the real magic of a turbo-six that does the work of an eight.

I’d suggest talking about the soundtrack, too. With the 2019 X4 M40i in Comfort mode, you get a lovely straight-six wail under power that settles down to silence as the standard-fit eight-speed automatic shifts up into the higher gears. (See what I did there? I forgot to mention the tranny specs above, so I snuck it into the text. Call it a trick of the trade.) In Sport mode, the transmission keeps the revs up and the exhaust makes a lovely “POOM” noise as the transmission upshifts. Sport mode also yields some crackling and popping on the overrun, though it’s so muted that I initially thought I was hearing rocks hitting the undercarriage. I liked the soundtrack so much that I drove in Sport mode just for the noise.

Don’t ignore the four-cylinder model, though, as that’ll be the volume seller. A single short paragraph that hits the key points will suffice: Mention the numbers (252 hp, 258 lb-ft of torque, 0-60 mph in 6.0 seconds), that power delivery is smooth and strong, and that the engine note, while refined for a four-cylinder, doesn’t sound as nice as the six. That said, don’t get so wrapped up in facts that you leave out your opinions. If, like me, you think that the sound of the six is worth an extra ten grand, go ahead and say so. Remember, your readers can get facts from the brochure. They want analysis from you.

Naturally, you’re going to want to talk about the styling. Forget about the debate on whether an SUV-coupe combo is a good idea; it’s been done to death. But you might want to note that BMW has done some neat trickery with the roofline, maintaining the X4’s aggressive profile while providing a reasonable amount of back-seat headroom, though you should also consider your own dimensions. I’m 5’6” and my definition of “reasonable headroom” doesn’t necessarily match that of my six-foot colleagues. Some on our staff might debate whether a buff book like Automobile should mention the big trunk and its massive hatchback opening, but I figure it’s worth a sentence or two.

Be prepared for the occasional lemons-and-lemonade moment. In the case of the 2019 X4, BMW only had black and dark gray cars at the press preview, which is the media launch equivalent of putting a bag of poo on our doorstep and lighting it on fire. Lemons: Black is the absolute worst color for photography. Lemonade: By masking the smoked upper section of the taillights, dark colors emphasize the X4’s uncomfortable resemblance to its chief rival, the Mercedes-Benz GLC Coupe. Go ahead and mention that—some might see it as a low blow, but it serves BMW right for not giving us a broader color palette.

I always like to talk about the interior, because that’s the part of the car where the owner spends the most time. The X4 makes this easy because all BMW interiors are basically carbon copies of each other. I drove our Four Seasons BMW M550i to the airport for the press preview and darned if interior of the X4 wasn’t nearly identical to our 5 Series. The 2019 X4 has a nice bit of metal trim over the center vents, and the red-and-black color combo in the M40i Sport was very snazzy, but other than that it seems as if BMW designed the cabin with a Xerox machine. I never know quite what to say about this—do I praise BMW for consistency and ease of operation or do I castigate it for a lack of originality? Hopefully you’ll have a better take on it.

Now, no review is entirely believable if it’s all sunshine and daisies. I’m not saying you should look for things to pick on, but if you see downsides, it’s your job to report them. Me, I found the X4’s width a bit off-putting. I appreciated the extra elbow room, but considering its otherwise-tidy size, the X4 felt way too wide on some of the narrow roads we drove. If I were looking for a road hog, I’d get an X6. Aside from that, though, I didn’t find much to complain about. Don’t worry if you don’t either; a good car is a good car.

So here you are, 1500 words in, and it’s time for your wrap-up. Mention the price ($51.5K for starters, which is expensive), and perhaps a quick blurb about the competition (in this case, the Mercedes-Benz GLC, which has a bit more of an old-school-luxury interior but isn’t as entertaining to drive). End with a nice summation, perhaps saying that the 2019 BMW X4 (be sure to repeat the year/make/model in for good search engine performance) is a stylish if rather expensive alternative to mommymobile SUVs, and one that is surprisingly practical given its appearance. And that’s it—you’re done! That wasn’t so hard, was it?

2019 BMW X4 Specifications

ON SALE Summer 2018 PRICE $51,455 ENGINES 2.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-4/252 hp@ 5,200-6,500 rpm, 258 lb-ft @ 1,450-4,800 rpm; 3.0 liter 24-valve DOHC I-6/360 hp @ 5,500-6,500 rpm, 396 lb-ft @ 1,520-4,800 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE 20/27 (city/hwy) L x W x H 187.5 x 75.5 x 63.8 in WHEELBASE 112.7 in WEIGHT 4,147-4,323 lb 0-60 MPH 6.0 sec (xDrive30i), 4.6 sec (M40i) TOP SPEED 130 MPH (xDrive30i), 155 MPH (M40i)

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