#rusty the the track and siding inspection vehicle

[brendambois]

In my headcannon engines can drink and eat, so I like to think that on the Skarlowey in the morning rusty is given a nice warm decaf mocha to start his engine easier, and on days when he has to get up early for track maintenence (done through November to early December), he is given a slightly piping hot caffinated mocha custom made from the Refreshment Lady (Peter Sam is very proud of her and he boasts about her accomplishment everytime Rusty is seen wide awake working on track maintenence on any cold day) wake up Rusty and get his systems warmed up for the day.

The gallant old twins also became addicted to energy drinks

[memynissanandi]

Look For These Things When Buying A Used Car

So you’re in the market for an affordable car. Congratulations. Whether trading up or acquiring your first car, car shopping is one of life’s biggest milestones. After all, a car is likely the second-most-expensive thing you’ll buy in your life next to real estate. Whether you’re a veteran or shopping in the market for the first time, here are some tips on what to look for when buying a used car, presented as a handy used car checklist.

VIN Lookup

Before you even think about signing on the dotted line, it’s a good idea to get a trusted vehicle history report based on your prospective next car’s Vehicle Identification Number, or VIN for short. A VIN-look-up report could inform you of any reported accidents a car was in, whether it was previously stolen or totalled out, ownership history, mileage and even a history of previous listings so you can track the value of an exact vehicle over time. For savvy shoppers, a report like this is an absolute must-have and it can help tell you whether or not to avoid a vehicle before you spend the time and money pursuing its purchase.

Vehicle Walk-Around

When you need to know what to look for when buying a used car, start by doing a walk-around of the vehicle. Do you notice any dents, scuffs or scratches? Are the headlights clouded over? Are any of the lamps cracked? Look for slight differences in the colour of body panels that may indicate bodywork, curb rash on the wheels, pitting in the windshield and fading of plastic trim. What brand are the wiper blades? Good wiper blades typically indicate good maintenance, as do high-quality tyre brands. How old are the tyres? Each tyre has a four-number DOT date code stamped on the sidewall. If the tyres were made five or more years ago, it’s likely time to toss them. Check the tyres for unusual wear patterns, too. If the tread blocks feel uneven when you run your hand along them, it could be a sign of poor alignment or worn suspension components.

Look for Rust

Rust is the biggest killer of vehicles in northern climates, so have a good look underneath for corrosion. Remember, just because a car is being sold in a southern climate doesn’t mean that it’s always lived in a southern climate. Check along the sills, check the dog legs where the floor meets the rear wheel arches, and feel under the wheel arches. Crawl underneath and check the radiator support, the subframes and the pinch welds. Structural corrosion costs major money to set right, so avoiding a rusty car can save you thousands down the road. Another area of corrosion that may cause trouble is underbody spare tyre carriers. Time and time again, people get flat tyres, go to lower their underbody-mounted spare tyres and find the whole assembly seized. A bit dangerous when you’re on the side of the road. While it’s easy to keep these tyre carriers operable with regular lubrication, the likelihood of having received periodic lubrication goes down with age.

Interior Inspection

Next up on our list of what to look for when buying a used car is an interior inspection. Depending on what wear you see, you could learn a lot about the vehicle. Wedding ring scuffs on the steering wheel, discoloured upholstery from years of denim, scuffs on the door panels from boots and an indent on the armrest from the driver’s elbow are fairly normal as the age of the car. Likewise, scuffs on the backs of the front seats and strange lines in the rear seat squab indicate frequent transport of young children while torn upholstery and large stains on the seat backs could indicate the transport of dogs. Take a good look at the pedals, does the wear on their rubber pads seem to match the indicated mileage? Smooth pedals and low mileage at best indicate lots of city mileage and at worst may be a sign of odometer fraud. While you’re on the inside, press every single button you can find. You’d be genuinely surprised at the cost of something as simple as a new factory-spec speaker so ensure all electrical items are working as intended. Also, lift up the trunk carpet and check to see if the jack, tyre iron and spare tyre are in fact still there.

Check Service History

Another point worth considering when learning what to look for when buying a used car is a vehicle’s service history. As cars age, things wear out and issues may arise. Proof of regular maintenance and replacement of common wear items is a good sign that a vehicle was cared for properly by its previous owner. Moreover, where the vehicle was serviced can tell you a lot about its quality of care. Was it kept by a dealer, a specialist or just a quick lube shop? Also, if the vehicle you’re looking to buy is still under warranty, proof of maintenance is crucial for approval of any warranty claims.

Accident History

No used car checklist is worth it's salt without discussing a vehicle’s accident history. Accident history is often a point of contention when buying a used car. Cars with clean accident histories often command the highest prices and retain the most value.  However, those with an eye for bargains and an intent on keeping their purchase for the long run may find past damage to be an excellent bargaining tool. On newer cars, a few thousand dollars of damage to the front end may cover as little as a bumper cover and a headlamp. For instance, a single LED headlamp for a 2017 BMW 3-Series retails for around R30,000 excluding the pricey LED headlamp driver module. Add in a few hundred for the bumper cover and clips and a cool thousand dollars for paint and fitting, and you have an R60,000 repair bill for plastic non-structural parts. However, any hit to the rear can be risky as it can impact major structural components. The bottom line? Always use a VIN lookup tool before deciding on whether a car with an accident history is right for you.

Warranty Coverage

Another item worth checking out on your used car checklist is warranty coverage. Warranty coverage starts when a vehicle enters service, which can have huge ramifications depending on the vehicle you’re looking at. If the car you’re looking at is the first year of a particular model, one example may still have up to a year of remaining warranty while another may not have any coverage at all. Likewise, if the car you’re looking at was originally purchased as a leftover model, it may have a few months of extra warranty compared to other examples. If you’re buying from a dealer and looking at purchasing an aftermarket warranty, keep in mind that they aren’t all created equal. Some only cover basic powertrain components, some come with servicing clauses and many come with deductibles. Alternatively, Certified Pre-Owned (CPO) cars are typically equipped with a different sort of warranty, usually an extension of the factory warranty that depends on the vehicle’s in-service date.

Test Drive

When it comes to figuring out what to look for when buying a used car, you can learn an awful lot with a test drive. You wouldn’t buy a new mattress without trying it first, so why buy a car without taking it for a test drive? Ideally, you should fire up the engine from cold to check for smoke from the exhaust. Blue smoke could indicate worn piston rings or valve guides. Excessive white smoke and a sweet smell usually indicate a bad head gasket. Check the handbrake by applying it and attempting to gently pull away. If the car you’re looking at is manual, it should try to stall. If the car you’re looking at is automatic, it shouldn’t move when you let off the foot brake. Then, disengage the handbrake and take it for a drive. Listen for knocking in the suspension over bumps, feel for vibration at speed and under braking, make sure the steering tracks dead-ahead, and note whether the transmission shifts smoothly if the clutch grabs nicely and if the engine pulls sweetly.

Have Someone Else Look at the Car

Perhaps most importantly, have a second set of eyes on any car you’re looking to buy. Although a professional mechanic is preferable, even a highly-experienced friend can spot dents, blemishes and faults that you may miss. Buying a car is often somewhat irrational and distorted by euphoria. After all, if we were all buying cars on pure rationality, we’d all probably drive used Toyota Prius hybrids. Your second set of eyes should ideally bring some additional tips for buying a used car to the table and be able to follow your used car checklist. If all goes well, you’ll land a great set of wheels that you can love and cherish for years to come.

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Info sourced from https://www.autoguide.com/

[simscatalog]

How Do You Repair A Fishing Reel That Isn't Locking Five Easy Steps

Are you worried that your spinning device isn't locking correctly? Then you must be worried! This is a common problem that many anglers experience and is usually caused by cheap reels. This is a rare issue for reels that are of top quality. However, professionals know exactly how to fix a fishing reel that won't lock. It can be a bit stressful for beginners.

Don't worry; I'm here to help with this. This guide will help identify the causes and provide solutions. We hope you find it helpful.

What are the possible causes and how do I repair a fishing reel?

If a reel for fishing doesn't lock all the time, it's due to a broken spool or bail, or it could be due to the anti-reverse system of the reel or the drag system. These are the three most frequently occurring reasons the reason why a reel won't lock anymore.

How to Fix a Broken Spool or Bail Wire?

One of the main reason why a reel doesn't lock is the faulty bail wire or broken spool. The spool may be damaged, rusted or bent. Other components inside, such as faulty springs also can cause the problem. But, let's take a look at fishersline.com/how-to-fix-a-fishing-reel-that-wont-lock/ site for the best way to repair a damaged bail wire or broken spool easily.

Things you'll need

Small screwdriver.

Pliers.

Our Favorite Combination

There could be a need for parts replacement in the event that you discover something in a bad way. It could be the spool, spring or bail wire, whatever. It doesn't matter if need to purchase any part prior to purchase. First, you can inspect the interior of the vehicle to assess the condition of the vehicle. If you discover anything that is defective then you must purchase it.

Unscrew the Screw

The first thing you would be doing is uncreasing the bail wire screws in order to take the bait wire off. Then remove the screws off the side of the arm pivoting.

The screw location can be different across different reels. I'm hoping you can determine exactly where the screws are, and what they hold.

If your reel is new, then the screws would be intact and untouched. If the screws start to wear or damaged Replace them with new ones.

Take out the Bait Wire

The bail wire should be simple to remove once you have removed all the screws. After removing the bail wire, look for any damage signs. Have the bail wires become bent, bent or twisted?

If yes, then you need to replace it before the next time you use it. If you No, then move on to the next issue that could be causing it.

Inspect the line roller

Remove all screws that hold the line roller. Review the line roller to see if it is damaged. If not, search for indications that it may be defective. If you see it broken or damaged in any way, then replace it.

Have a look at the spring

If you are not able to find any defects in the bail arm, or the line roller it's important to check at the spring. It is also accountable for the reel not locking. From the pivoting bail the arm side removes the spring and inspect it that is bent, corroded, bent and rusty. or otherwise damaged.

Damage spring won't let the reel function properly So replace it with a high-quality spring immediately.

Reassemble the reel

After you've replaced all components, it's now time to assemble your reel. A lot of beginners do not know what to put after what. It is normal to lose track of. If you do forget something, it's recommended to keep a record of the entire process so that you can easily rebuild the reel in case of need.

You must make sure that you tighten all screws.

Conclusion

Problem solved? But not yet? That's a shame! Perhaps it's the drag system that requires attention. Learn how to fix a drag-system by visiting here.

[sugasweetsubs]

You Never Walk Alone [BTS Apocalypse AU]

Members | Taehyung & Jungkook

Words | 1.2 K

Warnings | violence, language

Summary | Taehyung doesn’t mean to be a hero, but sometimes the approaching end of the human race doesn’t leave you much of a choice.

Disclaimer: This is the DRAFT EDITION of this story. It has been sitting in my drafts for almost two years, it isn’t finished and I don’t know if it ever will be, but I wanted to share. It is mostly unedited. Feedback is welcome!

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | ?

Part One: The End of the World

Time before cure: 5 Weeks 4 Days

Taehyung doesn't mean to be a hero.

But when you see a guy sprinting through the streets being chased by a group of infected, what else can you do except lend him a hand?

"Dammit." Taehyung mutters under his breath when he catches sight of the man. This is the first human Taehyung has seen in weeks and the poor guy might die before he can reach him.

Taehyung drops the rusty can he had been inspecting and stashes his duffel bag in one of the kitchen cabinets, the squeak of the rusty hinges makes him cringe. He double checks the ammo in his pistol and slings the shotgun over his shoulder before exiting the abandoned home. He takes off in the direction of the man and the infected.

It isn't hard to track them down. The man is yelling expletives over his shoulder and zombies make plenty of noise on their own. Taehyung sprints after the sounds, taking side roads and shortcuts in an attempt to get ahead of them so he can pick off a few of the infected before they get too close. The plan works surprisingly well. He manages to kill three of the six before he has to run again--this time keeping pace with the stranger.

"Hey!" Taehyung greets, shooting a wild smile toward the bewildered man beside him. "Name's Taehyung. You know how to work a shotgun?"

"Of course." The man shouts back, twisting to glance at the zombies hot on their heels.

"Perfect!" Taehyung slips the shotgun off his shoulder and tosses it to the stranger, who catches it with ease, a look of relief crossing his face.

"Take a left up ahead." Taehyung says, pointing. "It's a sharp turn. Should buy us some time to shoot."

As soon as they round the corner the two men skid to a stop and raise their guns. The man wasn't lying about knowing how to use a shotgun, by the time Taehyung has shot down one of the zombies the man has already taken care of the other two.

They pause to listen for a moment after the last zombie hits the ground. Nothing but the huffs of their labored breathing fills the air around them and they both sag in relief after a moment.

"Holy shit, that was close." The stranger says, returning the shotgun to Taehyung. "Thanks man, you really saved my ass."

"No problem." Taehyung returns the shotgun to his back. "Mind telling me your name and explaining what you're doing on the Outskirts with no gun?" He looks the man up and down, taking in his appearance. There are a few smudges of blood and dirt across the man's clothing and face, but most people Taehyung comes across out here barely have threads to their name and haven't seen a bath in months. "You don't look like you're a scavenger. Did you wander a little too far from your settlement or something?" This last sentence has the young man looking down at his shoes, a far away look in his eyes.

"Or something." His tone indicates that the topic of where he came from won't be going any further. He blinks a few times and when his eyes meet Taehyung's again they are wide and clear once more. "My name is Jungkook." He lifts his hand toward Taehyung and they shake in official greeting. "My gun jammed a few blocks back. I ditched it so I could run faster, same with my bag."

"I see." Taehyung shakes his head, a half smile pulling at his lips. "Well, Jungkook, I guess you're lucky you're so damn loud. I heard you yelling from across town."

Jungkook laughs and scratches at the back of his neck, "Yeah, I really can't thank you enough." There is a pause as Jungkook studies Taehyung's face and appearance. He must find what he is looking for because he looks determined when he says, "It's Taehyung, right?" Taehyung nods. "How would you feel about partnering up?"

Taehyung's mouth opens slightly, "what?"

"I'm trying to get somewhere important. You seem like you know how to handle yourself and it would be nice to have someone else come along." Jungkook shrugs, like this simple reasoning should be enough.

Taehyung raises a brow, "We've known each other for like five minutes and now you want me to follow you to some mysterious place?" Jungkook maintains eye contact and nods. Taehyung gives a soft sigh before turning to scan their surroundings. It's all clear from what he can see, but that doesn't mean much. He shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to stand out in the open for too long. "Look, why don't we just help each other grab our shit for now? Then you can tell me more about this 'important place' and I'll think about it."

Jungkook's eyes are bright as he nods enthusiastically. "Sounds like a plan!"

It doesn't take them long to retrace their steps and find Jungkook's abandoned gun and backpack. It takes longer to retrieve Taehyung's bag because he makes them stop to gather supplies from the nearby houses before he takes Jungkook to where his truck is parked in the woods.

Jungkook whistles as the vehicle comes into view. "Whoa, nice ride."

"Thanks, I used to know a car guy." Taehyung opens a door and tosses his loaded duffel onto the back seat, Jungkook doesn't comment on the 'used to' in that sentence. "You got a car?"

"Not anymore." Jungkook says with a frown. "It broke down a few towns back."

Now Taehyung is the one giving a low whistle, "So you've been on foot? That's rough man, glad you made it." Taehyung pulls two cans of food and a knife out of a box on the back seat before walking around to hop up on the bed of the truck. He raises a hand without turning and waves Jungkook over.

When they are both settled--sitting across from each other with a crate between them acting as a makeshift table--Taehyung stabs his knife into the lid of the first can and carefully cuts the top off. The label had worn away, but opening it reveals it to be chicken noodle soup. Jungkook's eyes light up when Taehyung passes the can his way. Taehyung takes the second can for himself, some sort of meat and bean combo that tastes a million times better than it smells.

"So, about this important place you mentioned." Taehyung says around a mouthful. Jungkook pauses to listen; the soup can in his hand is half tilted toward his mouth. "Tell me more."

Jungkook sits up straighter and pins Taehyung with a serious look. "You heard of Site Alpha?"

"The compound that's supposedly almost done with the cure to this shit?" Taehyung snorts and scoops out another bite from his mystery can. "It's a nice dream, but nothing more than that."

Jungkook has abandons his can to grin at Taehyung, his eyes glitter with the promise of information waiting to be spilled. "And what if I told you it was very real and we could be there by the end of the month?"

masterlist

[simmyseo]

GARAGE DOORS INSTALLATION IN DUBAI HILLS

Why do you need to repair your garage doors?

Chances are your garage door is in need of maintenance or repair, whether you know it or not. Think about it-it's probably one of your home's most overlooked places. You call a specialist when something goes wrong with the air conditioner. You call someone to instal it when you need a new alarm system setup.

Your door in the garage needs the same kind of maintenance. It is also recommended that you ensure that your garage door is in top working condition so that the parts, intruders and other unwanted animals can be kept away from your vehicle and storage room.

We as Garage Door Works in Sidra Villas have reasons why your garage should be maintained by constantly testing it for problems. You could put yourself and your belongings at risk if you don't do this.

Often your maintenance and to-do list can seem never-ending when you own a house. From keeping your garden on top and keeping clean the inside of your house, to constantly checking your roof and making sure your home is safe and sound, there are probably a whole lot of things that need to be done regularly. Very few people think of their garage door when it comes to home maintenance but garage doors often need daily maintenance and care.

Although your garage door is a solid and durable piece of equipment like everything else, over time it will experience damage and general wear and tear. You 're probably using your garage door every day, and it's an external obstacle to your house. It is therefore important that it is properly maintained and cared for to ensure it remains in top condition-particularly if it protects anything as valuable as your car.

With winter on its way, there is no better time to conduct some maintenance of the garage doors. The cold weather will weaken your garage door and take its toll, so make sure your door is in proper shape before the cold weather sets in.

Will your garage door need any work done? To take care of it in a flash, Garage Doors Installation in Dubai Hills team of experts will come to you.

The gaps between your garage door

As time goes on, due to warping caused by water and other elements, your garage door can develop gaps. You increase the chance of allowing rats, critters and probably intruders who find it easy to slip under the garage door if you do not keep these areas sealed.

Convenience

Let's face it, your parking garage is incredibly convenient with Garage Door Works in Maple Villas. By entering and exiting your home and car through your garage, you escape from the ultra hot, cold, and even rain and snow.

Due to a lack of maintenance, if your garage door is broken, it might just make your next return trip from the grocery store a problem during the winter. Only two of the big drawbacks are to be trapped in the cold elements unable to enter your warm home and safely put your car away. Call the expert residential garage door opener and avail their services for a peace of mind.

Avoid unwanted repairs

Annual maintenance of the garage helps to reduce extra costs throughout the year and guarantees that the garage door remains in great working condition throughout the year. In order to avoid garage door failures down the road, basic preventive maintenance, such as lubricating moving components, will go a long way.

Reduce the annual costs

Annual maintenance of the garage helps to reduce extra costs throughout the year and guarantees that the garage door remains in great working condition throughout the year. In order to avoid garage door failures down the road, basic preventive maintenance, such as lubricating moving components, will go a long way with Garage Door Works in Jumeirah Park.

Safety

If your garage door is defective or not working properly, this may be a threat to you and your neighbours. Every year thousands of people are injured in incidents related to garage doors-and many of these injuries can be prevented if adequate preventive maintenance and repairs are performed. If a garage door malfunctions, it may close on an extremely unsafe person or vehicle and cause damage and injury. Your garage door is heavy and strong and if it does not work properly it will put you at great risk.

Convenience

It's likely that the most used entry and exit to your home is your garage door. It can be far from easy if your garage door is malfunctioning or not working properly. In reality, you could even get stuck on either side of your garage door. If you're leading a busy lifestyle, the last thing you need is a defective garage door that will keep you waiting any time you need to use it-particularly when you're using it a lot.

It is important to carry out the necessary maintenance and to ensure that your garage door is always in good shape so that it still operates smoothly and efficiently.

Lifespan

Your garage door is an investment, so caring for it properly is important. Improper maintenance or negligence will shorten your garage door's service life. For example, unaligned tracks, lack of lubrication, defective safety sensors and loose volts will prevent your door from functioning properly and causing long-term damage to your door, shortening its lifetime and ensuring it will need to be replaced earlier than a properly maintained door.

Inspection of sensors

The sensors are among the most critical elements of your garage door and if they aren't functioning properly, your door will definitely not open. If your garage door is opening and closing in an erratic manner, your sensors may need to be cleaned or realigned. You must give a call to the industrial garage door opener We also recommend removing clutter from the sensors around them. The sensors can prevent the door from closing if an object is in the path of the door.

Work out the rust

There are also cables and springs on your garage door. If any of these components are defective or rusty due to a lack of annual maintenance, they can eventually malfunction. Taking action now will save you a lot of time and cash on potential repairs, as garage door problems can also cascade and impact other components if left unaddressed.

Conclusion

Book your residential garage door opener to keep your door in a perfect working condition to enjoy a peace of mind.

[garagedoornearmeinc]

How to fix a garage door cable (20 easy steps)?

For all those out there who have a garage to maintain must be familiar with the importance of the door of the garage. It is a great deal of hassle if the door does not open and close well in time. You can face the following problems if the door stops working at its best: The inconvenience you will face as a result of the issue is one of the least consequences If the garage door has broken loose and is just hanging around, you may have an accident too In case, there is a delay in the opening of the garage door while you are going to park in your car, you may bump into it thinking that it will open well in time as usual.

Cause of the malfunction of Garage door:

Well! The door basically works well only if its cable is tightened and placed in the right prescribed manner according to the manufacturer's instruction manual. However, if the door of your garage is not working, it does not mean that you have to rush to the technician or have to call for help in any case. Yes! You can even fix the garage door cable yourself. Now if you are wondering how to do it, here are some techniques to do it, but before we go further to the actual steps of fixing the thing, let us have a look at how does the cable work.

The function of the garage door cable:

The cable works at its best to make life easier for you so that you can park in your car safely and you do not have to worry about your vehicle being stolen or damaged. Here is how it works: The cable works as a safety measure inside the machinery of the garage door. The cable passes through the torsion springs It carried the weight of the door at each opening and closing. If you have placed the cable right in its place during the process of installation of the garage door, it will not harm you even if it breaks loose. However, if there is a difference in alignment of the cable and the garage door, then it will surely a cause of an accident in the event of its breakage.

How to fix the cable?

Once you decide to fix the garage door cable yourself, you need to first jot down the tools and the equipment you should have within your arm's length so that you can reach out to them if and when required. So, here is a small list of tools you might need along the process: Stepladder Vise-grip Screwdriver Gloves Helmet Wire cutters Pliers Once you have collected all the necessary items as a prep for the process. Now, you can follow these simple steps to fix the issue in the cable of your garage door yourself without calling for help: First of all, if your garage door is automatic, you need to switch off the power supply to avoid electric shocks while you have started working on the door. Now, make sure that the door is opened all the way. You can do it with the help of the clamps installed on the track so that the door remains in the open position and you can work without worrying about anything. Stand on the stepladder to ensure that the door reached the top of its height. You should not take any risk about this particular step of fixing and replacing the garage door cable. Before you decide to remove the cable already broken but still in there, you have to remove the tension in the torsion springs of the garage door with the help of the plier. In fact, these are the springs that are responsible for the smooth working of the door and they are installed with the required tension. Do not try to remove the cable without removing the springs as it may expose you to the most dangerous accidents. You can use the vise-grip clamp so that you can firmly grip the shaft and you can easily rotate the shaft to loosen the cable. Be very careful about rotating the shaft more than just necessary, otherwise, again you will have your garage door opening and closing way faster than essential. Once you are done with the release of the tension of the springs of the cable, now you can proceed further by detaching the old cable at the base of the garage door. You can use the wire-cutter her so that you do not hurt your hands while detaching the cable. Go on slowly at this point of time, so that you can remove it completely from the drum. If you have a standard 7-feet door, you will have to have a replaced cable of length 8 feet and 6 inches. So, now you have to replace the new cable so, that you can have your garage door in working order once again. You will see a tip or a clamp on one side of the cable. This end goes around the drum and you have to fix the tip firmly inside the drum. You should observe a loop on the other side of the cable, this end will go to attach with the door. Tightly wrap the tipped end around the drum according to the instructions given in the manufacturer's manual. This will help you to keep the cable tight to the extent as prescribed. If you wrap it tighter than necessary, it will also make the door malfunction. You can keep your one hand as you wind up the cable around the cable to ensure you are doing it right. Check the right length of the cable until you can reach for the other end of the cable. Now pin up the other end to the base of the garage door. Then you can use your vise-grip once again just to turn the shaft so that the cable is tightened to the required level. Once you have done this much, now you need to check again the drum. Yes! It may happen that while you were attaching the other end to the bottom of the door, the cable might have gotten off the drum. If the cable is still wrapped there firmly, you can now try to close the door by removing the clamps which were holding the garage door open. Do not let it fall down fast, do it slowly so that you can see if the cable can perfectly carry the weight of the door and if the door is working properly on its own.

Maintaining the Garage Door:

However, it is recommended that you take proper maintenance of your garage door so that the cable does not get damaged or broken in the first place. Here are some things which you can do at a periodic basis to avoid the troubles when it comes to the malfunction of the garage door.

Inspect the springs:

You can replace the springs of the cable off and on. For this, you need to keep an eye if the springs are getting rusty now and then. You need to replace them before they get completely rusted and cause any damage to the functioning of the garage door. In case, you think that you cannot handle the situation, you can call for assistance also, from some experts dealing with such issues.

Check the safety eyes:

Similarly, you can check the clarity of the safety eyes. Sometimes, they get dirty and even a layer of dirt may get settled on them, which might be one of the reasons for the malfunction of the cable and ultimately, the garage door might stop working as usual.

Door Safety limits:

There is always a safety limit in the garage doors, you have to check if the safety limits are working in their place. The function of the safety limit is to stop the door from opening and closing more than the prescribed limits. So, if there is an issue with the safety limits, it will come down to the tension in the cable springs and it will, in turn, hinder the working of the garage door. Now, with all these steps, you can avoid the malfunctioning of your garage door in the first place, and in case, you still have some problem with the timing of closing and opening of the garage door, you can surely check the cable of the door. You can even replace or fix the cable if it is damaged or broken by following these steps. After doing everything, if the door is still not working, you can simply call for help, no matter, which part of California, you are located, you can contact us in Brea, CA and Orange, CA in addition to many other locations within the city. Our experts will serve you to the best of your satisfaction in no time. Read the full article

[eyes-of-a-disney-princess]

It’s About Damn Time

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and Reader are working a vampire case. When Dean decides to go in alone, things go a little differently than planned.

Word Count: 5204

Warnings: Swearing. Because I’m a fucking lady. Vampire gore and killing. Being tied up. Smut. Again, lady. Fingering. P in V sex. 

A/N: This is for @luci-in-trenchcoats 2k Follower Challange. My prompt was “Wanna try that again like you mean it?”, which is bolded in the fic. Beta’d by the ever lovely @wheresthekillswitch. Thanks for helping me make what I had even better! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

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“Dammit, Dean, answer your phone.” You’re starting to get worried now.

This is the fourth time you’ve called him, and when his voice comes over the line telling you to leave a message, it’s the fourth time you’ve had to swallow down the fear so it doesn’t come through in your voice. “You were supposed to just watch him, Winchester. If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again, so help me God, you’re going to pay.”

You end the call, tapping your phone against your palm as you try to think. You suck a breath in through your nose, hold it for 5 seconds, then release it. You need to clear your head, figure out your next step. He’s got the Impala, of course, so if you plan on finding the him you’re going to have to borrow a car for a bit. You grab your leather jacket off the chair back, swinging it over your shoulders, shoving your hands through the sleeves as you grab your room key and head for the door. You check your phone one more time before sliding it into your pocket, shutting the door behind you as you scan the parking lot of the motel, eyes squinted to the bright mid-day sun.

There aren’t many cars parked in the poorly paved lot, and the ones that are there aren’t ones you want to trouble yourself with. You jog over to the diner across the street, eyes hopping from one car to the next until you spot a nondescript compact sitting in the back row. Yahtzee.

It’s old enough you shouldn’t have to worry about a security system but still looks like it should get you where you’re going without worrying that it’s going to break down. You walk to the car with purpose, looking for all the world like you own it. You slow as you near, hand automatically reaching out to try the handle. It always amazes you how many people just leave their vehicles unlocked in these small towns. You curl your fingers under the handle and give a tug, and sure enough, the door opens right up. With a smirk, you slide in to hotwire it and get your ass moving.

****

You pull up behind the Impala and throw your newly acquired wheels in park. You feel a little better having found the car but you can see that Dean’s not sitting in her watching the abandoned house down the street like he said he was going to be. You spit out a few choice words as you get out of the car, already planning the verbal lashing you’re going to give Dean. You walk over to Baby, pulling your lock picking kit from your pocket. You’d left your machete in the trunk since you and Dean were going to figure out a plan of attack and go in together after he completed his tail on the vamp errand boy. You swear some more as you set to work, you feel the lock release and the trunk pops open. You grab your machete and go to close the trunk, then think better of it. If Dean’s not answering his phone, he’s either in heated battle or he’s not able to answer for other reasons, which means an extra weapon may not be a bad idea. You snag another machete, attaching the sheath to your belt and tying the bottom strap snug around your thigh. You pick your own weapon back up and ease the trunk closed.

You glance around the deserted street, checking for any other signs of life, then head off towards the house at a quick clip. You reach the rundown two-story, your eyes taking in the boarded up front door, the windows all covered with planks pulled from what looks like old pallets. According to your digging, there were only supposed to be 5 or 6 vampires in the nest and you hope your research was accurate, for Dean’s sake. You don’t doubt he could clear the place on his own, especially during the day, but sometimes shit happens and good hunters lose their upper hand.

The only thing keeping you from panicking to the point of throwing up is the fact that Dean is the best goddamn hunter you know, aside from Sam and yourself. And yes, you’d absolutely worry this much if it was Sam that had gone incommunicado during a hunt. Your crush on Dean does not make you worry more. It doesn’t. It can’t. Not right now. Because that’s one of those shit things that could make you lose your own upper hand.

You walk around the house, steps light, eyes tracking over every inch of everything, ears tuned for the sounds of a hunter in distress. You reach the back of the house, the porch all rotted wood and missing boards, which explains where they got the material to barricade the front door, and when you glance up, you see the back door received the same treatment. How the hell did Dean get in the house? You creep around to the other side of the house and see a rickety old metal staircase leading up to the second story. You back up until you see that that door is, in fact, not boarded up like the others. Just your fucking luck.

You heave a sigh as you walk towards the staircase with dread in your belly; you hate heights, with a fucking passion. You wrap your hand around the steel rail as your start your way up, knowing full well it’ll do nothing other than give you a false sense of security, and just not caring. You pull your hand back with a hiss when you slide it up the rail with your ascent and feel metal embed itself in your palm. Fantastic, looks like you’ll be needing yet another tetanus booster. You yank your hand back, blood pooling in your palm around the gash. You squint your eyes as you inspect the rail; your fresh blood is painted on a sharp chunk of rail that’s sticking out and trickling down with gravity. Beneath your blood you see the metallic glint of blood that’s just recently dried. Well, shit. If Dean did the same thing you just did, that means he walked into a vamp nest smelling like freshly prepared dinner.

You yank your bandana out of your jacket pocket, stored there just for this purpose because it happens way too fucking often in this line of work. You wrap it around your hand a couple times, using your teeth to pull the knot on the back of your hand tight. You say a quick prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening that it was your left hand that you harpooned on rusty metal and not your machete-yielding-vamp-killing hand. But now you too get to walk into this smelling like someone’s favorite meal. That’s just fan-fucking-tastic.

You continue to climb the stairs, biting your bottom lip so as to not squeal in horror when the whole thing dips and sways with your weight. You have to work to even your breathing, rolling your shoulders to work out the tensed muscles as you go. You decide to not hesitate at the landing too long, you don’t want to risk the whole damn thing giving out under your feet. As your hurt hand awkwardly turns the doorknob, you tighten your good hand around your machete, readying yourself to come in swinging. The door is surprisingly heavy, good solid wood, and you have to put your shoulder to it and push. You cringe as it opens on rusty hinges, the loud noise seeming to reverberate in the small room it enters into.

You don’t even bother closing the door behind you, no need to repeat the welcoming alert to whoever didn’t hear it the first time. You sneak through the small room, tiptoeing to the door to peek around the corner down the hallway. There’s a decapitated body lying on the floor, a puddle of tacky looking blood under the neck telling you it’s been there for at least two hours, which means Dean did very little watching and a whole lot of being a gung-ho jackass who can’t wait like previously discussed and agreed upon.

You head towards the stairs, fighting back the laugh in your throat when you see another decapitated body lying halfway down them with the severed head staked on the bottom spindle. Dean and his damn dramatics. Probably had some lame ass joke he was dying to have someone else around to laugh at, too. As you descend the stairs, back to the wall, you can see as you get closer to the the head that it is, or rather was, the errand boy the vampires were using to attract their victims. You wish you’d been there to see it, maybe even throw in a few hits yourself before the final blow. That dick helped this vamp nest kill more innocent people than ever should’ve happened. At least that’s one less thing to worry about.

You make your way from room to room, finding a couple more bodies scattered throughout the darkened first floor. You count 5 bodies, including the errand-douche-boy. Which means there should only be a couple vamps left. Hopefully. And you hope beyond all hope that they haven’t made a snack out of the admittedly delicious looking older Winchester. You stop for a second, listening for any creaks or groans in the old house to guide you where to go next. There’s got to be a basement, right? Which are typically a lot darker than the upper levels, so you think it’s a safe bet that there’d be a vamp or two hidden down there.

You search out doors, opening them slowly, gently, cringing when they too squeak on their hinges. Freakin’ old houses and their rusty ass doors. It never fucking fails. You’re seriously contemplating the need to start carrying some WD-40 with you. You open up a door to the fourth closet you’ve found and turn away, throwing your hands up in frustration. Who knew there’d be so many damn closets in this place? You decide to search out the kitchen, peeking through doorways while you make your way down the hall. You find the kitchen in the back corner of the house; sink torn out, cupboards falling off the walls, an old table littered with beer bottles and blood bags, a real feng shui feel.

You spot another door on the far wall. It’s a 50/50 shot on whether it’s another closet or stairs to the basement so you stride over and ease it open. Shit, yeah! You finally found the stairs. You’d do a celebratory dance but you can hear the rumble of voices echoing up the stairwell. You can’t make out what they’re saying, it’s just the ebb and flow of a conversation bouncing off the walls but one has defiance laced through the low timbre and you sigh a breath of relief. Dean. You’d know the depth and tone of that voice anywhere.

You inch down the stairs, one tread at a time, alert to any changes or lulls in the voices. As you near the bottom, you’re able to clearly hear Dean talking to whoever is down there with him. You’re not sure how long he’s been in the basement or what the situation is that he’s dealing with but he sounds fed up with it all.

“You guys gonna stall all damn day or just man the fuck up and drain me?” Shit. That doesn’t sound promising. You edge closer to the wall that ends at the last stair. “Come on, I hear I’m delicious”

“Sorry, Deano, you’re not my type. Besides, I already told ya, we’re waiting for that hot-ass hunter friend of your’s. Got a real good time planned for her.” You hear a male voice answer. Vamp Target #1 acquired.

You peer around the wall just in time to see the vamp closest to Dean, Vamp Target #2, giggle to that, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she leans closer to Dean. Dean’s at the far wall, hands above his head, wrists tied and rope looped up over a pipe. He looks mildly inconvenienced by this whole thing but he’s alive, so you don’t waste precious time checking him out. Not the time. Your eyes land on Vamp Target #1, the guy that’s standing closer to the stairs, back turned to you as he converses with his remaining partner in crime and his hostage. You judge the number of steps you’re going to need to get to him and tuck yourself back behind the wall.

Dean’s voice is cocky and sounds warmer somehow, “I hate to ruin your plans but that hot-ass hunter friend of mine is going to be making your heads spin for different, not so fun reasons.”

“You say that,” Vamp Target #2 says, “But I bet you I have her begging me to change her in an hour flat.”

You don’t waste your chance, taking advantage of them being distracted by Dean. You step out from behind the wall, striding up behind Vamp Target #1. He hears you just as you reach him but it’s too late, your machete is already slicing through his neck with a sickening squelch before he can even turn his head. The momentum of your swing sends his body tipping to the left, landing with a dull thud. Vamp Target #2 stands there, stunned, as his head goes rolling across the dirt packed basement floor.

“Ain’t gonna happen, bitch. Who knows where that mouth has been?” You taunt her as she turns to face you. You smirk at her, twirling your blade in your hand, planting your feet and preparing for her to attack.

She rushes you, no finesse whatsoever. Guess emotions fuck with everyone that way. You sidestep to the right as she closes in on you, arm up and machete cutting through the air as you spin. You feel your motion slow as she practically walks right into your blade, the sharp edge parting her head from her body, blood spurting from the severed veins. You finish your spin, facing Dean once again as her body topples to the floor.

You smirk at Dean. “How the hell did you let these two asshats get the jump on ya, Winnie?”

“Shut it, Shorty.” Dean throws back at you. “‘Bout damn time you showed up, I was starting to worry you’d left me for dead.”

“Wouldn’t have had to worry about me saving your ass if you’d stuck to the plan.” You cock your head, pointing at him with your machete.

Damn. He sure looks fucking fantastic tied up like that. He’s tall enough that even tied up he’s able to stand with his feet flat on the ground. Your eyes travel up his adorably sexy bowed legs and settle on his muscular thighs. Those damn thighs. They always make you think of how perfectly capable they’d be holding you up during a session of sweaty wall sex. And now with all of his damn layers up and out of the way, you’re able to get a nice view of his hips. They’re surprisingly narrow, not as narrow as Sam’s, but given how big and burly Dean is, it’s just fucking perfect. You notice a little sliver of belly showing above the waistband of his jeans and can’t help but lick your lips as you imagine running your tongue over his skin. And his shoulders, Jesus, they look ridiculously broad with the way his arms are stretched straight up over his head.

Your eyes make it up to his face and you’re startled to see that he’s patiently watching you look your fill, a smug smile on his face. Dean pulls you out of your reverie, his voice low and teasing. “Well, sure, but then I don’t get to watch my hot-ass hunter friend kick ass.”

You feel your cheeks heat as you pull your eyes away from him. You look around the room, searching for a chair, a bucket, something you can stand on to reach the rope and cut him loose. But the room’s bare, save for the man standing before you. You look back to Dean, your head tilting in thought as an idea comes to mind. You size Dean up again, playing through the mechanics of it. He’s a lot taller than you but, with a resigned lift of a shoulder and a fluttering in your belly that you desperately ignore, you decide there’s really no other option.

“This might get a little awkward,” You warn Dean as you toss your machete to the side and walk up to him, “So I’ll apologize for that now.”

Dean stares down at you, eyebrows drawn “Why? What are ya gonna…”

He doesn’t get to finish his question before you place your hands on his chest and hop up, legs wrapping around his waist. Dean’s breath rushes out, quick and low like he was punched in the gut, as he widens his stance a bit to steady himself. You find yourself staring into the greenest of eyes, wanting to know the reason behind that noise. You do your best to ignore the fact that his face is so close to yours, and closer yet when you have to reach around him, pulling your knife out of the sheath in your boot.

“Try not to enjoy this too much, Winnie.” You work your way up his body, inch by gloriously muscled inch, until your stretched out against him, arms up and now within easy hacking distance of the rope. Which is great. The fact that your breasts are now pressed firmly against is face is the awkward part. Awkward but enticing. Which makes it more awkward because you should not be enjoying this.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” Dean’s muffled voice comes from between your cleavage, “you just saved my ass, could you maybe not smother me to death with your tits?”

You huff as you continue sawing at the rope, “Wanna try that again like you mean it?”

Dean turns his head the slightest bit and nips at the side of your left breast, the sting lessened by the padding of your bra. Though that certainly doesn’t lessen the arousal that instantly threads through you.

“Shit! Seriously, Dean? I’m tryin’ta save your ass here, man.” You say breathlessly, hoping he credits it to the fact that you’re furiously trying to cut him free. The vamps may all be headless corpses littering the floor but there’s still danger here for you. And goddamn if you aren’t going to hurry the hell up so you can unwrap yourself and get away from his constant flirting and teasing.

“‘Spose I should be sorry for that,” Dean’s warm breath is fluttering against your thin tank top, soaking through the fabric and heating up your skin. “But can’t say as I am.”

Your hands slow at his words, fingers tightening around your knife so hard it hurts. But your movement stills completely as he…ohhhhh shit, he’s fucking nuzzling my boob! Sure his face has no where else to go but he sure as hell doesn’t need to be rubbing his cheek against your breasts like a goddamn cat. You pull in a stuttering breath, hoping to God he can’t feel how your heartbeat’s ramped up.

“Dean, dude, you can buy me a beer as thanks later but uh, you’re kinda distracting me, which, ya know, is prolly not great seein’ as how I’m holding a knife and shit.”

“Come on, sweetheart. I could’ve died. Hell, I lost all this blood. You make it through somethin’ like that, you just wanna enjoy the, uh, not so little things in life.” Dean’s not nuzzling now so much as just using his chin to try and pull the neck of your tank top down further, exposing more of your breasts to him.

“Wait. Blood?” You panic now. You didn’t notice any blood on him when you came in. At least you don’t think. Maybe none that wasn’t obviously from hacking heads off. Shit. You may have been slightly distracted by the sight of Dean all tied up but you would’ve noticed if he was bleeding. You ease yourself back down his torso, legs once again resting around his waist. You run your hand over his neck, searching for any blood, any bite marks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bitten?”

Dean stares at you, his green eyes a fascinating shade darker than normal, a smile tugging at the corner of his sinful lips. “Well, maybe ‘lost’ is the wrong term. More like it just…relocated.”

“Relocated? What the fuck does that even mean?” You snap at him.

Then Dean shimmies his hips and you feel yourself start to slide down his waist a bit. You tighten your legs around him to stop yourself from sliding further and that’s when ‘relocated’ becomes clearly defined…and that definition is rock hard and now pressed against your core.

“For fuck’s sake, Dean,” You gasp. “Can you stop thinking with your dick for one goddamn minute?”

You need to finish cutting that rope. Now. So you can get the fuck out of here. You crawl yourself back up Dean’s body, not even caring that that puts your breasts right back in his face.

Dean doesn’t seem to care either as he nuzzles right back in. “You started it, Sweetheart.”

“Right, ‘cause I’m the dumbass that got caught and tied up.” You growl at him as you start hacking at the rope again.

You’ve almost got it now. You saw harder, your breasts jiggling with the intensity of your motions. You feel, more than hear, Dean groan against you but you don’t stop. You’re so close to the finish that you can almost taste the victory. This whole rescue mission has been a goddamn embarrassment so why worry about adding to it?

The blade of your knife clinks against the pipe as it cuts through the last bit of rope. Dean’s hands fall, coming to rest on your ass as you lower yourself back down his waist, holding you against him before you can jump down. You drop your knife, your own hands clinging to his shoulders as his fingers flex into you. You keep your eyes down, focused on your fingers digging into his jacket. Here comes that added embarrassment you should’ve been worrying about.

“You have no idea what you to do me, do you?” Dean asks. The quiet surprise in his voice draws your eyes to his. “How crazy you make me?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the way Dean’s looking at you. His eyes are flicking over your face, like this is the first time he’s ever really looked at you and he’s trying to memorize everything. When Dean’s eyes drop to your lips, you decide to throw caution to the wind, go for broke, say fuck it all, and take a chance on what you really want. You tighten your legs around his waist and raise yourself up to brush your lips over his.

You don’t even have the span of a heartbeat to worry that you ruined everything before Dean’s pressing back, sighing against your lips like he’s finally found everything he’s ever searched for. Which is unbelievably accurate. Because never have you felt more at home than you do now, wrapped around him with your lips on his.

Dean brings a hand up to cup your face, fingers caught in your hair as he tips your head back to deepen the kiss. You open for him before he even makes a move to ask, needing so badly to finally have the taste of him on your tongue. He licks over your bottom lip, tongue sliding like the sweetest poison into your mouth, tangling with yours in a surge of passion. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer, wanting to feel his heartbeat inside your own chest.

Turning, Dean takes the few steps to the wall, pinning you to the cold brick with his body. His hips pulse into you, the hard length of him pressing the seam of your jeans against your clit. With a gasp, you drop your head back, rocking yourself back against him, chasing the friction. Dean takes the offering of your bared throat, his lips laying wet, open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips and sucks, following where your moans and sighs take him. Finding the spots that drive you wild and using them to push you to the edge. You cry out when he latches onto the sensitive skin right below your ear and sucks, marking you as you come against him, still fully clothed.

You slowly come back down to Dean running his hands up under your shirt, fingers tickling along your ribs, breath feathering over your throat as he whispers praise to you. Hearing his husky voice telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect you feel, how amazing it is to finally feel you against him has need racing through your blood again.

Fisting a hand in his hair, you yank his head up, dropping your lips back to his as he groans. You feast on one another, tongues dancing, as urgent hands start tearing at clothing. Both of your jackets hit the ground almost simultaneously but your plaid shirt and tank top get hung up when you lean back to balance yourself on the wall as you rip his shirts over his head. Dean sets you on your feet, pulling your own shirts up and off and tossing them somewhere behind him.

Dean leans down, trailing his tongue over the swell of your breast as he reaches around and flicks your bra clasp open. He uses his chin to push the cup down and latches his mouth onto your nipple. You gasp as he swirls his tongue over the hardening bud, the warmth of his mouth a stark contrast to the cold the other nipple is greeted to when he pulls your bra down your arms.

Your stomach flutters, full of butterflies and horniness, when Dean’s fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans. When he pulls the zipper down, you swear you’ve never heard anything more erotic in your life. But then his warm hand grazes across your naked mound and he whines from deep in his chest and you realize that that is the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard.

Dean hits his knees, yanking your jeans down your hips, using sheer willpower and force to tear them over your boots. He stands back up so quickly you almost get whiplash from following the movement.

“Sweetheart, I promise you I will spend hours eating you out later, but right now I need to be inside you.”

Fuck. Who are you to complain about that? On either front? “God, yes.”

You fumble with his belt, fingers slow and clumsy with desire as Dean digs in his back pocket to pull out his wallet. You manage to get the button on his jeans undone as your peripheral vision is distracted with the thigh trembling sight of Dean thumbing a condom free of the leather. He closes his wallet and drops it to the side, the silver of the packet flashing in the dim light bringing you back around to the task at hand. You open the fly of his jeans and snake your hands under the elastic of his boxer briefs to work them down and over his hips.

Dean puts the corner of the condom packet between his teeth and uses both hands to help get his jeans and underwear down his thighs. You gasp when his cock bounces free of the elastic and smacks against his lower belly. Sweet Jesus. It’s beautiful. Which is a weird thing to say about a dick, because, well, they’re weird looking. But Dean…He’s big. Not just long but thick. And veiny. You reach out, running a fingertip up along the vein, swiping over the tip and the pre-come gathered there. Dean groans at the light contact, then growls when you bring your finger up to you mouth, licking it clean while watching him.

You wind one arm around his neck, the other hand gently tugging the condom from between his teeth as you pull his mouth back down to yours. Dean gets his hands under your thighs and lifts you with such easy strength that it sends a flood of arousal through your system. You wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching pussy against his cock. You can feel Dean’s grunt rumble through him as he presses you back against the wall. You hardly even notice the cold brick rough at your back as Dean devours your mouth.

Dean glides the fingertips of one hand over your wet folds and you whimper against his lips. Your try to buck your hips into his light touch but he has you pinned so you can’t move, so you have no choice but to take what he gives you. He teases you; sliding with more pressure at your dripping entrance, running up to feather over your clit. Back and forth. Firm then soft. Press and slide up, feather soft then back down. You try to relax into the rhythm he’s set, try to focus on the pleasure it’s slowly building, try to breathe your way through the madness. Then he switches it up and you want to throw your head back and scream.

“Dean.” You whine. “For the love of fuck, please.”

You cry out when he thrusts a finger into you, immediately begging for more. He doesn’t tease you this time, just gives you what you ask for. Two fingers, thrusting smoothly, slowly. In and out. Out and in. Dean starts scissoring his fingers, working you open. Quickly pushing you back to the edge. And you want to come. God help you, you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. But you want to come with him deep inside you. You need him deep inside you.

Dean watches you, humor mixing with the lust in his eyes as you try to focus. As you carefully rip open the condom packet. As you throw your head back with a moan when he crooks his fingers and rubs that sweet spot inside you. As you try to fuck yourself on his fingers and you tilt your hips up just enough to grind your clit against his cock.

“Come for me, Sweetheart. Just one more. Then I promise I’ll fuck you.” Dean urges, rubbing against your g-spot with more pressure.

You have no other option but then to give him what he’s asking for. Your body couldn’t deny him if it tried. So with a strangled moan, you come, coating his fingers and the base of his cock with your juices. Dean works you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers, easing his hips back so he’s not pressing you so firmly into the wall.

Dean waits. Watching your eyelids flutter, watching your breathing work to even out. Watching your hips continue to roll, searching out more pleasure, searching for him. He takes the condom from your fingers and rolls it on.

You heave out a breath, opening your eyes to smile lazily at Dean. Dean smiles back, affection and heat, as he brushes the hair back from your face. You part your lips when he leans in to kiss you, eager to have the taste of him on your tongue once more. Dean kisses you as he tilts his hips, pressing his cockhead against your entrance and you moan into his mouth as he eases into you. He goes slow, letting you adjust to the stretch.

By the time he’s buried to the hilt, he’s resting his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut against the unbearable pleasure of having you wrapped around him in every way that matters. You can feel him tremble as he uses all of his self control to just be still, to give you time.

“You feel so fucking perfect, Y/N.” Dean manages to say between gritted teeth.

You press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering, “So do you, Dean, but don’t forget you promised me.”

Dean’s eyes pop open at that. When he sees you smiling at him, he doesn’t hold back anymore. He adjusts his grip, sliding his arms under your legs so your knees are resting in the crooks of his arms. He places his hands flat against the wall behind you, opening your thighs wide. He pulls out until just the tip of his cock is resting in your welcoming heat before driving his hips back into you. He sets a steady pace, slow but forceful. Pulling out and slamming back in. The sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out the deliciously dirty noises he’s making as he fucks you hard into the wall.

You gasp with each hard thrust in, the air rushing from your lungs from the sheer force. Dean adjusts his hold again, tilting his hips so that the head of his cock is rubbing against your g-spot and his pelvis meets yours with each drive home.

“Oh, God.” You whimper, “Just like that, baby.”

Dean takes you at your word and doesn’t falter from what he’s doing. How he manages to keep such a steady fucking pace…No time to laugh at that now…is beyond you but you’re not going to question the man while he’s so expertly building you back up.

You hang on to him, nails digging into the muscles of his back, desperate to keep your head above water as the storm of passion tries dragging you under again. But the primal urge of your body, the need to just let go, rules you and you have no choice but to give in. You come, his name a prayer shouted to the Heavens. Dean groans and shudders when he feels you clench around him. His hips stutter, rhythm breaking. He thrusts hard, frantic…three…four more times before he, too, gives in and follows you into the depths of pure pleasure, moaning your name into your neck in answering adoration.

You cling to each other as you try to catch your breaths, as you wait for your heartbeats to return to some semblance of normal. Dean presses sweet, featherlight kisses against your throat, lips warm against the tacky surface of your cooling skin. He trails them up your neck, over your jaw, until he reaches your mouth. He kisses you, all school-boy-crush and first-time-hunger, as if he didn’t just fuck you silly.

“Jesus, Dean.” You sigh against his lips, reluctant to pull away from the soft press and pull, the sweet brush and glide. “That was…”

Dean just chuckles as you trail off with a sigh, “You ain’t kiddin’, Sweetheart.”

You just smile, content and pleased as fucking punch that you finally found your courage to grab hold of what you wanted, that you finally got Dean Winchester in your arms. And that you finally found out just how capable those thighs of his are when it comes to wall sex.

“Hey, Dean. About that other promise you made me…”

Punzel’s Crew Tag: @sis-tafics @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @salvachester @mrswhozeewhatsis @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sleep-silent-angel @demberly @aprofoundbondwithdean @heckyeahjensenackles @luckygrahams @feelmyroarrrr @silver-and-green @demondeansdomme @savingapplepie-eatingthings @wheresthekillswitch @highonpastries @awhiskeywithawinchester @oriona75 @manawhaat  @winchesterenthusiast @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @writingbeautifulmen @but-deans-back-tho @the-mrs-deanwinchester @supernatural-jackles @mamapeterson @rizlow1 @misswhizzy @katnharper @kayteonline @nichelle-my-belle @kittenofdoomage @oriona75 @sammit-janet @callmesatansprincess @ccpita @emilywritesaboutdean @xalgaliareptx @msmeghansolo @love-me-some-pie21 @carrollmomx3 @deanbean-and-samsquatch

[mastergaragedoorngates]

Basic Methods on Sustaining Your Garage Door by Markham Garage Door Specialists

A garage door can be a sturdy, convenient and secure place to store vehicles and outdoor gear. That's until they break down, and require repairs and maintenance. A Markham garage door repair service can solve any garage door issue but to stop wear and breakdowns, adhere to a simple upkeep program, to prevent unnecessary harm.

Just before pulling out the toolbox, make sure that the issue is not something obvious. Occasionally the answer is more simply solved than then it at first appears. A frequent garage door challenge that Markham garage door service pros encounter is that the door is not opening and closing properly. Usually at times, the issue is only brought on by a rake blocking the door, or anything hanging from the ceiling, stopping the mechanisms from functioning properly.

Garage doors are constructed to become strong and long-lasting. Regular upkeep will not be tricky, and can be performed in less than an afternoon twice a year. The best times to work on a garage door is in the spring and right before the winter.

Easy Garage Door Maintenance Recommendations

1. Cleaning: Wipe the garage door down like its elements. Light oil for instance a 3-in-1 lubricant is usually applied to elements.

2.Give the hinges, rollers, and hangers a spray with WD-40 or even a citrus based solvent.

3.Lubricate the pulleys on extension spring openers and bearings on torsion spring openers.

4.If hinges or rollers are stuck soak them in kerosene. Use an old toothbrush to work it into the cracks.

5.Use steel wool to clear away rust.

6.To preserve a garage door opener, if it is actually operated by a chain or drive screw, apply lubricant to the length of the opener.

7.Make sure that the climate stripping is not jamming against the sides of the doors. Fix and replace as needed.

8.If the garage door is produced from wood it might require re-painting. If it wasn't installed with weather stripping, contemplate adding it during the initial maintenance cycle, and if it does, check to make certain it is sealed adequately.

Regardless of a homeowner's ideal efforts to keep a nicely maintained garage door, they do wear with age, bolts loosen and mechanical components can quit performing at their optimal efficiency. A Markham garage door upkeep crew can provide standard inspections, or be called when the garage store stops working. With the prevalent problem of the garage door not opening effectively, there is a handful of repair recommendations that the weekend, do-it-yourself handyperson can attempt:

Solutions to a Garage Door which will not Open

If the garage door will not open, the very first step would be to tighten the bolts. With age, vibrations and use, the screws and bolts on the garage door do loosen. Ensure to tighten bolts with the garage door in the down position, and replace any missing nuts or bolts.

Verify to determine if the door tracks are secured to the walls and ceiling. Ideally, you need an inch of clearance among the door and the track. If the door is binding on the track, the garage door could require a spring tension adjustment, to get the door opening and closing smoothly once again. Markham garage door repair personnel can fix these prevalent concerns conveniently and affordably. It's normally best to correct minor troubles once they are noticed, as opposed to waiting until the little cause for concern, develops into a huge repair project.

A different tip for a garage door not opening as well as it should, is always to verify for rust. In the case of extremely rusty springs and cables it really is well advised to have them replaced promptly. This could turn into a critical situation if one were to snap. If a homeowner replaces their own springs and cables it is better to replace all of them in place of just the damaged component. Only replacing one will cause binding and imbalance.

The trigger for a garage door not opening correctly could possibly be rust, loose nuts and bolts or problems with all the pulley systems. Markham garage door experts can replace worn out elements, and verify for complications just before they take place. As a homeowner a common maintenance schedule ought to be followed to prevent any serious problems that could turn out to be costly or even harmful.

Garage doors are a crucial and a worthy investment that need to be kept looking and functioning like new. They are built to last but it is ultimately up to the owner to ensure its longevity.

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[blackorgan-blog]

Be Sure You Make Wise Auto Repair Decisions

It really is horrible when you're driving along, as well as your car just decides to provide out. As well as the immediate hazards, you will find the need for getting a mechanic to repair your vehicle. What exactly is the simplest way to get the best mechanic if you are out of the house? Make use of the tips provided below to find the very best mechanic, in addition to how you can spot potential indicators that the vehicle needs repairing to enable you to make small repairs yourself without the need for a mechanic. Seek advice towards the mechanics who inspect your car. These questions can involve issues you're working with and what to do to prevent them later on. It can save you lots of money when you are aware preventing problems. Ask a possible mechanic when they have knowledge about focusing on the actual type of car you might have. When they have, there exists a good possibility they should be able to repair your vehicle. To avoid your vehicle from getting rusty, wash it consistently. Whenever Very affordable engine repair in New Orleans you maintain your car clean, rust is going to be held back. Wax can also be important. Keep track of the vehicle repairs. When the car has other issues later, it will help the tech see its past records. In the event you don't have these types of records it might set you back more since you won't have the ability to locate the issues quickly. You should also have an extra along with a jack in a car. Modern cars come built with them already. Stuck along the side of the street having a flat tire is not so good news. Stuck without having a jack and spare tire is not so good news along with a big bill. It really is simpler and cheaper to deal with it by yourself. Choosing the proper company to fix your vehicle is usually difficult. The secret is pursuing the right advice and knowledge that will ease the way in which. Understanding things to look for as well as the right inquiries to pose helps significantly. Keep your things you've learned here in your head all the time so if you are having issues together with your vehicle you might be prepared.

[frwdsupacentre]

Benefits to a suspension kit in your 4WD!

  Whilst you may have owned your 4WD for a couple of years and hitting the tracks is an occasional occurrence generally it’s a good idea to inspect your suspension components quite regularly, checking for wear and tear, as well as for any loose parts, this will ensure that you don’t have any issues with steering components, or suspension failing you when you need them to perform at their best!

When researching online, manufacturers recommend getting your suspension components replaced anywhere between 4-5 years or 40,000 – 80,000 kms, but with such varying figures, you shouldn’t just replace your suspension until you really need too.

We are going to give you some tips and hints on working out for yourself whether or not you are ready to replace your suspension components with a top quality RAW 4X4 Suspension Kit from 4WD Supacentre!

First up you should look for any damage to the shock absorber struts, this includes any dents or leaks, as well as rusty and pitted shock absorber shafts (if you can see these easily), these symptoms will give you a heads up that your shockies may be cooked and ready for replacement.

The next thing to check is how much (if any) your ride height has sagged, you can generally find out this information online, and your vehicles manufacturer will have a measurement from your rim to the wheel arches both front and back, this will give you an idea of how much your springs have lost in upwards travel, generally fitting accessories like a bull bar and winch can weigh down the front of your vehicle causing it to sag prematurely on the front end.

Other symptoms that your suspension probably needs updating is if your tyres are badly cupped or if you find that you are getting tyre shake or wheel shimmy after hitting a bump.

Noticeable clunking and rattling on rough roads or whilst reversing, or even an undamped bouncy feeling ride.

Another symptom is excessive body roll or sway through corners, this can be uncomfortable, and symptoms exaggerated at speed, and tends to be the same issue as intense nose diving when heavily braking.

Some people talk about a “bounce test” which involves intentionally pushing the vehicle side to side to see if the dampers stop any oscillations, however this can be difficult in heavily sprung (high GVM vehicles and produces mixed results depending on the vehicle and the person performing the test.

If your vehicle displays any of the above symptoms you can prevent it getting any worse or dangerous by getting your hands on a purpose made all inclusive suspension kit from RAW 4X4, these kits come in a range of load ratings from “MEDIUM LOAD” and “CONSTANT LOAD” which are tailor made for your vehicle’s specific weights suspension travel and even the variable spring rates that are included in the kits!

Installing a RAW 4X4 Suspension Kit is simple, simply jack up your vehicle loosen the suspension components and replace with the ones in your kit, it really is that simple and can be done in a weekend in the shed or in the driveway with simple hand tools – this saves you hundreds in mechanics fees,  and with the new springs and shockies your 4WD should be sitting pretty, you’ll be surprised and just how much ground clearance you have gained with the sagged factory springs and the approximate 50mm of lifted height not to mention the enhanced road holding ability of your 4WD and the ability to stay in control no matter what the weather or tracks throw at you.

Not only will your 4WD feel new, but with all of these benefits, and the massive savings you’ve made on buying RAW 4X4 Suspension you’ll be glad you spent the money on your offroad suspension upgrade!

from 4WD Supacentre via 4WD Supacentre on Inoreader https://www.4wdsupacentre.com.au/news/benefits-to-a-suspension-kit-in-your-4wd/

[shadesmaclean]

Tradewinds 21 CH 05

Of all the things Max or Justin might have expected to find in front of Pickford’s most shunned house, a bunch of kids standing around at Vineholdt’s front gate was about the last. All of them arguing with an older boy, whom Max noted bore a strong familial resemblance to a certain caretaker they were just talking to earlier this morning. He appeared to be doing his best— or worst— to drive them away from this place, but the kids just weren’t having any of it. At first glance, that would seem a reasonable course of action, but even before they got within earshot, he found something about this just didn’t sit right with him. “…You’ll get in trouble, too, you know. So why don’t you just run… along…” Travis Tully trailed off, faltering as he noticed their approach. “What’s going on here?” Justin asked. “Melissa went… mmph!” one boy began, then Travis reached out and clamped one hand over his mouth. “Nothing!” Travis blurted, glaring at the others as if he dared them to say one word. All six of them called his bluff at once, rambling at the same time. “Shut up!” Travis roared, and all the children backed away from him. “Our friend went in there,” one girl piped up, taking advantage of the moment of silence. “And that other guy, the one with dark glasses, went in to find her,” another boy added. “He’s a friend of yours, isn’t he?” another chimed in. “Shades went in there?” Max looked out at the mansion with a sinking feeling he just lost any chance of leaving this deathtrap unexplored. For once. And here he thought he was tagging along to keep Justin from doing anything rash. “You mean that guy I fought?” Travis cocked his head, very visibly not liking where this line of conversation was leading. “Fought?” one boy snorted. “He whooped your ass!” “Shut up, you little shit!” “You?” Justin tried not to laugh as he regretted missing this. Deciding that perhaps vigorous constitutionals could be entertaining after all. “Beat up him?” With a snarl of fury and indignation, Travis tried to take a swing at Justin. But Max was quicker, whipping his arm out and catching him across the face, even as Justin was leaping aside. “We weren’t talking to you,” was Max’s curt reply as Travis hit the ground. Quickly grasping the gravity of the situation, and concluding that this one was wasting dire time. “I’m not afraid of you…” Travis muttered as he struggled to regain his feet. “I don’t care,” Max warned him, “and it doesn’t matter. You’re no match for me anyway.” Though it came out sounding like something Erix might say, it was about the truth of the situation, and with both his friend’s life, and this Melissa’s, in the balance, he was wasting no more time. For his part, Travis reassessed Max, and appeared to conclude that discretion was the better part of valor. “Seems like an asshole,” Justin mused, “no wonder Shades beat him up. I don’t like bullies, either, so if you’re too chickenshit to be any help, then stand aside.” “I ain’t goin’ in there!” Travis stammered, finding himself on the retreat, shouting over his shoulder: “Ha! Even those Lucy-witches couldn’t do anything! That house will take you, too!…” “Good riddance…” Justin spat. “Now please,” said Max, turning back to the kids, “tell us what happened.” In fits and starts, the related the basic gist of what transpired before. Just as they got to the part about Shades going in to investigate, an odd four-wheeled vehicle rolled up, about the size of a golf cart, and bearing the seal of the Pickford Sheriff’s Office. A deputy rolled down his glass and leaned out, calling, “Hey! You kids get outta here, before your parents hear about this!” One of them looked like she was about to say something, when Max turned to them and said, “It’s okay, there really is nothing more you can do here. Leave this to us. Please, go tell Moira at the Pines what’s going on, and we’ll handle this.” The children nodded, their reluctance unmistakable as they turned and head back toward town, though both of them somehow knew they’d drift back out here when no one was watching. Eerily certain that no one else would stand and watch this place for long. “You should know—” Max began. “And you,” the deputy cut him off, glaring at both of them in a way that left Justin wondering just what the hell people were saying about them, “you should be ashamed of yourselves, leading children out to a dangerous place like this.” “Um, actually,” Justin informed him, “we just got here.” “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” the deputy countered, turning pale as he glanced at the house with palpable anxiety. “Sheriff Duhan’s gonna hear about this, and he’ll have you run outta town. I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you go into that house, it’s your funeral, boys.” With that, he fired up the engine, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he rolled up his window and turned to escort the kids and herd them back into Pickford proper. If Shades was in there, they both now understood, there would be no help from town, Melissa or no Melissa, and Max for one, could not abide waiting another minute, leading the way past the front gate and straight up to the door. Justin sighed in resignation and followed. Once upon a time, he would have scoffed at the idea of a haunted house, but even without this recent fun tour of the Woods, about half the places these two dragged him off to had weird shit going on. Figured it would be no different here as he set out to see what Shades had gotten himself into this time, any notions of treasure-hunting all but forgotten. As they reached the front entrance, Max tried the door handle. Finding it locked, he wasted no time, whipping out his laser sword and slicing right down between the double doors. Locks severed, the two doors creaked slowly open. Justin looked back to see the kids staring in awe. Even partway down the road, they apparently kept glancing back in spite of the deputy. Likely never seen weapons like theirs, not out here in such a remote realm. The doors parted, a ray of sunlight illuminating a small foyer, beyond which they found a spacious, though gloomy, great hall, with a grand staircase leading to the upper levels of both wings. Faint light filtered in through a handful of dusty windows, so they were both glad they heeded Moira’s advice and kept a pocket flashlight on them, even during the day. Even to those without any latent psychic abilities, the place still seemed to loom over them as they looked around, attempting to figure out where to start their search. Max turned right, heading for a door on that side of the chamber. Beyond was a spacious sitting room, and it only took him a moment to spot the ball, right where the kids said it would be. The only thing he could discern was that neither Melissa, nor Shades, had come in here and retrieved it, a fact that bothered him visibly. “You don’t like this either?” Justin confirmed. Max nodded, then turned back to the great hall to seek more clues, wondering if perhaps they should have followed the girl’s footsteps around the side of the estate instead. It was almost as if the thought of following tracks conjured dusty footprints leading up the grand staircase. Turning to Justin in mutual unease, they both shrugged and started up the steps. At the top of the first flight, they found a door standing slightly ajar, so Max toed it open while Justin covered him. Inside was a room full of junk. On closer inspection, though, they both noticed that it was mostly a collection of children’s toys, including a rusty old rocking horse near the middle of the room. Max glanced down at his feet, spotting a toy sailboat. One of eerily familiar design. His jaw dropped at the sight of the name The Edge painted on the bow. He stumbled back, barely noticing as he bumped into the newel post on his side of the landing. His mind’s eye full of tossing waves, driving rain and howling winds. Surrounded by dead-looking Cyexian pirates, all sopping wet and draped in seaweed. Bloated, pale, waterlogged. Rheumy eyes, stringy hair and rotten teeth. All shambling toward him across the deck… “Max!” Justin shook him. “Max! Snap out of it!” Max blinked, looking around the stair landing as if trying to remember what he was doing here. The assault on his senses leaving him slightly shaky. On impulse, he looked down at the toy boat again, only now it bore no particular resemblance to his uncle’s lost ship, nor did it bear any name on its bow, let alone The Edge. “What the hell was that all about?” Justin asked him. “I… Nothing…” Max mumbled, not wanting to into the details of that fateful night now any more than before, resenting the house for even dredging up memories he didn’t care to dwell on. After a few seconds, he repeated more firmly, “Nothing. That boat just reminded me of something, that’s all. Let’s move on.” Justin nodded, deciding not to bring up Max’s mumbling, reminding himself that his friend never talked about how he got shipwrecked on the Isle of Paradise, that he shouldn’t be surprised that Max wouldn’t talk about it here, either. Didn’t like this in the slightest, but also knew all too well that Max was never very good at quitting, and quietly hoped they weren’t about to find out what it would take to make him, as he wasn’t sure whose regrets he could bear less, his or his friend’s. To both of their dismay, they noted more footprints, leading up and down both branching stairways. They both glanced at each other, their only relief that, clearly, neither of them had splitting up in mind, not in a place like this. Before either them could open their mouth to discuss which way to go, they both nearly jumped out of their skins at an unearthly tolling of bells, that seemed to be emanating from all directions at once, looking around for its elusive source, to no avail. Even as they listened to its echoes die away, Max found a grim moment to wonder why his unsettling vision of Slash’s pirates all consisted of drowned corpses.

[eddiejpoplar]

Exploring the Southern Border in a 2017 Ram Power Wagon: Arizona to the Gulf of Mexico

Arizona dissolves into yellow plains as we push through New Mexico and into Texas, stopping in El Paso just long enough for a meal. We’re never more than 30 miles from the border, and our hours have caught a cadence of gas stations, hole-in-the-wall food joints, and roadside motels. The Ram Power Wagon shows the marks of our miles, dusty and pinstriped, splattered with a thousand desert bugs. The perfect wanderer, inside and out, its plush leather seats comfortable, its bare vinyl floors up to the task of enduring the sand and grit we track in. We eat and aim for Big Bend National Park, some eight hours from Texas’ western-most city. It’s a long ride down I-10. Another reminder of how gargantuan our country is, of the impossible scope of us.

The daylight left us hours ago by the time we find Highway 90, and the sky’s spattered from horizon to horizon with stars, so many that my familiar constellations are lost in the wash. We drive for long hours, nothing in our high beams but two yellow lines and a few hundred hare.

The morning shows us what we were missing by staring at the stars. The landscape has changed. Just outside of Presidio, the Rio Grande is a green and living ribbon twisting its way through the Texan bedrock. Life clings to the banks. You smell it long before you see the river proper—the delicious aroma of water and the sweet perfume of wild and thriving desert trees. Mesquite and juniper hang on the cool morning air and come singing through our open windows. The land goes wild, the river slicing through deep gorges, taking the border with it. At Santa Elena Canyon, the rock faces that separate the U.S. from Mexico are 1,500 feet high.

“When you factor in the mountain ranges and a pretty remote and rugged desert area, there’s not a lot of water for wildlife, let alone humans.”

Jennette Jurado has been a park ranger at Big Bend for 11 years, and though she’s a Michigan native, it’s clear from the way her voice swells when she talks about the place that she thinks of this as home. Her eyes are bright and smiling as she tells us that there are two parks here. Between Big Bend and Rio Grande Wild and Scenic River, the park service manages 245 miles of the international border.

Both are part of the largest Border Patrol sector in the South, one that covers some 510 miles of border and blankets 135,000 square miles, including 118 counties in both Texas and Oklahoma. Despite its size, it’s the quiet-est sector for illegal alien crossings. In 2016, the area saw 6,366 apprehensions, less than half of the next busiest sector, Yuma. Agents apprehended a total of 415,816 individuals attempting to enter the country illegally last year, and though that’s a staggering figure, the agency says the number is a long way from the high-traffic era. Between 1980 and 2008, apprehensions averaged 1.1 million individuals per year.

Jurado says that in her 11 years at the park, she’s never personally seen or interacted with anyone trying to cross from Mexico into the U.S. through Big Bend. When I ask if she feels safe here, she offers a smile and laughs. She tells us she routinely heads out to hike in the park alone and has never had a problem. The biggest danger is the environment, she says, because hikers routinely underestimate just how much water they need.

There is no physical barrier between the two countries here. The land serves that purpose, and when we look across the Rio Grande, all we see is another few hundred miles of empty desert, the back door to Mexico’s Cañon de Santa Elena national park.

“When you factor in the mountain ranges and a pretty remote and rugged desert area,” she says, “there’s not a lot of water for wildlife, let alone humans.”

The cliffs of Santa Elena Canyon split the United States and Mexico at Big Bend. They’re breathtaking, taller than the Empire State Building, flagpole and all.

She has a hard time keeping the pride out of her voice. And later as we wander the 50-mile dirt road that hugs the Rio Grande, we understand why. This is a place to be proud of. The Chisos Mountains are stunning, rising 2,000 feet up from the desert plain like a fortress on our horizon. Ocotillo plants wave their alien, spiny arms at the sun as we pass. We see horses, wild or near to it, their flanks shining amber in the sunlight. Even in early spring, it is impossibly hot. Sweat wells and evaporates on your skin the second you step outside, leaving a thin and coarse trail of salt behind. There is no manmade barrier between the two countries here. The land serves that purpose. When we look across the Rio Grande, all we see is another few hundred miles of empty desert, the back door to Mexico’s Cañon de Santa Elena national park.

The sun is setting by the time we make the eastern end of Big Bend, the sky dimming to navy as the light fades. Eager stars flicker behind those old mountains, and a cool wind picks up. After the bake of the day it’s almost cold, and we find ourselves grabbing our jackets as we point the truck toward Laredo.

When we arrive the next day, we find an entire economy hanging on the border. The Laredo Port of Entry is the busiest land port in the Western Hemisphere. Forty percent of America’s trade with Mexico comes across its bridges.

We meet with Port Director Gregory Alvarez and Assistant Port Director Alberto Flores on a busy morning.

“NAFTA is really occurring in Laredo,” Flores says. “You see that raw material coming from Canada, transiting through the U.S., going to Mexico, then you see some of that raw material coming back as a complete product.”

Flores is a Laredo native. He speaks quickly, his dark brown eyes ready with a sharp and mischievous joke if the moment presents itself.

Every train car coming into the U.S. gets an X-ray scan. … we beg Them to scan the Ram, but the agents say no. “We’d hate to find something you didn’t know was there.”

Alvarez is tall but soft spoken, his words considered and precise. He pronounces the Spanish names of towns to the south with a fluent flourish. He’s been port director here since late 2015. The port’s activity forces Border Patrol to walk a hard line between border security and trade facilitation.

A Customs and Border Protection helicopter runs a drill outside our hotel in Laredo, Texas.

“You’ve got that dual mandate of economic security and everything that entails,” he says, “and national security and everything that entails.”

Alvarez isn’t shy about the drug traffic that continues to come across the border at ports of entry.

“Without getting too detailed on specific seizures and arrests, we have a lot,” Alvarez says. “You have large interdictions, and you have them often on World Trade Bridge.”

He says 1,000 pounds is pretty average for a marijuana seizure.

Local news reports are full of headlines about what the Port of Laredo has seized in the past year: $800,000 worth of heroin in March and $5.6 million in cocaine in February. Alvarez is proud of the work his agents are doing, but he’s not naive.

Agents will inspect auto parts on their way north from factories in Mexico.

“We recognize that it’s just not a problem we’re going to seize our way out of,” he says. “It’s got to be a much more sophisticated approach.”

I ask if Alvarez cautions his agents about crossing the border. There were restrictions in 2007 and 2008 but not now, he says. Many of his agents have family on the southern side of the border and regularly travel to Mexico to visit.

Alvarez says he knows the violence spun out of control with the cartels, and when it did it spurred a massive response from American law enforcement that continues to this day. Customs and Border Protection is now the largest, most well-funded law enforcement agency in the country with an annual budget of more than $13.56 billion, and it enjoys a breadth of function unlike any other organization in the U.S. government, with oversight of 44 other agencies.

“It’s bad for business if you’re a drug organization.”

That budget has afforded the Port of Laredo some impressive tools. Flores takes us on a tour of the facility, pointing out the various enforcement layers, from cameras focused on license plates and faces to the massive yellow radiation detectors.

Every train car coming into the U.S. gets an X-ray scan. The imaging is impossibly detailed. You can count individual ceramic tiles and pallets hidden behind the sheet steel of a boxcar. You can count the lug nuts on pickups headed north from sister plants in Mexico. And you can see contraband. Bales of marijuana hidden in lead-lined crates. People lying in pickup beds.

Later, at a similar scanner for semis, we beg to scan the Ram. The agents say no.

“We’d hate to find something you didn’t know was there,” the agent manning the display says, his deadpan delivery betrayed by the smile that leaps to his lips.

North Korea sails cargo ships off the coast of California with intercontinental ballistic missiles hidden below deck, and China is stockpiling weapons in Mexico. So says Texas resident Rusty Monsees.

After the miles we’ve covered, Brownsville shows up quickly. The land quits being a desert, trading the brown plains for flat, humid Gulf marshlands. That’s where we meet Rusty Monsees. He’s a man who can’t decide where his tall tale ends and reality begins. He’s 69, his face and scalp a patchwork of skin cancer craters. Gifts from a lifetime under the Texan sun. He smokes like the world’s running out of Pall Mall menthols. Says his family has owned a spit of land up against the border here since the 1940s.

Monsees has had a clear view of Border Patrol’s efforts over the years. It’s a strange sight. The border here spends much of its time on private land, well beyond the levee that protects the town from storm surges, upon which the border fence rests. In some places, that’s more than a mile from the international line.

There are gaps where people and vehicles come and go through the fence, and though a Border Patrol agent watches the traffic from his vehicle, he doesn’t stop or question anyone while we’re there. It’s easy to understand Monsees’ frustration.

There’s no way that the Border Patrol can get down here and adequately enforce it,” he says.

It’s harder to follow his logic. It wanders in and out of conspiracy theories. He tells us he’s seen uniformed ISIS soldiers streaming across the border, complete with AK-47s and rocket-propelled grenades. He says he’s buried 150 of his own dogs over the years, all killed by Mexican coyotes moving people and drugs across the border. He says North Korea sails cargo ships off the coast of California with intercontinental ballistic missiles hidden below deck and that China is stockpiling weapons in Mexico. He says he once saw a U-Haul in Matamoros packed with the decaying corpses of children slain by a cartel for their organs.

Living on the Edge: Rusty Monsees hosted a militia camp on his property a few years back. The group disbanded, and at least two of “Rusty’s Rangers” wound up in federal prison over gun offenses.

He moves so fast, jumping from apparent fallacy to fallacy, it’s impossible to mine the truth from the slurry of lies that churn from his lips. It would be tempting to write him off entirely, but he thoroughly believes the things he’s afraid of. He believes them even if there’s nothing there, and he’s not some insane panhandler. He’s a land owner. A voter.

He says something that rings clear and true just as a Border Patrol Chevy Tahoe rattles past us, stirring up a haze of grit from the dry levee road. Monsees lifts a hand in greeting.

“If [the Mexicans] would sincerely work with the local officials,” he says, “because they want this stopped, too. Their people are being killed. They want their people to have a decent wage. … What they’re saying is this: Give us an equal standing, and we can take care of our own politicians if you give us a reason and help to do it.”

A Border Patrol Chevy Tahoe inches its way down the beach in Las Palomas Wildlife Area outside Browns from Performance Junk Blogger 6 http://ift.tt/2idK0u2 via IFTTT

[jesusvasser]

Exploring the Southern Border in a 2017 Ram Power Wagon: Arizona to the Gulf of Mexico

Arizona dissolves into yellow plains as we push through New Mexico and into Texas, stopping in El Paso just long enough for a meal. We’re never more than 30 miles from the border, and our hours have caught a cadence of gas stations, hole-in-the-wall food joints, and roadside motels. The Ram Power Wagon shows the marks of our miles, dusty and pinstriped, splattered with a thousand desert bugs. The perfect wanderer, inside and out, its plush leather seats comfortable, its bare vinyl floors up to the task of enduring the sand and grit we track in. We eat and aim for Big Bend National Park, some eight hours from Texas’ western-most city. It’s a long ride down I-10. Another reminder of how gargantuan our country is, of the impossible scope of us.

The daylight left us hours ago by the time we find Highway 90, and the sky’s spattered from horizon to horizon with stars, so many that my familiar constellations are lost in the wash. We drive for long hours, nothing in our high beams but two yellow lines and a few hundred hare.

The morning shows us what we were missing by staring at the stars. The landscape has changed. Just outside of Presidio, the Rio Grande is a green and living ribbon twisting its way through the Texan bedrock. Life clings to the banks. You smell it long before you see the river proper—the delicious aroma of water and the sweet perfume of wild and thriving desert trees. Mesquite and juniper hang on the cool morning air and come singing through our open windows. The land goes wild, the river slicing through deep gorges, taking the border with it. At Santa Elena Canyon, the rock faces that separate the U.S. from Mexico are 1,500 feet high.

“When you factor in the mountain ranges and a pretty remote and rugged desert area, there’s not a lot of water for wildlife, let alone humans.”

Jennette Jurado has been a park ranger at Big Bend for 11 years, and though she’s a Michigan native, it’s clear from the way her voice swells when she talks about the place that she thinks of this as home. Her eyes are bright and smiling as she tells us that there are two parks here. Between Big Bend and Rio Grande Wild and Scenic River, the park service manages 245 miles of the international border.

Both are part of the largest Border Patrol sector in the South, one that covers some 510 miles of border and blankets 135,000 square miles, including 118 counties in both Texas and Oklahoma. Despite its size, it’s the quiet-est sector for illegal alien crossings. In 2016, the area saw 6,366 apprehensions, less than half of the next busiest sector, Yuma. Agents apprehended a total of 415,816 individuals attempting to enter the country illegally last year, and though that’s a staggering figure, the agency says the number is a long way from the high-traffic era. Between 1980 and 2008, apprehensions averaged 1.1 million individuals per year.

Jurado says that in her 11 years at the park, she’s never personally seen or interacted with anyone trying to cross from Mexico into the U.S. through Big Bend. When I ask if she feels safe here, she offers a smile and laughs. She tells us she routinely heads out to hike in the park alone and has never had a problem. The biggest danger is the environment, she says, because hikers routinely underestimate just how much water they need.

There is no physical barrier between the two countries here. The land serves that purpose, and when we look across the Rio Grande, all we see is another few hundred miles of empty desert, the back door to Mexico’s Cañon de Santa Elena national park.

“When you factor in the mountain ranges and a pretty remote and rugged desert area,” she says, “there’s not a lot of water for wildlife, let alone humans.”

The cliffs of Santa Elena Canyon split the United States and Mexico at Big Bend. They’re breathtaking, taller than the Empire State Building, flagpole and all.

She has a hard time keeping the pride out of her voice. And later as we wander the 50-mile dirt road that hugs the Rio Grande, we understand why. This is a place to be proud of. The Chisos Mountains are stunning, rising 2,000 feet up from the desert plain like a fortress on our horizon. Ocotillo plants wave their alien, spiny arms at the sun as we pass. We see horses, wild or near to it, their flanks shining amber in the sunlight. Even in early spring, it is impossibly hot. Sweat wells and evaporates on your skin the second you step outside, leaving a thin and coarse trail of salt behind. There is no manmade barrier between the two countries here. The land serves that purpose. When we look across the Rio Grande, all we see is another few hundred miles of empty desert, the back door to Mexico’s Cañon de Santa Elena national park.

The sun is setting by the time we make the eastern end of Big Bend, the sky dimming to navy as the light fades. Eager stars flicker behind those old mountains, and a cool wind picks up. After the bake of the day it’s almost cold, and we find ourselves grabbing our jackets as we point the truck toward Laredo.

When we arrive the next day, we find an entire economy hanging on the border. The Laredo Port of Entry is the busiest land port in the Western Hemisphere. Forty percent of America’s trade with Mexico comes across its bridges.

We meet with Port Director Gregory Alvarez and Assistant Port Director Alberto Flores on a busy morning.

“NAFTA is really occurring in Laredo,” Flores says. “You see that raw material coming from Canada, transiting through the U.S., going to Mexico, then you see some of that raw material coming back as a complete product.”

Flores is a Laredo native. He speaks quickly, his dark brown eyes ready with a sharp and mischievous joke if the moment presents itself.

Every train car coming into the U.S. gets an X-ray scan. … we beg Them to scan the Ram, but the agents say no. “We’d hate to find something you didn’t know was there.”

Alvarez is tall but soft spoken, his words considered and precise. He pronounces the Spanish names of towns to the south with a fluent flourish. He’s been port director here since late 2015. The port’s activity forces Border Patrol to walk a hard line between border security and trade facilitation.

A Customs and Border Protection helicopter runs a drill outside our hotel in Laredo, Texas.

“You’ve got that dual mandate of economic security and everything that entails,” he says, “and national security and everything that entails.”

Alvarez isn’t shy about the drug traffic that continues to come across the border at ports of entry.

“Without getting too detailed on specific seizures and arrests, we have a lot,” Alvarez says. “You have large interdictions, and you have them often on World Trade Bridge.”

He says 1,000 pounds is pretty average for a marijuana seizure.

Local news reports are full of headlines about what the Port of Laredo has seized in the past year: $800,000 worth of heroin in March and $5.6 million in cocaine in February. Alvarez is proud of the work his agents are doing, but he’s not naive.

Agents will inspect auto parts on their way north from factories in Mexico.

“We recognize that it’s just not a problem we’re going to seize our way out of,” he says. “It’s got to be a much more sophisticated approach.”

I ask if Alvarez cautions his agents about crossing the border. There were restrictions in 2007 and 2008 but not now, he says. Many of his agents have family on the southern side of the border and regularly travel to Mexico to visit.

Alvarez says he knows the violence spun out of control with the cartels, and when it did it spurred a massive response from American law enforcement that continues to this day. Customs and Border Protection is now the largest, most well-funded law enforcement agency in the country with an annual budget of more than $13.56 billion, and it enjoys a breadth of function unlike any other organization in the U.S. government, with oversight of 44 other agencies.

“It’s bad for business if you’re a drug organization.”

That budget has afforded the Port of Laredo some impressive tools. Flores takes us on a tour of the facility, pointing out the various enforcement layers, from cameras focused on license plates and faces to the massive yellow radiation detectors.

Every train car coming into the U.S. gets an X-ray scan. The imaging is impossibly detailed. You can count individual ceramic tiles and pallets hidden behind the sheet steel of a boxcar. You can count the lug nuts on pickups headed north from sister plants in Mexico. And you can see contraband. Bales of marijuana hidden in lead-lined crates. People lying in pickup beds.

Later, at a similar scanner for semis, we beg to scan the Ram. The agents say no.

“We’d hate to find something you didn’t know was there,” the agent manning the display says, his deadpan delivery betrayed by the smile that leaps to his lips.

North Korea sails cargo ships off the coast of California with intercontinental ballistic missiles hidden below deck, and China is stockpiling weapons in Mexico. So says Texas resident Rusty Monsees.

After the miles we’ve covered, Brownsville shows up quickly. The land quits being a desert, trading the brown plains for flat, humid Gulf marshlands. That’s where we meet Rusty Monsees. He’s a man who can’t decide where his tall tale ends and reality begins. He’s 69, his face and scalp a patchwork of skin cancer craters. Gifts from a lifetime under the Texan sun. He smokes like the world’s running out of Pall Mall menthols. Says his family has owned a spit of land up against the border here since the 1940s.

Monsees has had a clear view of Border Patrol’s efforts over the years. It’s a strange sight. The border here spends much of its time on private land, well beyond the levee that protects the town from storm surges, upon which the border fence rests. In some places, that’s more than a mile from the international line.

There are gaps where people and vehicles come and go through the fence, and though a Border Patrol agent watches the traffic from his vehicle, he doesn’t stop or question anyone while we’re there. It’s easy to understand Monsees’ frustration.

There’s no way that the Border Patrol can get down here and adequately enforce it,” he says.

It’s harder to follow his logic. It wanders in and out of conspiracy theories. He tells us he’s seen uniformed ISIS soldiers streaming across the border, complete with AK-47s and rocket-propelled grenades. He says he’s buried 150 of his own dogs over the years, all killed by Mexican coyotes moving people and drugs across the border. He says North Korea sails cargo ships off the coast of California with intercontinental ballistic missiles hidden below deck and that China is stockpiling weapons in Mexico. He says he once saw a U-Haul in Matamoros packed with the decaying corpses of children slain by a cartel for their organs.

Living on the Edge: Rusty Monsees hosted a militia camp on his property a few years back. The group disbanded, and at least two of “Rusty’s Rangers” wound up in federal prison over gun offenses.

He moves so fast, jumping from apparent fallacy to fallacy, it’s impossible to mine the truth from the slurry of lies that churn from his lips. It would be tempting to write him off entirely, but he thoroughly believes the things he’s afraid of. He believes them even if there’s nothing there, and he’s not some insane panhandler. He’s a land owner. A voter.

He says something that rings clear and true just as a Border Patrol Chevy Tahoe rattles past us, stirring up a haze of grit from the dry levee road. Monsees lifts a hand in greeting.

“If [the Mexicans] would sincerely work with the local officials,” he says, “because they want this stopped, too. Their people are being killed. They want their people to have a decent wage. … What they’re saying is this: Give us an equal standing, and we can take care of our own politicians if you give us a reason and help to do it.”

A Border Patrol Chevy Tahoe inches its way down the beach in Las Palomas Wildlife Area outside Browns from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2idK0u2 via IFTTT

[jonathanbelloblog]

Exploring the Southern Border in a 2017 Ram Power Wagon: Arizona to the Gulf of Mexico

Arizona dissolves into yellow plains as we push through New Mexico and into Texas, stopping in El Paso just long enough for a meal. We’re never more than 30 miles from the border, and our hours have caught a cadence of gas stations, hole-in-the-wall food joints, and roadside motels. The Ram Power Wagon shows the marks of our miles, dusty and pinstriped, splattered with a thousand desert bugs. The perfect wanderer, inside and out, its plush leather seats comfortable, its bare vinyl floors up to the task of enduring the sand and grit we track in. We eat and aim for Big Bend National Park, some eight hours from Texas’ western-most city. It’s a long ride down I-10. Another reminder of how gargantuan our country is, of the impossible scope of us.

The daylight left us hours ago by the time we find Highway 90, and the sky’s spattered from horizon to horizon with stars, so many that my familiar constellations are lost in the wash. We drive for long hours, nothing in our high beams but two yellow lines and a few hundred hare.

The morning shows us what we were missing by staring at the stars. The landscape has changed. Just outside of Presidio, the Rio Grande is a green and living ribbon twisting its way through the Texan bedrock. Life clings to the banks. You smell it long before you see the river proper—the delicious aroma of water and the sweet perfume of wild and thriving desert trees. Mesquite and juniper hang on the cool morning air and come singing through our open windows. The land goes wild, the river slicing through deep gorges, taking the border with it. At Santa Elena Canyon, the rock faces that separate the U.S. from Mexico are 1,500 feet high.

“When you factor in the mountain ranges and a pretty remote and rugged desert area, there’s not a lot of water for wildlife, let alone humans.”

Jennette Jurado has been a park ranger at Big Bend for 11 years, and though she’s a Michigan native, it’s clear from the way her voice swells when she talks about the place that she thinks of this as home. Her eyes are bright and smiling as she tells us that there are two parks here. Between Big Bend and Rio Grande Wild and Scenic River, the park service manages 245 miles of the international border.

Both are part of the largest Border Patrol sector in the South, one that covers some 510 miles of border and blankets 135,000 square miles, including 118 counties in both Texas and Oklahoma. Despite its size, it’s the quiet-est sector for illegal alien crossings. In 2016, the area saw 6,366 apprehensions, less than half of the next busiest sector, Yuma. Agents apprehended a total of 415,816 individuals attempting to enter the country illegally last year, and though that’s a staggering figure, the agency says the number is a long way from the high-traffic era. Between 1980 and 2008, apprehensions averaged 1.1 million individuals per year.

Jurado says that in her 11 years at the park, she’s never personally seen or interacted with anyone trying to cross from Mexico into the U.S. through Big Bend. When I ask if she feels safe here, she offers a smile and laughs. She tells us she routinely heads out to hike in the park alone and has never had a problem. The biggest danger is the environment, she says, because hikers routinely underestimate just how much water they need.

There is no physical barrier between the two countries here. The land serves that purpose, and when we look across the Rio Grande, all we see is another few hundred miles of empty desert, the back door to Mexico’s Cañon de Santa Elena national park.

“When you factor in the mountain ranges and a pretty remote and rugged desert area,” she says, “there’s not a lot of water for wildlife, let alone humans.”

The cliffs of Santa Elena Canyon split the United States and Mexico at Big Bend. They’re breathtaking, taller than the Empire State Building, flagpole and all.

She has a hard time keeping the pride out of her voice. And later as we wander the 50-mile dirt road that hugs the Rio Grande, we understand why. This is a place to be proud of. The Chisos Mountains are stunning, rising 2,000 feet up from the desert plain like a fortress on our horizon. Ocotillo plants wave their alien, spiny arms at the sun as we pass. We see horses, wild or near to it, their flanks shining amber in the sunlight. Even in early spring, it is impossibly hot. Sweat wells and evaporates on your skin the second you step outside, leaving a thin and coarse trail of salt behind. There is no manmade barrier between the two countries here. The land serves that purpose. When we look across the Rio Grande, all we see is another few hundred miles of empty desert, the back door to Mexico’s Cañon de Santa Elena national park.

The sun is setting by the time we make the eastern end of Big Bend, the sky dimming to navy as the light fades. Eager stars flicker behind those old mountains, and a cool wind picks up. After the bake of the day it’s almost cold, and we find ourselves grabbing our jackets as we point the truck toward Laredo.

When we arrive the next day, we find an entire economy hanging on the border. The Laredo Port of Entry is the busiest land port in the Western Hemisphere. Forty percent of America’s trade with Mexico comes across its bridges.

We meet with Port Director Gregory Alvarez and Assistant Port Director Alberto Flores on a busy morning.

“NAFTA is really occurring in Laredo,” Flores says. “You see that raw material coming from Canada, transiting through the U.S., going to Mexico, then you see some of that raw material coming back as a complete product.”

Flores is a Laredo native. He speaks quickly, his dark brown eyes ready with a sharp and mischievous joke if the moment presents itself.

Every train car coming into the U.S. gets an X-ray scan. … we beg Them to scan the Ram, but the agents say no. “We’d hate to find something you didn’t know was there.”

Alvarez is tall but soft spoken, his words considered and precise. He pronounces the Spanish names of towns to the south with a fluent flourish. He’s been port director here since late 2015. The port’s activity forces Border Patrol to walk a hard line between border security and trade facilitation.

A Customs and Border Protection helicopter runs a drill outside our hotel in Laredo, Texas.

“You’ve got that dual mandate of economic security and everything that entails,” he says, “and national security and everything that entails.”

Alvarez isn’t shy about the drug traffic that continues to come across the border at ports of entry.

“Without getting too detailed on specific seizures and arrests, we have a lot,” Alvarez says. “You have large interdictions, and you have them often on World Trade Bridge.”

He says 1,000 pounds is pretty average for a marijuana seizure.

Local news reports are full of headlines about what the Port of Laredo has seized in the past year: $800,000 worth of heroin in March and $5.6 million in cocaine in February. Alvarez is proud of the work his agents are doing, but he’s not naive.

Agents will inspect auto parts on their way north from factories in Mexico.

“We recognize that it’s just not a problem we’re going to seize our way out of,” he says. “It’s got to be a much more sophisticated approach.”

I ask if Alvarez cautions his agents about crossing the border. There were restrictions in 2007 and 2008 but not now, he says. Many of his agents have family on the southern side of the border and regularly travel to Mexico to visit.

Alvarez says he knows the violence spun out of control with the cartels, and when it did it spurred a massive response from American law enforcement that continues to this day. Customs and Border Protection is now the largest, most well-funded law enforcement agency in the country with an annual budget of more than $13.56 billion, and it enjoys a breadth of function unlike any other organization in the U.S. government, with oversight of 44 other agencies.

“It’s bad for business if you’re a drug organization.”

That budget has afforded the Port of Laredo some impressive tools. Flores takes us on a tour of the facility, pointing out the various enforcement layers, from cameras focused on license plates and faces to the massive yellow radiation detectors.

Every train car coming into the U.S. gets an X-ray scan. The imaging is impossibly detailed. You can count individual ceramic tiles and pallets hidden behind the sheet steel of a boxcar. You can count the lug nuts on pickups headed north from sister plants in Mexico. And you can see contraband. Bales of marijuana hidden in lead-lined crates. People lying in pickup beds.

Later, at a similar scanner for semis, we beg to scan the Ram. The agents say no.

“We’d hate to find something you didn’t know was there,” the agent manning the display says, his deadpan delivery betrayed by the smile that leaps to his lips.

North Korea sails cargo ships off the coast of California with intercontinental ballistic missiles hidden below deck, and China is stockpiling weapons in Mexico. So says Texas resident Rusty Monsees.

After the miles we’ve covered, Brownsville shows up quickly. The land quits being a desert, trading the brown plains for flat, humid Gulf marshlands. That’s where we meet Rusty Monsees. He’s a man who can’t decide where his tall tale ends and reality begins. He’s 69, his face and scalp a patchwork of skin cancer craters. Gifts from a lifetime under the Texan sun. He smokes like the world’s running out of Pall Mall menthols. Says his family has owned a spit of land up against the border here since the 1940s.

Monsees has had a clear view of Border Patrol’s efforts over the years. It’s a strange sight. The border here spends much of its time on private land, well beyond the levee that protects the town from storm surges, upon which the border fence rests. In some places, that’s more than a mile from the international line.

There are gaps where people and vehicles come and go through the fence, and though a Border Patrol agent watches the traffic from his vehicle, he doesn’t stop or question anyone while we’re there. It’s easy to understand Monsees’ frustration.

There’s no way that the Border Patrol can get down here and adequately enforce it,” he says.

It’s harder to follow his logic. It wanders in and out of conspiracy theories. He tells us he’s seen uniformed ISIS soldiers streaming across the border, complete with AK-47s and rocket-propelled grenades. He says he’s buried 150 of his own dogs over the years, all killed by Mexican coyotes moving people and drugs across the border. He says North Korea sails cargo ships off the coast of California with intercontinental ballistic missiles hidden below deck and that China is stockpiling weapons in Mexico. He says he once saw a U-Haul in Matamoros packed with the decaying corpses of children slain by a cartel for their organs.

Living on the Edge: Rusty Monsees hosted a militia camp on his property a few years back. The group disbanded, and at least two of “Rusty’s Rangers” wound up in federal prison over gun offenses.

He moves so fast, jumping from apparent fallacy to fallacy, it’s impossible to mine the truth from the slurry of lies that churn from his lips. It would be tempting to write him off entirely, but he thoroughly believes the things he’s afraid of. He believes them even if there’s nothing there, and he’s not some insane panhandler. He’s a land owner. A voter.

He says something that rings clear and true just as a Border Patrol Chevy Tahoe rattles past us, stirring up a haze of grit from the dry levee road. Monsees lifts a hand in greeting.

“If [the Mexicans] would sincerely work with the local officials,” he says, “because they want this stopped, too. Their people are being killed. They want their people to have a decent wage. … What they’re saying is this: Give us an equal standing, and we can take care of our own politicians if you give us a reason and help to do it.”

A Border Patrol Chevy Tahoe inches its way down the beach in Las Palomas Wildlife Area outside Browns from Performance Junk Blogger Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2idK0u2 via IFTTT

[itsworn]

Ask Anything: Your Tech Questions Answered

Joe Stinson; via email: I’m one of the rare few with a big block Corvette that actually races the thing. My ’72 coupe has a nearly stock Chevrolet Performance 502/502 crate engine that’s backed by an M21 Muncie. The stock independent rear suspension is still in place with 4.11 gears. So far in over two seasons of occasional bracket racing I haven’t had any trouble other than bad wheel hop if I don’t slip the clutch just a little off the line. My best e.t. is an 11.52 at 116.

I know lots of folks say the Corvette IRS isn’t ideal for drag racing and I’m getting anxious to add enough power to break into the tens. What am I up against with the rear suspension and differential?

Steve Magnante: Hey Joe, though I’m tempted to toss in a lame Jimmy Hendrix pun asking where you’re goin’ with that gun in your hand, I’ll refrain….this time. The fact you thrash a stick shifted Corvette – and a big block no less – is cool in these days of over restored show poodles. You don’t say whether your Stingray is a factory-built big block or a small blocker with a heart transplant.

Though pre-’72 Corvettes (and all other Chevrolet passenger cars) lacked an engine-specific identification code in the VIN, GM added it for 1972. In fact, all GM passenger vehicles got an engine code (finally!) in 1972, bringing cheer to Buick, Oldsmobile and Pontiac muscle car hunters as well. Scope out the fifth spot, if you see the letter W, your Stingray was originally built with the 270 horsepower LS5 454 rat motor, one of 3,913 big blocks from the total run of 27,004 Corvettes built in 1972.

Other possible codes are K, for the base 200 horse 350 and L for the rare solid lifter LT1 350 with 255 (net) horsepower. Right here lets’ stop and consider the frustrating fact that Chevrolet kinda dropped the ball on Corvette differentials in the big block era. While SS396 Chevelles, 427 Impalas, L79 Chevy II’s and other bowtie factory muscle cars were fitted with the big 12 bolt rear end with its larger guts, stronger Posi unit, 8.8 inch ring gear and thicker axle shafts, when the 396 and 427 big blocks arrived in 1965 and ’66 (respectively), they used the basic 10 bolt differential and guts fitted to small block Vettes – and low-po Chevelles. At 8.2 inches, the 10 bolt’s ring gear isn’t huge and isn’t all that durable under extreme conditions.

Though Chevrolet made token efforts to bolster the Corvette’s 10 bolt in big block applications (forged steel U-joint caps, larger diameter half shafts, etc.) none of it was comparable to the 12 bolt upgrade given to less costly performance cars. Folks have scratched their heads over this fact ever since. Oh, another head scratcher for newbies is the 1963 – 81’ Corvette’s inspection cover. It only has eight bolts. But rest assured, there’s a 10 bolt differential inside (as in: the number of bolts securing the ring gear to the diff. carrier). And remember too, the bolt-on inspection cover also serves as the center anchor point for the transverse leaf spring. A simple, thin stamped tin cover it is not.

As it so often does, the hot rod aftermarket rose to the occasion, especially after a January 1974 edict from the NHRA allowing Stock and Super Stock Corvette racers to make internal modifications to the stock differential housing. The outside had to remain stock appearing and the jumpy IRS had to remain, but it was a step in the right direction.

The NHRA easement opened the door to a neat trick that involved swapping 12 bolt gears into the Corvette case. But it wasn’t easy. The inner surfaces of the case had to be deeply ground away to make room for the physically larger ring gear diameter. But that wasn’t enough. The ring gear itself had to be machined to reduce its outside diameter to 8.675 inches to clear the hogged out case. The trick also helped street enthusiasts and lots of machine shops performed this work.

But it didn’t eliminate the tendency of the half-shafts to blast off and a look under any 1965-’74 big block Stingray with competition history will reveal deep scars and repair patches near the burst trajectory of these items. By the 1990’s, the NHRA rulebook went a step further and allowed the complete elimination of the IRS setup altogether for added safety. But as always with stuff like this, there was a catch. Though the re-think allowed racers to scrap the troublesome outboard half shafts, the Corvette’s novel transverse leaf spring had to remain. Wally’s men said “no can do” to racer requests seeking permission to mount the one-piece live axle assembly via more conventional coil springs or parallel leafs. Well, at least requests to scrap the hefty rear disc brakes for drums were approved.

This opened the door to use of traditional 12 bolt, Dana 60 and Ford 9-inch rear axles, drum-to-drum. And this might be where your future lies. If it was my decision, I’d remove your stock IRS and replace it with a suitably narrowed live axle of the 12 bolt variety. Competition Engineering and others make live axle C3 Corvette conversion kits that employ beefy fabricated adapters that attach to the outboard end of each axle tube. When mounted, the forward ends accept the stock shock absorbers and the rearward ends grab ahold of the outer ends of the transverse leaf spring. A Panhard link above the axle resists lateral movement.

In all, it’s a slick, lightweight solution that adds strength and serviceability to any drag-oriented C3 Stingray. This problem-solver also spotlights how far the aftermarket has come since the sixties. Back then, even GM balked at the cost of creating a special extra heavy duty differential for big block Corvettes. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing these words. But in today’s ponycar marketplace where IRS is a fact of life under every new Mustang, Camaro and Challenger, numerous aftermarket driveline suppliers have taken the financial plunge with re-imagined Dana 60, Ford 9-inch and GM 12 bolt center sections to replace the factory weak links in an afternoon. We’ve never had it so good!

This 1970 Stingray is an active NHRA H/SA contender. The Competition Engineering live axle adapter kit solves breakage problems and prevents the C3’s notorious acceleration squat for full tire contact. Dig the lightweight aluminum G-body drum brakes that shave nearly 30 pounds of dead weight over the stock Delco Moraine discs. Slicks are Hoosier 30.0/9.0R-15.

MORE INFO Competition Engineering (203) 453-6571 competitionengineering.com

MAKING HINDSIGHT 20/20

Steve Magnante: This nugget is a little unconventional in that nobody wrote in to CarCraft to request it. Rather, I spotted this trick aboard Greg Davies 9 second BFNY Performance Dodge Magnum Hemi Wagon and knew it needed to be shared as widely as possible. As any bracket racer knows, races are often won or lost at the finish line. Tired of bending his neck for a 140-plus mph look-see at where his opponent was, Davies rigged a pair of RV / Camper back-up cameras instead.

Now, all he has to do is glance quickly at the appropriate LCD monitor to learn how close the opponent is and whether it’s time to tap the binders…or keep his right foot buried. Davies says: The right hand camera/monitor is used when I’m in the left lane and visa-versa for the left hand camera/monitor”. And since the naturally aspirated 468 cube Gen III Hemi is covering more than 20 feet per second by the 1000 foot mark, taking eyes off the track is something to be avoided, let alone trying to catch a glimpse of the opponent through the narrow slit of a full-face helmet. Here’s to Greg Davies’ ingenuity!

Mounted to the A-pillar, the wide angle camera (left) delivers a crisp, high resolution image that’s quickly visible without driver’s head movement.

Hemi Wagon driver Greg Davies shows off the passenger side setup. Davies’ Magnum weighs well under 2,800 pounds thanks to his relentless crusade to “add lightness”. The digital rear view system is several pounds lighter than the stock power mirrors and its’ more aerodynamic to boot.

ANCHORS AWAY?

Scott McKendry via email: Hi, great magazine! I have a couple of questions about a BBC block I bought on eBay before I send it out for rebuilding. First, I don’t want to spend more money on it if the cylinders are too thin. Looks like they are in great shape and have never been bored but when I took the freeze plugs out, after I had it hot tanked, the coolant passages were packed with rust. I cleaned them out as best I could and got a pile of rust on the garage floor. But there were still some pretty thick rusty chunks of metal I was still able to scrape off the coolant side of the cylinders, maybe 0.030 inch thick. I was told this engine was in a power boat. Should I be concerned about the cylinder wall thickness? Should I have it sonic tested? I’m planning on rebuilding it to basic LS6 specs, naturally aspirated but with less compression, like 10.5:1. I’m also considering a stroker kit. I don’t want to bore it any more than needed. My second question is about the numbers I see on the block. There’s a raised 3963512 at the rear of the block and the stamped code on the passenger side deck reads TO9142DQK. What have I got here and is there any way to preserve the deck stamping during the machine shop phase?

Steve Magnante: You bring up a significant point on the risks associated with boat / marine engines. As you’ve witnessed, the piston side of the bores can be in excellent condition but if corrosion from the inside out is present, metal loss can be so severe as to render a good unit scrap. It stems from the fact most marine engines use the lake / ocean as the radiator. Instead of a closed system with a radiator and dedicated coolant as in a road going vehicle, openings in the hull access cool water and direct it into the engine where it carries heat away. Once its’ passed through the engine, it’s released back into the body of water to be replaced by another fresh load of liquid in a continuous cycle.

On paper, this seems great since boaters can do away with the weight and complexity of a self-contained cooling system. But in practice, trouble arises from the fact naturally sourced water has no rust inhibitors and is jam packed with minerals. These help to set up electrical charges between dis-similar metals that slowly carry molecules away and can eventually cause holes. Worse yet is an ocean-going boat that uses salt water for coolant. We all know what sodium (salt) does to steel car bodies in the winter time. Yep, the same threat happens inside an engine block where even the thickest iron castings can be reduced to a useless boat anchor over time.

Your instincts are correct. Don’t trust the healthy surface appearance. Have every bore sonic tested from top to bottom, all the way around. Isolated thin patches caused by the peculiar nature of oxidation can create coin-sized hot spots on the “ugly side” of the shiny cylinder bores. These can degrade oil performance and reduce piston ring and skirt life. Overheating is also a possibility. There’s also the strength factor. If enough material is lost, your cylinder walls won’t be of consistent thickness. This could lead to poor ring seal in those spots and resulting blow by.

But remember, anything can be repaired and it’s a simple matter to install sleeves in afflicted bores. When installed by a solid shop with know-how and the right equipment, don’t be afraid and know that a V8 block with eight sleeves can be stronger than a pristine factory casting. The only wild card is price. If those eight sleeves end up costing more than a good replacement block, where’s the economy in that? Extreme sleeving like that is most fruitful in cost-no-object situations like saving the original block to a 1965 Chevelle Z16, Corvette L88 or a similar rarity.

As for the markings seen on your block, the raised characters at the back is the factory casting number (3963512) which identifies it as a 1969 – 1971 427 and 454 unit. This block is very beefy and can take a 0.125 inch overbore (assuming the inner faces aren’t corroded as discussed above). These blocks contain enough material to accept 2 bolt or 4 bolt main caps and both types are possible with this casting. The more important number is the stamping on the passenger side of the deck. Called the “suffix code” this one further identifies the block’s vehicular origin and is the one that’s all-too-often removed accidentally during deck work.

Yours is stamped with TO9142DQK and the characters restorers and collectors focus on are the final two, which is QK in your case. The first two (TO) identify the assembly plant as being GM’s Tonawanda, NY facility. The birthplace of all big blocks during the muscle era, GM shipped completed engines to its various vehicle assembly plants for final installation.

I did a fairly thorough Internet search for your suffix code and came up empty handed. Searching for DQK and QK delivered no matches for known Chevrolet vehicles. This supports the possibility yours was supplied new to a marine supplier for use on the water. Lacking more time on this end, you might want to explore the world of Industrial and Marine engine customers (think Mercury Marine, Gray Marine, etc.) which may have used a specific suffix code for identification.

As for preserving the stamped suffix code, it’s a simple matter of asking the machinist to baby sit the process and stop the cutter when it approaches the sacred digits. And I do mean sacred. For example, a 1969 Camaro Z/28 with its original DZ suffix code 302 block can be nearly twice as valuable as the same car with a non-matching block. I’ve also witnessed tragic situations where original, numbers-matching engine blocks were transformed into anonymous blobs by distracted or unconcerned machinists. It only takes a few extra minutes to baby sit the cutter.

Can anyone identify this stamped big block Chevy suffix code? It seems to read TO9142DQK though paint stripper might reveal otherwise…

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Carport Crisis: How to Repair 4 Common Garage Issues

You expect that your garage door will open and close every time you push the button on the remote or manually raise or lower the door. You rely on proper operation of the garage door to keep your vehicles and family safe form the elements or intruders. Garage doors and their mechanisms do sometimes fail, which is why routine maintenance of all components is important. Follow these tips about some of the issues that can arise and what to do about them.

Check for Broken Springs

One of the most common garage door issues is a broken spring. There are usually two springs that commonly sit above the head of the door. The springs are under torsion and enable the weight of the door to be lifted more easily. If you find yourself needing to get the car out of the garage, say to go to work, and you experience a broken spring, follow these suggestions. First, unplug your garage door opener and then disconnect the emergency release cord above the door. Now you can lift the door. Keep in mind that it will be heavy. Take your car out of the garage and close the door.

Unless you are very handy, this is the time to call a professional garage door repair company, such as Georgia Garage Doors Inc., that can safely replace the broken spring. The technician will measure the spring, replace it in kind, and hook everything back up so that the door will operate easily.

Inspect Tracks, Guides, Chains, and Belts

Your garage door might be opening and closing unevenly or more slowly than normal. This could be due to the tracks, guides, and chains being corroded or rusty. The overhead belt could also be deteriorating. Fasteners might have become loose and are impeding the movement. You can do a manual inspection of these using a flashlight and a step ladder. Tighten any loose screws, clean the rust, and, lubricate the tracks.

Look for Failed Seals

A very important component of garage door systems is the perimeter weatherstripping. These seals prevent rain, wind, debris, insects, and small animals from getting inside the garage. You can find the weatherstripping around the outside perimeter of the door frame and on the bottom of the door itself. Some doors have gaskets on the sides as well. Inspect for gaps, holes, and deterioration. Seals can be replaced quickly and economically.

Operate Openers, Remotes, and Sensors

The electrical components of a garage door system are subject to malfunctions. The first thing to go is simply the light bulb in the opener. That you can easily remedy by replacing the bulb. The remote can stop working. This is usually an easy fix by replacing the battery. If the motor in the opener stops working, check the circuit breaker first. If that has not tripped, it is likely the opener needs to be replaced. Make sure you check to see if it is still under warranty before you call your garage door repair company. Also check the safety sensors from time to time. These are what prevent the door from closing all the way if something is blocking the opening, such as a skateboard that has rolled into its way..

Maintaining your garage doors and all the related components is good practice to extend their usefulness. This may also save you money for unanticipated emergency repairs. It is a good idea to schedule a routine maintenance check of your door systems with your local garage door repair professional.