#suspension component replacement

[swissautoservice1]

How to Keep Your Suspension System in Top Shape

The suspension system is the unsung hero of your car, responsible for providing a smooth ride and maintaining control on the road. Proper maintenance ensures not only a comfortable driving experience but also enhances your vehicle’s safety and performance. Here’s a comprehensive guide to keeping your suspension system in top shape.

Understand the Suspension System

The suspension system comprises components like shock absorbers, struts, springs, and control arms. These parts work together to absorb road impacts, maintain tire contact with the road, and provide stability during turns.

Regular Inspections Are Key

Conduct regular visual inspections of the suspension system. Look for signs of wear and tear, such as:

Leaking shock absorbers

Uneven tire wear

Cracked or broken springs

Worn bushings or control arms

Early detection of issues can save you from costly repairs later.

Monitor Tire Health and Alignment

Tires play a crucial role in suspension performance. Ensure proper tire pressure and rotate them regularly to avoid uneven wear. Additionally, check the wheel alignment periodically. Misaligned wheels put extra stress on suspension components and can cause handling issues.

Avoid Overloading Your Vehicle

Every vehicle has a specific load capacity. Overloading can strain the suspension system, causing premature wear of springs and shocks. Stick to the manufacturer’s recommended load limit to prolong the life of your suspension.

Drive Cautiously on Rough Roads

Potholes and uneven terrains can wreak havoc on your suspension system. To minimize damage:

Slow down on rough roads

Avoid driving over speed bumps too quickly

Steer clear of deep potholes whenever possible

Replace Worn-Out Components Promptly

If you notice a decrease in ride quality, excessive bouncing, or difficulty steering, it might be time to replace certain suspension parts. Worn shocks or struts can compromise vehicle stability and should be replaced immediately.

Lubricate Moving Parts

Proper lubrication reduces friction and prevents wear in suspension components such as control arms and bushings. Make sure to use the recommended lubricant during routine maintenance.

Schedule Professional Maintenance

While DIY inspections are helpful, nothing beats a professional touch. Schedule regular maintenance at a trusted car service center. Professional technicians can perform a thorough check-up and address any hidden issues.

Listen for Warning Signs

Your car often signals suspension problems through:

Strange noises like clunking or squeaking

Difficulty in steering or poor handling

A bumpy or uneven ride

Ignoring these signs can lead to serious damage, so address them immediately.

Use Quality Replacement Parts

When replacing suspension components, always opt for high-quality or OEM (Original Equipment Manufacturer) parts. Cheap alternatives may not provide the same durability and can lead to recurring issues.

Maintaining your suspension system is crucial for ensuring a safe, smooth, and enjoyable driving experience. By following these tips and staying proactive with inspections and maintenance, you can extend the life of your suspension system and avoid costly repairs.

Trust only experienced professionals for any suspension repair. At Royal Swiss Auto Services, we specialize in top-notch car care, ensuring your vehicle’s suspension system remains in peak condition. Drive safely and smoothly with our expert services!

[python333]

need a ride? — python333

— — — —

synopsis ur walking home from school and theres a weirdo following you, luckily the 141 are there and they help u out!! :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap (for like 2 seconds, so sorry soap enjoyers), ghost, gaz.

word count 2.4k

warnings a creepy old man following [reader], [reader] intended to be in high school, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of y/n [your name].

note i have like 5 drafts and all of them are requests from people so im so sorry i havent been working on those!! i pinky prom once i get the motivation to write them--which probably sounds weird since i wrote this but trust me when i had to force myself to write this lmao--i will be posting them :3 i hope u all enjoy this fic, its all fluff and emotional hurt/comfort + protective-ish 141!!

You really wish you had listened to that first warning light. 

For a whole two days, your car had been in an auto repair shop, because you decided to ignore four whole warnings signs that something was seriously wrong with your car. Suspension and alignment issues, they’d told you yesterday, The wheels need to be realigned, the damaged suspension components need to be replaced, and the whole thing would take a day or two.

Fast forward to now, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon and you’ve been walking from school to your house for about ten minutes. The sun is close to being fully set—one of the worst parts of winter—and there’s been a guy following you for about five minutes now. 

He showed up once you’d exited the school premises and since then had been very determined to follow you home. You obviously did not want this to happen. But it didn’t matter if you walked faster, because he would only match your pace. If you tried to run, you assume, he’d just run after you, and seeing as he had far longer legs than you—you were pretty fucked if you decided to run. 

You would try to call an Uber, but your phone had been dead since fifth period. And you would try and catch a bus or something, but there were no bus stops near where you live, and even if there were, you weren’t carrying any cash or any cards on you. 

So, again, you’re pretty fucked. 

You look back at the man again, and turn your head right back around to look ahead of yourself once you see him looking right back at you, closer than you remember him being. Is he walking faster? Do I have to walk faster? 

You let out a shaky breath and keep walking, speeding up your walk just a bit and widening your strides, trying to think of what you should do. You didn’t want to just lead him to your house, that was just stupid. But you couldn’t just not go home—where else would you go? 

You continue to walk, speeding up a bit when you start to hear the man behind you speed up, and you try to control your panicked breathing. What are you supposed to do? You mentally curse yourself out for not carrying any self defense on your person, and continue your walking. 

Then suddenly, as if they were sent by God himself, you see four men come into view—one with a mohawk, one wearing some sort of skull mask-balaclava, one with sunglasses on even when the sun is almost set, and one with a boonie hat on—all walking together, all engaged in a casual conversation. 

You wonder for a moment if you should try and get closer to them to see if the guy would leave you alone. You hear the guy behind you speed up as you think and you take a deep breath before walking significantly faster to get closer to the men ahead of you. 

Am I really gonna trust a group that has a guy wearing a fucking skull mask in it? You hear the man behind you speed up as well and you speed up in retaliation, trying to think more about what to do, Do I just walk near them or do I straight up pretend I know them?

You think that the second option would be more likely to ward the weirdo following you away, but how would you even go about it? Do you just walk near them, or actually talk to them and join in on their conversation? 

You look behind you again and see the man significantly closer to you.

Deciding to take the risk, you rush up to them, swallowing down your panic when you hear the man behind you’s footsteps speed up to try and match your own speed. 

“Hey, guys!” All four of the guys turn around to look at you, their expressions all varying looks of confusion as you continue to talk, “Crazy seeing you guys here, it— it’s been so long.” 

You try to get as close to them as possible while not touching them and end up standing right by who you assume is the oldest. You try to subtly gesture to the man who was just following you, and the man you’re standing next to seems even more confused for a moment. 

“Uh, I don—” One of his friends cuts him off with a swat to the arm and when he turns his head to look at them in confusion, they nod over at the man whose just now catching up with you, and his mouth shapes into an ‘o’ before he looks back at you with a bit more understanding in his eyes. 

“Right, yeah, it has been really long,” He corrects himself, the other two of his friends catching on and stepping closer to you, almost creating a shield around you. He looks you over for a moment, before asking, “You just get out of school?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” You nod, grateful that they caught on, hoping your gratitude is somewhat apparent, “About ten minutes ago.”

“Nobody picked you up this time?” The older man asks, tilting his head to the side a bit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man who’d been following you getting closer, but you force yourself to ignore him. 

“Yeah, no, everyone was kind of busy, so I have to walk home,” You respond, shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie to hide their shakiness as the other man stopped to stare at you two’s conversation. 

“Aw, well that sucks,” The other man frowns, before offering, “I was just heading back to my car, I could drive you back to your house? It’s on the way to the hotel we’re staying at, anyway.” 

You hesitate, trying to see if the man who’d been following you was still there, and much to your disappointment, he was. It was like he was just waiting for you to make a decision. 

Not knowing if you had any other choice, you nod affirmatively, “Yeah, sure. If that’s okay.” 

The older man gives you a small smile and pats your shoulder, “Of course it’s okay. I don’t want you just walking out here by yourself.”  

You almost sobbed in relief when you heard the creep that was following you scoff and finally walk back to wherever he came from after hearing that you accepted their offer of a ride. The older man takes his hand off of your shoulder and looks over, noticing the man has left as well, then looks back at you with a more concerned expression on his face. 

“Sorry, I almost gave you away at the beginning there,” He sincerely apologizes. 

“It’s fine, he probably didn’t even notice,” You put on a small smile and take a deep breath before adding on, “Thank you for that. I didn’t think he was ever gonna go away.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” The older man smiles at you, and tacks on, “I was serious about the ride, by the way. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.” 

You pause for a moment at that and think about if you trust them enough to have him drive you to your house and know your address and everything. 

“It’s my car, by the way,” The guy with the sunglasses butts in, “I’m the one paying for it. No clue why he said it was his.” 

“Because it was easier than saying it was yours,” The other guy sighs. 

“Actually—” The one with a mohawk interrupts, before immediately being cut off by the other two with a simple ‘shut up’. He rolls his eyes, and does indeed shut up. 

The one with a skull mask must notice your slight confusion, because he comments, “We’re renting a car for this week. Gaz is paying for it.” 

“Don’t call me Gaz in public,” Gaz grumbles, “That’s weird. Just call me Kyle.” 

“That sounds weirder,” The one with the skull mask argues, before the one with the almost-bucket hat sighs exasperatedly, the sound enough to make the two others shut up. 

“Uh…” All their attention is back on you as you talk, making you resist the urge to shrink back in on yourself, “I mean, if you guys are totally okay with it, then I’d be… okay with getting a ride home.” 

“Great!” Gaz smiles at you before dropping the smile and turning to the one with the skull mask, “You’re getting an Uber or something. I’m not driving you after that.” 

“Wh—” The one in the skull mask, despite you only being able to see his eyes, looks baffled, “I didn’t do anything, fuckin’ kick out Soap or something!” 

“Me? Why me?” The one with the mohawk—Soap, you assume—squawks, watching as Gaz actually thinks about it before nodding. 

“Good point. Soap, call an Uber so…” Gaz pauses before turning to you, “What’s your name, love?” 

You give him your name and he nods before turning back to Soap, “So that [y/n] can take your spot in the car.” 

“I—” Soap begins to argue, before sighing and rolling his eyes, reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “Fine. Whatever. Fuck all of ye.” 

“Sorrows, sorrows, prayers,” Gaz says dryly before turning back to you, “The car’s just another block up.” 

“Got it,” You nod, “So I should just follow you guys then, or…?”

“Yeah,” Gaz confirms, “Stay a little closer in case that guy decides to come back, or if anyone else tries to follow you, alright, love?” 

You nod again and take another step closer to the man with the skull mask and follow everyone else as they continue walking down to their car. They’re silent for the rest of the walk back, the man in the skull mask and the one with the almost-dad-going-fishing-hat keeping an eye out for any creeps while Gaz leads the way to the car. 

Once you’ve all reached the car, Gaz unlocks it and the man in the skull mask and the one in the almost-bass-pro-shops-hat immediately get into the back seats, letting you have shotgun. You mentally thank them for it and wordlessly get into the passenger’s seat, happy that it’s not too dirty in the car, closing the car door once you’re in. 

You buckle yourself in immediately and look right out the front window whilst Gaz gets in. This definitely won’t end up in me being kidnapped, You tell yourself, Totally not. This is the best idea I’ve ever had. Getting in a car with someone who goes by Gaz, someone who wears a mask from Spirit Halloween, and someone’s dad who somehow ended up here. Fucking perfect idea. I should do this more often.

Gaz gets in and buckles himself in, putting the car key into the ignition and twisting it, starting up the engine. You continue to stare out the window wordlessly as Gaz pulls out of the parking lot he’d been in and gets onto the road. 

“Could you give me the directions to get to your place?” He asks you once he’s stopped at a red light right outside of the parking lot. Silently, you nod. 

“Yeah, just, uh, keep going straight then take a left on Monroe,” You instruct him quietly. He nods and presses on the gas once the light turns green, continuing straight like you’d said. 

“You alright?” The bearded man in the back pipes up, making you twist your head back to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You assure him, half-lying, “Just a little tired and creeped out.” 

“Reasonable,” He hums, before adding on, “I’m John, by the way, and this is Simon.” 

Simon, the dude wearing the Spirit Halloween mask, perks up at the sound of his name, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. 

“Good to know,” You respond, wondering if you should say anything else before awkwardly turning back in your seat to continue staring out the window, watching as Gaz takes a left. 

“Take the next right, then just continue straight and then take a right on Balboa,” You tell him. He nods and takes the next right just as you told him to. 

It’s probably safe to assume they aren’t kidnapping you, You think, your breathing finally back to normal now that you know you’re probably not in any danger. 

“So what’s with the name ‘Gaz’?” You ask Gaz without thinking, tired of the silence in the car. Based on the way Gaz groans and John huffs out a laugh, you assume it’s somewhat of a long story. 

“It’s kind of a long story?” Bingo. “But in short, I just don’t talk too much, and someone decided to make a big deal out of that.” 

“I never made it a big deal!” John insists, all while Simon looks at him like he knows he’s lying, “It’s just a nickname!” 

You listen in on their bickering, grateful to finally have some noise in the car, and huff out a small, amused laugh at their antics. 

Soon enough, Gaz is turning right on Balboa, and he drives right into your neighborhood. 

“It’s the house right up there,” You point to it, and he looks at the house you pointed at and speeds up a bit to reach it faster. 

Once he’s at the house he thinks you pointed at, he asks, “This one, right?” and pulls into the driveway when you nod in confirmation. 

He parks the car in your driveway and turns off the engine, immediately unlocking the car and turning to you. 

“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your day,” He says politely, offering you a smile. 

“Thank you, you too,” You smile back, feeling a little bad for being so eager to get out of the car. Then again, you really just want to get inside of your house where it’s safe, so you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. 

You carefully get out and close it behind you, fishing your keys out from your back pocket, walking up to the front door of your house and unlocking it, only hearing Gaz’s car pulling out of your driveway after you’ve successfully opened your front door. 

You yawn as you walk in, and close the door behind you, toeing off your shoes and leaving them by the front door.

You think, in the back of your head, about how weird it is that you didn’t get kidnapped despite that being the perfect opportunity for them to do so—but you don’t think about it too hard. You’re just grateful to have gotten home safe.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Citroën GSA X3, 1979. The GSA was an "interim" facelift of the GS after the Peugeot takeover of Citroën to keep the small family car competitive whilst a more conventional replacement, using mainly Peugeot components, was developed (the BX). Changes over the GS included the introduction of a hatchback and 5 speed manual transmission. The X3 was the "sporty" derivative of the range though it had the same 1.3 litre flat 4 as other GSA models. It was discontinued in 1982 with the arrival of the BX though some GSA derivatives were kept in production until 1986 while the BX range expanded. Like all Citroën models equipped with hydropneumatic suspension the GSA could be driving on 3 wheel with either rear wheel missing (b/w pic) as the self-levelling suspension was able to compensate for the missing wheel

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

This 1953 Muntz Jet convertible underwent a three-year custom build under previous ownership, and it was purchased by the seller in 2021. The car is powered by a fuel-injected 5.7-liter LT1 V8 engine paired with a four-speed automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end, and it is finished in Apple Pearl with a white Carson-style removable top over gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery. Features include custom bodywork, an Art Morrison frame, power-assisted steering, four-wheel disc brakes, airbag suspension, Painless Performance wiring, and more modified and fabricated details. This custom-built Muntz is now offered with a copy of Rodder’s Journal magazine featuring a story on the build and a clean California title in the name of the seller’s business.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The steel, aluminum, and fiberglass body is mounted on an Art Morrison ladder frame that was boxed and finished in semi-gloss black, and the floor was raised 3″. The exterior was repainted in a Sherwin Williams two-stage Apple Pearl mixed by the late Stan Betz. Features include a chopped Duvall-style windshield, 1950 Chevrolet headlights, dual Appleton spotlights, 1951 Ford Victoria side windows, and a white removable Carson-style top fabricated to match the height of the chopped windshield. Additional equipment includes color-matched rear fender skirts and chrome bumpers. Wear from fitting the top is noted on the rear deck.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Steel wheels sourced from a 1976 Dodge measure 15″ and are mounted with Cadillac Sombrero-style covers and whitewall tires. A matching spare fitted with a BFGoodrich Silvertown tire is mounted within a rear-mounted Continental-style chrome carrier. A Mustang II front end accommodates power rack-and-pinion steering , and the car rides on an electronically-adjustable Air Ride Technologies airbag suspension system along with 2” lowered front spindles, Strange Engineering tube shocks, a rear Panhard bar, and front and rear sway bars. The seller reports that the front control arm bushings were recently replaced.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Braking is handled by GM G-body-sourced calipers matched with Ford Granada discs up front and Ford SVO-specification calipers and discs at the rear.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The cabin was customized by Jim’s Auto Trim of San Diego, California, and features Glide bucket seats and a rear bench trimmed in gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery, along with matching treatments for the dash trim, headliner, and door panels. Additional equipment includes a 1952 Lincoln steering wheel mounted to a shortened Lincoln steering column, gray cut-pile carpet, and a Pioneer stereo housed within a custom center cubby.

The engine-turned “Hollywood” instrument cluster houses Stewart Warner gauges consisting of an 8k-rpm tachometer, a 160-mph speedometer, and auxiliary readings for fuel level, battery charge, oil pressure, and water temperature. The five-digit odometer displays 25k miles, though total chassis mileage is unknown. A Lokar pedal assembly was fitted during the build.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The Corvette-sourced 5.7-liter LT1 V8 features a polished fuel intake manifold along with billet aluminum valve covers, and additional features include an Opti-Spark distributor, a Griffin aluminum radiator, and a wiring loom sourced from Painless Performance Wiring. A set of long-tube headers are connected to a 2.5″ exhaust system equipped with dual Dynaflow mufflers. The seller reports that the oil was recently changed.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Power is routed to the rear wheels via a four-speed 4L60E automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end with with 3.55:1 gears and Strange Engineering 31-spline axles. Additional photos of the underside, drivetrain, and suspension components are presented in the gallery below.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The car was featured in issue #36 of Rodders Journal magazine

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

what do you like about cars?

I think you knew, upon asking this, that I could only ever have answered with either an ironic one-liner or a dozen-part novel. And unfortunately, this is already the second line, so novel it is. So then, without any further ado than the literal half year that’s gone by since this was asked, let's go.

1. Engineering matters

At the end of last year (aka when I started writing this, yikes) my dear old iPhone 6S moved on to a new home because it simply wasn't keeping up with me anymore. (And again, I was using an iPhone 6S in 2023. If I say a phone is too slow, it's too slow.) I had plenty of criteria for the replacement: a smallish screen not overboard on resolution, ideally a physical media control button and/or vibration toggle, repairability, a FUCKING AUX JACK... Something like the Sony Xperia 10, whose only real issue is marketing so trash you've only just now learned Sony never stopped making phones.

And yet...

This fancy wallpapers-sporting foldable is a Motorola RAZR 5G, a phone whose too-big screen already broke (though at the edge due to adhesive issues) and those who dared try warn repairing it will be as hard as phone repairs get. Why the fuck did I buy this? Well, because it has something more important than the aux jack, proper sizing, and good cameras: it made me go “That’s so cool!”, and when’s the last time a phone made you say that? It's the cusp of a new technology, and whether it becomes the future of phones, a future of phones, or just a weird footnote, it is an island of interesting in a sea of boring. And sadly, even this island is rapidly sinking. The drive for new form factors has already boiled down to the same two phones and their evolution is sinking into the usual millimetric proportion tweaking, camera rearranging, touchscreen expanding, case material switching, fingerprint sensor moving, and spec improvements not even manufacturers can come up with use cases for. I mean, seriously, how does the iPhone 15 differ from a software-updated iPhone X (which is apparently not pronounced "x", so I guess the iPhone Twitter)? Nothing is new. Nothing is tackled differently. The user experience does not differ. And why should it, when iPhone users will get a new one out of habit anyway and many are so tech illiterate moving a button could hospitalize them? Five generation newer and 150% faster are numbers you basically have to trust, because they don't make a difference that matters.

But in cars? 150% faster will matter alright. Even just looking at it. Cars are a visceral experience to even witness, let alone ride in or drive, and the frantic engineering pursuits for performance and overall capability actually have impactful real world implications beyond "some pockets will bulge 1mm less". And their engineering involves so many fields that there’s always a breakthrough going on somewhere - which leads to another reason their engineering is so interesting: there’s simply so much of it that anyone interested in engineering will find something for them, no matter their level or sector of expertise! Interested in mechanics? Well, obviously you’ll have a field day! Aerodynamics? Don't even get me started! Electronics? You're getting more goods by the year! It spread from engine management to safety assists to infotainment to ergonomic adjustments to even suspension and aerodynamics! Sound design? Even just working on the way engines sound is a profession of its own, let alone making these barrels of metal and glass propelling themselves at triple digit speeds through hundreds of explosions a second things you can comfortably have a conversation in - and that's not even mentioning horns and chimes! Hi-Fi? We’ve spent most of a century trying to get concert hall sound from a tiny tin can where everyone sits off-center and everything bumps and shakes around and you have maybe room for two components* a third the normal size and speakers can only be in a handful of places you wouldn’t want them which may well be the next room over**!

And this is just engineering.

*Like everything in the car world, there are exceptions to that

**For those unfamiliar, subwoofers, the speakers dedicated to, indeed, sub-bass, due to their frequent humongousness are often installed in the trunk.

[boxboxblog]

How Do F1 Cars Work?: Power, Transmit, Suspend

Alright part 2 everyone. Let's go.

1.Power Units

You have probably heard lots of yammering about power unit components before. Things like 'they took on too many and now have a grid penalty' are common to hear. But what is the power unit, and what does that mean?

So the power unit refers to the engine system that helps power the car. The modern F1 car is a hybrid, a mix between a typical Internal Combustion Engine (ICE) and Energy Recover Systems (ERS). The modern F1 ICE is a 1.6 liter V6 turbocharged engine and can rev up to 15,000 RPM. It uses gasoline and generates a majority of the power. I've explained how it works in an older post, but briefly it compresses air and fuel and ignites it to create combustion which generates energy. The turbocharger is a part of the ICE that helps condense air more, in turn forcing the engine to create more energy.

The ERS has two components. The first is Motor Generator Unit-Kinetic (MGU-K), which recovers energy from braking, stores it in the battery (which stores energy from the two units), and can be used as a boost to power. The second is Motor Generator Unit- Heat (MGU-H). This unit recovers heat energy from the turbocharger and converts it to electrical energy. It can either charge the battery directly or assist the ICE.

When teams get in trouble taking too many power units it essentially means they have replaced something like the MGU-H too many times. There is a cap for how many times you can replace a power unit component, but with the addition of more races every year the FIA is under pressure to increase this limit. Almost every single car takes the penalty at some point.

2. Transmission

The transmission is the semi-automatic gear box inside of F1 cars, which for them is 8-speed. It is located at the rear of the car and connects to the power unit. This is a part of the car that is famous for having issues, and often when a drivers car retires it is due to a gear box failure. With paddle shifters located under the steering wheel, drivers can change the gear in which they are driving. Different gears effect the traction, grip, fuel economy, and speed of the car and are used strategically throughout the race. Part of the transmission is the differential. The differential distributes power between the rear wheels when cornering, allowing the inside tire to rotate slower than the outside tire. The final majorly important part of the transmission is the clutch. In F1 the clutch, which is a device that connects the engine and transmission to the car is automated and controlled by electronics. It is usually used when starting the race or leaving the pit lane.

Grip levels, cornering speeds, and straight-line speeds all play a crucial role in gear ratio calculations. The teams have to find the perfect balance between acceleration, top speed, and adaptability. The team’s engineers use advanced simulations and data analysis to calculate the optimal ratios for each gear. They also take into account factors like tire wear and fuel consumption to fine-tune their calculations. All of this information can be gathered from electronic data gatherers inside of the car, running simulations, and also the drivers reporting themselves. Its why radio communication is so important in F1. This decision can make or break a race, and we have seen drivers lose due to an incorrect gear decision.

3. Suspension

The suspension system works to keep the tires in contact with the road and helps absorb the shocks F1 cars experience. This is created through a variety of springs, shock absorbers, sway bars, etc. Without the suspension, the chassis would be experiencing the full extent of the shaking and pressure, which would do damage to the car and be very painful for the driver. Anytime you see a driver shaking like crazy in the car, it usually means there is something off with the suspension. Suspension also allows the force of the bumps and the kinetic energy to be stored by a spring, which is then compressed, absorbing the energy transferred by that bump in the road and allowing all four tires to grip the road. The biggest difference between street car suspension and F1 suspension is that in an F1 car each tire is independently sprung, which means that they move on their own, useful around corners.

In F1 cars they have a pushrod or pullrod suspension. These systems transfer pressure from the wheels to the suspension dampers and springs. In a push-rod system, the rocker arms are placed at the highest point in the car. As such, the rod is under pressure as it transfers compression forces upwards into the rocker arms. In a pull-rod system however, the rocker arms are located between the upper and lower control arms, at the center of the car This means every time it hits a bump or curb, the wheel pulls on the spring which causes the pull-rod to go up and outwards from the chassis. Both are regularly used suspension types.

Teams regularly change how their suspension is functioning, and it is by far one of the most tweaked systems on the car. Truly, a weak suspension can make any car one of the slowest cars on the grid. So next time you hear a. driver complain about how slow they are on the straights, or how much their back hurts, it usually means their suspension is not where it should be.

That's all for this post, next one should be about braking, the various electronics/sensors, cooling systems, and wrap up of how everything works together.

Cheers,

-B

[gvfgal]

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

Prologue: Once A Barbarian, Always A Barbarian.

STRICTLY 18+, minors beat it

A/n: Welcome! I’m excited about this one, and I hope you guys are too. First chapter will be out in the next few days, this is just to get a good introduction to what you’re getting yourself into. Fair warning, there are a lot of dark themes to this story (we’re talking biker gangs). It’s a little raunchy, a little raw, but overall, I think we’ll all enjoy. As usual, I’ll place content warnings at the beginning of each chapter, and if you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 Without further ado…

Content Warnings: Death of a family member, explicit language, sexual themes, alcohol consumption, smoking, violence, blood, asshole Jake (gotta love him though). Reader is not included in this part of the story!!!

Word Count: 2.9k

The sweltering Arizona sun caused beads of sweat to roll down Jake’s temple as he inspected beneath the hood of an old Corolla. The woman who brought it in was complaining of an odd noise, and insisted that Jake be the one to inspect it. He wasn’t surprised by this, the same woman had been in several times over the course of the last few months, each time wearing less and less.

It could’ve very well been due to the rapidly approaching summer, but Jake suspected it had to do with something else.

He could feel her watching him intently as he moved his flashlight around, but decided to pay her no mind. Sure, she was a conventially attractive woman, but cougars weren’t exactly his type.

“So what’s the diagnosis, doc?” she asked, tone sultry as she leaned against the side of her slightly rusted car. Jake retreated from under the hood, shoving the small flashlight into his jeans pocket and using his forearm to wip the sweat from his brow.

Her eyes were raking over him shamelessly, a hungry look in her eyes as she admired the way his muscle shirt clung to his torso. Jake’s own eyes fell to her overly exposed chest, on display and practically spilling over the thin spaghetti strapped tank top she was wearing. When he realized the staring could probably continue for a lot longer, he shifted his gaze towards the waiting car, jerking his head in it’s direction.

“Your suspension components are fried. When’s the last time you had those things replaced?”

“God, I don’t know,” she sighed, “my husband was usually the one who kept up with that,” a flirty smirk played on her lips as she took a step closer to Jake, “we’re divorced now.”

He watched with little intrigue as her tongue appeared to swipe across her bottom lip that was coated in fuchsia lipstick.

“Good to know.” He began searching his pockets for a lighter while retrieving the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear.

“What does somethin’ like that cost anyway?” she feigned exasperation. Internally rolling his eyes, Jake brought the cigarette to his mouth and flicked the lighter to life. He knew well where this conversation was going, and out of sheer boredom, he decided to entertain it. He figured the best that could come from it was a quick blowjob in the back office on his lunch break.

Once his cigarette was burning steadily, he tucked his lighter away and dropped the hood of the car shut to lean against it. “Well,” a cloud of smoke appeared over his head as he freed his mouth to speak, “for the parts, we’re looking at about eight fifty. Including labor, about twelve hundred.”

She didn’t appear to be phased by the large total as she moved to step into Jake’s space, trapping him between her arms with a hand on either side of him against the warm hood of the car. “Any special discounts?”

Jake smirked at her as he brought his cigarette to hover in front of his mouth, “I think I can come up with something.”

Before she had a chance to reply, Jake’s boss came barreling out the back door, not angry by any means, just simply by his nature. “Jake,” his voice boomed, “there’s someone out front for you.”

The woman’s eyes stayed fixed on Jake’s face as he turned to look at his boss, sending him a quick nod, “be right there, Hank.”

He took a moment to assess the unique position that Jake was in before shaking his head and dissapearing back inside.

Jake was wearing a smile as he retuned his attention to the overly eager woman, “what did you say your name was again, sweetheart?”

“Candice,” floated past her lips as if it felt good to say.

“Well, Candice,” he pointed over to where one of his coworkers was unloading boxes from a delivery truck, “go talk to my man Drew over there. He’ll get you all taken care of.”

He tapped her bare thigh, and she immediately stepped aside, slightly dumbfounded at how quickly he’d changed his mind. Little did she know, he was hardly interested to begin with.

“Wait, but-”

He was entering the shop before she had a chance to continue, nodding his head at some of the men inside as he continued to smoke. The AC was a nice break before he was once again thrusted outside, squinting his eyes to see who his mystery visitor was.

At first, he didn’t recognize the man. But when he glanced over at what he assumed to be his motorcycle , the metal plate plastered on the front was unmistakable. Two heavy axes crossed at the handle, written underneath it in old English font, ‘Barbarians’. As Jake drew closer, the man’s smiling face became more familiar, and his heartbeat grew quicker in excitement and confusion.

“Ace?” he put his cigarette out on the hood of one of the scrap cars and tucked it back behind his ear as he picked up his pace. He didn’t wait for a response, throwing his arms around the man’s large frame. Ace immediately returned the gesture, grabbing Jake up like the son he’d always been to him.

“It’s good to see you kid,” Ace chuckled as he patted him roughly on the back.

It had been almost ten years since the two had last seen each other, Ace’s face being one of the last Jake saw as he drove his Harley out of Nevada, swearing he’d never return.

“What are you doing here? Ho-how’d you find me?” he stepped back to look at Ace again, noting the way his age had begun to show on his face.

“Wasn’t easy. Tried tracking you down myself, but ended up having to call your mom in the end,” he scoffed, “she hasn’t changed much.”

The shared a quick laugh before Ace went serious, looking down at the gravel beneath his feet, “it’s uh, it’s your dad, Jake.”

Jake was silent and unwavering, his facial features not giving away the intense anxiety that began coursing through his veins. When he didn’t answer, Ace looked back at him in disappointment, “he passed away back on Friday.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve broken down at the news, drowned in a pool of their own tears, but Jake could do no such thing, not after the hell his father put him through for eighteen years. All he could do was blink as the stark reality set in.

“How?” he finally managed to produce as he looked into Ace’s sorrowful eyes. Ace and his father had been friends years before Jake came along, and through the brotherhood of the Barbarians, their relationship only grew stronger. Jake knew he must’ve been taking it hard, but was doing his best not to show it.

“Acute liver failure. By the time the ambulance got there, it was too late.”

“Oh,” Jake nodded. A moment of silence stretched on between them as Ace appeared reminiscent.

“He said something to me, Jake, before he��� went.” Jake waited for him to continue, “he asked me to bring you back. Back to Genoa, so you could be a part of the Barbarians again. The right way.”

How he hadn’t seen that coming, he had no idea. And the fact that he hadn’t, only served to make him angrier when it was spoken aloud.

He scoffed bitterly, “not a fucking chance.”

“Jake, wait,” Ace called out as Jake turned to storm back inside, “wait!”

“Wait for fucking what, Ace?” Jake spat as he stopped to face him again. “You know more than anyone else what that motherfucker put me through. He cared more about the Barbarians than he did his own son!” The two were standing chest to chest now, Jake not feeling the least bit uneasy at Ace’s menacing frame. He knew he’d never lay a hand on him and vice versa. This was all a display of male testosterone at it’s finest.

“You know growing up, all I ever heard was how much he wanted me to take over the gang. And I told him that as long as he was alive…” his words trailed off as reality once again struck him. His entire body deflated, backing down from Ace as he casted his eyes away.

Ace gave him a moment to process before he opened his mouth again, “exactly. Things have changed. And you’re right, I do know better than anyone what you’ve been through, but I also know how much the Barbarians used to mean to you, too.”

Jake looked back at him, his face still contorted in anger.

“And when you left, I let you. I knew it was for the best and for ten years I let you be. But regardless of that, you’re still one of us, Jake. You were born to be a Barbarian, it’s in your blood. And now that he’s gone, it’s time for you to take your place.”

Jake’s refusal to respond caused Ace to slap a rough hand on his shoulder, calling his attention back to him.

“I’m not asking you to take things over,” he spoke up again, more empathetically this time, “just to fill an empty space. The guys, they’re… kinda lost. Rex’s hard work is what kept us afloat all these years. And without him…” he trailed off, leaving Jake to fill in the blank on his own.

Jake shook his head. If his dad was half as good of a parent as he was a gang leader, maybe his feelings would be different. But as of right now, he remained sturdy in his rage.

“Just think about it, Jake,” Ace sighed, giving up the battle. “His service is this Friday, we’d like for you to come speak.”

When he as aware that Jake no longer had anything to say, he sent him another pat on the shoulder, something he had been doing since Jake was little.

“It was good seeing you again, kid.” Ace gave him one last look before mounting his bike. He cranked it to life and tugged his helmet on before pulling out of the dirt driveway. Jake watched as he rode off into the distance, the larger Barbarins emblem planted on the back of his leather jacket becoming smaller and smaller the further he traveled. When he was gone, Jake turned to go back to work, his once chipper mood now soured.

The rest of his day dragged on slowly, his mind still processing the fact that his father was really dead. They hadn’t spoken in years, and the fact that they never would again was a concept that was hard to grasp. Something deep down inside of him hoped that they’d be able to make amends, that they’d work through all their differences and become a proper father son duo. That part of him mourned the loss. But another part of him was relived. With the all too real possibility that things could never be fixed, he felt like his death was saving him from disappointment.

But that was only part of the dilemma.

Going back to Nevada, to the shit hole called Genoa, to be a Barbarian again, that was a different story. Ace was right, the Barbarians did mean a lot to Jake, but that was before he left. The longer he stayed away, the more he saw it for what it really was. Growing up, Jake had a first hand look into what being a Barbarian brought. Sure, it brought brotherhood that was stronger than blood, something most men never experienced in their lifetime. But it also brought about the type of turmoil that every man hoped they’d never have to face.

The specter of morality forever loomed, a constant companion shadowing every breath. In it’s chilling embrace, one’s innocence withered, like petals scorched by an unforgiving flame. The relentless grip of fate coerced them down a treacherous path, where the weight of sins they never sought haunted their every step, etching deep scars into their souls that would never fade.

And with how deep in his father was, he was surprised he didn’t meet a worse fate.

Jake couldn’t escape the recollection of the the time when he, rather eagerly, invited the shadowy presence into his life. But now, it’s allure had waned, losing it’s once in enticing grip. He yearned for more— more than the transient pleasure veiled in darkness. He hadn’t seen it yet, nor felt it, but he knew it was out there.

By the time he made it home, it was pitch black outside to match his mood. He could’ve burned the house down form the heat he was emitting. Kira was sitting on his couch when he got inside, and for some reason, that angered him even more. They’d only been seeing each other for about two weeks, and the majority of those days were spent drinking, smoking, and fucking. When people asked, Kira said she was Jake’s girlfriend, when the same question was bestowed upon him, his only response was, “something to do.”

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, “Kira, get out, please.”

She’d hardly noticed his presence at first, too engulfed in whatever was playing on the Tv. But when she heard his tone, and the words that accompanied it, she turned to him.

“What?”

“Get out. I need to be alone.”

“Jake what—”

“Kira, get the fuck out!”

She scrambled to her feet, quickly gathering her belongings into her bag as she shimmied her feet into her shoes. She eyed Jake as she passed him, but the look on his face dared her to not say a word. He heard the door shut behind him, signaling him to untense his body. He shuffled his way into the kitchen and grabbed up a half empty bottle of Johnny Walker and plopped down on the couch, turning the tv off.

There he sat with his thoughts as he drained the bottle sip by sip. Thoughts of his father, the good and the bad. The joys of riding on the back of his bike before he had one to call his own. Joking and laughing together until the sun came up, sometimes wit the entire gang. The nights of arguing so loudly that his voice was hoarse the next morning. The fists thrown in anger. The reconciliation.

He thought about the Barbarians. The community. The family. The funerals, the violence, the heartache. Surely, he could never go back to that. But even still, he had a duty. A duty that that was sealed by the shedding of his blood some eleven years ago.

Jake’s face was bloodied and bruised, having reached the end of his Barbarians initiation. The gang was in an uproar, drunk out of their minds and shouting like a pack of wild men, thrilled for the acceptance of one of their newest and youngest member. The son of their leader, only eighteen years old, but sure to make an impact on the gang in the way that his father had.

Once the men finished the job, Rex emerged from the crowd, his face turned up into a scowl. It was the face of a ruthless gang leader, not the face of a father.

“It is a Barbarians sworn duty to always serve this family. You have a duty to live and die by the Code of the Barbarians,” he barked as Jake struggled to catch his breath. “It is your duty to lay down your life, if need be, for the good of this family. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jake choked out as he spit a mouthful of blood onto the dirt.

“I said do you understand, probee?!”

Jake stood taller, summoning his last bit of strength, “yes!”

Rex smirked, “boys, I think he’s ready.”

Two other Barbarians, Steeljaw (a nickname gained after a horrific motorcycle accident that left him with a reconstructed jaw made of steel), and Madcap (an even longer, crazier story), approached Jake from behind, each holding the sleeve of an official Barbarians jacket. Before they could place it on his shoulder, Jake’s dad raised a hand to stop them, looking directly into Jake’s eyes, one swollen almost shut.

“Say it.”

“Once a Barbarian, always a Barbarian.”

“Once a Barbarian, always a Barbarian!” his dad shouted, turning to the other men in the gang.

They repeated the phrase back to him in unison, and began cheering as the men helped Jake into the jacket.

The celebration commenced, and Rex grabbed Jake up into a tight hug. He winced at the pressure on his sore rib, believing that it was more than likely broken.

“I’m proud of you, kid.” His dad muttered into his ear.

Jake hugged him back to the best of his ability. Half way happy that he was finally a part of something his father loved so much, and halfway feeling like he signed his own death certificate.

Now beyond drunk, Jake stumbled his way into his bedroom. He flung the door of the closet open, pushing all of his clothes to the side to reveal that very jacket he’d received that night. It had since collected a thin layer of dust, but the large Barbarian logo plastered on the back seemed unscathed. It was as bright and clear as ever, some kind of sign, Jake was sure.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he yanked the jacket from its hanger, pulling it onto his body like he swore he’d never do again. The feeling of it’s aged leather on his body was familiar yet foreign. Comforting yet menacing.

He turned to face the mirror, taking in the way the jacket still fit him like a glove, like he was made to wear it.

Once a Barbarian, always a Barbarian.

1. Homeward Bound

[whoopssteddiefeels]

Birds of a Feather

In which Robin tries to buy weed for Steve, and finds more than she bargained for in one Eddie Munson.

Robin was hovering by the tree line outside the school, trying to work up the courage to buy some weed. Her internal monologue was amped up with anxiety, spinning around in a way that had her muttering out loud to herself.  "Come on Buckley, you fought Russian soldiers, a high school drug dealer should not be a problem."

Starcourt had happened fast though, and never felt like a choice. This was deliberate and felt much more real somehow. Fighting a Russian conspiracy under the mall that involved people with superpowers? Insane. Buying weed off Eddie "The Freak" Munson? Plausible. Illegal. Suspension or expulsion potential.

But then she thought of Steve. Mostly healed, but still sensitive to light with occasional crippling headaches. His refusal to see a doctor (How am I going to answer when they ask exactly how I was injured, Rob?). The way the dark circles under his eyes never really left, the permanent exhaustion that let her know he definitely wasn't sleeping. Weed was supposed to be good for sleep, right? And maybe Eddie had something for pain too. She wouldn't be able to afford that, but Steve might, so long as it didn't have any dissociative components. No need to trigger truth serum flashbacks. Ugh, she was going to have to ask questions, and give reasons, because she didn't know exactly what she was doing, or what she wanted. This was going to be unbelievably uncomfortable.

She clutched the strap of her backpack and began stomping through the woods towards the infamous picnic table, fall leaves crunching underfoot. It came into view through the trees quickly, the "woods" by the school being more of a small cluster of trees no one had bothered to cut down than anything approaching an intentional wooded area. The sky overhead was a slate grey, but it was still very light out, leaving the whole scene appearing two-dimensional for lack of shadows.

A metal lunchbox sat ominously on what appeared to be an abandoned, slowly rotting picnic bench. Telltale signs of teenage delinquency were littered around, beer cans, cigarette butts, broken glass and bits of paper. The picnic table wasn't abandoned though, as she stomped closer, she noticed the long legs sprawled parallel to the far bench, straddling it. One ringed hand was dangling in a similar position, just off the ground, and a small tell-tale plume of smoke was rising from where she assumed his head was laid on the bench. "You sound like a damn elephant, you know that?" a voice drawled, but Eddie lost none of his relaxed posture. At least, not until she spoke.

"You're not exactly Mr. Twinkle-toes yourself, I'm shocked the lunch tables don't break under your feet."

The boy slowly sat up with the faint jingle of chains, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, leaves clinging to the bottom of his curls where they had brushed the ground. She was clearly not who he had expected. He pulled the cigarette that had been dangling from his lips away with two fingers and simultaneously flicked the ashes off the end and exhaled another cloud of smoke.

Why wasn't he saying anything?

"I uh... I mean... when you do your whole, rant thing, y'know? With the..." Robin gesticulated wildly, trying to encompass Eddie's usual theatricality. Smooth, Buckley. She dropped her hands back to her bag’s shoulder strap, wringing it nervously. "I uh... heard you sell. Drugs, I mean. Is that weird to say?"

The confused brow wrinkle was quickly replaced with a soft smile and a chuckle, a very different look from the manic grin she had seen in the cafeteria. To be fair, she was usually trying to not make eye contact with anyone drawing attention to themselves like that. "Not weird to say, since it's true. What can I do for you...?" he paused and gestured at her with the hand still holding the cigarette, clearly inviting an introduction.

"Robin... Buckley. I, uh, play trumpet?" she mimed her instrument of choice, then winced and tried not to kick herself for that idiotic move.

Eddie just continued to smile softly at her, large eyes a little too wide, shoulders a little hunched in on himself. "Eddie Munson." he offered "I play guitar," and he mimed a tiny air guitar solo.

"Right. So...." she clambered onto the bench opposite Eddie, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of smoke that wafted up from the still lit cigarette in his hand and off his hair and clothes. She wasn't successful, obviously, if him putting it out a second later was any indication. Then again, it could just be a coincidence since his next move was to the drag the lunchbox between them.

"So." he agreed, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on top. So far this was not what she had expected. Munson always seemed... loud, off kilter. Manic to the point of being a little scary. She supposed those descriptions might also apply to her, but where she tried to control it, he always seemed to lean in. Embraced being weird in a way she might envy if it didn't give her severe secondhand embarrassment to witness. Here, he seemed quiet and relaxed. Soft, with big eyes and a small smile contrasting with the angry zombie on his t-shirt under the denim and leather. There was something familiar in his mannerisms. Something she couldn't quite place.

"Here's the thing, and I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I’m not lying, it's not actually for me. Like really, it's not. I feel like I might be unbearable high, actually, like- anyway. Yeah, so this friend of mine has had... well, multiple knocks to the head.  And the trauma is... not... all physical? Like we worked together at Starcourt, and the fire was... something. So, I guess what I'm asking is what would you take for light sensitivity, and also intense headaches, but also inability to sleep because of nightmares and ALSO isn't dissociative because... yeah. Just nothing dissociative."

Eddie blinked at her, face unchanged other than slightly wider eyes and slight furrow between his eyebrows. He seemed to be waiting for her to take a breath before responding, so she did. "That's a lot of “alsos.”"

"Yeah."

He sighed, but then leaned back and popped open the lip of the lunchbox in an obviously practiced motion. Eyes darting back and forth, biting his lower lip lightly in what she hoped was thought.

"Not to talk myself out of a sale here, but it honestly sounds like he needs a doctor. Possibly several."

"Yeah, I've told him that, but he refuses to go and I'm tired of watching him be in pain and tell me it's fine," she threw air quotes up around the last word. Steve's martyr complex was something else, honestly.

"Well as long as you give your boyfriend that disclaimer..." Eddie was rooting around in the lunchbox, but his eyes flicked up to her face and his slight frown morphed into a wide grin that lit up his whole face at her expression. "Okay, not boyfriend?"

She probably should be more subtle, but Robin couldn't help the disgusted face she was making. Why did everyone assume she and Steve were dating? It was gross. "Emphatically not."

Eddie's eyes darted up and down a few times, running over her face and outfit, rapidly. He seemed suddenly nervous, and she had a terrible sinking feeling in her gut that he was about to ask her out. She was trying to work out the nicest complete refusal that would still let her purchase some weed when he went back to staring into the lunchbox, one hand tapping a rhythm on the table while the other extracted a plastic bag with plant matter in it. He seemed to come to a decision, and she braced, when he said "Hey, I wouldn't be able to resist Harrington in that sailor outfit."

She was gaping. She should definitely close her mouth. It did not need to be open for her to do the rapid mental math. There were rumors that Munson was gay, but there were also rumors he kept repeating his senior year on purpose to find vulnerable freshmen to sacrifice to Satan. She had barely been sure that he actually dealt, people said so many wild things.

Also how did he know she was talking about Steve? Though… in retrospect the two of them were pretty inseparable these days. He drove her to school daily, and she had mentioned she worked with the person in question. Ok maybe it was obvious she had been talking about Steve.

Eddie was looking up at her through his bangs, clearly nervous, and she suddenly thought of the bathroom floor and a prolonged silence on the other side of the wall. "Hang on, I'm just judging your taste in outfits, not men. We both looked ridiculous. Absolutely embarrassing."

"You say that like it wasn't part of the attraction." The wide grin had returned, though he quickly hid it behind a lock of hair pulled across his face. Cute. Why had she thought he was scary?

She scrunched her nose up at him anyway. "Gross. That's gross. Men are gross."

"Yeah, I got that opinion from your boots." He waved the small plastic bag at her. "Anyway, sounds like his majesty has a lot going on, but he can certainly start with weed. His old friend Tommy used to buy off me, so I know he's smoked before. Should at least help with sleep and doesn't really have any side effects so it shouldn't fuck up his head any more than it already is."

"How much?" she asked, down to business, rummaging in her backpack for cash.

"For you? $10, but that's the Friends of Dorothy discount. If Harrington asks, it's $20."            

"That's an insane upsell."

"Beggars can't be choosers, and I’m really the only game in town. Plus, that's not including the jock hazard rate, since if he's friends with you and those freshmen in my club, he can't be that bad."

"He's a dingus, but he's kind of my dingus at this point."

Eddie blinked once, exchanging the bag for her cash. "He definitely knows you're not dating, right?"

"Steve? Oh, he knows about me. There was a whole-" she paused, trying to figure out what part of that story was actually relatable according to the novel-length NDA, and came up blank, "...thing. Platonic with a capital P."

He gave her a little half smile. "Maybe Dustin is less naive than I thought then. He practically waxes poetic about the dude. He’s his hero." Eddie clasped his hands together, her cash between them, fluttering his eyelids dramatically at the sky. There was the Eddie she was more familiar with.

Shoving the baggie into her backpack, she moved to get up. "That kid is too smart for his own good most of the time. And... also a little naive. Just not about Steve."

He nodded, agreeing easily, and then looked like he’d suddenly remembered something important. "Remind me to introduce you to Tiffany sometime, by the way."

She immediately tripped over the bench, catching herself before she went sprawling, but had to scoop her backpack and its new illegal contents off the ground. Had he waited for her to be off balance on purpose? She slowly backed away, doing a fair impression of a goldfish. That was... out of left field. Tiffany? Did she know a Tiffany? Did he? "That's.... yeah. Definitely. Sure. Yes. How do you know... I mean I've never seen any girls in your club."

"She's not in Hellfire, but she's around. Birds of a feather, Buckley." He winked cheekily, performative grin back in place.

"Sure, sure. Makes sense." It did not make sense. If Eddie was implying what she thought he was, there were in fact other lesbians at Hawkins High, and he knew them just because he was also gay. Of course there were other lesbians, statistically there would be, but how did he know? How. Why. Was there some sort of memo, and why hadn't she gotten one?

"If you need anything else, or I guess if King Steve wants to call on the local jester, you know where to find me." He saluted and flopped back onto the bench, like she had never been there.

Eddie Munson. She wasn't sure how she felt about that interaction, retreating through the woods, but it wasn’t bad. It was nice, actually. Something in her chest glowed warmly with the knowledge that she wasn't the only queer person she knew anymore. She'd have to take better notice of him this year, it was his third senior year, he could probably use all the friends he could get. Plus, she might be able to spot this “Tiffany.”

She jogged down the hill to the waiting BMW, trying to decide what exactly, if anything, to tell Steve.

[seat-safety-switch]

I certainly can’t keep up with a professional race-car driver, or even a semi-professional one. They know all the tricks: the lines to take through a corner, how far they can push the car, just when to overtake. It’s all stuff you get through experience, and my door-to-door daily commuting warfare is not exactly the same thing. Still, though, I like to dress up like one on the weekends and go ram my car into some defenceless plastic pylons.

Autocross has never been bigger, except for the brief segment of history in which it was more popular than it is now. In case you’re unfamiliar, it’s a motorsport that consists of you driving around a parking lot faster than anyone else, and it’s a lot of fun. If you don’t think swerving through a parking lot is real racing, well, you haven’t seen me buy groceries before.

You’ll get to hang out with other amateur racers, and form a friendship based on beating each other viciously in the pursuit of a fifteenth of a second. You’ll spend thousands of dollars on exotic compounds for tires, replacing every worn-out component in your suspension, and even eat right to drop a few pounds. All this just to stick it in Bob’s face. Fuck Bob and his Goddamn Mini.

Most importantly, it’s a safe way to discover your vehicle’s limits. For instance, when the wheel came off my car on the highway, it was much more dangerous to me than it was when the same wheel fell off fifteen minutes later at autocross. I was actually able to finish my run, although the errant wheel flattened six cones, a marshal, and put a dent in the timing van before I did so, which the SCCA considers to be worth at least a twenty second penalty and an extremely grumpy group of old dudes wearing sombreros trying to teach me which way is “tighty” (righty) and which way is “loosey” (the other one.)

[scotianostra]

The rugby player and commentator Gordon Lamont Brown was born on the 1st November 1947.

Known quite simply as Broon fae Troon, Brown was from a sporting family, his elder brother Peter also played for and captained the Scottish side. His father, John played goalkeeper for the Scottish football side and also appeared in the Scottish Open at Royal Troon alongside golfing greats such as Arnold Palmer. He is also the nephew of footballers Tom and Jim Brown.

Broon was a legendary Scotland second row and a fully-paid up component of the Mean Machine; a triple Lion and fierce competitor in the Battle of Boet Erasmus; a ruthless assassin on the pitch and a true gentleman off the field of play.

early interest was in the round rather than the oval ball. His conversion was reportedly the result of a particularly heated football tie, after which he reckoned ‘rugby would be safer’! He emerged on to the international stage in December 1969, from West of Scotland, having just turned 22.

After a winning debut against South Africa, he retained his place for the Five Nations opener against France. Dropped for the subsequent Wales match, he was replaced by brother Peter who revelled in breaking the news to Gordon. Peter was then injured in the match – and replaced at half-time by his younger sibling; the first occasion where a brother had replaced a brother in an international. When the Browns joined forces against England in 1970, it was the first time brothers had played together for Scotland since Angus and Donald Cameron in 1902.

Immovable in the scrum yet dynamic in the loose, Gordon went onto cement his place in Scotland’s front five of the early 1970s, the formidable Mean Machine that also featured Ian McLauchlan, Frank Laidlaw, Sandy Carmichael and Alastair McHarg. Between 1971 and 1976, Scotland lost just once at home, a narrow defeat to the All Blacks.

A giant of a man, both physically and figuratively, he formed a key partnership in the blue jersey with McHarg, winning 30 caps; in a Lions shirt, he was one of the world’s most ruthless competitors. Not only could he move but his outstanding handling skills resulted in eight tries on the Lions’ 1974 venture – including the brutal Battle of Boet Erasmus – a record for a forward. He played in eight Lions’ Tests between 1971 and 1977, playing a major part in the 1971 and 1974 victories. A string of injuries ended his career, but not before an infamous incident in a match between Glasgow and the North-Midlands, he was suspended for three months after getting into a fight with Allan Hardie, in which Brown chased Hardie, threw him to the ground and kicked him. Prior to this, Hardie had kneed Brown in the face and proceed to stamp on the open wound on Brown's brow after the initial attack went unnoticed by the referee. The suspension meant that he missed three internationals and was banned from training at any rugby club.

The hardest battle came two decades later, with the diagnosis of non- Hodgkin’s lymphoma. A battler to the end, he died in 2001, aged just 53.

[diabolus1exmachina]

Marcos Mantula 

Introduced in 1984, the Marcos Mantula was the result of the company’s continuous pursuit of the perfect British sports car. The Mantula replaced the previous model, the Marcos GT, and was available in both coupe and convertible body styles over its production run.The car’s classic Marcos styling, including its long bonnet, low-slung body, and sleek lines, was designed for optimal aerodynamics and shared a lot with the earlier GT model.

The Mantula was powered by a Rover V8 engine, which was known for its low-weight and high-tunability. This 3.5 liter engine produced 190 horsepower and 220 lb ft of torque, propelling the lightweight sports car from 0-62 mph in just 5.5 seconds.

With a top speed of 140 mph, the Mantula was more than capable of holding its own against its competitors, and later in the 1980s it would receive the more powerful 3.9 liter fuel injected version of the V8. Most examples of the Mantula were sold as kit cars in Britain, approximately 140 kits were bought over the production run.

There were a number of changes introduced to the car over the course of its nine year 1984 – 1993 production, a convertible version was offered from 1986 onwards, and the Rover V8 was upgraded to the 3.9 liter unit in the late 1980s. Independent rear suspension would also become standard from 1986 onwards, based on components from the Ford Granada.

In 1993 Marcos Engineering made the fateful decision to no longer offer kit cars, switching to a line of full factory-built production cars as Lotus had done in the early 1970s. The company would then be competing more directly with British sports car makers like TVR, Morgan, and Lotus – for better or worse.

[francenandsonforeigncarrepair]

Why Your Porsche Macan Might Vibrate When Accelerating

Have you been experiencing vibration when driving your Porsche Macan at high speeds lately?

Macan is one of the most popular Porsche models… known for its impressive handling and performance. If it is vibrating when you press the gas pedal, it is trying to communicate with you about an issue. An issue that, if left undiagnosed, can translate into expensive repairs. Today’s blog post discusses some of the prominent reasons why such a high-performing vehicle might shudder during acceleration.

Common Causes of Vibration

Tire Issues

#1- Unbalanced tires: If your Macan’s tires are not properly balanced, you will experience a wobbling sensation when driving at high speeds. The intensity of the sensation will only increase over time. Vibration is the least that you’ll need to be worried about. Unbalanced tires can contribute to an array of drivability issues including decreased handling, increased tire wear, and a rougher ride.

#2- Worn or damaged tires: You might sense vibration as you accelerate your Porsche if there is a bulge in its tire sidewall… It is not safe to drive with such a tire deformity. It can contribute to a bunch of performance-related issues―ranging from traction loss to poor handling. You might also have to deal with issues such as sudden blowouts, premature tire replacement, and suspension malfunctions.

#3- Improper tire pressure: Inflating tires beyond the recommended range can also cause vibration. It is therefore important that you have your Porsche Macan’s tire pressure checked routinely and inflate it according to the manufacturer’s guidelines. 

Drivetrain problems

#1- Worn drive shaft: The drive shaft is an essential component of a vehicle’s drivetrain… entrusted with the task of facilitating power transfer from the engine to the wheels. If your Porsche’s drive shaft gets damaged because of corrosion, contamination, or physical impact, you’ll encounter all sorts of drivability issues… including intense vibration under acceleration.  

#2- Issues with the differential: The differential is yet another power-distributing component of your vehicle’s drivetrain… responsible for enabling the wheels to turn at different speeds. If there is something off with your Porsche Macan’s differential, you may feel vibration… especially during acceleration. Address the issue promptly if you don’t want the issue to escalate into an expensive repair.

#3- Transmission problems: When was the last time you had your Porsche Macan’s gearbox fluid changed? The gearbox is an important component of any vehicle… the sole purpose of which is to make the engine a controlled source of power. If your vehicle’s transmission system acts up because of low lubricant or a damaged component, its performance will suffer. And your vehicle might shudder under acceleration.

Engine issues

#1- Misfiring cylinders: Your Porsche engine will vibrate violently if some of its cylinders are not firing properly. From ignition system issues to faulty sensors… there can be many reasons why a car engine may misfire. Find out what’s going on with your Porsche and why some of its cylinders are not firing the way they should.

#2- Faulty spark plugs or ignition coils: Electric sparks generated by these tiny components ensure controlled combustion of the air-fuel mixture inside the cylinders. Prolonged exposure to repeated heating and cooling cycles, accumulation of carbon deposits, and improper gap between spark plug electrodes can influence spark plug operation… As a result, the engine might run rough and vibrate violently.

#3- Fuel delivery issues: If your Porsche Macan engine is not getting the correct amount of fuel at the right time, its performance will suffer. It may run unevenly and vibrate during acceleration.

Suspension and alignment

#1- Worn suspension components: The suspension system does much more than just damping road shocks. It distributes the vehicle’s weight across all four wheels. It prevents body roll during turns. Most importantly… it enables better steering response. Your Porsche will vibrate during acceleration if its suspension system is not in good shape.

Wrapping Up

So, there you have it…

A list of reasons why you might experience vibration when accelerating your Porsche Macan. Such an issue should not go undiagnosed… as it could lead to expensive repairs down the road. Have your vehicle checked by certified professionals if it’s wobbling too much under acceleration. Whether the culprit is a faulty suspension part or a defective drivetrain part… have it fixed before its too late.

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

I see this term thrown around in movies and video games all the time, but in real life what does "tuning" a car usually entail?

basically whenever you modify a car, you have to calibrate it with the rest of the components to maximize efficiency, and that’s what tuning is. upgraded your suspension? now you have to fine tune your ride height, camber, stiffness, all that. installed a turbocharger? you need to fine tune and adjust your engine and a bunch around and in it to make up for the new increase in power and airflow coming through your engine so that it can handle it properly. i admittedly don’t know exactly what goes into irl tuning process-wise, but i know that’s the purpose of it, making sure the whole car is working together to the best of its ability. even bone stock regular cars have to be tuned sometimes, that’s what they mean when someone says a car needs a tune-up. it needs parts cleaned, some replaced, some adjusted, to make sure the car is doing the best it can with what it has

[celette]

For maintaining manufacturer specifications during the replacement of the left quarter panel on a 2020 BMW 7 Series, the Celette bench ensures zero tolerance on structural components, such as the suspension and frame, when they are being pulled.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

This 1970 Pontiac GTO convertible was first delivered to the A.C. Morris Garage of Summersville, West Virginia, and during prior ownership it underwent a body-off rotisserie refurbishment that was completed in 2006. The car is claimed to be one of just 241 examples that were ordered with 455ci V8 and an optional automatic transmission for the model year, and it is finished in Burgundy over red vinyl upholstery. Other equipment includes a four-barrel carburetor, a Ram Air hood, a power-operated convertible top, power steering, front disc brakes, and a 12-bolt rear end housing a Safe-T-Track limited-slip differential. Acquired by the selling dealer in 2013 out of Arizona, this GTO convertible is offered in Missouri with refurbishment photos, manufacturer’s literature, build sheets, a reproduction window sticker, documentation from Pontiac Historical Services, correspondence with the GM Heritage center, and a clean Missouri title.

The car was finished from the factory in Burgundy, and the body was stripped, mounted to a rotisserie jig, and repainted during the refurbishment, at which time a replacement convertible top was installed. Features include a color-matched Endura front bumper, a chrome rear bumper, a Ram Air hood, and quad exhaust outlets with polished finishers.

Rally II 14″ wheels are mounted with 215/70 Firestone Wide-Oval tires. Braking is provided by power-assisted front discs and rear drums, and the car was optioned with power steering when new.

The cabin has been retrimmed with red vinyl upholstery (2254) as well as color-coordinated carpets and interior trim. Equipment includes front bucket seats and a rear bench, a woodgrain steering wheel, an AM/FM radio, and an 8-track player. A pre-delivery-style instruction tag is attached to the steering column, and Pontiac-branded rubber floor mats line the front and rear footwells.

The turned metal and woodtone trim-accented cluster houses Rally instrumentation consisting of a 140-mph speedometer, a tachometer, and a combination gauge. The five-digit odometer shows under 96k miles, approximately 50 of which have been driven by the seller. True mileage is unknown.

The optional 455ci V8 features a four-barrel carburetor and a Ram Air hood, and it produced a factory-rated 360 horsepower and 500 lb-ft of torque when new. The engine stamping shown within the gallery ends in 0P121234, which matches the final eight digits of the car’s serial number. Additional identification numbers are presented in the gallery.

Power is sent to the rear wheels through an optional Turbo Hydramatic 400 three-speed automatic transmission and a 12-bolt rear end housing a Safe-T-Track limited-slip differential. Additional photos are provided in the gallery to illustrate the underside, drivetrain, and suspension components.

Photos showing various stages of the refurbishment are depicted above.

Additional items accompanying the car include manufacturer’s literature, build sheets, a reproduction window sticker, documentation from Pontiac Historical Services, and 2012 correspondence with the GM Heritage center confirming the car’s specifications and equipment, photos of which are provided in the gallery.

[lucian-v-ghost]

are we allowed to choose and/or change what our [standard issue android replacements] look like?

You are! While some people prefer exact cloned replicas of their own body, most have enjoyed the additional freedom, reduced injury and repairability of an Android form.

While the L.U.C.1.A.N chassis is exclusively used by the Units, the primary chassis that are most commonly available are S.T.E.V.3. and A.L.3.X. Chassis. (As of the addition of new default skins, there are many others, but we'll focus on these two for now.)

S.T.E.V.3.: Standard Titanium Endoskeleton, Version 3. This chassis is designed to be hardier and more rugged compared to the L.U.C.1.A.N model. It has enhanced strength and durability, however is heavier than the others. It's also more easily repairable, using standard, somewhat simpler components.

A.L.3.X.: Aluminium Lattice, 3rd eXplication. This chassis is designed to be faster and lighter than any others. It has a much higher top speed and is much more agile. It's also easier to fly and swim with. Like the S.T.E.V.3. model, it is also much easier to repair than the L.U.C.1.A.N model, once again using standardised, simpler components.

All other Android chassis models scale strength and dexterity between these two extremes, with exception to the L.U.C.1.A.N. model, which is used as a prototyping platform before upgrades are integrated into any others.

After an employee or customer has selected their chosen chassis, a 3D scan of their body is uploaded to the database. There the occupant can pick and choose preferred features, including adjustment or complete removal of specific body parts, as well as the addition of aesthetic items such as tattoos, visual representations of scars, or even cosmetic attachments such as horns or tails.

After this is done, an initial model is fabricated for inspection. If everything is up to the occupants preferences and standards, the transferal process can commence.

The occupants original body is placed in Cryogenic Suspension, a neural interface is attached at the base of the neck and then the occupants consciousness is transfered to the Android.

Unless the occupant has reason to leave the dimension the facility is located in, there is a constant digital uplink back to the host body. In the event that this up link is broken, the Cryogenic Pod will pause conscious brain function of the host, while the Android body will carry a separate consciousness and save the memories to an internal databank called a Red Box. Once the uplink is restored, the memory is downloaded to the host, after which normal brain activity is restored.

We hope this quick summary of the Ghost Industries Ltd. Android Consciousness System has been informative and helpful. If you have anymore questions, please don't hesitate to ask.