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Problems and issues with the Toyota RAV4

Problems and issues with the Toyota RAV4

Peculiarities With Toyota RAV4With a pinch of power and a stroke of strength, our car picks you up and lifts you to your destination but who knows that we have a premonition unknown to us where we end up whispering alongside the roads.While ‘Toyotas’ are fun they can be devastatingly pestering to our brains with their engines going poorly productive and down with their subsequent builds.Like the…

[stone-man-warrior]

March 11, 2020: 4:24 pm:

I just returned from running an errand in Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon.

I went to:

Walgreen’s

As I left my home, the pressure from the local terror cells was in place, and running a “Save The Princess” terror play, but it was somewhat a reversed version of that standardized murder play, it did not work, however.

The grey Toyota Camry from the Myers terror family cell roled down the road as I was at my gate. It’s typical that the terrorists have to drive a car past my front driveway at the time that I leave my home, and 90% of the time that I do take my car somewhere, there will be one of the terror neighbors driving by while I am at my gate. They use the listening devices they placed around my home to know when I have opened my front door, and can hear where I am with other listening devices, and also they have a variety of cameras pointed at my driveway from the Former Monroe terror cell.

So that grey Camry appears to have dropped off Lorena Chapman in front of teh Clyde Baum terror cell, at 333, where there are more cameras positioned on the roadway, disguised as a driveway night-light.

The idea was to use Lorena Chapman, or someone who looks just like her, to do some kind of “Save the Princess“ after I started to go down the road on my way to the Walgreen’s.

The “Good Samaritan” who was also set into motion as part of the attack plan, was someone driving the Rick Manning Red Honda Station Wagon. Who came down the road in the opposite direction just after I passed the Chapman look-a-like that was on foot in front of the Baum terror cell.

Other items associated with the attack plan included that a door was left open in three places along the route to the Freeway. One at Chartrand 376 was the back door to the shell of one of his pick-up trucks. Another was the door of a passing school bus, the driver of the bus was driving with the school bus doors open. And another open door was at the I-5 Freeway exit 66 in the empty lot there where the terror watchdogs sit in their cars while doing surveillance of the people who drive into, or out of, the Hugo Oregon area. That person there was playing the role of the “sleepy, road weary driver who pulled over to take a nap in the backseat with the door open”.

The idea was that they terror bastards needed to get a recording of my voice saying “the door is open” or some other mention of a door. “The Door Is a Jar”, #SAGClubMed terror play, specific for those victims who are on the way to a pharmacy. “The Door is a Jar” comm items, and communication, is all done in such a way that any and all passing terror soldiers in the area, will see the visual clues, read the comm the items are put there for, and in that way, are able to step-in, to provide support services for the attacking terror cell. No words are spoken about the attack, the visual items and other activity is enough, that all of the terror cells already know how to behave, and how to assist with the murder.

The implant in my jaw broadcasts everything that I say, all of the time, and has done so since 2011. The implant is a microphone inside of my jaw. I cannot turn it off, or remove it, it broadcasts all of the time, and the recordings that are created in that trailer at the Former Monroe terror cell are edited, word by word, and fed to public safety people who are killed also, by the terror cells, as a result of their own foolishness.

So, that attempt failed. The words I used were: “Looks like Chartrand has his foot in the door” as a I passed by, and saw the truck with shell door open. I encountered two more attempts to get me to say “the door is open” just in passing, and while not speaking to anyone.

They may have been trying to use such a statement live, to fool someone that I am giving permission to enter my home, or car, as I passed by the walking Chapman look-a-like on the roadway when I was leaving.

The typical debit card malfunction occurred at the Walgreen’s. The debit card readers at ALL of the places I make purchases, always, 99% of the time, malfunction in some way while I am using the debit machine. The “Malfunctioning debit card reader, is part of the murder scenario at the point of purchase at ALL of the places that items are sold, everywhere. That malfunction makes certain that the intended victim is per-occupied with the distraction that is provided by the malfunctioning debit card reader. The Marked Victim focuses all of their attention onto that small, digital, card reader at that time, and that is a good time for the terror assassins to make the hit on the Victim, while the Victim has the debit card in their hand.

There is some kind of a billing terror play happening with the items I purchased at the Walgreen’s. The price of the items I purchase is almost never the same as it was the previous time I purchased the same exact items. The price should be consistent, but is not. One of the items I purchased today had a price of $0.00. No charge. It was that way the last visit last month also.

What is going on, is there is a duplicate person in the Screen Actor Guild, who si receiving what is known as “MAX” prescription medicine. That person fills a whole bunch of meds, and those are the meds I used to get, before the terror took over. Someone is receiving the medicine that I could benefit from, and I am only receiving sort of a “Token” of what I should be getting at a pharmacy. What’s more, is the persons receiving my prescriptions are also getting more than my history, and beneficial requirements warrant. The terrorist doctor gave those people the “MAX” allotment of meds. All of that happens, I get blamed, and the public safety people who come to investigate, are killed by the people who are perpetuating the “MAX” allotment. As a result, I get far less of the medicine that would benefit me, and has benefited me in the past for many years, and the meds improved my quality of life. Now, all I get is the “token” appeasement meds, some Rock Star gets my medicine.

On the way home, I observed three Impostor Police cars. Two near the Southbound I-5 had pulled someone over, and another Imposter State Police was at the exit 66 that I need to use, with lights flashing. They are trying to make me “Run” out of “fear” because I had to kill Jay Inslee yesterday in defense while at the terror controlled doctor office.

Jay inslee had a kidnapped child with him at the terror doctor, and the people there shot me with a small caliber gun in the waiting area. I returned the favor by turning the shooters gun around, in the lobby, and shooting the shooter with his own gun as he was holding it. I never had to take the gun from the shooter that shot me there.

StoneMan unscathed.

That shooter was there for Jay Inslee, who had the kidnapped child, and they had planned on blaming the kidnapping on me, after they killed me.

A lot happened at the terror doctor yesterday. I already reported hwat was important. Jay Inslee is a piece of shit, and he received exactly what he bargained for, is presumed dead due to severe Corona Virus Bleeding from the head.

Also, I had to defend against a 450 lb nurse at the terror doctor yesterday. That nurse is presumed to be permanently paralyzed  at the arms and shoulders, having suffered a spinal cord injury during the fighting in the back office at the terrorist #SAGClubMed Doctors Office.

That is all of the terror reporting that I want to write about  today. I want to say that I am doing whatever helpful things that I can do, to help the people that are held captive at Boeing Seattle. Whenever opportunity presents itself, I take the chance of retaliation from the people who hijacked Boeing, and I try to get helpful people to go there. and set the engineers  and others free from their captivity at Boeing Seattle.

Yesterday. opportunity to kill Jay Inslee presented itself in the form of a kidnapped child that Inslee had with him. I was able to free the child, as O have done at other times at the terrorists #SAGClubMed doctor that I have been going to fir about five years. I don’t know if teh child was able to leave the building safely, he was about eight years old, I killed Jay Inslee, and escorted him to an exam room there before he actually died. While doing that, the child said: “That man is not my dad. He is NOT my dad”, so, I looked at the boy and said:

“I believe you, run away, go on... go, runaway now, all of the adults around here are terrorists, so, stay away from the adults, don’t let them catch you. Go. Run away now”

The boy ran out from the back office area at the terror doctor. I presume the terror bastards caught him again by now though.

Please send help to Oregon.

End terror reporting: 5:34 pm.

[pmcguffin]

A butane gas cube...

I called her “Betsy,” and I remember how far that old car had travelled, following us all the way to Europe. We would pack her to her limits with luggage and emergency rations for every trip we took, and she tirelessly traversed far and wide, showing us the beauty of the German country side and beyond.  She kept the pace with those feisty little Fiats that zipped along the autobahns, and (with only the questionable durability of tire chains for traction) bravely scaled the Austrian Alps in the dead of an icy winter.  With Jerry sleeping on the pallet of luggage in the back (before the intervention of car seat safety laws) and as long as Ricky kept his big feet on his end of the backseat, there was plenty of room for the five of us.  Yes, I would say we loved our old Rambler American station wagon, for she was steadfast and true.  She was one of us.

The household budget was tight, and though we knew the Rambler was approaching the end of her days, we couldn’t easily afford another car.  Nevertheless, Daddy ventured out one Saturday to browse a few car lots, wanting to get an idea of what our budget would support.  As he was pulling into the Toyota dealership, old “Betsy” pitched and moaned, dropping her drive shaft on the spot.  Couldn’t blame her.  She knew it was only a matter of time before he replaced her; hell, he was taking her on the replacement search for crying out loud!  She was done, alright, so Daddy did the only thing he could do.  He bought a Toyota.  

A bright yellow Corolla was the only thing on the lot that fit our small budget, so Daddy bought it. He left our poor Rambler behind and drove the shiny new girl home.  He pulled into the driveway and as we watched him pry himself out of that oh-so-tiny car, he hollered, “Climb on in, let’s take a ride!”  There was a little commentary from Mama about what he was thinking when he bought a car that would barely accommodate five when the arrival of his mother now made us a family of six, “You didn’t forget Ma, did you?”  He assured her it would all work out just fine, because what was he to do anyway with old “Betsy’s” drive shaft laying in the middle of that Toyota lot and him with no more money than he had and besides, with some nice seat covers, she’ll be a damn cute little car and we’ll all get used to her, so quit bitching and get in already!   

We crammed ourselves into that thing so tightly, we were sitting assholes to elbows.  Jerry was wedged in the middle of the back seat.  That poor kid was pinned between my fat hips on one side, and Ricky wriggling in the struggle to fit his big feet under the driver’s seat on the other side…nope.  We swapped. Mama needed less leg room, so my big-footed brother’s permanent spot would be behind the front passenger seat.  It was so close; we were barely breathing, and let me hereby testify that personal hygiene matters.

Daddy drove us all around town until I feared I would faint from the heat of our claustrophobic closeness and those noxious male adolescent body odors that had nowhere to waft but up my nose. My melodramatic sigh drew a cautionary glare from Mama, so I continued in silent mourning over the loss of our Rambler and that sweet roomy ride with a bay in the back for napping on long trips -not to mention adequate air flow. Life would never be the same without her.  Ricky mostly just blinked and stared, while Jerry was too young to understand our distress. Mama understood, but Daddy?  He was just happy to have an intact drive shaft and determined to make the best of the situation.

We had been on the road long enough to need gas, so Daddy pulled into our regular filling station on the corner.  Full service was still the norm in those days, and the young man who worked there sauntered toward the car with a nod to my father.  Wayne walked around Mama’s side, eyeing the fender, and made his way to the back.  He jiggled the license plate, then came around the driver’s side.  Daddy rolled down his window, and with the most serious expression said, “A butane gas cube.”  

“Sir?”

“It takes a butane gas cube.   You do carry those, don’t ya?”

“Uh, a butane gas cube? Uh, I’ll have to ask my boss, Sir,” and he went back inside the garage.  

Soon his boss came out laughing, “A butane gas cube?  I’ll have to remember that one!”  Then, with a wink, he scolded my dad for teasing his help.

My father got out to show Wayne where, between the back door and the back window, a decorative chrome vent concealed the gas cap.  He flipped it open, and Wayne filled ‘er up.  Poor Daddy felt so bad for embarrassing the kid, that he tipped him a little extra.   We laughed all the way home, and Mama was damn near hysterical.  Why, we were so impressed by daddy’s dead-pan delivery as he asked for that butane gas cube, we thought he was positively brilliant.  By the time we pulled up to the house, I was feeling better about the new girl.  Oh, I would always miss our “Betsy” but if this one could make us laugh like that, maybe I could learn to love her in time. 

[experimentaldata]

Fictober, day 26

So I totally dropped the ball. Hate that. But this is NaNo prep. 

Prompt #26: “Enough! I heard enough.”

Original fiction: [untitled NaNo story]

Rating: T

Warnings: genetic manipulation, eugenics, ableism 

If you haven’t been to a funeral before, it would be rather jarring, Brett thought, to find yourself at one without warning.

They had ducked into the Mission just as the first hymn started, earning them some dirty looks from the regular parishioners. Will and Nena had knelt down to pray for a few minutes, stood back up, flipping the kneeler with practiced ease, and joined in before Brett had finished shoving Zainath into the pew. Between the atheist and the alien, he thought, hard telling who’s more uncomfortable.

Zainath, for his part, had an untraceable look on his face. It stayed there throughout the eulogy, second hymn, Scripture readings, Holy Communion, tearful family testimonies, and finally, the pallbearers wheeling out the grayish-looking man to his final resting place. Will and Nana knelt in prayer again. Nena even shed a few tears. Will prayed a bit of a rosary. The two outsiders sat in silence on the pew next to them, staring at the stained class and improbably-stacked floral arrangements. It grew quiet. 

“So,” Brett said before any more pious activities could begin, “We good to hit the road?”

Nena wiped her eyes and stood up. “Yeah. Thanks for humoring us, Brett. I know you don’t really...go here.”

He chuckled. “Somewhere, my grandma’s happy. C’mon, Will, we still got three hours to go before Vegas.”

Zainath frowned. “Is that another religious site?”

“Something like that. Everyone get in the van.” 

They drove in silence up I-15. The silence lasted, mostly unbroken,  through a gas station and past two rest stops before Brett couldn’t take it anymore. 

“So, Z, what did you think about human church?”

Zainath frowned and fiddled with the collar of his jacket. “It was...er...I don’t know how to say this...different.”

Brett finished his Sprite and chucked the can into the floorboard near Will’s sleeping form “Different how?”

“Is there always a corpse present?”

Nena reached over and wrapped the back of Brett’s head. “You didn’t tell him we were at a funeral?”

“Why would I?” Brett said, “You two are the ones who got religion. I’m just the driver.”

“Whatever,” Nena said with a sigh. “Zain, Will and I go to Mass every week because it’s important to us, and to God. This Mass just happened to be a funeral, because we are in the middle of freaking nowhere and somebody didn’t want to stop an hour ago when we passed the last Church in the city.” Brett could feel eyes boring into the back of his skull.

“Once again,” Brett said, “just the driver. And no, Z, there is normally not a dead body present at human religious services. Although some of us sleep like the dead at them, I guess.” 

Zainath smiled faintly. “I suppose I’ve just never seen someone...taken care of, in death.”

“You’re talking that weird alien shit again, man.”

“I’m serious!” Zainath said. “On Aeron, when someone is near death, you take them to a hospital. The good parts of them--their organs, personality traits you want to pass on, et cetera, are harvested and belong to your family line. The rest is discarded. The only people who’ve seen our mortal remains have advanced degrees.”

“That’s awful!” said Nena.

“Is it? I’ve gotten some of my better qualities that way. My jaw’s a replica of my great-grandfather’s on my mother’s side. My proclivity for exercise too. And my dad’s cousin donated my mathematical abilities and hair color when he passed in a tragic boating accident. And that’s just off the top of my head.”

Nena shook her head. “And this all happened before you were born?”

“Most of it,” Zainath replied. “A few things, like the jawline, were tweaked over time. I still have scars from the surgery for that one, if you look closely. Poor doctor was barely out of his apprenticeship program.”

Brett merged around a slow-moving Toyota, jerking Will out of his sleep. 

“Huh, wha--where are we?”

“A long way past crazy-town. E.T. here was just telling us how he got a jawline splice from his uncle.”

“Cousin, actually. And there’s other parts of me from him too--from what I hear he was quite the specimen.”

“Enough!” Nena said, “I’ve heard enough. I don’t wanna hear any more about people getting body parts from their relatives.”

Brett laughed. “Gonna add that to the quote book for sure, once we get something to eat. Say, Cloverfield, do they have Del Taco on your planet?” 

[awesomelogicflip]

Family Matters Chapter 3

Izumi Midoriya. I never got to know my Great-Grandma like my mother did yet her effect on my life was profound. I can honestly say that without her my mother and I would never have progressed as far as we did. Nor would we have known the cost of what we’d been given. It might be nice to eat anything you want and be able to stay trim with just a bit of effort, the heightened strength, the sharp senses, and all. Be that as it may, the bill for all of it had yet to come due and during that last hazy summer weekend while I was playing in the woods, my mother, as she told me years later, was having her world turned on its head. She come to Great-Grandma’s house to relax and yet got the worse shock of her life, one that was probably echoed by me when I had our family history explained to me.

I will not detail what I, and by association, my mother was told about ourselves in this book as that would counteract the point of this book. After all, I’m sure another scientist can explain the intricate nature of genetics and DNA in ways I cannot.

-Izuku Midoriya, My Mother The Warrior

Chapter 3

“So we’re going to Grandma’s house?”

Izuku asked the question through the slightly open backseat door as Inko put the second and last suitcase in the trunk. She was surprised with how light it felt or maybe she hadn’t packed as much as she thought. With a push, she closed it and went to the door, shaking her head but planting a kiss on her son’s forehead. “No, we’re going to your great-grandmother’s house.” She corrected gently. “She’s my grandmother. Now legs in and check your tail.”

And how odd is that to say? The tails weren’t inconvenient per say, hardly noticeable, at first. Yet, they were a detail that couldn’t be ignored since they’d basically had an extra limb. Being right at the base of the spine, underwear and pants required modification or else there was a constant sensation of pressure there. She’d done what she could in the time she had, cutting holes for them…but it was basic and haphazard work. The hole in Izuku’s shorts and her sundress weren’t cleanly done. Izuku’s shirt hid the hole and for her part, she just wore a long jacket for hers. She’d need to get a professional tailor eventually. One who worked with Quirks that forced wardrobe changes.

Izuku complied, sitting in the car properly and holding his tail close to his chest so that she could shut the door. As she walked around to get to the drivers side, she couldn’t help but feel baffled and a little awed, not only with how the week had gone but just...everything.

Everything that had happened, she’d spent most of the night telling her grandmother about it. The gasps of horror and the shocked silence came at the points where she’d expected them to. It was once she’d exhausted every last detail of what her week had been like that she’d asked if they could spend the weekend at her house. Her grandmother eagerly said yes, which lifted a weight from Inko that she hadn’t noticed until after she’d hung up the phone and went to bed.

In all honesty, the discussion to make the trip to her grandmother’s home in the country was about the easiest one she’d ever had made. Musutafu, the city she had been living in for years and had planned to raise a family in, suddenly seemed too loud, too big, and far too stifling.

She’d never noticed her neighbors before but when she’d gone to sleep, it had been an effort not to notice the sheer presence of bodies around her. Arriving home yesterday had been like walking into a closet, shutting the door, and then noticing only then that people were crowding around outside.

Yet among one more another unusual in a week of extraordinary ones, the fact she’d decided to drive to her grandmother’s house was probably the one that was the most unexpected.

They weren’t even that far from the train station and, in particular the most direct rail line to get there, five blocks if that. They could make it if the changed her mind right now.

She quickly shrugged off the unpleasant thought like an itchy coat. Daunting as a four hour drive was, though good sense told her the train ride would be faster on top of convenient, the idea of doing so was enough to make her inwardly cringe.

Whatever cabin fever had followed her out of the hospital yesterday clung to the back of her mind like a leech and refused to leave. It had been what had woken her up at 4:30 this morning and like an irritated nerve, throbbed at her to get up and do something.

So she took the time to pack for the visit, thinking that it would burn some energy.

It didn’t.

So she cleaned the apartment. There was no need to leave a mess to come back to later. It was actually the vacuuming at the end of her cleaning spree that had woken Izuku up. So once she’d wrapped up her work, she helped him pack everything he would need.

Still, it didn’t go away.

By the time they had left, she’d been seriously considering if running up and down the stairwell of the entire apartment building. At that point, it was obvious to her that she wouldn’t get through the trip by rail with her sanity intact. Just the bus ride to the garage where the car was stored had been enough to grind her teeth and the wait for the car had been even worse. Her husband had it in the biggest, most up-to-date garages in the city which was completely automated save for a single attendant in a booth near where the cars exited. The employee, a woman about her age with an exceedingly professional bearing, requested her name.

When she’d given it, the woman typed it into a computer and, smiling, confirmed that she was on the list and that the vehicle would be down soon.

The rapidity of the whole thing caught Inko so flatfooted that she had asked, in retrospect, some exceedingly simple questions since she barely knew anything about the place. The employee if they had been nonplussed or annoyed by them, they didn’t show it. In fact, she seemed all too eager to answer her, an attitude explained as Inko listened. Essentially, this garage used records given by the vehicle’s owner in order to know who was and wasn’t allowed to remove whichever vehicle they had stored here. And the car itself had the most meticulous record keeping Inko had ever heard of.

Nothing went unregistered or un-updated: times the vehicle was driven.

Who drove it.

How long the car wasn’t present in the garage counted to the second.

The current millage, before and after its return.

The psi in each tire.

The level of gasoline in the tank. Again, before and after it’s return.

And more that Inko was sure she was forgetting even now as she walked to the driver’s side door, being careful not to bush against the polished to a mirror-shine paint. She knew, just knew, she’d looked like a fish by the time the employee had stopped speaking. Mouth opening and closing, she had to ask what kind of garage was this to have such a level of meticulous care. She’d only been struck silent at the answer.

This garage was used by the rich and famous and everything from classics worth millions to the most recent hyper sports cars were cared for here. The reason for such a high level of service was because they paid for such an expense.  

An expense that Hisashi was clearly paying for. An expense that, when Inko asked about, opened up a whole world of questions she didn’t want to think about. Oh, her husband had an ever growing list of things she was going to get answered. For now though, this trip was her priority and nothing was getting in the way of that.

She left the man a note anyway so if he did show up… he wouldn’t worry. A kindness she hadn’t wanted to give, at first.

The door opened with a soft click and barely made a sound as she shut it behind her, her tail lying across her lap.

Still long drive or not, it would be a quiet and somewhat pleasant one. Besides, she knew where she was going. At the time of her first visit to her grandmother’s, there had been no tracks near where she lived. The choice back then was drive or get off at the nearest train station and walk for 2 hours. It wasn’t a hard choice. Even now she could still remember every sign along the trip, every turn to take, and the view from the backseat of…

She quickly swept that thought away.

While Inko didn’t drive often enough to self-justify the expense of owning a car, she was well aware of the quality of automobile she was seated in.

The two-tone black and gray Toyota Century was owned by her husband. The irony that she was now driving it wasn’t lost on her. Swallowing the bitter sadness that came with that thought, she looked over her shoulder at her son and smiled. “All buckled in?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Then let’s go.”

The engine came to quiet attention as soon as she turned the key. Not even a hiccup or a wait for it to turn over.

Outrageously expensive with a service bill to match, she never understood why Hisashi bought it. Leaving out him never being here to drive it, this was the kind of car you hired a chauffeur for to get the most enjoyment out of it. Then again her husband’s tastes were odd and, as she was beginning to figure, not cheap. He’d even splurged for a crew to come clean and detail it once a week, a service the garage provided.

Closing her eyes, she shoved the subject of him out of her head like the glowing coal it was. The note had been left f if he did bother to show up. It was after a deep breath that she noticed Izuku’s voice. “Sorry, honey. Could you repeat that?”

Her son fiddled with the All Might figure in his hand. A light flush touched his cheeks and brightened his freckles. “Have I met Great-Grandma before? I don’t remember.”

“You have.” Inko said, putting the car in reverse. “Though don’t feel bad about forgetting. You were only two years old the last time we visited.”

“Really?” For some reason he seemed awed by that.

“Really.” Inko nodded. She grew concerned when an uncharacteristic look of determination came upon her son’s face.

“Then I won’t forget this time.” He made his statement with the conviction only a child his age could pull off.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she turned the car out onto the empty street.

“Stop laughing, Mommy. I mean it!”

“I know you do.”

The first five minutes of the drive were all Inko needed to confirm that her instincts had been right. Pulling out into the street and right into city traffic, she felt that ever present itch for activity fade. While still fairly early in the morning, the traffic was already picking up as the city came to life. Inko didn't mind, a hurry was the last thing she was in.

She planned to make this as fun as possible and there was no point in hurrying since the goal of the trip wasn't the destination. While she did want to see her grandmother again and get out of the city for some peace and fresh air, the main reason was for her son.

Inko glanced in the rear view mirror as she guided the car to a stop at the red light ahead. Izuku was playing in the backseat, humming to himself and fiddling with the All Might action figure in his hands. Smiling, like Inko hoped.

This week, starting as horrible as any could, got worse and the last thing she wanted was her little boy to dwell on it.

Those two teenagers in the store had been killed right in front of him and then he'd been put in the hospital. Those things would be traumatic for any child but on top of that, his father hadn't showed up. It was that last thing that hurt Inko the most, she was still trying to come to terms with it herself. How do you explain to a child why their father didn't come when they were hurt? It wasn't a question to ask while you were alone in bed or, even worse, asked by a tactless child when you go back to school. It going to take some careful explaining, hopefully her grandmother could offer some wisdom.

However, that unpleasantness could come later. She focused back on her driving as the light turned green which took her mind off a great deal.

There was a heightened awareness she felt, a blooming of details from everything around her that centered her mind. While this car was all but a literal island of luxury, details from the outside were slipping through. The suspension was soft enough to glide over every bump and pothole in the road and yet she could still feel them, smoothed out as they were. The road noise, which should've been near impossible to sense, droned in her ears quite clearly. When she turned the radio on, she'd had turned the volume down low because it just seemed that little bit too loud.

Telling where cars were before changing lanes, noticing motorbikes in between the cars, even being able to feel the rising speed of the car and just being able to tell how fast she was going before she glanced at the speedometer, it was as if she'd been driving all her life instead of this being one of the few times she'd put her license to use.

One reason she didn't drive was because traffic made her nervous. It was difficult to focus when you were on edge because someone was riding your back bumper like they were glued to it. A nervous feeling was absent during her drive, no matter who honked or rolled in far to close at a light or sped by on a bike, she barely felt anything more than a slight bit of exasperation at the rudeness of one driver who flipped her off when she didn't immediately peel out at a particular light.

Her composure remained as they hit the freeway and quickly made distance between the city and them. It was only when the environment outside began exchanging urban buildings for more bushes and flat green scenery that Inko pulled off the road to an exit for a break.

It was about an hour and a half in but she nor Izuku had eaten breakfast that morning, so a quick rest was needed.

Parking at the first convenience store she saw, at first she’d bought just two sandwiches for them to snack on while stretching their legs. However, like when they first got out of the hospital the snack turned into a meal. She bought out nearly a quarter of the store before the edge was taken off their hunger.

Every sandwich, burger, and steamed bun was eaten in their impromptu picnic near the car. Finishing it all off with a sweet Onigiri for her and a jelly doughnut for Izuku before they continued on.

That was another thing to be addressed later, Inko knew as the pulled the car back onto the freeway. This increased appetite would become a financial problem later on. She’d never been able to eat like that before in her life, not when she was a teenager and not at her current 27. And Izuku, growing boy or not, really had no excuse for putting just as much down. Considering the idea, would’ve made her nauseous last week. Neither of them should’ve been able to attempt to do so, and yet they did it.

And had left room for desert, this time around.

Her son’s question came a little more than an hour or so after their meal, just as she was exiting the highway that took them out of the city proper and onto the back mountain route, she was all to familiar with.

“What’s she like?”

“Izumi Midoriya...” Inko didn’t really need to think long to answer. “She’s nice. Strong. Motherly like me.” ‘Motherly’ was far to light a word for the woman who raised her but simple was good for now.

“She’s like you?” Again, that tinge of awe in his voice. “Did you live with her?”

“Yes. I lived with her in a big house and played on land behind it when I was a little older than you.”

“Behind it? Like a backyard?”

“The biggest one you’ve ever seen. The biggest in all of Japan. With a garden where she grows her own food.” Again, she was practically trivializing the facts. Her grandmother had a backyard like Izuku had a slight interest in Superheroes and All Might in particular. True but far more to be told. If Inko ever met anyone who thought of 60 full acres of land as a backyard, she be shocked. Her grandmother had come into a lot of money decades before Inko had been born and used the money to build a house and buy the land around it.

Focusing back on the near bone-white asphalt as the incline began, she was reminded that once it had been pale gray so long ago and like catching the whiff of a favorite childhood dish, remembering the color also led to the last time she’d seen the road in this direction.

It had been after things had gone bad.

The road had been a pale yellow that night, illuminated by a pair of headlights so bright that in any other situation, she might have looked for familiar shapes as they past. But she hadn’t, her eyes hurt from crying so long and so hard and her vision was still a little blurry anyway. It was awful because she could’ve used the distraction from the other pains she was feeling. The road wasn’t smooth and it seemed like every bump in it went right from the wheels to the backseat to everything that hurt...and it seemed like everything had been hurting

Inko blinked, coming back to her present and rubbed her eyes clear of the tears building there. Thankfully, enthralled by the idea of ‘The biggest Backyard in Japan’ began rapid firing questions that not only had her bringing up the good memories but got so detailed that she had to think hard and dig deep on them. Hard enough that it kept her distracted for the rest of the trip.

Izuku’s questions were not a bottomless well and the car eventually lapsed into silence, right around the time they reached to outskirts of town.

As she turned the last bend, Inko was struck by a sense of nostalgia upon seeing The Crossroads, which she certainly hadn’t seen for awhile, not even when she’d come for a visit over two years ago.

The Crossroads were just a nickname that she and the other children had given the spot years ago. In actuality, the single road crossed nothing but split into three distinct directions.

One continued straight ahead, passing the town she’d grown up in completely and continued to go down the other side of the mountain. The left fork went further up and led straight into town. To the right, the road curved down in such a way that it was impossible to see what was on the other side from the road. However, she knew that it lead to a dead end not but a fifty yards from the crest, the isolated spot having served as a private playground away from adult eyes.

Turning left, she wondered if children in town were still using that road to gather. Driving through town was a trip down memory lane and she for the first time, felt like everything was finally okay. So many good times were tied to this place that just seeing it again had been like wrapping up in a warm blanket. She’d even go so far as to call it a salve to her soul.

One thing that stuck out in her cursory scan as they passed by was the General Store. Run by Mr. Riku and his wife, both had to be getting up there in age like her grandmother now that she thought about it, Inko couldn’t help but notice it was closed. Unusual for that time of day, especially since their joint-candy store right next door was clearly open.

Inko made a note to stop by and say hello before they left. Hopefully, they’d remember a little girl who’d spent far too much of her hard earned money from chores on junk like Pocky and Botan.

“Wow.” Izuku said, awed as he craned his neck to see further ahead.

“Yep.” Inko confirmed. “That’s it up ahead.”

They were about a mile and a half out of town when her grandmother’s house came into sight. The trees parting like a curtain to reveal the house, almost a mansion, in the distance.

It was a grand construction that was quite breathtaking from a distance which grew more so as they got closer. If memory served, her grandmother had said the style was ‘Queen Anne’ Victorian. Whatever style it was, it was an very loud one.

The woman had once joked that she should’ve been born European, she was so obsessed with Western culture. It was an obsessing that shined through, announced through every brick and beam of that house she’d built. In all honesty, Inko had always thought it a bit garish though she’d seen the place as a fantasy castle on the hill when she was a child. Even as she looked at it now, she couldn’t shake off the sense that the house, it’s owner, and the land around it was meant more for a fairy tale book. Something that Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty used as vacation homes, not a widowed retiree's residence in the mountainous Japanese countryside.

It was a building that was bursting with decor, from the green paint on the wood, the dusty pink of the bricks, and the intricate carved roof finials and cresting which Inko had lost hours staring at over the years, it was a home that not only stood out in its surroundings and, specifically one’s memory as it was not a place easily forgotten.

Inko pulled off the road and onto the long gravel drive which, once it reached the house, curved in on itself to make a circle so that someone could simply stop their car in front of it and not be further than a stride from the porch steps and then pull away to go right back down the drive without having to do a three-point turn.

Standing there, framed by the pearl white front door ready to greet them, was her grandmother, Izumi Midoriya.

The first thing Inko noted as she parked was how unbowed she was. Her back was straight and she stood tall and welcoming in defiance of her age. She had no idea if the hand of time was treating her grandmother exceptionally gently or if it was something in her lifestyle but for a woman pushing the better part of seventy, Izumi looked remarkably well. A fact exemplified by her clothing, or rather how well they fit her.

Dressed in a pair of denim pants and a blue long sleeved blouse, they hugged close to her body and pretty much told Inko that Izumi still took good care of herself and hadn’t slipped in her habits since she’d last seen her. Now that she thought about it, her grandmother always had a spryness that gave her the air of women half her age.

Her short hair, tied in a tight bun still had a few strands of green among the silver and her face, weathered but not worn, brightened as Inko got out the car and opened the door for her son.

She didn’t say anything at first. Grabbing and pulling her into a tight hug, she only spoke then. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Her voice was equal parts relieved and happy and even though the embrace pressed into her wound, Inko hugged her back before stepping away.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“And this,” Izumi gasped, bending at the knees for a better look, “must be Izuku! Come, let me get a good look at you.”

Inko only noticed then that her son had tucked himself behind her legs, his previous excitement gone and his tail twitching in what she could tell was nervousness.

However, when she looked back to her grandmother, she recognized the mischievous gleam in the woman’s eyes and, smiling herself, she quickly stepped aside. “Come now, I won’t...”

“BITE!” Izuku barely had a chance to squeak before Izumi pounced. Both hands shooting out, she caught her great-grandson under the armpits and started tickling.

The four year old squealed, trying to get away but Izumi, refusing to be denied her due, swept him off his feet and into the crook of her arm.

Arms flailing, legs kicking, Izuku was helpless against the assault on his belly, sides, and neck as she went for every weak spot she could. Izuku would cover one, only for the experienced woman to go for another and Inko couldn’t help but be impressed that she still had the strength to hold him in place.

It wasn’t for very long though. The tickling finally stopped a few seconds later and Izuku, face flushed from so much laughing, wrapped his arms around her grandmother’s neck.

“Okay.” Izumi huffed, apparently equally worn from the effort “I’m gonna have to put you down now. You’re already too big for me.” Lowering him to the porch, she gave his nose a gentle pinch. “Why if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re almost an adult.”

The complement made Izuku flush a little brighter as Inko mussed her sons hair. “Not quite though, you have some growing to do, young man.”

“Mommy!” He said, trying to shoo away her hand, clearly embarrassed.

Her grandmother and her shared a laugh as they walked inside.

“I knew you two would be hungry, so I spent all day cooking,” she announced, kicking off her shoes before stepping onto the wood floor of the foyer. “And don’t tell me you’re not hungry.” Leading her son by the hand, Inko followed her grandmother who was already speeding down the hall, past the living room and towards...the dining room, if she was right.

She took her time, taking off her shoes and following at a sedate pace. Mostly for Izuku as her little boy’s head seemed to be on a swivel as he looked around with wide eyes at the pictures and antiques lining the wall, clearly trying to take in as much as he could. She giggled at that, since apparently Izuku forgot they were here for a whole weekend. The other reason she took, her time was...well, her grandmother was more right that she suspected. Their breakfast might as well have been yesterday’s memory, her stomach was already doing the mental equivalent of tugging on her sleeve for attention.

She went for her pocket, halfway through pulling out a cellphone she no longer had, and then once she realized what she was doing, checked her wristwatch instead.

11:39. Almost lunch.

With her son and her’s new appetite, she knew for a fact that even her grandmother’s prodigious portion sizes were going to be more a snack than a meal but they should eat something and she could explain to her grandmother later.

“You grew up here?” The awe was back and as Inko looked to her son, she could see a shine in his green eyes as if he’d been told his mother had come from royalty and only now was having it confirmed.

“Yes, I did. In fact, my-” She was cut off as Izumi’s voice, warm but stern. Her ‘You’re lollygagging and it will stop now’ voice.

“Child, you better get in here. I didn’t work my hands to the bone and sweat in front of a stove for this to get cold.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s eat first.” Inko said, picking up the pace ever so slightly. Her son must have been peckish too, since at the mention of food, he forgot his fascination with the house and was hot on her heels.

XXX

“Grandma...” Inko’s voice faded into stunned silence. Her son’s eyes again wide in shock but now edged in a bit of eager joy.

They’d stopped just before the sill of the open dinning room. Much like the house, it was huge western ideal of what a family gathering place was. A big room lined by large windows with a sliding glass door that faced west and lead out onto the porch and into the backyard. The massive solid wood dining table took up the entire middle space of the room, long enough to sit sixteen people with 8 on each side and wide enough for two people to sit on either end if they didn’t mind sharing elbow room, that wasn’t what had Inko struggling to find words to say. She’d lived here once, knew the table well. In fact, she even remembered the spot where she’d accidentally scratched the wood hard enough to leave a mark with her knife.

Although, finding it now would be a challenge considering that the table in question looked ready to fold under the weight of the food placed upon it.

Before them was a staggering number of dishes in exceedingly staggering amounts. Each main dish looked more like it was meant for a buffet than for any setting in a house. Even the side dishes were massive. The rice had so much prepared that it alone could’ve fed an entire family.

Not an inch of space was wasted or lacked something, the only spots left vacant were where three chairs sat scooted back from the table to give it’s would be occupant space between itself and the table to sit.

“I..uh.” With an effort Inko wrangled her tongue and looked and her grandmother, as bug-eyed as her son.”H-how? Where did all this come from?”

“Where did it come from?”Izumi echoed, frowning as if she’d just been asked the dumbest question she’d ever heard in her life. Standing next to a chair at the head of the massive table, she put her fists to her hips, an expression on her face that, for a brief moment, made Inko actually think her question indeed was as stupid as her grandmother thought.

“Where do you think, Child? From my kitchen.”

Inko shook her head, refusing to be put off. No warning of ‘Cooking all day’ explained the All-You-Can-Eat spread she was looking at.

“You cooked?” Inko stated flatly, pointing at her grandmother, who’s knowing grin had come back but now focused on her.

“All of this food, by yourself?” Using both hands, she gestured at the table in a motion that said ‘Look at what I’m seeing here.’

A nod.

“In one day? As in today?”

Inko put a great deal of emphasis in that last word and apparently that was just the thing she needed to get the impossibility of such a task through to her grandmother.

Izumi’s smile left her face, eyes widening slightly before she shook her head. “Oh no. No. No. Dear me, Inko.” She said with a laugh that rang through the room like a bell. “All day is just a turn of phrase, Child. You mustn’t take things so literally.”

Inko hardly thought that was fair and as she approached the table, she said as much. “Its not like you told enough for me not to take you completely at your word. I have to assume you meant exactly what you said.”

That got her another laugh.

Guess I’m a comedian today.

You know what they say about assumption. They make an a-” Her grandmother stopped, laughter dwindling to chuckles when she glanced down at Izuku, then back up to Inko and gave a conspiratorial wink. “Well, you know what they say.”

For Inko’s part, she gave a nod of gratitude and then turned to the food, breathing in deep. That single whiff almost had her falling upon the meal like a wild animal right then,

Smells of clean steamed vegetables mixed in her nose with hearty fatty meats. Fresh bread and sliced fruit combined with dishes of strong spiced curry and the tang of smoked sausage.

It stirred her appetite from an attention seeker to a near primal singular need to be satisfied.

Remembering herself, Inko seated Izuku first who was openly drooling and she couldn’t find it in herself to reprimand him on his poor show of manners. Sitting down, she focused back on Izumi, who was just about in her chair. “So who helped you?”

Her question got a raised eyebrow. “No one, Inko. All done by these.” She raised her hands and waggled her fingers in a surprising display of dexterity.

Now, she was confused again. “Then how did you cook all this?” The only explanation she could think of was that her grandmother had planned for more company ahead of time, but it had been made quite clear that this food was for her son and her. Leaving out that Inko knew Izumi Midoriya had never been one for parties.

Since the party idea wasn’t likely, then this meal should’ve been impossible. This visit was spur of the moment, an emotional decision to close out one of the most emotional weeks in her life. Coming here was meant to unwind both physically and emotionally.

In short, unless Izumi could see into the future, she’d need to have a fair warning to prepare this much, especially at her age.

Her grandmother clicked her tongue, picking up the empty plate in front of her and a pair of tongs that had been between the rice and spare ribs. “I started cooking the moment, I hung up the phone.” She answered.

If it hadn’t been for the armrests, Inko would’ve fallen out of her chair. “What?”

“It gets lonely for this old woman way out here. Not to mention boring. So I went a little overboard, I’ll admit.” She finished with a wave of her tongs, as if shooing away the idea that all this being cooked in such a short time was any big idea. “Indulge your grandmother’s want to provide for her granddaughter .”

Overboard, she says.

Inko had to wonder her a dictionary somewhere in the world had just cracked into pieces under the strain of such a massive understatement.

She was yanked out of her contemplation by the sound of chewing beside her. Izuku’s patience had run on and even her grandmother had started plating some food in the brief pause.

With a sigh of surrender, Inko began picking out what looked best from the table.

She’d planned on questioning her grandmother further after lunch but all it took was once bite of the still hot bread rolls and the lingering subject of how the food get here fled before the ravenous craving to eat as much of it as she could.

Though it did stick out even in her preoccupied brain just how normally her grandmother treated the whole meal. Not a look of shock, quirked eyebrow, or even a comment as she and her son tore into everything before them. Stripping every bone clean and clearing every platter like locusts to an unprotected field of wheat.

With her attention on her grandmother, she also managed to notice that she’d eaten quite a bit as well. Not as much as her but still, she’d put down two fairly full plates within the time they’d finished eating.

It was Izuku who announced the end of the meal. He leaned back in the chair, contented smile on his face and a deep sigh. “That was great. I’m full.” Inko, while agreeing that indeed the food had been wonderful as Izumi was a great cook, couldn’t help the smirk at the irony that there was nothing more to eat. The table, once a picturesque sumptuous smorgasbord, now lay heavy with empty plates, bowls, platters, and glasses.

For her part, her full belly had lifted a weight from her, a prickling that she had only realized now followed her out of the hospital as well. It was enough to dishearten her. She’d known the need for food was going to hit her hard financially but if it took eating this much then...Well, buying in bulk was an option but even that was more of a stop gap than anything long term. Could Hisashi even support them with just his paycheck… That question put a sour taste in her mouth that certainly hadn’t been there before. Of course he could. An expensive car that he barely used kept in an expensive garage for the elite with insurance and everything else. And if he somehow couldn’t, then she…

“What are you doing, child?” Inko jerked and realized with a jolt she was on her feet, hands gathering up the plates and silverware.

Her answer was instant. “Going to wash the dishes.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Her habit, one her grandmother instilled over the years she’d lived with her, was to clean after every meal. Dirty plates were hard to clean if the mess on them was left to dry and apparently even with her mind wandering out afield in her own world of worry and frustration, her body followed what was comfortable for her. Familiar was comfortable. That’s why she was here, after all.

“Oh, please. We can take care of that later.” Izumi motioned for her to put the stuff down. “Right now, I want to talk to  you, Inko.”

With that, her grandmother stood up as well and looked to her son. “Izuku,” she said, getting the four year old’s attention. “after you rest for a bit, why don’t you go play outside? I’m sure you’d like the forests around here just as much as your mother.”

“But, don’t go very far.” Inko cut in with a warning. She knew the forest well enough. Where the dead-end road had been the town’s private playground, the forests here had been hers. Every trip in there had been an adventure with tall trees to climb, creeks to splash in, and interesting rocks and bugs to find. “There are wild animals out there.”

Her son’s eyes grew wide, though not in fear. There was almost an anticipation to his look as if he wanted to see what kind of wild animals there were. She wasn’t sure why but it was unsettling enough that her first instinct was to go with him. A tiny pit twirling around in her stomach made her not want to leave his side, just in case he did run into something out there. Yeah, the more she thought about it, the more she felt she should be out there. Any beast that dared to try and lay a claw or tooth or paw on her son, would soon find themselves dealing with her. And she’d be more vicious than any-

“Yes, your mother is right.” Izumi nodded sagely, her voice snapping Inko back to attention. “Up to a certain point is a wire fence that keeps dangerous animals out. There is a tall pole with a red flag on it that marks where the safe zone ends. Wild animals are past it, so if you see it, go no further.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her grandmother smiled even wider and ruffled his hair. “Such a polite boy.” Izuku blushed slightly, freckles standing out on his cheeks and giggled.

Inko followed her mother out the room, hesitating halfway down the hall when she heard the sliding glass door open and shut.

Izumi, noticing she’d stopped after a few more steps, turned to her and beckoned for her to follow. “He’ll be fine, dear. I had the fencing upgraded last month and a couple of inspectors checked the property within to make sure we didn’t have some uninvited guests lurking around. Such young strapping men, too.” She put a hand to her mouth in a vixenish way that was so fake Inko had to laugh at the act.

“Oh, if I was just a few decades younger.” The lament was uttered with a sigh, with Izumi gazing off into space with a love-struck pout that was so out of place on her face that Inko laughed harder, just managing not to bend double and followed after her.

She knew where they were going right away. Located on the north side at the end of the hall was the biggest room in the building, the study which as they entered, she could tell it hadn’t changed. Save for the new desk and the computer  that was tucked in the left corner, taking up the final bit of vacant space along the walls. “Still dark as ever, I see.” She observed, looking around.

With each wall lined with near ceiling high bookshelves including two which covered the only windows in the room, the place was cast in shadows that were barely held off from the light coming from the hall and a series 4 of lamps, placed in strategic spots around. The only lamp that caught her attention was the one on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

She walked closer towards it to get a better look. Next to the lamp which was on the far end were a row of pictures in variously sized frames. These hadn’t changed either. The first one was of a much younger looking Izumi Midoriya in a school uniform. Smiling and with a black tube in her hand, she was posing in front of a school’s grounds with a group of other girls, all of whom were smiling as well with a tube in their hand. Yet even if Inko would’ve somehow not been able to distinguish Izumi’s face which was impossible, the girl in the photo stood out.

A lot.

Out of all five girls who were doing some silly pose or had their head turned in some way, waving to the camera or the person behind it with peace signs, she was the only one who stood straight. Ramrod stiff, a statue standing proud among everyone else, her presence and propriety oozed through the frame.

The picture next to it was a different story altogether. Her grandmother, now a totally mature woman, wasn’t standing. Instead, clothed in a stunning white gown was being carried bridal style in the arms of a large man with sharp features in a black suit. Or was it a tux? Inko could never tell the difference and she could tell that the distinction wouldn’t have mattered to either. The picture had been snapped while they were both in mid-laugh and the joy on her face made the high school one look like she’d been grumpy during her graduation. Inko could feel it, she’d felt it when she’d gotten married. A twinge of sadness curled in her chest as she looked at the man, her grandfather, smile glowing and softening what would’ve been a hard countenance. Inko had never gotten the chance to know him but the stories Izumi told her painted a picture of dutiful, gentle soul who’d sooner kill you with kindness as hit you square in the jaw if you pressed his buttons long enough. And you really had to press them.

He’d died long before she’d been born and she’d never asked her grandmother how. She continued down the row but stopped at one that had been placed face down on the mantle, hiding the picture inside from sight. Inko didn’t lift it up to see, she knew what it was of and as she inspected it, a gratified ease at the thick layer of dust on its back made her smile.

“Come and sit, child.”

A massive carpet covered the wooden floor a safe distance away from the fireplace, upon which sat two well used linen armchairs with a small circular table between them. An electric kettle shared space with an antique lamp and two blue china teacups and saucers.

“Now,” Izumi sat down in the left chair, knees together and facing her as she took the much less worn right one. “How are you doing, Inko?”

She was in the middle of opening her mouth but whatever she’d planned to say was halted by her grandmother’s raised hand. Actually, that wasn’t quite right. The hand had been little more than a twist of her wrist. What did make Inko pause was the change that had taken Izumi Midoriya’s face. There was concern there but it was mixed with a hardness in the eyes that Inko had only seen once before, and she quickly averted her eyes.

Her desire to unload everything that had been on her mind warred with just wanting to keep it to herself, to talk about something other than about her. The weather... heroes... did Takumi; that drummer in town, ever get a break with the band of his? Some idle chatting like she was used to. Her leg tingled and her back throbbed like a nasty memory.

She wanted… needed something familiar. Too much had happened and too much had changed far too fast. Her apartment was too crowded, her husband was too distant, her body had become anomalous, she’d even grown a tail. A secondary quirk that she’d never known she had.

Inko chewed on her lip, having all this time to think and having no clue where to start. Her grandmother waited patiently while when she managed to compact all her thoughts down into into a single sentence. “I don’t know.”

Those three words were so factual that Inko was initially embarrassed that it had taken her so long to say them. She had no clue how she was doing and thinking back to every conversation and thought between waking up and getting here, she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

“In this one week, I’ve been hurt, nearly killed, could’ve lost Izuku and got a lesson in embarrassment and shame so thorough that I’d probably be able to teach a course on it at Todai,” she pushed forward, more words coming to mind as she simply let herself speak. Still not quite able to look straight at her grandmother, her eyes swept along the shelves around her. This place was almost like a university’s library. “But above all that, I’m angry. I’m so angry and I just want to...” A reluctant urge edged it’s way to the front of her mind and it was only then that she recognized she’d been clenching her hands together so hard her knuckles were turning white. She didn’t want to say it out loud, like if it was addressed the thing she was pushing back would leap out like a living creature. The urge wanted action, movement even. For her to DO something, anything.

“I guessed as much.” Izumi’s tone was equal parts sad and resigned. As if she’d expected as much. It was enough to make Inko finally look at her.

Now her grandmother wasn’t looking at her. She was looking away towards a shelf and the emotion in her eyes confused Inko more than anything else. With a sigh, she stood up and moved to the bookshelf she’d been focused on. “Inko, I’d hoped to never had this conversation and in that I failed myself and I failed you and Izuku.”

Her confusion only deepened but Izumi continued before she could ask what she was talking about. “I thought it would be best to keep it from you. You were living a safe and happy life and I thought the burden of our family curse had ended at… well, myself.” Pulling a book out of a line of unmarked ones, Izumi’s hand trembled slightly as if the novel-sized book weighed a great deal. Slowly, with a gaze akin to a judge about to deliver a sentence, she turned and looked at her. A building silence grew between them and Inko was sure that if her grandmother looked at her any harder the floor between them would catch fire.

When she did finally speak, her voice had such a melancholic tone as if she was just a step away from tears.

“Inko. You, your son, and I, are not totally human.”

XXX

A cheer split the air. It was a whoop of such joy and childish glee that it managed to drown out the cicadas whirring around. The air was thick with the sent of moist grass and the air pulled even more fresh scents of the forest into his nose as her rushed around.

Izuku being the shouts source didn’t notice nor care as any skittish animals nearby fled at his announced approach. The boy’s legs pumped hard as he crashed through the brush and weaved in between trees. This was the most fun he’d ever had.

Well… not as fun as playing All Might with mom but it was very very close.

He thought for a moment if they could play that again when he got back to the house. He barely began wondering if they could get Great-Grandma in on it then he saw a low branch on a tall tree. All thoughts flew and left just action.

He leaped for it.

For an average adult, it wasn’t that high, barely a struggle to reach but Izuku wasn’t an adult.

Normally, he would’ve bounced and hopped as hard as he could, missed and probably crashed to the ground or into another tree.

‘Normally’ no longer applied.

His jump carried him up and his arms reached, hands grasping. Catching it, he gripped so that he could swing up but his fingers tightened so hard that the branch crumpled with a few woody pops. The energy left over from his sprint did the rest and halfway through his swing, the limb snapped.

He was sent into a spin, falling towards the ground which came to a stop with a sharp tug from the base of his back. Held in the air and upside down, he got a perfect view of his tail hooked tight around a higher, shorter, but much thicker branch.

His tail had caught him! That hadn’t happened before, not even when he was showing off for Kaachan.

The boy giggled, giddy with excitement. It only took him two tries to pull himself up and from there, again without a second thought, began climbing up the trunk.

His little heart pounded in his chest. Not from fear but excitement. A rush ran through him like nothing he’d ever felt before. Injury and, what would be to anyone, the concerning and still growing height between him and the ground were the furthest things from his mind. His smile only grew as he ran out of handholds near the top.

Crouched on a limb, he looked around. To his right was a tree about as tall as the one he was on but the one after that had a trunk thicker and taller than either. In fact, it looked like if he climbed to the top of that one he would be able to see everything.

However, he could tell just by looking at it that there was no way he was going to make a single jump to that one. So, sighted on his goal, he aimed for the strongest looking branch on the tree between with a moment to bend just the right way to get the most out of his spring and went for it.

Catching by his tail, he made one full twirl around the tree limb and vaulted for his target. He was only as he’d already let go and was too far away grab for anything when he recognized the spot he aimed for had nothing to grab.

A wall of solid bark was coming to meet him.

Instinct took over and he spread his arms out wide as if going in for a hug and, on the moment of impact, dug his fingers in with every bit of strength he could manage.  A series of pops followed the sensation of rough wood around his hands and then the pressure of his own body weight.

That had been close.

Breathing hard, smile a little less wider than it had been a moment before, he hung in place and looked around the best he could. Just out of reach, up and to the left, was a branch he knew would hold. He made for it or tried to. His shoes dragged along the surface for a push but got the sound of crumbling and snapping bark for his effort. Even his tail waved frantically as Izuku’s sweaty hands began to slip out of their holes. He couldn’t risk letting go to reach.

Gravity was trying its best to pull him down, his fingers were starting to ache and in frustration he kicked the tree.

The impact was enough to bounce him off his hold… high enough to put that limb just within his grasp.

He reached as far as his arm would go and caught it in one hand, then the other. He quickly scrambled up and wrapped his legs around it as hard as he dared. Sweat streamed down his face and his breaths were hard and fast but after an extra long moment to rest after all his hard work, he looked back up the tree and, carefully this time, picked his next spot and continued up.

And up.

...and up...

XXX

Inko waited for the punchline and when none came, searched for that hint of humor that showed when her grandmother about to spring a joke. Nothing of the sort revealed itself, only a look of such grim seriousness that it actually make her shy into her chair. Izumi was only slightly taller than her, yet even from across the room, her whole presence loomed. The study remained hushed. A grandfather clock somewhere in the building ticked away, it's inner workings a hammer to the silence filling the air to every last crack of space.

She blinked and for the first time in her life, worried. Maybe all this time alone, near the forests had affected her grandmother. God forbid, that age was having its much more silent, much more awful, way with Izumi and as terrible as that was to consider, as much as it hurt her heart to think it, there was no other way she could reason to herself why her grandmother would say something so absurd and mean it.

“What are you talking about?” she finally responded, leaning forward to hear her grandmother better. Surely she hadn’t heard that right.

Izumi crossed back to her chair in two quick strides and lowered into it with a fluid grace that made Inko blink again. Before when her grandmother had walked around, her movements had been smooth but with a slow methodical care as if to be sure of what she was doing before being committed. Her walk firm to make sure her feet were stable, her sitting aimed right at the center so as to not bump her hips or place herself on the edge of the chair. Yet just then, her care left as if it had never been, replaced with a confidence and poise that Inko had never seen from her before.

Ever.

“I’m talking about that tail and what it signifies. What it means for your future.” Flipping through the book, Izumi’s answer came with no preamble to the build up. She spoke plainly with a certainty that made it clear to Inko that she was far from addled. “We aren’t completely human, at least my side of the family isn’t. And just in case you’re thinking of asking, no, I don’t know what we are. Our family has been researching this for generations, longer than you or I or even my great-grandfather, and even with modern science none have been able to agree if its genetic mutation, something supernatural, some unique evolution, or just straight up magic.”

“Oh lord, you’re serious.” Inko hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to be rude, but the words slipped off her tongue as if they’d been greased.

If Izumi took insult though, she didn’t show it. Instead, she nodded opening the leather book that Inko now realized was much thicker than she’d originally thought. “I said something to that effect, when my father told me. Mind you, I was a child when he did so and if a child thinks you’re fibbing than how can an adult accept such a fairy tale as gospel? And I would still not have believed him, if quirks hadn’t suddenly appeared on the scene.”

Inko frowned at that last remark, quickly doing some numbers in her head. “Grandma, you do know that was twenty years before your time, at least.”

The amusement came back to Izumi’s eyes and for a moment she thought there was about to be a ‘I had you going for a moment, didn’t I?’ out of her mouth. Instead, she asked. “Inko, how old do you think I am?”

That was an odd question. “Seventy…sixty-eig-” Her mouth shut with a click. She knew her grandmother’s birthday, certainly but she was coming to realized that she actually didn’t know Izumi’s age. “You’ve told me before, right?”

“I have and I was lying. Mostly for the same reason I didn’t want to tell you about our family’s checkered past.” Her grandmother’s admission of lying hit her harder like a slap across the face. The shock at those words would’ve been total to Inko but like a boxer taking a viscous combo, her brain was already reeling and so didn’t have time to prepare for the follow up. “I’m actually one-hundred and twelve years old. My twelfth birthday had been less than a two weeks away when that historic case in China happened. Oh, the Chinese government tried to hide it, I’m sure, but no political body has the power to hide something like that unless they’re prepared for it.”

Inko sunk into the chair, its overstuffed cushions doing nothing to help with the pressure suddenly weighing her down. “That’s… th-that’s…”

“Impossible.” Her grandmother finished for her, pulling out a folded worn rectangle of paper from between the pages of the book. “Yes, I’m sure most would say that. But here.” The paper was passed over and Inko numbly took it, her fingers moving pretty much on autopilot to unfold it and it took a full minute of staring before she understood what was in her hands. An icy chasm opened in her stomach at the date on the page.

When it did, she gaped back at her grandmother. This couldn’t be fake, but it had to be. “Your birth certificate?”

A sardonic smiled touched the woman’s lips. “Got it for my birthday.”

Inko’s hands trembled as she passed it back. 112...the woman who’d raised her, the grandmother she thought she’d known better than her own parents, was more than a century old. Izumi would’ve looked great for a seventy year old woman. For someone more than a decade past their centennial, her looks were unnatural. There was no plastic surgeon that good, no quirk that could hold back someone’s age, no amount of good food and good air that could do this.

“However, this isn’t so much my proof.” Her grandmother, her over a hundred year old grandmother, picked the certificate between two fingers, folded, then tucked it back between the pages of the book. “This is me making my case, the proof is in you, Child.”

For the first time in her life, Inko flinched at her nickname. Izumi’s moniker for her now felt...patronizing and deceitful. So many questions marched through her head, all trying to force their way out like a mob rushing a single exit. Her grandmother’s statement made a path for one though. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, Inko. Your reaction to my question said as much.”

“Noticed what?”

“Don’t avoid the subject, Inko. You may be an adult but I can still read you like a book.”

The confusion, what was turning out to be a constant state for her now, must’ve shown because Izumi, patiently continued. “I saw the look in your eye in the dining room, Inko. Izuku didn’t but I did. Tell me, did you want to go out there with Izuku?”

Inko nodded, slowly coming back to herself. Her brain, no longer dazed from surprise after surprise, finally changed into gear, “Yes, of course. There were possible animals out there.”

“And what would you have done if your son and you had happened across a dangerous wolf, lets say?”

“I would’ve fought it to give Izuku time to escape.” She wouldn’t allow anything, much less an overgrown dog, get near her son if there was anything she could do about it.

“Would you have done that a week ago? Fought the wolf, I mean?”

“Yes. With my bare hands if I had to.” She answered through clenched teeth, muscles in her jaw tight and fingers twitching for something to hold. To grab. To tear.

“That’s funny,” her grandmother said, looking back to the open book and rubbing her chin in thought. “because you didn’t mention anything like scaring it off or backing away or equipping yourself with some kind of repellent or even a knife. Not even picking up a heavy stick, just fight it with you bare hands.” Izumi focused on her as if viewing her through a scope with her next question. “Does that sound like something you ever would have done, Inko? You? Who wanted to be a housewife? The woman I remember leaving this house when she graduated, didn’t so much as tell off her own school bullies but now your first solution to fend off a wolf is using your hands?”

Inko was about to point out that it was only if her son was in danger, yet the sentence died before she’d breathed in to say it, gazing off into space. Back at the robbery she’d run, fully planning to escape. Just thinking about it, made her shoulder sting. Looking at it now, would I have run?

The idea she had to even ask herself such a fundamental thing was enough to form knots in her belly and ice on her skin. Worse, she couldn’t answer the very question she’d posed and the agitation left her like a deflating balloon.

Dread flowed through her thoughts, sliding over where confidence had been like oil and she looked to her grandmother who now was looking solemn again, all traces of humor gone. The book placed on the table between them.

“It’s as clear to me as the sun is on a cloudless day. It’s in your eyes. It’s in Izuku’s, though for him, he’s expressing this more as wanting to play around. For you, child, I bet before this conversation is over, you’ll be near to exploding out that chair.” She began, indicating the seat with nod. “You’ll be itching to climb a tree or run. Like a pot ready to boil over, you’ll feel ready to run half way across the world. Maybe a quarter if you didn’t sleep well last night. I can tell you now, it won’t help. I wasn’t being dramatic when I said it was a curse. While I can’t trace our family line back further than the late 1800s, I guarantee what you’re feeling has cost some of them their lives.”

Even though Inko knew the feeling, the odd sensation that had followed moments when she’d gotten angry, it was only when her grandmother said it that she truly had the words for it.

“The desire for battle, Inko. That’s what those tails mean. ‘Destruction and feral savagery,’ I think one ancestor wrote. It’s one reason why all the other branches of this tree are gone now, pruned by the rush to war or a duel or even some bar fight that has gotten plenty of them killed.” Izumi stated, her voice touching an edge that Inko would only recognize later as a sob. “This is why I beg your forgiveness.” Staring into her lap, hands clasped she turned to her grandmother. Unable to speak, she stared as her grandmother cupped her face in her hands, clearly ashamed. “My empty hopes for this never to happen doesn’t excuse the fact that I could’ve gotten you and your son killed.”

If Inko wasn’t already feeling like she was lost out to sea, she’d have been swept away by that statement. As it was she stood, more unfolding from the chair than rising out of it, and her grandmother jumped slightly as if expecting some violent reaction. Indeed, Inko didn’t know what to do. Emotions warred in her mind, crowding her thoughts until it felt that no words nor any amount of them would ever be enough. Even standing, staring blankly off into space was an effort to decide. What could she do?

Scream? Cry? Call the woman who raised her after the hell of her early childhood a liar and stomp out like an immature child?

For a many hard ticks of the grandfather clock, she was a living statue. Not moving, not sure if she was breathing and finally, said the only thing she could. “I need a moment. To think. And some space. To think.”

Without waiting for an answer, she spun and left the study. However, the hall wasn’t enough space. Her old home felt even tighter than her apartment, too much stuff on the walls and not enough open air. She continued to the front, throwing open the door and stepping out onto the porch, the Toyota Century still parked a few feet from the steps, it’s polished paint and chrome gleaming in the midday sun.

Still, it wasn’t enough. The house had a physical almost unnatural presence at her back, like it was going to fall upon her. She didn’t look back to it as she marched past the car and onto the drive. With how her week was going, she’d only be mildly peeved if she turned around to see the house teetering like a stack of papers near an open window. She didn’t so much a glance over her shoulder as she continued down the drive, gravel crunching with each step. There was too much to think about and if she had to listen to anymore of that… that… what even was that? Crazy, was what it was. Her grandmother had totally lost her mind, that explained it all. Extra insanity to top off the several helpings of it she’d gotten back in the city and there STILL wasn’t enough space.

Picking her pace up to a jog, she passed from the gravel and only paused long enough to take the direction away from town, and continued down the road. The muscles in her jaw worked as she thought, not even realizing face now had a determined glare. In fact, if this was true, how had no one found out about it? A family with monkey tails popping up would make news no matter what century it was. She’d have known about them, an old cousin or a grand-aunt or someone! Hell, this was something even he would have mentioned.

Oh great, now she was thinking of that man. A growl rolled from her lips and she picked up the pace even more. Still wasn’t far enough. She didn’t even want to see the trees around the house. The asphalt ahead of her passed by, the summer heat waves making the furthest point in the road seem ethereal and unreal. As if, when one reached it, they’d come to the end of reality itself. Inko was ready to take that challenge. Her pace rose, the wild storm of her thoughts the only opposition. The road was clear, a country lane on the weekend was sure to be lacking cars for miles and at that she moved from the side to the center of the road. Her run increasing to a full on sprint along the white line. Each step devoured the distance before her, one foot tramped in front of the other, arms working back and forth like a steam locomotive and eye glaring ahead but not quite seeing.

Quite literally running on autopilot, Inko ran for that insubstantial finish line, some illogical place in her brain telling her that if she could reach it then the world would suddenly be sane again. That her grandmother’s story wasn’t true. That a murderous criminal was already in jail. That Hisashi was here with her and not...who knew where. That the robbery had not ever happened, she’d bought that ice cream pop for Izuku, and left. She had sense enough to know she had much chance of making it to that haze as she did not having this week happen, but damn if she didn’t try.

XXX

“Wow.” Izuku could see the whole world from here, her was certain. He stood bent low, heels flat and body crouched on the thickest and tallest branch of the tallest tree he’d ever climbed, feeling the breeze cool and unrestrained across his skin. It was high enough that he could make out the red flag from here, his view clear above the canopy.

He was indeed quite a distance from it though, so far in fact that it didn’t looked like a flag pole but more like someone had stuck a gray toothpick with a tiny rectangle on the end, in some moss. The forest, green and unbroken, flowed with the shape of the land to the horizon. Shading his eyes with a hand, Izuku followed its contours. It was amazing. He’d never been this high before without being in a building. Taking a moment and combing a hand through his mossy green hair up to get his bangs out of the way, he leaned forward to scope out more details in the greenery before him. Tongue out and eyes squinted in concentration, the four year old focused as hard as he could, both on climbing tree and now trying to take in the forest and thus missed the nest of spotted brown green eggs tucked between the trunk and limb.

The harsh croak made his heart leap in his chest and he snapped his head around in time to see a crow swoop for his face. It’s black wings spread wide and flapping, it looked even bigger as it closed on him. He jumped, trying to ward the animal off then whirling his arms as his heels shifted just enough to put off his careful balancing act. Wobbling, Izuku’s internal gyroscope worked overtime to keep him from pitching over, feet shuffling. The crow in a series of outraged caws backed off for as long for it to reorient itself to buzz him again.

It didn’t get the chance. A deep low-pitched groaning of wood met his ears and made Izuku freeze. All too late, he figured that the branch, thick as it was, only stayed stable as long at the weight on it wasn’t being thrown around.

The Crack was like thunderclap to his ears and his stomach rose as the rest of him dropped. Tumbling through empty air like a stone, he desperately clawed for something...anything but he was too far from the trunk. Fear tightened his chest and choked any screams he would’ve made into small whimpers. Tiny noises which went silent as he crashed through thin branches, swatting at his body like whips hard enough to sting yet so weak they barely slowed his fall.

He yelped. A particularly firm branch struck him across the chest hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs before his momentum snapped it like a twig. It bounced him further away from the tree and stopped his wild spin, giving him a clear view of the rising ground and shrinking empty air in between.

He had to stop! His sharp eyes were able to easy make out the thin blades of grass sprouting between heavy roots and smooth moss covered rocks. Izuku was a smart child but even if he wasn’t, he knew hitting that wouldn’t be good. He needed to stop! If he didn’t-

The ground closed in on him like a wall ready to crush far too fast. The trees roots looking more deadly with every passing second.

The four year old threw his arms forward, palms forward to brace and as his breath came back, screamed as loud as he could. “STOP!”

By all rights, Izuku should’ve hit the ground and been lucky if he lived through it with just a broken arm. He was fully aware of that and, many years later when he thought back to this moment, remembered the fear, the near blind icy panic that pounded his veins and tightened his chest. He would indeed remember and be unafraid to look into the empty eyes of a threat much greater than the memory and try what he’d done again.

The scream ripped through the tranquil forest atmosphere like the crack of a gun and just before he hit the ground, the four year old felt a shock run through him from tongue to tailbone. An impact ran through his arms, a jolt the reminded him of the time he’d pushed on a heavy door just as it was swinging closed. The curtain of dust and dirt flung him and he felt his stomach twist slightly at the intimidate change in direction.

Landing at an angle and much slower speed, he hit the ground with a small grunt rolling to a stop a good distance away from the tree he’d fallen from.

Curled into as tight a ball he could managed, Izuku lay on the ground shaking, short panicky breaths making his voice squeak with each on he took. His head felt like it was bobbing in a tub, ears rushing, and seeing spots even though his eyes were screwed tight. The ground under him felt like it was turning slowly and he could feel his heart beating against his ribs, making his breaths vibrate in his lungs.

When he tried to stand, he was shaking so bad that his arms and legs wobbled like that jelly he’d eaten earlier. They gave and he fell onto his butt. “Ouch,” he hissed rubbing the sore spot

Should he tell his mom? He shook his head as soon as he thought about it. He shouldn’t have been in the tree in the first place and he didn’t want to disappoint her when explaining what he’d done.

He walked his way back to the house, stopping for awhile at a creek that he’d past in his headlong charge. He only planned to throw two or three stones in the water before leaving. That changed when he skipped his first stone, a smooth river rock, hard enough to clear the water in two skips and just barely miss the trunk of a small tree on the bank.

Trying again, the third rock grazed his target, going off to the side somewhere and into the grass. The fourth hit dead center and from there he made target practice of it, every stone tossed with a little more force behind it. By the time he felt it was time to go, the tree had so many stone stuck into it, he’d been forced to angle the last throw higher to avoid them.

As he left the riverbed and went back to his Great-Grandma’s house, with no clue of the depth of the crater he’d left near where he’d fallen.

The property inspectors would bring the ditch to Izumi’s attention a month later and theorize that maybe someone was breaking onto her property looking for something and that cameras might need to be set up near the boundary. The woman in question would smile sweetly, say she’d take their advice into consideration.

XXX

How far had she gone? Inko had no clue but gave no effort to guess. Her heart slammed against her ribs, lungs working like a bellows, and sweat had long past beaded on her skin and was streaming down her face, but she didn’t let up. Her sprint carried her further and further, trees passing by as indistinct blurs at the edge of her vision as she focused on the goal ahead. When her body began to ache, she powered through it. The muscles in her body tightened. Just a little bit at a time until, right as the sun began its journey from noon to evening, both legs folded under her.

Managing one step in an attempt to catch herself, she fell hard. Her body unable to keep up with the monumental strain she’d forced it through and barely managed to not smash her face into the road. Pain snapped through her arms as she caught her right elbow on the road. With a cry of pain, her one extra step and momentum carried her from the center of the narrow road and into a low ditch leading into a clear and open field.

She landed back first, her shoulder and thigh singing the high notes in the symphony of agony playing through her, and was left staring up into the sky. Blue with streaks of white puffy brushstroke clouds lazily drifted above. Sweat, soaked through her shirt, stung her eyes and made everything hard to see. Her hard heavy breathing was balanced on a knife point from hyperventilating, sounding both raspy and wet. Her temples throbbed and her skin pulsed, and her injuries were making her pay, the fire paving white hot tracks between her shoulder and thigh where supernovas seared their mark in her nerves. Her fingers twitched and she barely felt the cuts she knew were on her elbows. Was that good or bad, she didn’t know. What she did know was, right now she could barely move, was bleeding at the side of the road in a field with no cellphone and quite unable to crawl, much less stand.

That wasn’t why she began to weep though. The pain in her body couldn’t match the gaping hole of dread in her chest, the terrible certainty that her grandmother was telling her the truth. She cried for herself, for Izuku, for the end of their  simple lives. Inko mourned for it all because, she felt that itch in the back of her mind. A desire that, even with her in such a sorry exhausted state, reared in her mind like a ghost returned for the grave. It had been given a label by her grandmother and now, Inko truly understood the depths of her change.

Her grandmother was telling the truth.

Inko was sobbing so hard that she barely noticed the sounds of someone coming through the grass, the shape of a man leaning into her sight indistinct with her blurred eyes. “Jeez, are you okay, Ma’am?” The words dripped against her senses like light rain.

Her answer was to weep harder.

No. No, she wasn’t. Maybe she never would be again.

It took a great deal of convincing, once she’d gotten control of herself, for the man who apparently owned the land Inko had taken a tumble into, to take her, a strange injured, hysterically crying woman he happened upon to her grandmother’s house and not the hospital. Or to the local police. Thankfully, while the man didn’t know Izumi personally but being a neighbor of sorts, he knew where she lived and believed her when she told him she was her granddaughter. His concern clearly wasn’t eased since when he asked what happened to her shoes on the drive over, Inko had given him a confused look and with effort, looked down at her bare dirty bleeding feet.

All that running and it took a stranger for her to notice she hadn’t put her shoes back on before leaving the house. Upon arrival, the man knocked at front door and when her grandmother opened it, had a short discussion that ended with the man looking more mollified than before. Clearly, Izumi had put him at ease and held the door open as the man helped Inko out of his Daihatsu truck.

With painful effort on her part, Inko was helped to the upstairs bedroom, the guest one, not her old one. Once she was seated on the bed, leaning into the headboard for support her grandmother thanked the man, told him she could take it from here, and led the man out.

A short minute later, Inko heard her grandmother’s footsteps on the hardwood stairs, coming up fast and steady and entered the room. In her left hand was a green medical kit, a large one with the symbol of the red cross on its side and tucked under her right arm was a set of towels and washcloths. “First,” she began in a voice that spoke of experience and brokered no argument. It wasn’t angry, though that’s what Inko had expected. A scolding reprimand for doing something foolish and stupid. Instead, there was that kindness and patience that her grandmother carried like a wallet. “we need to get you out of those clothes and clean up your wounds before they get infected. Next, tomorrow you’re coming on a hike with me so we can cover the rest of what you need to know.”

The thought of doing anything tomorrow was enough to get a groan from her, knowing that her body was going to pay her back double but she refused to complain. She’d just given herself a hard lesson which luck had saved her from an even harder one. She would have still been out there baking in the sun and there was no point complaining.

Taking her grandmother’s hand, Inko was pulled to her feet and leaned against Izumi for support who barely seemed bothered by burden and helped her into the large guest bathroom. It was more than a little infantilizing to need her grandmother’s help to undress but not only did she accept the help, she was glad for it. Every limb and muscle barely cooperated when she wanted to do something. Twisting or bending was out of the question and trying to pull off her shirt had been more than difficult. So much so, that Izumi had to used the medical scissors to cut them off after the fifth failed try.

Once everything was off and she was seated on the bathtub edge, Izumi used a detachable shower head to began rinsing the dirt off. Starting at the feet and then up the body, making specific care of her elbows. To Inko’s relief, the fall had hurt much more than the cuts made. The lukewarm water stung where it touched, aggravating but clearing away the dirt and sweat, a murky runoff flowing down the drain. After it was all off, her grandmother opened the kit and with rubbing alcohol soaked cotton balls and a pair of tweezers, dabbed the open wounds.

Soon, even that was done and Izumi after rinsing out the tub, plugged the drain and began filling it was warm water. The bath was relaxing, quick, and once Inko dried off enough, Izumi dressed the cuts in gauze after one last rub down of alcohol. Then she left to bring in the suitcases from the car.

The whole affair had been silent, save for an exchange of yes-no questions like ‘Does this hurt? Do you think you can reach there?’ or instructions to follow such as ‘Bend your arm like this. Relax your hand, Child.’ Nothing more than that.

Inko spent it thinking and Izumi gave her time to think. The air wasn’t tense but vacant of inevitable discussion like two people at a dinner table knowing an unpleasant subject needed to be brought up but there was no need to ruin a good meal, it could wait until then. When Izumi came back into the bathroom with a set of clothes in her hands, Inko asked the only question she could as she put on her clothes, an exercise in trial and error to figure out what did and didn’t hurt. “How bad will it be?”

Her grandmother said nothing for a long moment and Inko worried that she wouldn’t answer. “It’s not going to be easy. For me it was like a craving, one that I worked hard to not to indulge but others in the past have described it as an addiction comparable to a drug and like a drug, you have to keep seeking more and more of to satisfy. If it’s like a drug, then I guess it depends of your willpower.”

Inko nodded silently. She only noticed the black book in her grandmother’s hands. Izumi set the book down on the end table next to the lamp. “Read this. You won’t get through it all tonight so I think you should start with my entries.” She said, making a point to tap the red bookmark inside. “They pertain to the more present issues and don’t read like some Shakespearean play.”

Inko nodded again and she nor her grandmother broached the subject any further. They both knew what had to be done and there was no point beating it in any further.

By the time Izuku had bounded back in, she’d managed to get back downstairs and had turned on the TV to some random channel. It was easy for her to put on a brave face for him as, after she got him to take a bath since he looked like he decided to roll down a few hills, he tried his best to tell her in a single breath how great the forest was.

“And the trees are so tall!!!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms up to give scale. His wild gesture caused him to bounce  on the living room couch a bit. While his enthusiasm was infectious, helping Inko smile through the sharp deep pains in her muscles, her chest ached. A mournful leftover for a past that was never going to come back and the fear of an unknown future tugging at her heartstrings. “You can see everything from up one of them.”

That got her to lift an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

Her son got very quiet, a shocked look on his face that steady turned guilty. “Just guessed, you know?” She didn’t believe him. Her son was bright but he never ‘just guessed’ anything. The lie was only made more obvious by the sudden clinical interest her son picked up in the few blank spaces of wall in the living room. Coincidentally, it also happened that the wall kept him from looking at her.

“Young man.” She said, putting just the right tone to it and her son jumped a little at her voice. “I’m going to let it go, but don’t lie to me again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[autocarrepairblogs]

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[stone-man-warrior]

Duplicate because the account is hijacked again, cannot make necessary editing because of terror hijack of the account:

===================================================

February 5, 2021: 4:33 pm:

I have been placed into the Jesus Gauntlet, it's been underway for three days now, since Tuesday night when the initial assassin attacked me in my driveway. That one is believed to have been Sean Sparacino. The assassin was wearing Pixel Suit electronic invisible, wearable video screen costume that operates with an array of built in cameras that are arranged to display the area that is towards the back of the suit, onto the front of the suit, such that a skilled assassin is able to hide within brush, or anywhere in such a way the when the victim approaches the area, there is nothing to see other than the items or brush that is present in the area where the suit is worn. Usually, the assassin crawl on the ground to achieve maximum stealth camouflage, then the (they) stand up at the moment of the attack, or, simply extend a sword such that the victim will trip over it while the assassin is crouched low, near the ground, blending in, not casting a shadow. The sword or any other items the assassin has is visible, but are camouflaged differently. Head, hands, and feet remain visible, but are camouflaged differently for maximum stealth.

Sean Sparacino, or who ever it was that night lost his head when I saw the sword, still in the scabbard, grabbed it, turned it around and cut the assassins head off, then thrust the sword into the assassins neck, and placed his head onto the handle of the sword.

Sean became a Joe Biden Bobble Head Doll.

His nitrous oxide tank ignited, and launched to the other side of my yard, nearby 520 Jackpine in the woods, when I lit my lighter after defending. After that, I went to check my mailbox, and wrote about the conditions of the neighborhood, and some other stuff about Shane Welsh.

I needed to go to Pain Specialists of Southern Oregon on Wednesday, and they are the people who initiated and set the Jesus Gauntlet into motion.

The ride to Medford was filled with obstacles and many terror soldiers were positioned along the route to Medford. Once I arrived at the Pain Center of Southern Oregon, I had to knock on the door to be allowed to go into the clinic after I said who I was and that I was there for appointment with Paul Leppert. There was confusion as I entered the office to check in, as one by one the staff came into the waiting area to look at who I was, and one by one all of them said: “That's not Sean” and “But where is Sparacino?” and a small frenzy of activity took place behind the wall in the exam room area.

Once I was inside of the exam room, room #2, after the 450 pound male nurse took my blood pressure (151/93), that is when a sword came through the wall from exam room #3, down low, in the far right corner of the room, behind the chair I was seated in while waiting for the doctor to arrive. That is the fourth time I have encountered the sword that gets thrust through the wall at the chair where I was seated. It comes through and is moving around a little, to my right. So, I have a way of dealing with just exactly that kind of attack, I can't say how for my own safety in the future, but I was able to take the sword, make a slightly bigger hole in the wall, and pull the sword through the wall completely. I set it down on my coat and waited for the doctor while listening carefully to activity in the adjoining room and hallway, and I lit my Bic Lighter often while doing that. Paul Leppert thought he had stuck me with the sword, since it went all the way through the wall, so, he comes in saying: “So! How bad is it?” referring to the sword wound that he thought I had.

The sword was in my coat on the exam table, out of view. I showed Leppert that rash I have, and he refused to treat that, said I need to go to a different doctor, or hospital, or urgent care to have treatment remedy for that rash, which is worsening at rapid pace.

The appointment only consisted of Paul doing electronic prescription to Walgreen's for one medicine that I have been seeing him regularly for about six years at regular intervals, and that only serves as a means to alert other assassins to come to my home to do a “Kill & Replace” because I am a Medicare patient and have a fixed income that can be perpetuated after the kill, and when the kill is successful, my health records then would be used to furnish SAG members with “MAX Medicare Part D” into a terror system of a “drug pool” they call “Club Med” as I have documented about in great detail.

During the appointment, Paul Leppert began to play role of both doctor and patient, he asked some questions, and then answered the questions he had asked. He was in contact with others outside of the exam room with use of hidden communications device. Paul was in contact with that very large 450 pound male nurse, and was also in contact with others, I could hear some of the sounds of the voices whispering back to him.

I had forgotten about the sword that came through the wall by the time Leppert used the in room computer to do the proscription. After that, and begging for treatment of that very painful rash I have and being refused to have treatment provided for that, he was ready to leave the room, about fifteen minutes had passed, so, I went to put on my coat, saw the sword, remembered all of the other times the fucking sword has come through the wall, and Paul asked: “where is the sword?”, so, I picked it up, and ran him through with his own sword, vertically, from sternum downward, and that ruptured the nitrous oxide tank he carries rectally holstered, the gas was thick in the room and hallway after that.

Paul announced: “I am going left” as he exited the exam room with the sword lodged in him.

That is the seventh time I have defended against Paul Leppert with his own sword, I have run him through with his sword in defense on six previous occasions, some of that is documented in this account here on Tumblr. The son of bitch keeps healing to attack me again later on, he has his own private little hospital next door called Crater Lake Surgery Center, and he and other terror soldiers are able to get the very best medical treatment there is, while the US Citizens are exterminated at the Asante Hospitals. Asante has taken control of all of the medical clinics and hospitals. Asante is the leading murderous terror cell in Oregon currently.

In the hallway, Paul went to Exam Room #6 while saying that he had been run through, and some nurses went in their to treat his wound.

I waited to get my new appointment for next time there at the back office nurse station, and that very big male nurse came out of Exam Room #4 directly behind me as the nurse in front of me ducked under the service counter, and that big nurse shot me in the head with a .25 caliber gun, the ones I have written much about, have no barrel, the bullet brass is the barrel. So that bullet bounced off my head, and the other female nurse began to sign my name on some documents that I was supposed to sign.

She asked me why I did not fall over when that nurse shot me, and she explained that she had signed the documents for me because she thought my hand had been cut when I grabbed the sword that came through the wall in the exam room.

I was told I needed to provide a urine sample, so I did, and was shot again by a female who went into the opposite restroom after taking the shot. The bullet bounced off my coat, and I just went into the restroom to do the urine sample wishing that national security would show up to see what kinds of poisons show up in the urine sample.

There was much activity on the way out of the Pain Specialists of Southern Oregon, a whole bunch of Canadian terror soldiers and SDA fake patients showed up there by the time I left the building, and when I did leave, the exit was locked, no one could leave, so I had to wait for a receptionist to unlock the door so I could go to the pharmacy, and then go home. Two special assassins in a black late model pick up truck w/crew cab dark short hair and short beards each about 40 years old, had just arrived as I was leaving out of the office door.

The ride home was filled with obstacles, there was at least two state police in shoulder of the freeway on the way back to Grants Pass … they were not interested in me or what happened at the terror doctor. Every time I defend and kill terrorists at the terror doctor, I wind up passing by at least one State Police car on the return trip home.

I went to Grants Pass Walgreen's on William's Hwy. There, more terror happened, and at least one terror soldier ignited and burst into bits in the pharmacy behind the service counter, it was one of the Pharmacy Technicians, but was not, instead, it was a special assassin operative, I think I know who that was, a woman by the name of Chey Bickers, if so, she is white, about 58 years old, blond shoulder length “Bob” haircut, about 5'4' tall, about 150 lbs, has a very gravelly voice, used to drive a older white Toyota truck w/shell and bumper sticker that says: “If this truck is speeding, it's stolen”. Ms. Bickers is associated with the County Courts terror cell, and also is close with Sean Sparacino as a Li'l Pantry terror cell special operative. Chey used to own a clothing store called “Chey Boutique” next to Li'l Pantry in Merlin Oregon next to Mikey's Video Rental.

At Walgreen's, they sell some small 1/32 scale toy cars that I have been collecting, and I bought three of them along with my prescription, one of the toy cars is made by a different manufacturer than any of the others that I have seen, it's a 1960's Batmobile, made in Vietnam, rather than China like the others are, that one has a hidden camera inside of it, so, I put that one on my kitchen window long enough to see that BBC news on Twitter was making some Tweets that seemed to be in response to having put the car camera in the window, so I moved the Batmobile Camera car to a different window, and again, BBC news seemed to have made a comment about the car camera in the window, this time, after moving the car camera to a window by my front door, they seemed happy about that location, so, I put the Batmobile car camera into the refrigerator where it is looking at a jar of Olives.

Since the Walgreen's visit, a whole bunch of terror soldiers have come to my home, today they were on the roof of my house blowing poison gasses into my chimney. There were others on Jackpine using a tractor in my driveway, and the truck & trailer for that was parked at Chartrands 376 Jackpine, was a brand new unlicensed Ford F-350 (or F-250) with crew cab, dual wheel, black, and had a tilting tractor hauling trailer attached to it when I went to Walmart earlier today.

I don't want to talk any more about Walmart right now, conditions are the same, the place is filled with Canadian terror soldiers who fog the aisles with nitrous oxide so that the victims will be primed for take out at the checkstand, same as has been the case for two decades.

The Jesus Gauntlet is still underway, however the assassins are coming to my house, I don't need to go anywhere to run this part of the Gauntlet.

All in all, I estimate that twenty terror soldiers have been killed as a result of this weeks Jesus Gauntlet so far, I only wrote about the highlights.

No help has come, there are no signs of helpful people anywhere.

Please send help.

Please send US Military.

Bring your own Hospital.

Be prepared for poison gasses, study this account, be prepared for 50,000 armed terror soldiers in Josephine county, and additional 75,000 armed terror soldiers in Jackson county. Their weapons are concealed, and small,  mostly is airborne gasses and .25 caliber guns, but they have an air force and rail road systems, and trucking services that can bring and deploy many soldiers, various airborne gasses, and larger weaponry on very short notice.

Millions of terror soldiers throughout the state of Oregon.

Millions more are in California.

(Millions = 1,000,000 plus more ... )

I am the last remaining US Citizen in the state of Oregon. All of the others are either dead, or are held captive as slaves.

Please bring medical services.

There is no US national Guard any more, all of the US Guard were killed in around 2002-2004, the bases are occupied by Canadian impostors, the officers there are Screen Actor Guild trained actors who are able to fool other military officials.

Please send help. Study this account first. You must remove Twitter from the internet before the help is deployed or else the help will be fooled by a vast army commanded from Twitter.

(this entry written in external text editor)

===============================

6:54 pm:

At least four of the terror soldiers killed I suspect were California State Police Highway Patrol fake officers that are called “pigs”. It’s not a derogatory statement, “pig” is a rank among the terror army, and has been since it’s first use in reference to police.

On Twitter, the news stories this week about a “Chipageddon“, or a shortage of computer chips, is coded stories that are in reference to those CHP that were here at my house last night and the day before. There may still be some CHP terror cell members at Chartand 376 Jackpine, Clyde Baum’s at 333 Jackpine, at 315 Jackpine, and at Strong’s at 3747 Russell Road. They have been attacking from 520 Jackpine, and from “Donkey George” terror cell one house south of 3701 Russell Road.

I suspect at least two of the terror soldiers who were killed, to have been people from Arizona, specifically from the Arizona Mohave County Tax Assessors Office.

I also suspect some were from Pain Specialists of Southern Oregon and Walgreen‘s Pharmacy terror cells.

Many have died, killed in defense since Tuesday.

=====================================

7:19 pm:

(see previous post)

This is the rash that the terror doctor refuses to treat. This is caused by repeated exposure to poisons I am subject to that are blown into my house by the neighboring terror cells. This rash started out about the size of a dime five years ago at the same time when the Monroe’s moved in next door, and they brought with them a Nissan Quest Van, a black one with the logo for “A-1 Exterminator’s and Pest Control” on it. A-1 Exterminator’s is located on 7th St. in Grants Pass, and to my knowledge, no one who lives at Monroe’s works at A-1 Exterminator’s, yet the A-1 Van has been parked there for five years in the evenings and on weekends.

If you get a rash like this one on my ankle shown below, it is very painful, and it is the kind of rash that itches such that you keep scratching at it right through to the bone. The desire to scratch at that, is overwhelming.

They will poison you with gasses that make you have uncontrollable coughing fits, and a rash like that one, then someone will say you have Corona Virus, they will tell you to go to a hospital after the (they) poison you, and at the hospital is where the exterminate you permanently so that a Canadian SDA Terror soldier Christian Crusade Pirate can take your place at your own house, to prey on all of your family. Then, the bastards vote while using your name and voting status, for the shills that Screen Actor Guild puts on the voting ballots for every elected office there is, from County Water Master, to Parks & Recreation Director, to City Mayor, to County Sheriff, to State Governor, to US President.

It’s all fake voting. The Corona Virus is a mass murder scenario played out against the citizens by SAG news media, and the government elected officials that SAG already arranged into the offices of government by killing and replacing tens of millions of US Citizens over the past fifty years.

US Voters are all Canadians now.

There are no more real US Citizens any more, and if one shows up somewhere, the terror bastards track them down, and kill them.

==================

7:55 pm:

The CHP assholes are nearby right now, they have a remote control that can operate the courtesy lights and other electronics of vehicles that are equipped with on board engine computers that are California Emissions Control Compatible. The car does not have to be a “California Car”, just one that the factory installed a computer this is compliant with the special California Emissions rules. Part of what the CHP terror bastards can operate is to remove two cylinders from the firing order of the ignition system, with a remote control, to make your car run bad, and you will take it to a COVID take out exterminator service provider.

The courtesy lights just came on in my car in the driveway, by a California State Police Murder Pig, with a remote control, who is within about 500 - 1000 feet away from where I am. I have to go disconnect the battery, while down range from a murderous terror soldier who’s day job is as a California Highway Patrol.

I am in Oregon, yet the CHP came all this way to kill me, by orders from Joe Biden terror cell at the White House.

===========================

8:12 pm:

I remember learning about the two cylinders that are removed from the firing order in the electronic ignition system of California Emissions Compatible Vehicles from a CHP officer back when my family was held captive in 1998 - 2002 or so.

There is a radio controlled application called “Two in the bank of the heads” because the feature is secret knowledge, and every time someone is targeted and they make the six cylinder car run on only four cylinders, or an eight cylinder car run on only six cylinders, with use of a remote control pointed at cars that are fitted with California Compliant Onboard Engine Computers, the bastards make a lot of money when the car is taken to service station, and the terror CHP treasonous mass murderous CHP Pig kills the victims at the service station, and, the children and females are kept as sex slaves to please the terrorist California Canadian CHP Pig. The CHP terror Pigs empty the victims bank account, take all of the victims valuables,  while the victims real estate is handed over to SAG terror HQ so a terror family cell replacement can move into the victims house.

The (They) take the women and children as slaves.

My car is 2002 model, has a California Compliant onboard computer from the Ford Factory installed when it was new, for the purpose of mass murder of US Citizens that long ago. My guess is the CHP Pig remote that works the vehicles has been part of “California Emissions” ever since the time the California Emissions was mandated.

That’s a long time, and a lot of dead US Citizens, because the baby is on fire, and there is no one watching the baby.

Who was California Governor at the time when the CA Emissions was mandated? Find him, give the son of bitch the Spanish Inquisition, Pronto. Then, take all of the US State governors and US Congressional members to Easter Island, and drop them off permanently. That is too good for them, but, something has to be done, and that is a humane and appropriate remedy given the circumstances and the shear numbers of terror bastards that will be taken to Easter Island once the truth is fully known.

That is why the application on the remote control is called “Two in the banks of the heads“. It’s for “Kill & Replace”, for a profit.

====================================

9:40 pm:

Today at the Grants Pass Oregon Walmart, was the same as every other time I have been there over the past twenty years, the same exact people, saying and doing the same exact things as the last time or other time I was there. The same people in the same places, dressed in the same clothing as the last time I was there, or other time. Today, the lady that hangs out in the coffee aisle and stands in the way, while looking at me and pointing at the largest size of Folgiers Coffee, and she says: “This size costs exactly the same at Costco as it does here. it’s $10 here and at Costco too, I don‘t drink coffee, but I am gonna get some just because it costs the same here as it does at Costco ... and because I live in Glendale”

That, happens often. That same lady, that same story about $10 Folgiers at the Costco, and that she lives in Glendale.

Same... same... same... same... same... saaaaaammmmmeeeee...

That is only one of many. The are all Canadian terror soldiers.

There was the young fat guy who looks exactly like the driver of the “Bekin’s Cross Town Movers Truck” that I reported about not long ago. I saw the Bekins Cross Town Movers Truck while on my way to Walmart, then, that guy who looks like the driver of that truck, is young, is fat, has a short black beard, is always staring at his smart phone, he follows me into the store, follows me to the Deodorant aisle, while staring at his phone, then continues to follow me around the store. That happens often, same guy, arrives at the same time I do, walks through the parking beside me about 30 feet away.... same, same, same, same...

There was the lady who shows up in the place where the Gold Bond is supposed to be, but is not on the shelf, so, she comments about what I am looking for, and I always say “They saw me come in the store, so they took everything I want to get off of the shelves” then she says “That is the same thing that happens to me when I come in to the store”. So, I point out: “Look, you can get ‘Monkey Butt Foot Powder, but not the Gold Bond” then she laughs about the Monkey Butt Powder product.

Same, same, same as the last time or other time I went to the Walmart.

I went to buy a camera in the electronic department, the same one that has been on display for years, I keep going there to the camera aisle to buy the non-wireless Canon Sure Shot for $129, but when the associate opens the case, that one is never there, the associate usually says the other Canon Sure Shot is there, the one with the Wireless feature, and I can buy that one, but today I cut him short, I got angry and told the terror bastard exactly what is happening and that he knows everything there is to know about the built in wireless spy device in all of the wireless capable cameras, that is what the wireless feature is put there for, to listen to what you are doing, all of the terror soldiers have a smart phone app that accesses the wireless from the cameras that are wireless equipped. The bastard tried to play innocent, says “We have not had this camera on display for as long as you say.... blah, blah.,, Christian terror innocent blahabababalalalala...”

Asshole.

Same, same, same as last time I got angry about the camera that you cannot purchase, and it was the same Walmart vested terror bastard who lied to me about the camera as last time I got angry about it.

There was more examples of Same, Same, Same..... same, as last time terror soldiers in the store today as there always is.

So at the checkout, I asked the yellow vested Walmart terror bitch if she could explain to me why every time I come into the store since 2002, the same people are saying and doing exactly the same things in the same places as was the last time I went to the Walmart... and it was innocent Christian terror bitch “I don‘t know what you are talking about... blahbalallalballalblahhhh” all over again.

That is when three terror Walmart yellow vest terror bitches all rushed at me real fast, came out of nowhere, surrounded me, and a fourth one was not far away... all they could do is keep interupting my question about the terror army fake shoppers, insisting that I put my mask back on, and then one of them gave me a paper mask...”You have to wear a COVID Mask,,, put the mask on...”

Assholes.

I am convinced that part of the mask mandate is to make sure national security cannot access the radio control capable cameras at the checkout register, so, they force the mask on everyone so the terror army cannot be identified positively. So, I am going to keep taking off the mask when I get to the Walmart Checkout while wishing for some help to come, maybe the nsa will stop jacking off soon, and access the radio controlled wireless cameras that are installed in the checkout registers at the Walmart, then, they will at least what I look like, and that I am not going to hide like a candy ass terror pansy,

I suggest all of the slave soldiers to remove the mask at a Walmart Checkout camera, so that nsa will see who you are to help everyone.

=============================================

10:29 pm:

“Greek Alphabet White House Terror Cell” Identification Update:

Greek alphabet update 2-4-2021:

Alpha = Donald Trump

Beta = Melania Trump

Gamma = Mike Pence

Delta = Karen Pence

Epsilon = Mike Pompeo

Zeta = Susan Pompeo

Eta = Kamila Harris-Emhof

Theta = Doug Emhof-Harris (suspect associotion to Asante Health Three Rivers Medical Center Emergency Room Dr. Janet Eoff and address at 598 Jackpine Dr. Grants Pass OR 97526)

I was able to determine that Kamala Harris and her husband are Greek Alphabet terror cell members.

Study this account and my suspended Twitter accounts to learn more about the Greek Alphabet WH terror cell, I think they call it: “Grecian Formula 16″, where “Grecian” is reference to “Grease”, not “Greece”.

Formula is reference to Medazolam/nitrous mixture.

and 16 is 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC.

==========================================

11:40 pm:

(there still is a Centuryink terror bastard from the Google/Centurylink/Tumblr internet terror consortium terror cell fucking with my computer over the internet. The Norton Symantec 360 LifeLock is used to for continuously turning off my number pad on the keyboard, I have to push the “num/lck” button every time I need to use a numeral.

The letter M is somehow interesting to the candy ass pansy at the Centurylink/Google terror cell, they are making it such that the M won‘t make an M unless I hold down the M and keep pushing the fucking thing until it makes an M.

All of this bullshit makes it very difficult to stay focused on the small, complex details I need to help you to save your own lives, so, please send help.)

At the Walmart Electronics special check out counter area there are three cash registers there and a large L shaped counter for service. There are some home security products there within view behind a wrought iron gate of a shelving unit, you can see the home security products are right there in front of you at the Walmart and that they are in stock. I challenge a national security officer to go into the Walmart without saying who you are, and you have to show up to Grants Pass completely secret for you to learn anything, you would have to come by car from a thousand miles away, otherwise they know who you are and you won’t learn anything. I challenge you to try to purchase a home security camera system at the Walmart in Grants Pass.

Heck, I challenge you to make an attempt to contact FBI to report terrorism in Oregon, but again, you would need to be completely one hundred percent anonymous and use a phone that is not a smart phone, just a regular cellular phone. You need to answer all of their questions honestly, and be at a location where you say you are when the FBI On Call Duty Agent answers the call at the FBI Field Office. You can call any of the five Oregon FBI Field Offices to learn this way, but, if you and your team look or behave in any way as if you might be real police, the terror scout children they send to cruise around where you are at will know, and they will report back to the FBI field office about who you are, and bring all of your vehicle ID to the terror FBI field office. You would need to absolutely be a real citizen, and, one who just fell off the bus so to speak, because there are no US Citizens in Oregon, and the terror bastards at FBI know that I am the last one, so, good luck with the challenge if you choose to accept it, there really is no way that it can work in such a way the real police could learn anything, unless you could arrive stealth, and as a US Citizen in every way.

I double dog dare you to use movie style makeup, to look like me, and go anywhere in Oregon, I’ll wager you last two hours before they capture you and cut your arms off to make you have sex with a horse.

What I wanted to say about the Walmart electronics counter is that at that counter there is a big sign that says: “Wireless” vertically, is a display banner at the corner of the L shaped service counter attached to a post. Also attached to the post is a smaller sign that says: “We card everyone for alcohol... etc.”

The thing about that is that it’s the only place in the store that has such an “We card for alcohol” sign, and, the only sign is at the electronics department checkout cash register.

What kind of bullshit do you suppose could happen when there is advertised “Wireless” and “We card for alcohol” at the same corner post at Walmart electronics department?

I wonder how many US Citizens the national security has wrongly arrested and thrown into the fake county jail in Josephine county? That jail is not a jail, it’s a extermination center, and anyone that nsa sent there because some asshole at Walmart pretended to be at a liqueur store claiming the customer was drinking and drove away drunk. That is standard Josephine county terror, where the nsa is weaponized against the citizens they are supposed to protect.

I’ll wager that nsa are the ones who are responsible for killing my children, with some kind of lie told to them by the Walmart and Sheriff, and they were taken to the jail by the people who said they would help... nsa... US national security.

They may as well be on the terror army pay role.

Offensively useless.

[pravasichhokro]

Japan & Japanese through my eyes........

I wish to give you a brief background of my association with Japan & Japanese. It began in 1975 when I worked for Engineers India Ltd. in New Delhi. I was part of a project management team to look after a petrochemical project called “Acrylic Fiber” at IPCL, Baroda. The process technology came from Asahi Chemical and Front-End Engineering was carried out by Kobe Steel. They had deputed a full time Japanese at EIL office.

Next association was in 1980-81 when I took a field engineer job withToyo Engineering at Basra, Iraq. For about 15 months, my immediate bosses were Japanese, though there were many Indians on site.

My close and strong association was from 1984 to 87 when I was a project manager and managed a collaboration with Chiyoda Corporation of Japan to execute an EPC project at NFL, Guna.

I along with my family moved to Yokohama, as Chiyoda Corp. offered me a direct employment. My office and my daughter’s school were also in Yokohama.

I again had a chance to work with Japanese when Chiyoda set up a joint venture with L&T called L&T –Chiyoda at Baroda in the 90’s.

Lastly, I was asked to manage Chiyoda’s liaison office at Bangalore for two years in 2012-14.

I will segregate my observations in two parts- one from the people and another from the country. Most people know of the punctuality of Japanese and discipline at workplace Hence, I will not dwell on these.

Most Japanese are concerned and sensitive of the discomfort or needs of fellow person. You can see that a Japanese not only picks up used plates and tray with trash in a McDonald’s but also wipes the table. You observe that a mother carries two types of napkins – one wet and another dry- when she takes her kid(s) out to play in the public garden. She cleans the child’s dirty hands with wet and then with clean napkin so that it does not dirty the rails or seats of the garden. Even in 90’s I saw Japanese wearing mask when they suffered from cough and cold. It was a common sight to see the dog owner carrying a paper bag and some broom to pick up poop.

Japanese people do not commit petty crimes or cheat which makes life so stress free and safe. My wife used to leave the apartment door open to go shopping nearby for 30 to 45 minutes. She learnt of this practice from neighbours. Initially we used to keep the money in our palm and the shop keeper would take the appropriate amount. All the shops-small or big – always charged us the VAT, whether we wanted a receipt of not. First time in my life I was offered a printed receipt of fare charged by a metered taxi without asking.

Japanese introduced us to see the beauty in the nature. The first time in our life we went to the mountains to see the autumn colours. There were conducted tours for local people to come to the mountains and soak in the beauty of the shades of colours from green to golden. We were also witness to the fire which is light up to dry leaves/grass on the mountain sides. The fire is light and controlled to spread in artistic way and you watch it from across the valley. Another experience was of hot (sulfur) springs in the mountains near Tokyo (Hakone). Our company guesthouse had a huge pond kind of hot water spot where natural spring was brought in. We soaked in this pond in the Japanese way-no clothes and separate areas for women and men. In five-star resorts, one could soak in the hot spring and sip from a glass of beer.

Japanese were also very health conscious. Our office had an indoor all weather Olympic size swimming pool and full-fledged gym with an instructor. Some of my colleagues were using this during lunch time before eating lunch. I used the facility on weekends. I went to a gym first time in my life and swam when there was almost zero-degree centigrade ambient temperature outside.

Japanese also retained some of “Indian” habits which may have reached them through Buddhism. Outdoor footwear cannot be used indoor whether in the residence or Japanese restaurants. We must leave outdoor footwear at the door and use in house slippers to go in. Most Japanese prefer to sit cross legged and ladies in Vajrasan. They do not shake hands or hug when the meet but bow and greet. Most prefer to sleep on the ground on a mattress rather than a western bed.

Japanese also have found ways to de-stress after an incredibly stressful office or factory workday. Karaoke bars are popular and now world famous. The normal bars without karaoke are also popular. They had huge halls with “ball” machines when they play a special game with stakes to lose or win, like what we played as a child. They also enjoy comics and there are comics to entertain all age groups.

Japan as a country is different from India. India is heterogeneous whereas Japan was homogeneous. This one feature made a lot of difference. They had only ten public holidays every year. Japanese was the main language for locals and it was developed to ensure that students get the latest information also. Japanese language also brings a very peculiar character to the people. The language has three alphabets-Hiragana, Katakana and Kanji. Kanji has no letters but only Chinese characters/pictures. There are over few thousand kanjis and a child takes more than 8 yrs to know them all though only a few hundred Kanji is extensively used. To write Kanji one must be precise and take care of the different strokes. This focus on details and accuracy is reflected in everything they do in my opinion.

The police in Japan were extremely helpful and friendly. On two occasions I got their help. Once I was lost in the central Tokyo area and I went to the police station. The policeman there came with me to show me the address. On another occasion, my family and me went to meet my friend but my Casio watch, which had his telephone no. ran out of battery and I was lost. I again went to police station near the rail station. He permitted to call my office to find out the contact no. of my friend (office colleague) but the office security refused. Then he opened the area map with names of the residents, and we located two Tanaka-san. I dialed the first one and fortunately he was my friend. In India, such help was unthinkable, going to the Police station for common man for help is a far cry!

I came across some interesting leave/holidays rule. Most Japanese joined a company for a lifetime and the company was expected to take care of the individual. After about 20 yrs. of service (mid-way I guess) the employee get paid leave (about 6 weeks) and a huge payment (app. one year salary). He is expected to enjoy with his family and many of colleagues went to Europe, USA or Latin America for two to three weeks with family.

I was happily surprised that most school students including my daughter walked to the school. My daughter walked about 20 minutes each way, there were volunteers on the route to guide the school kids. No school bus or parents driving to drop or pick-up kids.

For common people, the basic unwritten rule was- provide goods and services which are high quality and reliable. All public phones (as the world was not exposed to internet or mobile phones at the time) were in working order with coins or prepaid cards for both domestic and international calls. Such phones were plenty and located at all convenient locations like rail stations, supermarkets and including lift lobbies in office buildings. ATM rooms of banks had ATM machines for withdrawal and transfer facility. There were two other machines-passbook printing and change dispensing. ATM rooms were open 24x7. Japan was most known for vending machines- variety and exceptionally reliable. Vending machines would dispense soft drinks, beer, hot and cold coffee, tea, small snacks packets etc. These machines would not be out of stock and returned change.

Japan acts in unison for trade/commerce without side world. Immediately after WWII, their economy was shattered but soon they got on their feet. The five trade houses –Sumitomo, Mitsui, Marubeni, C Itoh and Mitsubishi- were the marketing agents for both import and export. The manufacturers were concentrating on design, engineering, and quality products. This brought down costs. The trade houses would bring enquiries and orders. They will also take care of payments. Each manufacturer will join a trade house so that there is no competition among the trade houses.

As a country, I saw Japan converting research output in other countries to application/products for common use. The classic example was digital watch from Texas Instrument to Casio. Another could be Video players. Even some collaborations were made successful and eventually did better than the collaborators. The classic example is of Toyota Car Co which had started with GM collaboration 1950s.

In all the efforts of private sector in commerce the Govt played a particularly important and positive role. The banks were ready to help exporters/vendors with five-month credit as L/C or other kind of payments after shipment may take 3 months.

I hope you like what I have scribbled above as much as I loved it writing.

[autoleaseinfohqqw022]

Which Is The Best Auto Lease Company in Long Island?

What Is The Best Car Lease 0 Down Program in Long Island?

Table of ContentsHow Do I Find A Car Lease Service NY?What Is The Average Cost Of Car Lease 0 Down Services NY?A Better Car Lease?What Is The Best Auto Lease?

What Does Car Lease 0 Down Cost?

When no unique funding deals are offered, you usually can work out the APR and the terms for payment with the car dealership, just as you would work out the cost of the cars and truck. The APR that you negotiate with the dealer generally includes a quantity that compensates the dealer for dealing with the funding.

Settlement can happen prior to or after the dealer accepts and processes your credit application. Try to work out the most affordable APR with the dealer, just as you would work out the best rate for the vehicle. Ask concerns about the regards to the contract prior to you sign. For instance, are the terms last and fully authorized before you sign the agreement and leave the car dealership with the car? If the dealership states they are still working on the approval, the offer is not yet final.

Who Has The Best Car Lease Service in Long Island?

Or inspect other funding sources prior to you sign the funding and prior to you leave your car at the dealer. Also, if you are a military service member, discover out if the credit agreement lets you move your automobile out of the country. Some credit contracts may not. When you lease a vehicle, you deserve to utilize it for an agreed number of months and miles.

You are paying to drive the vehicle, not purchase it (car leasing companies near me). That indicates you're spending for the car's anticipated devaluation throughout the lease period, plus a rent charge, taxes, and fees. However at the end of a lease, you need to return the automobile unless the lease arrangement lets you purchase it.

You can work out a higher mileage limit, but that typically increases the month-to-month payment, due to the fact that the car depreciates more throughout the life of the lease. If you exceed the mileage limit in the lease contract, you most likely will need to pay an added fee when you return the car.

You likewise need to service the car according to the maker's recommendations and preserve insurance coverage that meets the leasing business's standards. If you end the lease early, you frequently have to pay an early termination charge that might be considerable (audi long island). Some leases may not let you move the vehicle out of state or out of the country.

How Do I Find A Auto Lease Service?

Federal law lets you end the lease without any early termination charges IF: you leased you entered into military service and then went on active responsibility for a minimum of 180 days, or you leased an automobile military service and after that got a long-term modification of task station outside the continental U.S., or got release orders for a minimum of 180 days. nissan lease deals ny.

For more info, see Keys to Lorry Leasing, a publication of the Federal Reserve Board. Be sure you have a copy of the credit agreement or lease arrangement, with all signatures and terms filled in, prior to you leave the dealership. Do not concur to get the documents later since the files may get misplaced or lost.

Late or missed out on payments can have severe effects: late costs, foreclosure, and negative entries on your credit report can make it more difficult to get credit in the future. Some dealers might position tracking devices on a car, which might assist them locate the automobile to repossess it if you miss payments or pay late.

Were you recalled to the dealer because the financing was tentative or did not go through? Carefully review any changes or new documents you're asked to sign. Consider whether you wish to proceed. If you do not want the new offer being used, inform the dealer you wish to cancel or unwind the offer and you want your deposit back.

If you concur to a brand-new deal, be sure you have a copy of all the documents. If you will be late with a payment, contact your financial institution right now. Numerous financial institutions work with individuals they think will have the ability to pay quickly, even if somewhat late (vip leasing company). You can request a delay in your payment or a modified schedule of payments.

If they do, get it in composing to prevent questions later on. If you are late with your car payments or, in some states, if you do not have the necessary vehicle insurance, your automobile could be repossessed. The financial institution might repossess the car or may sell the automobile and use the profits from the sale to the impressive balance on your credit arrangement.

What Is The Average Cost Of Auto Leasing Services?

Is It Worth Paying For Car Leasing NY?

In some states, the law enables the financial institution to repossess your car without litigating. For more details, consisting of meanings of common terms used when funding or leasing an automobile, check out "Comprehending Car Financing," collectively prepared by the American Financial Services Association Education Foundation, the National Vehicle Dealers Association, and the FTC.

Leasing a Toyota is the best alternative for somebody who does not wish to own a car. You can find your ideal Toyota cars and truck for lease at a local dealer today. Search Toyota stock and pick a car, truck, minivan, mid or full-size SUV, or crossover. If you discovered a lease offer that you like among the online stock, click the deal to view information and find out more.

You might even find a lease deal on among Toyota's many fuel-efficient vehicles. Numerous dealers offer Toyota funding specials, too. In addition, all recently leased Toyota automobiles consist of ToyotaCare - an arranged upkeep plan. It lasts for two years or 25,000 miles, whichever comes initially. It likewise includes roadside assistance for two years and unrestricted miles.

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You may even find a lease deal https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Y-KxmhfNd7_Ui5VbED2TQ4x4pfHOnaXap0L-JnboJSE/pub? on a brand-new C-HR, a Highlander Hybrid, or the renowned Land Cruiser. Of course, the best method to discover the best Toyota lease offers for you is to visit your regional Toyota dealership today. Ask about Toyota lease specials to discover the best Toyota automobile that fits your way of life and budget plan.

Some of the sweetest car lease deals have dried up-- especially since automakers started offering zero-percent and low-rate funding to entice buyers. Even so, leasing stays an attractive option to purchasing a brand-new car for numerous drivers. Half of all high-end automobiles are still rented, as are more than 20 percent of automobiles in basic.

VIP Auto Lease of Long Island

164 Northern Blvd, Great Neck, NY 11021, United States

+15164872886

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Other consumers are rather content to lease a vehicle they might never manage to purchase, even if it doesn't necessarily save money. Advertisement Leasing has two principal advantages: (1) You can drive a more recent automobile that is constantly under warranty and seldom requires more than routine maintenance, and (2) you can frequently get a bigger, more elegant, better-equipped automobile.

What Do Car Lease 0 Down Services Include Long Island?

In this article, we'll help you get a much better understanding of this alternative to buying, making it simpler to choose whether leasing makes good sense for you. The subjects covered consist of: Ought to You Buy or Lease a Car?Leasing isn't ideal for everyone, and there are guaranteed risks involved. We'll help you decide whether you must rent or purchase an automobile.

[terribleco]

The “Worst” Road Trip

When you get some years under you as a skateboarder, you amass a whole bunch of stories about tricks, interfering weirdos, board setups and the absolute best times when riding a skateboard. As much as we try, not every session or trip turns out the way we expect. This is the story of My Big Fat Gypsy Road Trip.

Note: Please excuse the really bad video screencaps dotted throughout this article - the photos from this trip are lost to the sands of time.

Originally, after the successful "Sittin' On The Toilet" trip of 2010, I wanted to do it all again the next year. 2011's trip had been a write off though, as the potential for a road trip with a Cov crew and shredders Daryl Nobbs, Becky Jacques and Felix Parker had fallen through after some people got ill, and others had prior commitments they couldn't rearrange. The following year, in 2012, we finally managed to get some Cov heads who were keen to hit the road again for several days of camping, shredding and good times, so I got organised and readied myself for another camping trip. 

Like last time, we planned to hit up a good chunk of the south west, starting near Bristol and making our way down south to Cornwall. We booked ourselves in at the same campsite in Cheddar that we had stayed at for the first road trip, and got a tight crew of 8 people in 2 cars, with a plan to meet Joxa and Slasher Sam down in Bristol (they were living down there at the time). 

The roster driving down from Coventry was myself, my wife Emily, Ralph Cooper, Hannah Craig, Kyle "KB" Smith, Tom Illsley, Ryan "RB" Bradley and Alex "Moose" McGhie. Emily, Ralph, Hannah, KB and Joxa were returning members of the Sittin' On The Toilet gang, so I was pretty stoked for more awesome times with them, but also stoked on the people embarking on a trip with us for the first time. 

The trip would run across a long weekend, starting on a Friday, and ending on a Monday. It was April, a time of year when weather is unpredictable, but can sometimes turn out really nice. April 2012 was not one of those times. On the Friday morning of the road trip's start, it was chucking it down. The crew turned up at my house and we all looked at the BBC Weather website, and thought it looked like it might improve. Determined and overly optimistic, we got in our cars and hit the road, making a quick stop at the local Sainsbury's. 

Now, I've had some shit cars in my time. I once had a lowered Audi that would cut out whilst you were driving, and would only start again if you turned the ignition with the accelerator down (I had to do this whilst rolling, which was terrifying). I once had a Toyota Auris Sport that needed an entire clutch rebuild 3 months after I bought it. But the car I had on this road trip was a Toyota Corolla: the choice of grandads and Taxi Drivers everywhere. This car was reliable enough, but it was far too big for the engine size (it was a 1.4 litre) so was sluggish as fuck. It's one redeeming quality was it was very spacious, especially compared to the Peugeot 106 I took on "Sittin' On The Toilet", which had to have a roof box attached just to carry all of our camping gear. 

The Toyota Corolla didn't give me a whole lot of problems in the 2 and a half years I owned it, but on this particular occasion, embarking on a skate road trip with high expectations, it decided to conk out. After we had been to Sainsbury's, I got back in the car and turned the key. It turned over, and didn't start. I tried again. No start. I tried a few more times. The car turned over and refused to start. With no idea what to do I gave my Dad a ring and explained what was going on. I had flooded the engine. When I asked how we could fix it, my Dad simply said "You're just gonna have to wait". "How long???". "A couple of hours maybe?". My heart sank. 

After half an hour of sitting in the car watching skate videos and talking about how shit things had gone so far, I tried the ignition again. IT WAS ALIVE. The Toyota spluttered to life, and the engine was running. With not a second to spare, I gave Hannah the signal that we were hitting the road, and both cars rolled out of the Sainsbury's car park we had become far too acquainted with. 

As we barreled down the M5, the rain clouds began to shift, and suddenly: Blue skies! Things were looking up. The excitement was palpable and we all started to get hyped. As we rolled up to our first stop, Keynsham in Bristol, we were ready to shred. 

The session hit the ground running - after being stuck in our cars and thinking the day was a washout, everyone was so excited and shredding. Everyone landed a trick at the park: RB got the sickest Backside Heelflip over the hip, Tom shot a sick photo of me doing a Sweeper (lost to the sands of the internet), Emily monster trucked down some steps into a bank, and Ralph had his trademark fancy footwork on display. As the session was really getting into the swing of things… The heavens opened, and the rain came down. It was a washout. 

We sat in the cars and thought the rain might pass, but after 10 minutes it became obvious we were probably done here for now. Time was getting on a bit, so we decided to head on to the campsite, get set up, and chill out for the evening, with a fresh start the next day. Once we got to the campsite, we had a warm welcome, and the weather was looking fine once again. The evening camping antics were great, and everyone had a drink and a laugh. A few of the guys hotboxed a tent, so everyone was pretty mellow compared to the scrumpy based insanity of 2010's trip. We all settled in for the night in hopes of a good day's skate on Saturday. 

And then came the night. I don't think we get any hurricanes in the UK, but that night must have been the closest we've got to one. The wind was intense, and at times I thought our tent was coming down. Tom Illsley was in a pop up festival tent, and the evening before RB had made jokes that Tom would be sleeping in a tree by the time the morning came around. The more the night went on, the more I was convinced this would be the case. 

The morning came, and the sky was grey. Very grey. It was freezing, it was wet, it was not the ideal weather for skateboarding. I remember waking up a good hour before anyone else, and I went and sat in my car, put the heating on, and listened to the radio whilst I waited for some activity from the rest of the camp. As people stirred, the realisation of how shit the weather was settled in. We had planned to hit up Cheddar skatepark, but it looked less likely as the morning went on. 

We realised an indoor skatepark was probably going to be the only option. Bristol had the indoor Campus Skatepark, and was only a 30 minute drive away. We piled into our cars after some breakfast and headed to Bristol to meet Joxa and Sam. After an obligatory tea break at Joxa's , we made our way to the park. This was before the Campus Pool existed, and at the time Campus consisted of a room with a mini ramp, and a former school gym (before the current skatepark there existed) with some portable ramps and ledges dotted around. It wasn't perfect, but it was dry, and it was a skatepark. 

This session was pretty rad. Joe Habgood was there and was flying out of banks to wall ride everywhere. We all filmed some stuff, and generally just hung out and drank tea and skated. After a couple of hours, we stepped outside and realised it had dried up. We floated the idea of going to a skatepark, but Joxa had a better idea, and suggested a DIY spot called Daveside (which is still standing today, and is a super sick DIY skatepark). Back in 2012, it was just a quarter and a ledge. However, it was more than enough for us to get a session going. 

The skate was going well, and Emily had spotted a quirky little lump at the end of the quarter (built by Swampy) which she was determined to rock fakie. This thing wasn't a quarter or a bank, it was a weird lump with a little curb at the top to get your trucks onto. It was a challenge to skate, but it was super fun. Emily had a few goes at it, and was getting really close. Tom got the camera out to film Emily's trick on it, and first go, she went up and took a super gnarly slam, landing straight on her hip. It was one of the most horrible slams I've seen her take, but she just got straight back up - the next go she got it. 

After about 45 minutes of skating, the rain began again. Grateful to have got some time outside skating, we got back in the cars and said goodbye to Joxa and Sam, and headed back to the campsite. 

When we returned, it was like a bombsite. The horrendous storm-like weather had persisted through Saturday. Tom's tent was practically up in a tree. RB and Moose's tent had completely fallen down, soaking some of their bags. The big tent that Ralph, Hannah, Emily and myself were sharing was wavering, threatening to collapse. The only tent not on the verge of collapse was KB's pro fishing tent. 

The field we were camping in was boggy, and areas were becoming flooded. We made a decision to pack up, and head back to Coventry. If we could get a good night's sleep in a warm bed inside a dry house, we might be able to regroup and make new plans to head to an indoor park if this weather continued on Sunday. 

On the way out of the campsite, Hannah's Ford Fiesta got stuck in the boggy grass. She couldn't shift it, and no amount of pushing from others could free it. The Toyota had surprisingly gotten out of the field, so we tied a rope to the Fiesta and had to tow it out to rescue it. So far we had spent more time battling the elements than actually skateboarding! By the time we hit the road, the night time was drawing in. We stopped at a service station, where we skated some flat ground in wellies. Spirits were still high, somehow! 

To keep a sense of us being on a "camping" road trip, Tom, RB, KB and Moose stayed at mine and Emily's. Our house wasn't massive, so it was a bit like sardines in a tin. In the morning I woke everyone up with my Covpark Combat megaphone, which was tradition for anyone who slept at my house. 

The weather was still absolutely shit, so we thought about hitting an indoor park. Consensus landed on us going to The House in Sheffield, where we arranged to meet Alex Burrell. But when we checked social media we got a surprise. The House's Facebook page said the park was closed, but would open ASAP, due to an emergency. Ralph phoned up for more details, and found out the building next door had caught fire. We all felt like this trip was fucking cursed. 

The guys at The House encouraged us to drive up, saying by the time we arrived from Cov the fire engines would have gone. Ralph asked how busy the park would be, and we were told it wouldn't be too bad. With the session on, we headed up to Sheffield. When we arrived, we were gutted to find the place absolutely rammed with scooter kids. 

Dodging the scooter kids for this afternoon was an exercise in patience. Literally every time one of us would set up for a trick, there was a scooter kid there. For some of us it felt like we were never going to get a chance to even attempt the tricks we wanted. For a short stint we took over the micro room and got some footage there. We managed to get onto the street course a little bit, but the sheer congestion of the park, and the self entitled parents of the kids, just made it worse.

By this point I was flagging. I was genuinely so tired I couldn't think straight. When we were leaving, KB was trying a trick, and wanted to get it down before we hit the road. I was so tired, and I just didn't have the energy to wait around, so I got pissed off with it. In the car I ran my mouth and basically said some shit about Kyle that was unfair and moreso a reaction to me being so tired and bummed out about the trip than it was about Kyle wanting to land a trick. KB was understandably vexed with me, and everyone in the car was bummed out. 

At the services I tried to mend the bridges and was honest that I was just completely wiped out. I was at the end of my rope and reacted like a twat. It was honestly one of the most embarrassing moments I've had skating and I felt so shit for being an arsehole and bringing the vibe down. We all tried to enjoy some KFC and put it behind us. 

The next day, the weather was looking great. Things were finally turning around. Knowing that this was the last chance for this trip to turn out good, we plotted a course for Clifton Skatepark in Nottingham. I don't know what happened on this day, but we never got any footage from the park. It was the day with easily the best weather, and I'm pretty sure Tom filmed some stuff here, but the footage got corrupted or something.

I barely remember anything else about this day apart from Emily taking the actual worst slam she has ever taken, and landing on her already bruised hip so hard she thought she had dislocated it. The session at Clifton ended with us making a trip to A&E to get an X-ray for Emily. KB and Tom were trapped in Nottingham waiting for us to be done, and late in the evening we rolled on back to Coventry kinda glad the whole weekend was over. 

I've titled this "The Worst Road Trip", but I am fully aware many of you might have far worse experiences. So why am I detailing this? I saw a video of Craig Questions from about 5 years ago where he talks about skateboarders, and how we might have a terrible time on a skate trip like sleeping in a cold garage with 10 other people, and how we all just accept it, like it's no big deal. 

For anyone else, this kind of experience might be their idea of hell. The trip I described would be enough to put most normal people off going camping or even interacting with the people involved ever again. But for skateboarders, this kind of shit is part and parcel. It's who we are. Everyone has a road trip story like my one, where seemingly everything goes wrong. But the one thing that always, ALWAYS, makes it worth it? Riding your skateboard, with some good friends, and getting each other stoked on riding something new and different. 

Questions made a good point that a bunch of "Lads" on holiday in Ibiza would take sleeping in a garage on a cold concrete floor as a failure. They would take camping in a literal storm as a failure. They would call the trip completely over the minute someone's tent ended up in a tree. 

Skateboarders adapt. Skateboarders think about how they can still proceed, and still get to do this thing we all enjoy so much, even if the universe is repeatedly telling you to give up and sit at home doing nothing. This road trip didn't go to plan, but we stuck with the idea of 4 non stop days of skateboarding as a crew, and didn't give up on it. 

We made lemonade out of lemons. And that's what skateboarding is about, right? If you are expecting perfect weather, perfect terrain, and no hiccups, and not making the most of what you have, then that's not what skateboarders do - you get straight back out there and you figure out a way to get the session on!