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naomixhill · 4 years

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Naomi’s Story

My childhood was idyllic and surrounded in opulence in the wealthiest municipality of Rhode Island on the western side of Narragansett Bay. Goombahs ran the village, misguided judgment and organized corruption ran rampant in our leadership from the police, to the mayor, to the school board, but no one talked much about that. Instead, we focused on our waterfront properties, Italian fine dining restaurants, and seemingly perfect lives while the men took care of business. I grew up with wops and old money, and nothing in between.

In 2005, my father’s firm went bankrupt, and with it, went half our assets tied up in privately held stock. My father’s dream was to be a New York financial services man, a true business man, and he worked on that from the cornfields of Indiana. All throughout his early years, he worked two factory jobs to pay his college tuition in hopes to be somewhere better than he was. To provide for his mother, the immigrant from Wales, and to to be a force of stability for his young, first family. He never got to New York, but I was determined that I would live out that dream. So by fifth grade, when everyone else wanted to be a vet or a doctor or a teacher, I said I wanted to be an investment banking analyst for Goldman Sachs. We had to move from Rhode Island to the midwest after the demise of the company. My father took his second family, my mother and I, back to Indiana. He wanted something easier than what New England was, something cheaper, something nicer, something familiar. But, I was different. I was the embodiment of New England: I spoke with a thick accent, my hair was curly and big, and my values were different. The cornfield kids couldn’t quite understand me. I went from being the most popular schoolyard kid with tons of wop friends and hanging out with their daddies, the barones, the bagmen, the consigliere's, the dons, to trying to integrate myself with the children of farmers and working to middle class professionals. And so, beginning in fifth grade, I was different. When I sat down at the lunch table, the other children took their lunches to another spot; at recess, I would go to swing, and the others would go to the slides. And I tried to be like the others, I wanted to fit in. I began speech therapy, I dressed in their clothes, I read their books and watched their television shows, but it wasn’t enough even back in those days. My entire early adolescence was hallmarked by rejection and desperately wanting to be liked, to even be marginally accepted. I went to five different schools from 2005 - 2009, all with similar results. My parents finally sent me to a Catholic school in downtown Indianapolis off 56th street. There, I met a group of black poets that finally gave me the acceptance and friendship that I had craved for years. It was my first taste of normalcy in almost five years. And I met a boy, Robbie, who I took home. I realized that day that the world is not as colorblind as I am. My father told me that it was the saddest day of his life since his mother died. And later that year, as I continued to be involved in poetry groups and cultural clubs, I competed in a statewide poetry slam. I won the state award for my poem and my parents threw away the trophy. So, who was I supposed to be? Everything started to get confusing as every turn I made seemed to be the wrong choice and my victories were detriments. And amid all of this, the recession was happening and worsened. Company consolidations and closures caused my family to relocate again, this time to Ohio. The village reminded me of Rhode Island a bit; on the far east side, this small, cozy village had a median household income of $187,00 with only a couple thousand residents. The high school looked like the University of Pennsylvania, and all of the homes were brick, big, and beautiful. And so I set out again to be a new version of myself: the blonde, straight haired, Coach-wearing, Abercrombie-wearing girl. Would they like me as a sophomore? No, they didn’t. Because as much as I tried, most of the kids had known each other for years and there wasn’t space for me. So I did as I had done in the year prior: I found the black poets, the people who seemed to get me and understand my struggle. Meanwhile, I joined track, of which I was one of two whites, there, too. Within a month into the school year, I was typecast with all sorts of derogatory terms. But it didn’t matter to me, yet, and I was happy with my friend group, and met another boy, J. And there were never two people closer. J was a state champion track star who wrote poetry and attended our school half of the day, and attended a trade school for the remainder of the day. We bonded as he helped me condition and train, and we passed a poetry journal back and forth. Though my friend Rayvon told me, “he’s trouble,” it didn’t stop me. I was used to being marginalized, and almost empathized with the fact that J was too. Still, I wanted to fit in and be liked. So when Rayvon set me up with her friend, I went along with it. Then, on September 4, 2009, we went to Micah’s birthday party, hosted in a multi-million dollar home in our village in the basement. J and I were both in relationships with other people, mostly on the recommendations of other people, but it didn’t stop him from kissing me. In front of everyone. And in five seconds, I lost everyone in my life. And so, not knowing where to turn, I called J the following Monday. We met at the local coffee shop. I had an exam the following day, so he suggested that we studied at his house. I agreed. And as soon as we walked into his home, and closed the front door, it was no sooner that I was in a forced grip. I laughed at first, thinking my poetry-loving friend was teasing, but he wasn’t. Fear sunk in. He dragged me upstairs, as I was kicking and screaming, undressed me, and shoved himself into me. I was fifteen and a virgin. The next day, people at school laughed at me. They called me the slut who slept with J. “Slut.” “Whore.” And again, I was a marginalized and lonely outcast just two months into a new school. Shouldn’t I have been used to it? People laughed at me and gossiped about me and no one knew anything. After this, things got fuzzy for me. I hardly remember the next two years much at all. I hung around a lot of shady people and did things that I wish I could take back, what little I remember, but deep down I knew I didn’t really deserve much better. A lot of people put their hands on me back then. Going into my senior year, J made the news. He murdered his long time girlfriend right there in one of our quaint village homes in the foyer. I remember watching the live local news stream in a trance, not quite sure if what I was seeing had any base in reality but it did. And J called me that night after not speaking to me in two years. I didn’t pick up. By the end of the night, he was shot dead in the Walgreen’s parking lot and they extracted his girlfriend’s body out of the trunk of his car. I went to the memorial in his family’s home, the same one that I had been to all of those years prior. His mother looked at me, and said to me, “It’s you. You’re the girl.” She took me upstairs to his bedroom where photos of me and our shared poetry and letters were scattered across his desk. What the fuck do you do with that, even now, after all this time has passed? The rest of the night remains a blur. I only really remember one thing about my senior year: Briyana, the new girl from the nearby Catholic school. She took to me right away, and I took to her right back. And despite desperately needing a friend, I told her to keep her distance from me; I told her that to say I was unpopular was an understatement, and her reputation would be tarnished in being seen with me. So she did stay away. And I remember almost nothing else, just small clips of getting suspended, of shooting up PCP, of smoking weed in the girls locker room, of getting by in school with high remarks because it still wasn’t that challenging to me. So then I went to the community college the next year. I crossed paths with Briyana again by chance. Our boyfriends were suite mates, and we became best friends. We were all a family that year. We helped each other and took care of each other. But we were also wild and reckless and young. Tyga’s Molly played on the background frequently as the bunch of them snorted lines and partied into the night. I was the only one that did ever end up graduating in that bunch. And through a series of unfortunate events, everything fell apart. And I absolutely had to go this time. And go far. So Binghamton, NY happened. And I recreated myself again. This time, I was going to be an Air Force ROTC gal studying financial engineering and statistics. It had to work, I needed it to work. And again, I had wonderful suite mates and people that talked like how I used to, and more than anything, I was so proud of what I was accomplishing away from the disaster that the midwest had been for me. But as suddenly as I felt safe, it was over... again... Several months into the school year, my Air Force paperwork was rejected by HQ. Prior drug use, self-injury scars, you name it and I had it. And perhaps for the first time, but not the last time, I totally destructed. I threw up everyday, my veins bulged, I was dizzy and disoriented and often forgot where I was or who I was. So, hence, a medical withdrawal. But with my autoimmune symptoms and underlying medical issues, I had to see a specialist. And with a sick twist of irony, that specialist was in Columbus, Ohio. After a multi-month stint of being on bed rest and racking up over $150,000 in medical bills, I enrolled at Ohio State. And as I was sitting in a Slavic Film class on a Tuesday, I saw Briyana going into the nearby classroom in McPhearson Hall. And just like that, we reconnected again as if no time had passed. I was still sick in those days and hardly a hundred pounds, so Briyana became a caregiver to me of sorts. And we were inseparable. Not soon after we reconnected, we moved in together in off-campus housing in Columbus’s Chinatown. She worked for Bob Evans and I worked for an insurance company, and we both attended classes full time. This was around the time that Obama passed all sorts of labor laws, one of which required employers to give certain benefits should their employees work a minimum number of hours. Briyana’s hours were cut by over half about a month prior to our next tuition statement coming due. I told her about a site my friend Trina used, Seeking Arrangement. “You just go on dates with lonely men and they pay you.” If only it was that easy. I thought it was that easy. She signed up and when the day came to meet this guy, she couldn’t do it. So I went in her place. And I found out quickly that it had nothing to do with going on dates at all. But by this point, sneaking into college exams for Briyana was nothing really. I was willing to commit any conceivable sin for the person who nursed me back to health and I felt gave me my entire life back and more. As I learned, three grand has a fucking high price tag. At nineteen years old, I was in way above my head. Blackmail. Guns. Threats. So I kept doing it, and I was so used it - just trying to survive. And then, amid all of this, Briyana met Jo. And everything I did is reduced to a kind favor but it’s all now in the past. One day, I came home from visiting my parents and our entire apartment was empty, right down to the missing bed, kitchen table, and shower curtain. What did I have left? I was still enrolled at the Fisher College of Business and a part of a financial club on campus and investment banking program. The president of the club, C, had roofied me and assaulted me in months prior but that was semantics? This is the same one that threw me down a flight of stairs on my birthday, but why not? In hindsight, it was stupid of me to ever think his red hair could be a symbol for warmth instead of the fiery hell that he was. But still, I remember thinking that we could create something beautiful out of our individual brokenness. It’s still a sore point for me even now when I reminiscence on this and recall that he had dozens of me. He knew about what happened with Briyana, and everything that it entailed to be her loyal friend. When we would fight, he would hold it all over my head and taunt me. Our relationship ended in the Sexual Violence Office at Ohio State and his degree was nearly revoked. I was ready to fight fire with fire. No one was going to blackmail me anymore. And then again, the void. But I was so busy at work and trying to manage a full school load, I didn’t have any more energy or time to devote to interpersonal relationships. Until I met C. And there were so many red flags: twice divorced, three children, a war veteran, and a current prop fund owner based out of Manhattan. What could go wrong except everything? C and I were engaged in three months. We met while he was traveling the midwest for work at a local bar near the college campus. At first, he was everything I ever wanted: an Italian, handsome man with incredible work ethic, passion for life, and wit. He was so sharp and so alluring, you could see peoples’ eyes watching him in restaurants, bars, and as we walked in the Short North. And he understood my pain well and had his own. We married and I moved back home to the northeast. We lived in Philadelphia and New Jersey. It was all great until it wasn’t. I can’t speak on it yet, but it was three long years of maximum verbal and physical abuse, resulting in me returning to Ohio in an effort to escape. And then, now divorced and as frail as I could have been, I met, D. There was entire year, 2018, where I couldn’t leave my apartment without panic attacks, wasn’t working much, and wasn’t really going to school. I just existed. I finally joined a small insurance company that spring, and the following spring, as I was re-acclimating to society and, truly, life again, D came into my life. April 25, 2019. And D gave me a lightness in my life that I never had before. And he made me laugh sincerely. He listened to me, and understood me, and respected me for all I was in the past, all I presently was, and all I hoped to be. He gave me my twenties back and let me, for the first time, be young and carefree. He would take me to beautiful places, like Maumee Bay in Toledo and state parks, and I took him to all my favorite secret spots around the city of Columbus. We would go to coffee cafes and parade High Street and laugh on the weekends like I had never laughed. I told him things I had never told anyone. And when we would make love, it felt like he was kissing and running his fingers across my soul. And I realized by May of 2019, I never knew true love until I knew him. And it felt like everything that happened in my life had to happen in order to be there in that moment with him. Perhaps inappropriate, perhaps premature, but I knew I wanted to marry him. I knew I wanted a life with him for as long as my days on earth. But as my feelings continued to strengthen and I felt with full certainty that I would spend my life with D, his feelings faded. I was too much. Being with me hurt. It wasn’t easy. And so as I thought we were building an empire, he was setting the house on fire to watch it burn. And I knew by the winter that he could never really love me. As much as I wanted him to, as much as I loved him, I couldn’t overcome that to love back was a choice and it wasn’t one he could make. So February of 2020 happened. It will remain the hardest month of my life, perhaps until now.

This was not cathartic or meaningful in any way.

#autobiography #me #bpd #intj

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rickhorrow · 5 years

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10 To Watch : Mayor’s Edition 10719

RICK HORROW’S TOP 10 SPORTS/BIZ/TECH/PHILANTHROPY ISSUES FOR THE WEEK OF OCTOBER 7 : MAYOR’S EDITION

with Jacob Aere

In California, Governor Gavin Newsom signed into law the Fair Pay to Play Act, allowing collegiate athletes to collect endorsement money. The law, which would go into effect January 2023, makes it illegal for schools to prevent athletes from earning money by selling the rights to their name, image, or likeness to outside bidders. The NCAA responded by saying in a statement that the organization would continue its effort to monitor make adjustments to its rules "that are both realistic in modern society and tied to higher education." At the national level, U.S. Representative Anthony Gonzalez (R., Ohio), a standout receiver at Ohio State and in the NFL, is planning to propose a new national law that would give college athletes the opportunity to make endorsement money. U.S. Representative Mark Walker (R., N.C) also proposed in March the Student-Athlete Equity Act that would change the definition of a qualified amateur sports organization under the U.S. tax code. Discussion at the state level also intensifies: nine other states to date have introduced similar legislation.

William Hill inks new partnerships with the NBA and Monumental Sports. The British bookmaker will become the NBA’s fourth licensed betting operator. In addition, they will be opening an all-purpose sports-betting complex in Monumental's crown jewel, Capital One Arena. William Hill joins MGM Resorts, FanDuel, and The Stars Group as official partners with the NBA, as the league looks to expand its gambling footprint. The Washington Post and other sources reported that William Hill will crucially get access to official betting data from the league, while the NBA will get a cut of their bets based on volume, a “royalty” of sorts for use of its intellectual property. Also announced last week was a partnership with Monumental Sports and Entertainment, the owner of Capital One Arena which is home to the Washington Wizards, Capitals, and Mystics. Executives from both companies said they hope to turn the arena into an all-purpose sports-betting complex where fans can place wagers on their phones while watching from the stands, or stop over at the site formerly occupied by Greene Turtle Bar and Grill. The sportsbook is expected to open as soon as 2020, "depending on regulatory approval."

“Power of Sports” Indianapolis episode premieres. This month, the popular show hosted by Rick Horrow and distributed by FOX Sports regional sports networks nationwide returns to Indianapolis to profile the regional impact of sports. A big part of the October episode takes place inside iconic Indianapolis Motor Speedway, but not on the bricks...instead, on the links. 2019 marked the third year of the Indy Women in Tech Championship Driven by Group1001, one of the premiere stops on the LPGA Tour. The best golfers in the world fought it out at Brickyard Crossing with a $2 million purse on the line. Off the course, a full week of events made the most of this community-centered event. The week began with the IWiT Summit, where leaders from the golf, business, and tech worlds came together to discuss the benefits of inclusivity and diversity in their industries. The October episode also profiles philanthropic initiatives by the Indianapolis Colts – who stunned the Kansas City Chiefs in a primetime Sunday upset – and an Indy nonprofit founded by a national champion cyclist who uses an innovative program to share his love of cycling with kids.

Also on the social good front, for the eleventh consecutive season, the NFL and the American Cancer Society will work together to support the fight against cancer through "Crucial Catch: Intercept Cancer." The initiative kicks off in stadiums this weekend and will run through Week 7 games, addresses early detection and risk reduction efforts for multiple cancers. As part of the campaign, the NFL and ACS will continue encouraging the entire NFL community to complete the Defender, a free digital tool, which provides consumers with a personalized game plan to reduce their cancer risk. Several players will again support the campaign, including Drew Brees, Quinnen Williams, Kyle Rudolph, and the American Cancer Society's fifteen player ambassadors who have lent their voice. “Crucial Catch” again joins the NFL’s lengthy list of annual philanthropic initiatives, including NFL players’ “My Cause My Cleats” collaboration during Week 13 and its 46-year partnership with United Way.

In Miami, Super Bowl LIV has already kicked off. Last Saturday, the HistoryMiami Museum opened the exhibit, "Gridiron Glory: The Best of the Pro Football HOF." The exhibit arrives ahead of Super Bowl LIV and "will remain there until February 9," according to the South Florida Sun Sentinel. The exhibit features 8,000 square feet of "photographs, vintage jerseys, helmets and interactive displays," along with the Lombardi Trophy on display in a "Champions Theater." The museum’s "Hometown Heroes" section "celebrates the Dolphins and athletes who played in South Florida during high school and college.” And last Friday, Dolphins President and CEO Tom Garfinkel announced that Hard Rock Stadium will "phase out 99.4% of single-use plastics by 2020 -- including for Super Bowl LIV." On December 22, Hard Rock Stadium will become the first venue in the NFL to "feature 20oz sustainable draft cups." In all, the team will "eliminate more than 2.8 million pieces of plastic annually including over 600,000 plastic bottles."

The Golden State Warriors’ Chase Center tenure begins. The Warriors were "happy to get into their new billion dollar home" on Saturday night despite losing to the Lakers during the team's exhibition opener at Chase Center, according to ESPN. Warriors coach Steve Kerr said, "The crowd was fantastic. It seemed like everybody was, including the players and coaches and officials, everybody was sort of looking around." The "cheapest ticket on the secondary market for Saturday’s debut game" was $131, and to get in the lower bowl, fans had to "shell out $300-plus.” The San Jose Mercury-News added that the arena is an "impressive building and a testament to what next-level perseverance, strong vision, and a ton of cold, hard cash can build." There is "not a thing functionally wrong with this place.” Along with the indoor Jumbotron, Chase Center "boasts a prominent outdoor video screen, the captivating feature of a spacious outdoor area.” Samsung partnered with the Warriors to install the Jumbotron, the largest center hung main videoboard installed in a sports arena — a feature that will make the building a top level concert destination.

AEG Facilities, SMG officially combine to create ASM Global, the world’s largest venue management company. AEG Facilities and SMG have officially merged to create ASM Global, a new, standalone global facility management and venue services company. ASM’s vast portfolio spans more than 300 arenas, convention centers, and other venues across five continents. ASM will be headquartered in Los Angeles, with offices in suburban Philadelphia, the UK, Australia, and Brazil. Former AEG Facilities President Bob Newman has been named ASM President and CEO, effective immediately. Newman spent more than 20 years at SMG prior to joining AEG. Private equity firm Onex, AEG, and their affiliates are contributing their entire equity investments in SMG and AEG Facilities, respectively, into the combined business and are now equal co-owners of ASM Global. SMG is a premier operator of convention centers, while AEG’s background is as an arena developer. This is a merger of extremely complementary companies. AEG owns and operates venues, while SMG primarily provides venue management services.

LeBron James’ and Maverick Carter’s media company Uninterrupted launches Nike sneaker and e-commerce store. According to Fast Company, the partnership not only includes an Uninterrupted-branded Air Force 1 sneaker but also a new apparel collection that features a hoodie, shorts, hats, and socks, available exclusively on Uninterrupted’s newly launched e-commerce store on October 7. The brand has always been based in athlete empowerment, and the announcement timing conveniently suggests Uninterrupted’s version of empowerment is more than a marketing slogan. On Monday, news broke that California Governor Gavin Newsom had signed a bill on LeBron and Carter’s show “The Shop” that would allow college athletes to hire agents and get paid for endorsement deals. LeBron is standing up for athletes across the globe to be more than one-dimensional, while simultaneously setting himself up in the media and business worlds for life after basketball.

WWE legend John Cena announces pledge for veterans’ charity. According to FOX Sports, Cena appeared on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” last Monday to call on others to donate to FitOps, pledging to match all donations from now through Veterans Day (November 11) up to $1 million. FitOps is a foundation that helps military veterans find stability, success, and community through fitness. The organization helps veterans achieve personal trainer certification, creating a path in life after service. Out of the ring, Cena is known for his charitable endeavors with Make-a-Wish and his receipt of the Muhammad Ali Legacy Award – it seems that even through his busy Hollywood schedule, his philanthropy won’t get lost in the shuffle.

Tim and Negah Connelly’s Ping Pong charity fundraiser for LuBird’s Light Foundation includes Nuggets' Nikola Jokić and Jamal Murray. Some of the Mile High City’s biggest athletes and local sports personalities were in attendance at the EXDO Event center in the Rino neighborhood to show their support for the Connelly family and help raise awareness for the LuBird’s Light Foundation. The organization is raising money to create accessible playgrounds for children of all abilities. High-profile athletes ranging from the Colorado Rapids’ Tim Howard and Jamal Murray to several members of the Denver Broncos were on hand. The event raised over $22,000 in less than four hours. According to NBA.com, Jokić plays a ping pong match three hours before every Nuggets home game and almost won the entire competition. Jokić and Murray were joined by 11 other Nuggets players in attendance. By playing a game that levels the playing fields across diverse athletes, the Nuggets have shown unity to rally for children who need greater accessibility on playgrounds.

#10 #10towatch

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adriansmithcarslove · 6 years

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Trophy Life: How GM’s XP-21 Firebird I Arrived atop the Daytona 500’s Coveted Harley J. Earl Award

Legendary car designer Harley J. Earl led a charmed life. A Stanford dropout, Earl was famously discovered by a Cadillac executive while working with his father in the family’s coachwork shop building custom vehicles for the Hollywood elite. The first president of design at General Motors, Earl accomplished many things: the Buick Y-Job, the introduction of tailfins, and shepherding the Corvette into existence, just to name a few highlights. But it’s his styling contributions to the Firebird I prototype—GM’s aircraft-inspired single-seat, gas-turbine-powered research vehicle—that will forever link his design legacy with NASCAR’s “Great American Race,” the Daytona 500.

He was a close associate of NASCAR founding father Bill France Sr. At some point in the mid-1950s, Earl commissioned a 24-inch-long replica of the Firebird I prototype car and presented it to NASCAR for use as a trophy. In honor of and out of respect for Earl’s contributions to the advancement of the automobile, France designated it the Harley J. Earl Perpetual Trophy and named him commissioner of NASCAR in 1960. As with the Indianapolis 500’s Borg-Warner Trophy, the intention is for the name of each year’s race winner to be affixed to its base in perpetuity.

Although the exact sequence of events is imprecise, photographic evidence confirms that the trophy predates the inaugural 1959 Daytona 500 by at least two years. It was awarded to Cotton Owens for winning the 1957 Grand National race on the Daytona Beach and Road Course; the photo above clearly shows the full-size Firebird trophy being ceremonially presented to Owens—with Earl, France, and General Motors’ Semon “Bunkie” Knudsen and Ray Nichels along for good measure. (Owens was driving for Pontiac at the time, which explains the presence of the Pontiac execs.) At that point, the trophy was mounted to a simple decorative base but still weighed reportedly in excess of 100 pounds. From there, the trophy only made cameo appearances in Daytona 500 winner’s-circle photographs, including with Junior Johnson in 1960, Tiny Lund in 1963, and Richard Petty in 1964, all images that are included in our photo gallery. After that, it seems to disappear from post-race celebrations, its presence eventually superseded by the Harley J. Earl “Award,” a more traditional—and likely easier to transport—trophy that stands approximately three feet high and has silver figurines on a wooden base.

As NASCAR’s popularity skyrocketed in the 1990s and the organization looked inward to mine its own legacy, the decision was made, not only to return the Harley J. Earl trophy to the winner’s circle but also to create a smaller replica that drivers could take home to add to their hardware collections. In the ensuing years, the “real” trophy has been mounted to a new base standing about four feet tall and five feet wide, crafted in the tri-oval shape of Daytona International Speedway. The massive trophy is kept on display at the Daytona 500 Experience museum near the Speedway but makes an annual appearance in victory lane with the winner of the Daytona 500.

To create the miniature replicas that NASCAR started awarding the race winners in 1998, the sanctioning body turned to Nebraska sculptor and NASCAR fan John Lajba. Handcrafted in bronze and sent out for plating before being returned for polishing, each miniature Firebird I replica requires at least six weeks of work to complete. The tri-oval base also mimics that of the official trophy but is made of Lucite. Although only 22 inches long overall, each replica and its base weigh in at 54 pounds. Lajba says the design has evolved a little over the years, enabled in part by sticking to his one-per-year production schedule.

For further evidence of NASCAR’s and Daytona’s dedication to the legacy of Earl’s Firebird I, look no further than the infield grass, which was cultivated in the image of the car for the 2018 Daytona 500. The iconic Firebird I profile was selected by fans via a contest on social media over two other design contenders.

Old-School Cool: Photographer Shoots the Daytona 500 Entirely with Expired Rolls of Film

In-Depth Review: 2018 Cadillac XT5

What I’d Do Differently: Humpy Wheeler

As for the original 1953 XP-21 Firebird I, the actual prototype? GM is still in possession of the fiberglass-bodied vehicle, its care entrusted to GM’s Heritage Center. For the 2018 running of the Daytona 500—the event’s 60th anniversary—General Motors shipped the original Firebird I concept to Florida, where it was on prominent display at the Chevrolet Daytona Experience near the track’s pit lane. We photographed the dazzling, decades-old jet-age concept car extensively, and General Motors even brought it out onto the track on Friday night for a photo shoot under the lights.

As the first gas-turbine vehicle ever to have been built and tested in the United States, Firebird I’s significance, thankfully, was not lost on GM—or on the Daytona 500.

- via RSSMix.com Mix ID 8134279 http://ift.tt/2EMvoiF

#IFTTT #RSSMix.com Mix ID 8134279

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bardachawards · 21 hours

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Medal store in Indianapolis, IN - (317) 888-4434

At Bardach Awards, quality is at the heart of each item we create. From our sales team to our art department to the people who build the awards, etch the glass, and engrave the signs, every associate strives to exceed your expectations. We inspect every item before putting it into the manufacturing process; before you ever see your order, we’ve used our white gloves in a quality-assurance process that guarantees each piece meets our standard of excellence.

Bardach Awards 4222 West 86th Street Indianapolis, IN 46268 (317) 888-4434 https://www.bardachawards.com

#trophy shops #acrylic awards #indianapolis #indiana #medal store #trophy award store

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flyingwawards · 4 years

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#trophy shop Indianapolis #fantasy football trophy #trophies Indianapolis

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judefan827-blog · 4 years

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loneliness negatively impacts our emotional

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emilykatie · 4 years

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20 Dad Things to Do on Father's Day

Make this Father’s Day Gifts delivery a great one with these 20 pop-approved games, projects and activities. Getting messy is definitely required!

In her job as a physician's assistant, my wife has been required to work in the E.R., get ready for 6 a.m. surgeries, and be on call — all things that have led to a rewarding career but nothing close to what our parents called a “normal work schedule.”

As such, it’s often just our two sons and me, the three Vrabel men, waking up to a day full of endless possibility and promise. And these days tend to begin the same way: with me making breakfast and asking, “So what’s on the agenda today?” and the boys responding with…well, abject silence, since they’re upstairs furiously Minecrafting while I talk to a stack of speedily cooling Belgian waffles.

Given the opportunity, my sons would be pretty well satisfied devoting one to 48 hours of their day to Minecraft. In these cases, it falls to me to devise the plan for the day, an activity or outing that not only has enough appeal to peel them away from their 8-bit fantasyland but also accomplishes the following: 1) enriches their lives; 2) helps them grow into wise, fulfilled adults; 3) is mentally active; 4) is physically active; 5) falls within my state’s laws of personal safety; 6) doesn’t cost $20,000; 7) is something I wouldn’t mind doing either. So, you know, no pressure.

Every parent wants to fill his children’s hours with activities that will empower and enrich them; every parent has stared at a wall repeating, “Yeah, I have no idea what that is.” To that end—and to celebrate Happy Fathers Day Gift to India online delivery —here’s an incomplete list of DAD things to do with your kids, as written by actual dads, prominent bloggers, musicians, and me, a humble writer-slash-Belgian-waffle aficionado.

1. Play in the street.

Sam Weinman, a New York City editor and author of Win at Losing: How Our Biggest Setbacks Can Lead to Our Greatest Gains, approaches parenting with this idea: “Allow them to be the conduit to your younger self. I like to remind my boys that being a kid never gets old.” His go-to? Dragging out two goals, waiting for traffic to subside, and playing a little hockey in the street. He’s even turned it into an annual event: a round-robin tournament with four kids and a dad on each team. Winners take home a replica of the Stanley Cup trophy—which is actually a popcorn maker. “It’s arguably the highlight of the year.”

2. Introduce them to a record player. Now, granted, this isn’t for everybody: It doesn’t always work to have a 2-year old’s peanut butter–covered hands around a precision device that doesn’t play if you bump it. But some years ago, I ventured into the attic to retrieve my old and spider-infested collection of records, and on many nights since, we’ve been charmed by this relic from the past. We page through the massive art, make jokes about bizarre 1970s-era artist names (“Meat Loaf?” my eighth-grader said one night, shaking his head in bemused disbelief. “Why don’t people make any sense?”), and indulge in the novel idea of listening to something straight through, instead of fast-forwarding or commanding Alexa to play something different.

RELATED: How to Spend More Quality Time With Your Child

3. Invent new cereals. According to my 6-year-old, I have been eating Cocoa Pebbles incorrectly for decades. He told me this while retrieving two other boxes of cereal, from which he created an innovative new breakfast called CocoaLuckyTrix. For the week after, we started breakfast by engaging in some cereal alchemy, producing such inventions as Cinnamon Toast Flakes, Rice Krispiespuffs, and my personal favorite, Marshmallow Apple Pebbles.

4. Learn which colas can explode. Everybody knows that Diet Coke + Mentos = geysers of carbonated awesomeness. But though it’s the most famous reactive liquid, Diet Coke isn’t the only drink that will activate on contact with Mentos and make a mess of your kitchen! Head to the grocery store and grab a sample of other sodas. (This is for science, so the cheap bottles work just fine.) If you’re feeling especially MythBuster-y, tape several pieces of poster board together, mark off heights, and see which beverage creates the greatest geyser. (Hint: Don’t skimp on the diet root beer.)

5. Send screens back in time. If your kids are into video games anyway, bond with and/or horrify them by showing them the ancient video games you had to deal with as a child. There are a few ways to do this: You can get an Atari simulator at Walmart for about $40, and Nintendo has released new (and tiny) “Classic Edition” plug-and-play versions of its NES and Super Nintendo consoles. The NES Classic Edition comes preloaded with 30 games, including Super Mario Bros. 3, Metroid, The Legend of Zelda, Dr. Mario, and Castlevania.

The Super NES Classic has Street Fighter II, Super Mario World, Super Mario Kart, and Super Metroid. Best part: Both let you save points, so hitting the power button no longer means obliterating your progress! Bonus: If your kids are into Minecraft, the graphics and gameplay on a Super Nintendo will seem like some impossible magic from the future.

RELATED: Want to Feel Old? Watch This Little Girl Try to Run a Gameboy

6. Climb your city. Troy Carpenter, dad and Instagram star @redblueox, has an altitude-themed go-to for his oldest: visiting monuments and ascending to urban heights. He’ll take his kids to Indianapolis’s downtown Soldiers & Sailors monument or figure out which days of the week he can visit the top floor of other skyscrapers. If you’re in a city with older kids, finding the highest heights can be a perfect mix of urban adventuring and making sure they get enough exercise to sleep well that night.

7. Create a spy network. Few concepts capture a kid’s imagination more than secret messages, which is what compelled Coy Bowles, guitarist with the Zac Brown Band, to fashion a game out of a quirk in his house’s design. “We have a 4-inch tall pipe that connects one recording-studio room to another,” he says. “Its purpose is to pass cables through the wall, but my daughter and I now use it for fun.” Bowles and his budding spy swap messages and toys through it. “It’s cute to see her so curious about what’s happening on the other side of the wall.” No pipe? Hide messages anywhere: in drawers, behind bookshelves, in the vegetable crisper, inside a favorite book.

8. Invent stories (with a little help). Take a few sheets of paper, cut them into squares, and write a single and possibly hilarious word on each. Biscuits. Alien. Rhinoceros. Havarti cheese. Then ask your kids to make up a tale, occasionally flipping a square over and adding the word on it to the story. It’s 100 percent free, 102 percent imaginative, and customizable to you and your family. (Translated: “You can use whichever ridiculous words you want.”) It’s this strategy that once made my 6-year-old spin a fantastic yarn about a space pirate who uses lightning to fight a volcano inside an evil toilet. (Full disclosure: His stories always seem to include a toilet.)

9. Go playground shopping. If you live in an area with multiple playgrounds, turn your travels into a piratical expedition. Make a playground map, mark the spots you want to hit, and devise a plan with your kids for exploring each one. Make lists of the best parts of each—which one has the twistiest slide, the biggest fountains, the most imposing jungle gyms—and revisit as needed.

RELATED: 7 Unique Playgrounds for Kids

10. Bust the kids. Mike Spohr is the editor of BuzzFeed Parents, coauthor of The Toddler Survival Guide, and inventor of the Police Officer game. “My kids ride their bikes until I (the police officer) pull them over—for speeding, to ask if they’ve seen an on-the-run thief, or any of a thousand other scenarios. They want me to differentiate it every time, which gets really hard!” His son is usually apologetic; his daughter sometimes gets sassy. But all parties go home happy.

11. Fail to walk a straight line. Block out your senses by closing your eyes and plugging your ears, and try to walk 100 steps in a straight line. It will not work. You will end up 50 yards to the left, or back where you started, or in the middle of a mud puddle—but never ever straight ahead.

https://www.parents.com/holiday/fathers-day/traditions/fathers-day-activity-ideas/

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vsplusonline · 4 years

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Motor racing great Stirling Moss dies aged 90

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/motor-racing-great-stirling-moss-dies-aged-90/

Motor racing great Stirling Moss dies aged 90

Stirling Moss, a daring, speed-loving Englishman regarded as the greatest Formula One driver never to win the world championship, has died. He was 90.

A national treasure, affectionately known as “Mr. Motor Racing,” he was fearless and fiercely competitive. The balding Moss’ taste for adventure saw him push cars to their limits.

“If you’re not trying to win at all costs,” he said, “what on earth are you doing there?”

Life on the fast lane

By then, Moss had won 16 of the 66 F1 races he entered and established a reputation as a technically excellent and versatile driver across many racing categories. Arguably his greatest achievement was victory in the 1955 Mille Miglia — a 1,000-mile (1,600-kilometer) road race through Italy — by nearly half an hour over Juan Manuel Fangio, the Argentine great who was Moss’ idol, teammate and rival.

An F1 title didn’t follow, though — a travesty to many in motorsport. Moss finished second in the drivers’ championship four times (1955-58) and third on three occasions.

In 1958, Moss lost out to Ferrari’s Mike Hawthorn by one point despite winning four races to his rival’s one. In 1959, Moss’ car failed during the final race, in Florida, when leading and again in with a chance of the title.

“I hope I’ll continue to be described as the greatest driver who never won the world championship, but it doesn’t really matter,” Moss once said. “The most important thing for me was gaining the respect of the other drivers and I think I achieved that.”

When his resolve to drive solely for English teams waned, Moss raced for Maserati, Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz — partnering Fangio in an all-star line-up. In total, Moss raced in 107 different types of car and boasted a record of 212 wins in the 375 competitive races he finished.

Early life and end of career

Moss was born in 1929 into a racing family. His father, Alfred, competed in the Indianapolis 500; his mother, Aileen, was English women’s champion in 1936. The young Moss learned his trade during a racing boom in England after World War II. His knowledge of racing cars was second to none and he took his profession to the extreme, experimenting and risking his own safety in the process.

He broke both legs and damaged his spine in a crash in 1960. Even worse was the accident in Goodwood, England, two years later, when he careered into a bank of earth at 100 mph (160 kph) without a seatbelt while competing in the Formula One Glover Trophy.

It took 45 minutes to cut him from the wreckage. He suffered brain injuries, and his body’s left side was partially paralysed for six months. With his eyesight and reflexes also permanently damaged, Moss quit racing. “I knew that if I didn’t get out, I’d kill myself and maybe somebody else,” Moss said.

Moss then became a successful businessman, selling property and designing gadgets out of his state-of-the-art home in central London and working as a consultant to car manufacturers. He received a knighthood in 1999. In 2010, he broke both ankles and hurt his back in a fall three floors down an elevator shaft at home.

“His body still has the same resilience to injury as it did in his racing days,” a statement on his website read.

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tadbraner · 5 years

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itsworn · 5 years

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Ultrarare 1 of 7 Canadian 1965 Ford Falcon Hi-Po Was Built for the Dragstrip

When physics teacher Graeme Thompson sat down at Little Brothers Ford in Weston, Ontario, just north of Toronto, to order his 1965 Falcon Futura, salesperson Ole Sorensen told him, “I’ll place the order, but I don’t think they’re going to build it.”

That’s because Thompson had opted for a little-known performance package that included the 271hp 289 Hi-Po engine, Top Loader four-speed gearbox, and Traction Lok–equipped 9-inch rear axle. That would be the K-code engine package in Mustang or Fairlane terms (minus the Traction Lok), but for the Falcon, it was simply conveyed as code 992. And it was only offered in Canada. No American-built Falcons were built with the package, and the K-code was never officially available with it north of the border.

brouwer-1965-ford-falcon-hipo-rear-three-quarter Nick Brouwer was a fan of the racecar Teacher’s Pet back in the 1960s and was “thrilled” when he was able to buy it in 2003.

As with other factory high-performance packages of the day, the intent was to make the car legal in NHRA Stock Eliminator racing. Problem was, only seven of the cars were built by Ford at the Oakville, Ontario, assembly plant: three pillared coupes and four hardtops, like this one. NHRA demanded at least 50 to qualify for a Stock Eliminator class. As a result, they were relegated to the Factory Experimental (FX) class.

brouwer-1965-ford-falcon-hipo-engine-overall Although the original is long gone, the engine is an internally authentic 289 Hi-Po, dressed with more contemporary induction components.

Knowing the cars would go straight to the strip, Ford truncated the normal two-year/ 24,000-mile warranty to 90 days/4,000 miles.

A modern, Quick Fuel-prepared 750-cfm four-barrel atop an Edelbrock aluminum intake takes the place today of the original 600-cfm Holley and iron intake of the original 271hp engine.

Racing the car was the very reason Thompson ordered the Hi-Po Falcon. He wasted little time in attaching a tow bar and pulling it to dragstrips around Ontario, often bringing home trophies for his weekend’s work. For the first couple of years, Thompson was sponsored by a local shop named Weston Race and Custom. When the sponsorship money dried up, he dubbed the car Teacher’s Pet and soldiered on independently.

All told, Thompson campaigned Teacher’s Pet for about eight years, typically running in the mid- and low-13s. He even worked his way through a 24-car class field, including a 390-powered Galaxie in the final round, to win the Niagara Gold Cup Nationals in 1969 at Niagara Dragway. It was one of 30 trophies the car earned in its eight years on the strip.

The restored interior matches the original, well-trimmed Futura cabin in Palomino, including the bucket seats and console.

It’s no surprise Thompson was able to drive around so many competitors. With a curb weight of right around 2,800 pounds, the car had a strong power-to-weight ratio of around 10.7:1. The 1965 Nova SS, by comparison, tipped the scales nearly 200 pounds heavier, and its 327 engine was down 20 hp to the 289 Hi-Po.

As it did many racers of the day, the advent of bracket racing prompted Thompson to put away his helmet. He sold Teacher’s Pet in 1973, and it changed hands a number of times before Nick Brouwer acquired it in 2003. More than a fan of the factory Hi-Po Falcons, however, Brouwer was a fan of the racecar.

A Hurst-shifted, close-ratio four-speed was standard fare with the 289 Hi-Po engine and could be matched with a range of rear-axle gears, up to 4.11.

“Starting around 1967 and for the next couple of years, I would walk past the car every day on my way to school,” says Brouwer. “Graeme worked on the car in his driveway. I don’t think the rest of his neighbors appreciated that, but I sure did.”

Brouwer even saw the car run at Golden Horseshoe Dragway (later renamed Toronto International Dragway), then watched it drive around his hometown after Thompson sold it, as a succession of his friends traded ownership. Although the car stayed local for a while, it eventually moved away. But not too far. Brouwer recognized it immediately when it popped up in a local trader publication in 2003.

The 60-series, 15-inch drag radials fill out the stock rear fenders, while a set of CalTrac bars used with the stock rear leaf springs keep axle hop to a minimum.

He says, “It had been painted black from the original Prairie Bronze, and the Palomino interior had also been changed to black, but it was definitely the Teacher’s Pet. I was thrilled to buy it. What it really deserved was to be restored to its original racing condition.”

Fortunately, the car’s early years as a dedicated track tool kept it off the street in the salted months, helping preserve the body. The miles were comparatively low, too. To date, the odometer shows 54,800 miles, the first few thousand, as it is said, racked up a quarter-mile at a time. The original color was resprayed, and temporary reproduction “Teacher’s Pet” graphics were added to the sides. They were ultimately removed, and discreet versions of the racecar name now reside on the rear quarter-windows. It’s a subtle but knowing tribute to the car’s heritage.

The car also rolls on updated wheels and tires, but it carries that classic big-and-little dragstrip stance. With a deep oil pan and a set of CalTrac bars out back, the effect is a nice blend of restomod and vintage drag car. Frankly, we just don’t see many Falcons with such a look, and it’s refreshing.

The original “Teacher’s Pet” graphics are honored in quarter-window decals.

Like so many dedicated racecars of that golden era, the original 289 Hi-Po engine had expired long before, and a replacement engine was nestled between the shock towers. Brouwer had a correct replacement build featuring all of the 271hp goodies, including a solid-lifter camshaft, heads with smaller chambers that supported a 10.5:1 compression ratio, a dual-points distributor, the appropriate crankshaft, and more. It was all to enable 6,000-rpm engine speeds, and it was a potent combination.

Vintage participation stickers show that the rare Falcon got around in the early 1980s. The Street Machine Nats were in Indianapolis in 1981, while the Motion event was a Toronto show that ran from 1974 to 1989.

Externally, the engine varies slightly today, with an Edelbrock Victor Jr. aluminum intake, a Quick Fuel 750-cfm Holley, finned valve covers, and a few other bolt-on items.

After the restoration was complete, Teacher’s Pet was displayed at the 2008 Speed-O-Rama in Toronto, as well as the Toronto Performance World Car Show, where Brouwer reunited it with Thompson for the first time in decades.

“It was a great moment,” he says. “And after the show, I took the car over to Graeme’s house. He still lived in the same one I walked by more than 40 years earlier. He and his son took the car out for a few blasts down the street. It was just like 1967 again.”

There’s not a K to be found on the Canadian data plate. The 992 engine code doesn’t correspond with other standard engine codes for Canadian Fords and is an indicator of the special-order option.

Brouwer has accumulated copious documentation on the car, including photos and notes of Thompson rebuilding the engine in his living room, a letter from NHRA indicating the low production excluded the car from Stock Eliminator classes, and, curiously, a copy of the original dealer invoice, which was shown in the Jan. 2002 issue of MCR. It was part of a story on another of the seven don’t-call-it-a-K-Code Hi-Po Falcons.

“I’m not sure how the invoice for my specific car ended up in the story, because it wasn’t for the car in the story,” Brouwer says. “But there it was, which prompted my contact to the magazine.”

For the record, we don’t know, either. It’s an MCR mystery dating back to the days when photo shoots involved a brick of Fujichrome slide film and when flip phones were still a thing.

Today, the car is part of Brouwer’s enviable muscle car collection. To be honest, his true penchant is for Mopars, but the Falcon is one of those cars that, like many of us, has burned into the brain: the muscle car you saw in your formative years that you just had to have one day. Brouwer made that happen, with one of the rarest high-performance Fords on either side of the U.S./Canada border.

At a Glance 1965 Falcon Hi-Po Owned by: Nick Brouwer Restored by: Chris’s Auto Body (ext. and int.); Autoserv 98 (engine) Engine: 289ci/271hp Hi-Po V-8 Transmission: Top Loader close-ratio 4-speed manual Rearend: 9-inch with Traction Lok (Detroit anti-spin) differential and 4.11 gears Interior: Palomino vinyl bucket seats with center console and Hurst shifter Wheels: 15-inch Cragar Street Pro five-slot Tires: 5.60-15 front runner front, P235/60R15 Mickey Thompson ET Street R rear Special parts: Factory performance package with 289 Hi-Po engine and driveline, including transmission; 9-inch rear axle with limited-slip differential; heavy-duty suspension; heavy-duty 10-inch drum brakes

Racing Days

Original owner Graeme Thompson showed the car in 1966 at the Speed-O-Rama car show. It’s the same event at which current owner Nick Brouwer reintroduced the car to Thompson in 2008.

Graeme Thompson, a physics teacher himself, hand-painted the lab-coat-wearing namesake character on the Falcon’s flanks, circa 1968.

Teacher’s Pet at Cayuga Dragway (now part of Toronto Motorsports Park), circa 1968 or 1969. Note the full house for the heads-up action.

Here’s the letter from NHRA tech director W.E. Dismuke indicating that the low production rate of the 271hp Falcons would keep them out of Stock Eliminator and push them to Factory Experimental.

The post Ultrarare 1 of 7 Canadian 1965 Ford Falcon Hi-Po Was Built for the Dragstrip appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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changoot · 6 years

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