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loadsuperior898 · 3 years

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Michigan Xfinity Cars Are Now Done.games123 Nr2003 Designs

2019 Gander Outdoors Truck Series Paint Schemes

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#38 Niece Motorsports (Niece Equipment)

#42 Chad Finley Racing (Sunwest Construction, Auto Value, Crown Exteriors)

#43 Tony Mrakovich Racing (Street Stores Hardware)

#44 Niece Motorsports (Friends of Jaclyn Foundation, TruNorth, The Ruch Life)

#45 Niece Motorsports (TruNorth, CarShield, Niece Fabrication)

#46 Kyle Busch Motorsports(Spectra Premium, iBUYPOWER/828 Logistics)

#47 Chris Fontaine Inc. (Glenden Enterprises)

#49 CMI Motorsports (Chevrolet)

#51 Kyle Busch Motorsports (Sirius XM, Cessna, Chigo, Menard’s, CanTorque, Spectra Premium and RONA)

#52 Halmar / GMS Racing (Halmar International, We Build America)

#54 DGR Crosley (N29 Technologies, LLC, Ceco Building Systems, Meccanic Shop North, Oxford Energy Group, Ceco Building Systems/Friends of Jaclyn)

#56 Hill Motorsports (Southern Freight Services, Southern Maryland Crane Rentals, GMPartsNow.com/Precision Fleet Image/Scott’s/ LTi Printing, HaicClub)

#63 Copp Motorsports(Lucas Oil, KMI / THP)

#68 Clay Greenfield Racing (Rackley Roofing)

#75 Henderson Motorsports (Food Country USA)

#80 Jacob Wallace Racing (Rogers Ford)

#11/#82 Rette Jones Racing (All Pro)

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#88 ThorSport Racing(Menard’s)

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Gander Outdoors Truck Series Paint Schemes by Year through 2000

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kingfisher95 · 7 years

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A Little Apology And Then Some

So last year I dropped off of the face of tumblr, basically because uni was absolutely kicking my ass. But sadly that meant I left many things unfinished. One of these was a fic exchange which I got far far too dedicated to and kept saying to myself I would finish. I never did. @avatarquake I am so so so sorry. My prompt was - Daisy/Coulson, their vehicles and car races [fanfic, graphic, fanart]. Here below, for you and every Skoulson and Formula 1 fan, the first 2000 words of my fic which I do hope to keep working on. It’s very close to my heart, but I haven’t even got to the shipping aspect.

I also do not think I will return to tumblr for several more months, probably not until well into 2018.

“Give me an update, where is Loki?” Phil thinks he manages to sound nonchalant even in the heat of battle, bracing his body and throwing the wheel left praying the tyres will grip. Of course they do, 7 laps old and there’s no give at all but it’s always a gamble. They bite and bite and bite and the apex roars around and now he can hit the gas again, franticly climbing gears as he’s pressed back in his seat by the acceleration.

“All good Phil. You’re 6 seconds up, he’s got the edge in sector 3 but you’ve gone purple in sector 1 the past 2 laps. Fuel is on target,” May crackles in his ear, breezily calm, he can almost picture her leaning in to the telemetry screens with that tiny crease of concentration between her brows, working the best way to keep their agile little car ahead of the overpowered Asgardian brutes.

The next corner races at him and he lifts off and he fights the instinct to brake, carrying all the speed he can, deeper, deeper.

NOW. His foot stamps on the brakes and he wrenches right. This time the tyres slip just a millimetre before they catch and he’s flooring it again, racing toward the start-finish line to start lap 45/51 and sector 1, a fast and tight set of corners which test the aero package to the limit and makes his heart race like a derby stallion.

“Purple again, how are the tyres?” May asks as he punches in to sector two.

“Tyres are good,” he manages to grind out as he maxes out and the force of the acceleration pushes him backwards into his seat and the heat of the roaring V12. The back straight wings past the corners of his sight in a blur of colour, eyes fixed on the approaching corner, a vicious left hander where drivers can experience in excess of 4 G.

“Loki closing we need to hit 1:39,” crackles the radio as the force of his braking causes the webbed harness to bite into his shoulders and Coulson hits the confirm button as he flicks the car into the corner just a fraction too late, running wide and setting him up wrong for the sweeping right hander. The tires squeal in protest, smoking and drowned out by the engine’s roar and he runs far too wide onto the curb. Coulson swears violently, wrestling the car back onto the tarmac and hitting the accelerator down the third straight.

“Sorry Phil. Damage report on the lockup?”

“Intact. Tyres will make it to the end of the race if I’m careful.” Honestly he’s not sure if they will and Copse is closing on him, a corner taken almost flat. The sweat is running in his eyes now and he can see a flash of the golden Asgard livery in his right mirror.

Copse is over in a flash and the frantic weave of the next few corners feels all the worse as Coulson starts to feel the back end slide by increments. Around Stowe the back end steps out like an American drifter, smoking violently.

“Box. Box.” May still sounds calm but Coulson can’t believe she’s calling him in, 6 laps to the end. 6 laps, he’ll make it last. “Box Phil, and confirm.”

Coulson wings past the pit lane entry and on to the start finish straight, glancing at the timing board that still shows him in 1st place. He’s in the 1.41’s and suddenly Loki’s car is looming large in his mirrors. The SHIELD engine is vastly underpowered compared to the Asgard team and a tight feeling develops in his chest as he throws the car in to the first set of corners of lap 46. He’s got to rely on his aero package and pray the tires make it.

“Coulson when I give an order, I expect it obeyed. Box this lap unless you want your ass handed to you extra crispy,” the radio booms with Fury’s voice. “Confirm.”

Coulson doesn’t have time to confirm. Loki’s gotten better drive out of Aintree and the superior horsepower is telling. He’s forced to go deep in to go defensive in to Stowe, compromising the right hander for the second time running. It’s a horse race down towards Copse and Coulson doesn’t bother touching the brakes as he flings the car into the pass. Its rear end steps out like a ballet dancer as Loki dives towards the inside line, trying the undercut, the smell of burning rubber is everywhere and all Phil can see is smoke and yellow livery and then black.

A fierce joy rises inside Daisy as she flies through the final corner of the penultimate lap. Spa-francorchamps, the fastest race on the calendar. The black tarmac glistens festively, varnished with rain, and the chunky inters throw plumes of water to her left and right.

“1:55.2,” the radio intones. Daisy flicks the confirm and surges across the line. She needs to shave a quarter of a second off this lap and she knows exactly where to do it. The track is rising beneath her and she punches the gas, following the fading racing line to the crest of the hill in Eau Rouge, a terrifying blind corner and she turns in with a thrill in her heart the same as every time she takes this corner which betters even the bravest of drivers.

All she can see is trees and sky and then the track falls away beneath her as she turns in on faith. With a snap the track comes back in to view but she’s carrying too much speed to make the left hander. She punches the brakes and the tyres lock in protest, skating over the soaking track and the gravel trap spits as she slides to a halt and the screen flickers black.

Daisy slams her hands against the wheel in frustration and rips off the VR headset, revealing the dark room and the cheap plastic of the simulator’s walls. May perches to her left, tablet in hand and a steely look in her eyes.

“You just wasted an hour and half driving time to crash out on the final lap. You knew you were taking eau rouge too fast, that was stupid and reckless.” She clips out in her emotionless voice, reaching for Daisy’s wristband and flicking to her heart rate monitor. It’s hovering around 85, and the older woman makes a noise of approval. “Good recovery. But you can do better.”

May drops Daisy’s wrist and stands up, tapping on her tablet with a small crease between her brows. Daisy unclips the steering wheel and places it in front of her on the nose of the sim. Unbuckling the racing harness, she stands, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension of being cradled in a carbon fibre cocoon for nearly 4 hours. She hops neatly out, and turns to start unscrewing her seat, a custom made mould of her body, from the skeletal sim car.

“No need for that,” May interrupts, looking up and snatching the steering wheel. “You’re back down here this afternoon.”

That was unusual, usually SHIELD only gave their young drivers half days on the simulator, here and there, crumbs off the tables of the big boys. Now it was Winter break Daisy had expected to have even less time with Barton and Romanoff back and needing to run the predicted spec for next year and learn the new track in Azerbaijan.

“Why’s that?” she asks, tugging off the worn racing gloves and instead tossing them in to the chair. She’s instantly suspicious. “You finally convinced them I’m a rockstar worthy of recognition?”

May doesn’t even look up.

“After that display?” she says coolly. “Not likely. Get some lunch Johnson, I expect you back here at 1.30.”

“Yes ma’am!” Daisy darts up the stairs into the sun-filled atrium, breathing in deep, clean lungfuls of air, wonderfully fresh after the stuffy sim room. The glass the room, like a giant fishbowl, is bedecked in twinkling lights and icicles. A colossal Christmas tree takes pride of place, it’s boughs heavy with silver SHIELD-sponsored baubles and a selection of perfectly wrapped cuboidal presents crowd at its feet in silver and black paper. Daisy pauses to examine the thing with distaste, a heavy-handed tribute to consumerism, and glances round at the clipped sound of heels approaching.

“Hiya Daisy!” Bobbi chirrups, and Daisy spins and hugs a statuesque blonde woman in greeting.

“Bobbi! Long time no see! I didn’t expect to see you here, they running you though the mill too?”

“Yeah, Fury’s giving us some big inspirational speech and then I’ve got sim drills, according to my timetable.”

“Yeah, I spent all morning down there with the cavalry, apparently I’ve got to go back there this afternoon. Don’t fancy a swap do you? Who’ve you got?”

Bobbi chuckles as they cross in to the swinging doors of the canteen.

“No chance girl. I’ve got a hot date with Hunter. Besides, you know May’s the best at what she does.”

Daisy groans and rolls her eyes melodramatically, snatching up a bottle of water with one hand and an apple with another.

“Sure, but would it kill her to crack a smile every so often?”

The plastic canteen chairs scrape on the faux wood lino as they sit by one of the curved bay windows and Daisy bites in to her apple with a crisp crunch. The room is rapidly filling with a buzz of noise as more and more people file in and she glances around curiously. Fury is lurking ominously in a corner, dressed in a black leather biker jacket.

“You gotta remember what she’s been through Daisy.” Bobbi reproves as she pokes her salad with a plastic fork.

“Yeah and what was that exactly,” mutters the smaller woman. “Nobody seems to be able to tell me. And why does that mean she gets to put me through the ringer. She made me drive Spa twice this morning. In the wet.”

Bobbi casts her a sympathetic look and opens her mouth to reply.

“Ok PEOPLE,” comes the bellow. Fury is standing at the front of the room, flanked by Fitz-Simmons, head engineer and biomechanics respectively. He builds the cars and finds the limits of their capabilities, she does the same to the drivers. Daisy hates them both. Neither of them deign to work with anything or anyone below top level, Daisy who gets a morning in the sim a score of times a year is quite beneath their notice.

“I have been informed that we are performing… suboptimally,” he glances fiercely at the gawky Scot on his left who blinks robotically at the attentive crowd. “Our competitors are churning out better, faster and stronger drivers. SHIELD has not had a package to rival for the championship since Rogers. We are going to be making big changes around these parts, starting this afternoon. We are working towards a more integrated, innovative system. The board wants results. You all gotta pull your weight, or you might find you have no weight to pull. Engineers of all descriptions, report to Fitz for debriefing in the garage. Drivers, PR, trainers, personal engineers, report to Simmons right here. “

#skoulson #cousy #formula 1 #long post #writing #to be continued #formula 1 au

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zolganif · 5 years

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Bolding Survey

Board/card games you have played 1. Scrabble 2. Perfection 3. Mouse Trap 4. Trivial Pursuit 5. Apples to Apples 6. Uno 7. Backgammon 8. Dungeons and Dragons 9. Risk 10. Monopoly

Video games you have played 1. Final Fantasy 2. Sims 3. Zelda 4. Crash Bandicoot 5. Duke Nukem 6. Skyrim 7. Harry Potter 8. Aladdin 9. Mario Party 10. Wii Sports

Party games you have played 1. Truth or Dare 2. Spin the Bottle 3. 7 Minutes In Heaven 4. Never Have I Ever 5. Quarters 6. Beer Pong 7. Darts 8. Pool 9. Chicken 10. Would You Rather

Sports you have played 1. Softball 2. Cheerleading 3. Track 4. Swimming 5. Horseback riding 6. Basketball 7. Surfing 8. Skiing 9. Wrestling 10. Volleyball

Drugs you have tried 1. Alcohol 2. Nicotine 3. Marijuana 4. Cocaine 5. Meth 6. Heroin 7. Ecstacy 8. Shrooms 9. LSD 10. Caffeine

Pets you have had 1. Dog 2. Cat 3. Horse 4. Lizard 5. Goat 6. Hamster 7. Bird 8. Fish 9. Turtle 10. Spider

Countries you have visited 1. USA 2. Mexico 3. Japan 4. UK 5. Germany 6. France 7. Italy 8. Canada 9. Spain 10. Egypt

Things you own 1. Laptop 2. Smartphone 3. Keurig 4. Blu-Ray player 5. American Express Centurion card 6. Convertible 7. Sephora brand makeup 8. Cashmere sweater 9. Bicycle 10. Air fryer

Jobs you've had 1. Server 2. Cashier 3. Manager/supervisor 4. Babysitter 5. Busboy 6. Intern 7. Artist 8. Receptionist/assistant 9. Band member 10. Barista

Apps on your phone 1. Facebook 2. Instagram 3. Twitter 4. Snapchat 5. Candy Crush 6. Netflix 7. Pokemon Go 8. Ebay 9. Step counter 10. Photo editor

Trends/fads you have tried 1. Yoga 2. Veganism 3. Music festivals 4. Unnatural hair color 5. Planking 6. Eating Tide Pods 7. Ice Bucket Challenge 8. Podcasts 9. Live-Tweeting movies

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mylifeatwar · 6 years

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Book 2, Chapter 1, Page 4

Archived Text Follows:

And up he goes!

As some of you are so astutely noticing, the Dhuvalians are very different from our beloved Free Marketeers. I’m often fascinated and delighted by stories of culture clash, where two very different ways of thinking collide and the results therein.

Stories of American Marines snapping Japanese Officers’ katanas in half because the mangled, master-crafted weapons made fantastic trench knives. Stories of Colonists in America defecting to the Native American tribes because the quality-of-life among the ‘savages’ was so much higher. Stories of how the Medicis, when they visited France, found the food so appalling that they imported their own cooks from Italy, which ended up becoming the foundation point for France’s culinary tradition.

War is the most obvious form on conflict, but when groups fight each other, they end up interacting in a myriad of ways beyond the martial level. I hope we can take the time in MLaW to witness some of those moments…

Thanks for reading,

– Luther out

Comment Text Follows:

Killercow - Yay! Thought he was gunna fall right back down again there. Nothing like the elegant movements of the Duke we saw way back in the prologue, but he certainly must have started off this way! I wonder how the free marketeers train with such limited space, if their entire county is essentially one mega city.

Sophisanmus - If I had to guess, Free Marketer Limbs don’t require as much training, at least with regards to basic locomotion. They seem to rely on more utilitarian propulsion and what articulation they do possess is likely more automated than Dhuvalian counterparts. I’d even expect Free Marketer basic training to make use of sims, possibly eschewing field training entirely in cases. Pilot skill seems tertiary to squad tactics and quick turnaround on the broad scale. The Dhuvalians have superior tech and training, but I’m curious to see what kind of army the Free Market economy can raise when … motivated. That is, if the Dhuvalians manage to piss off more than just one sector.

folti - Or probably this training LIMB’s control software has been dumbed down seriously, to allow a more in-depth training about how to handle a LIMB. It’ll take more time, but probably the pilot gains more understanding of how the vehicle behaves compared to the Free Marketers’ “let the software handle that low level stuff.” approach. It might be necessary for the more acrobatic stuff their LIMBs can do, compared to the more limited ability FM LIMBS. Or maybe it’s just a silly tradition those snotty Dhuvalian nobles espouse…

Plaintextman - I would guess that the FM LIMBs we’ve seen so far are a little easier to pilot, though a little less capable overall agility-wise. If they really were “easy” and required little training, I don’t know how the heck Dizee maintains his position as a pilot. He’s obviously got the raw skill and sense to pilot a limb, but little sense in other areas.

Grudgesettler - They seem to have more LIMBs then pilots, at the very least. Leaves me really curious as to the training involved for their pilots. I can’t imagine automation being a massive thing, otherwise I would expect to the opposite situation; a metric ass ton of pilots (that’s still an accepted unit of measurement, right?) to a smaller number of LIMBs. And in such a situation, Dizzee wouldn’t be piloting for very long. That said, there were a number of computerized-looking systems during the cockpit shots, so I have no idea.

Bounty Red - I think you guys are not giving the Free Marketeers their due credit. I’d bet no Limb is easy to handle, look at them, mechanical behemoths. While the free marketeers are less educated I bet it’s the same thing as being a mechanic, or learning to ride a horse. Not something the average person wants to do, so being a military killer is left up to those who can’t do anything better. While I think it’s more of an honor and a privilege for the Dhuvies, similar to how flying a jet is a right for officers.

SteelRaven - I still remember Dizz’s thoughts of the Dhuvalians, can only imagine what they think of the Free Marketeers. Another fun fact regarding the cultural impact of past wars; When the Ottoman Empire invasion into Europe was stopped at Vienna, the fleeing Ottoman army left bags of coffee behind in the hasty retreat. It didn’t take long for the people of Vienna to take a liking to coffee bean themselves and soon Coffee houses pop up throughout the city and soon all of Europe.

Grudgesettler - I recall an earlier comment, can’t remember who said it, on the comic when Vulture is struck by the Dhuvalian pike. Basically, “let’s see if the filthy lucre can balm his soul.” That would strike me as something the Dhuvalians would think; mercenaries, they be scum. On a related note, I now want a mug of coffee.

Plaintextman - Ah yes, there just isn’t anything like a good look at different cultures and people, their history and how they interact. Bonus points if you get a nice look at their respective languages and their subtle yet dichotomic differences. Well, at least in my case — keep it in mind if you guys want extra kudos from me, Matt haha I’m already liking this Christophe Sagnier character. He really seems cut out for his position as a high-up in the monarchy (whatever exactly his position entails).

Jack Mcrary - Just a minor point of order: Those Japanese swords were very cheap (one of the reasons they broke so easily) mass-produced items, not the masterwork pieces from the days of feudal Japan.

Mr. Patenge - While it’s true that the enlisted Japanese soldiers were issued low quality mass-produced swords, the officers often outfitted themselves with high quality swords (masterwork may have been an exaggeration). US Marines were unable to tell the difference between the two until they devised a system of smashing looted swords with rocks.

Grudgesettler - While I’m not sure of masterwork, I know many of the Japanese officers whose families had served as samurai in the previous centuries had ancient family blades, many of which had seen multiple generations of combat. Because these were considered items of cultural heritage, they weren’t allowed on the battlefield. But tradition dies very, very hard. In order to use their blades, these men got one of the mass produced weapons, removed the blade from the hilt, and had the blade from the ancestral weapon placed in the cheap hilt. By all appearances, it was another government sword. *the corny music from The More you know*

BeerWolf - Another fine point, if I may. The Marines felt they needed trench knives to stay alive far more than they needed swords for their collections. Perhaps they were more discriminating after the fighting stopped, but in the hells of WW2 jungle fighting, the needs of battle came first. ( and 2nd, 3rd, etc.)

TKG - its kind of interesting to see the artistic design differences between free market and Dhuvalian limbs on a basic level. The free market ones are clearly the process of a corporate process, very boxy and rather limited in what they do where as the Dhuvalian ones seems as much works of art, as they are combat machines. I wonder what the trade off is?

Deoxy - “I wonder what the trade off is?” COST. In WWII, the German tanks were completely and utterly superior to the American tanks. The American tanks were cheap… and thus outnumbered the German tanks rather a lot. The end result was higher tank losses on the side of the Americans… but still victory, as they had tanks left, and the Germans didn’t. RTS spam tactics, basically – cheap, replaceable units that do more damage to the enemy (as a group) than they cost to replace. When you can only take a limited number of units (for whatever reason), quality is of the utmost importance. When that limitation is removed, quantity usually wins.

TKG - Since we do not know what a front line Dhuvalin Limb costs without that information it is not safe to assume cost is the factor/only factor in play. It could be limitations on manufacturing, as the Dhuvalian units as seen seem to lack as much weapons system variability. But they do have fancy looking stealth systems which may suggest otherwise.I might also point out we do not know the full extent of either side’s manufacturing capabilities so we don’t know who’s pushing quality or quantity. It is clear from a pure aesthetic standpoint though the Dhuvalian limbs are easier on the eye. As a final note we’ve seen what three or four variants on the free market Limb so far but perhaps maybe two Dhuvalian Limb variants? It may be that the rest of them hav enot shown up and it’s more a battle of culture then technology or manufacturing. As a final note, in the RTS bit I got a very ‘GDI medium Tank vs. Nod Stealth Tank’ vibe from the straight up line confrontation earlier in the comic.

Grudgesettler - I wonder if manufacturing costs is even a particularly big consideration, really. One thing to remember is that the 1st Investment Recovery Battalion isn’t an army, but a company. Their assets are obviously considerable, but they’ll operate in the manner of a business, not an army. As to how that would effect equipment, I picture them buying in lots, either per year or quarter, rather then having a permanent manufacturing base and a logistics engine. Simply put, they brought all their stuff with them, and unless the company decides to ship out more, I suspect that’s all they’ll have. That will put them in a rough position against the Dhuvalians. As Betsy-Ray said earlier, they are an army. They have a nation of resources, a logistics train, a stronger battlefield ethos then our beloved Marketeers, and the propaganda brought about by an invasion. From where I sit, they have both quantity and quality on their side. Our Free Marketeers are in a tough place.

TKG - Since they’re corporate assets we also don’t know if the 1st literal size. the word battalion could be an understatement or an overstatement of their actual size not counting dependents and non-combatants. It would be absolutely ironic if it turned out they were the corporate equivalent to rent-a-cops.

Grudgesettler - Sorry, I’d meant company as in a business venture, not as a military unit.

Bounty Red - Good point. Think about how long Dizzy had to wait in line to get his Limb repaired. 7 minutes. Crazy.

Mr. Patenge - Well specifically, they didn’t even both to repair his LIMB, they just slotted him into a new one and got him back out on the field. By the way, I notice that you’re a new reader. Welcome! How’d you find out about us?

#comic #webcomic #mecha #progress

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