#boss 351 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spctrsgf · 10 months

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to his office

prompt #351 from @/lyralit:

“I could kiss you right now.”

“You’re very welcome to do it.”

word count: 3.8k

warnings: spidey!reader (tried to make it gn, lmk if i messed anything up!), language, my shitty spanish, innuendos but no actual sex

a/n: i saw atsv and miguel was SO SCRUMPTIOUS i had to write this

“HOBIE!” You yell at the aforementioned Brit, narrowly missing a chunk of some building that is being thrown at you. “I bloody know!” He yells back, swinging from the building next to you.

You nudge your head to the left as a signal to him, releasing a quick whip of web to maneuver behind a rough, brick building to land on the side of it. Hobie wasn’t too far behind, and Gwen was soon to your left as well. The three of you heave in heavy breaths, synchronous in your silence. The inevitable stomp of the angry anomaly of the week roams in search of the very people next to you as well as yourself.

“She just does not give up, does she?” Hobie quips, filling the silence.

“Well,” Gwen adds. “We did make her angry.”

“We? You were the one who threw a brick at her, mate.”

“And who’s idea was it to do that?”

“It was a bloody joke!”

“It didn’t sound like it–”

“Okay!” You exclaim, cutting their childish argument in half. “Enough. Back to defeating the Wannabe Crab woman, okay?”

“Right,” Hobie answers, quick to drop his anger like usual. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“We gotta trap him somewhere, but this fucking city is endless. It’ll take forever.”

“I think we gotta get her hands tied,” Pavitr says from above, nearly desticking Gwen from the brick wall in surprise. “That’s where the power is, right?”

“Jeez, Pav,” You yelp, coming down from your initial shock. “We didn’t see ya there.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for scaring you, but seriously. I think we gotta tie her hands!”

“He’s right, that would solve all the cement throwing we got going on.” Hobie agrees, shifting to lean on the windowsill next to him.

You tilt your head. “Do ya think webs’ll be strong enough for that one?”

“Ours? Nah.”

“True, but Miguel’s would do us a solid right now with all this.” Pav interjects.

“He’s right. We need those ever so strong webs your boyfriend has to do the job.” Gwen nudges you with her shoulder.

Your cheeks flame, and you’re eternally grateful for the silky mask you have on. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gwen! We’re not– he doesn’t– oh my god,” You pinch the bridge of your nose as best you can through the mask. “Back on topic!”

“Seriously,” Hobie nods. “You should ask the lad to help us out.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

All you get is a shrug from him.

“Or you, Gwen? Or Pav?”

They all give you a look, a look that tells you exactly what they’re thinking.

“No. Oh my god, guys! Seriously? He doesn’t like hearing from me, anyways.”

That’s true, you firmly believe it, and you have ever since you first got to Nueva York. Being the person you are, you originally doted around the idea of talking to him, of engaging in a conversation. But, to be frank, he scared you shitless. He towered over your stature, a whopping 6’9” to your pacifying build. But, somehow you found yourself standing next to a nonchalant Hobie, watching his floating platform float impossibly slow towards the two of you after a mission.

He’d been… you could tell right away that Miguel wasn’t the type of person to sugar coat nor was he very good at hiding the emotions that flew across his face, because oh my you felt it. You felt the trail of his scarlet gaze as he took in his first impression, you felt the razor sharp cut of disgust, felt the way his tongue ran along his accentuated canines as you rambled through your report.

He’d dismissed you as quickly as humanly possible, opting to talk to the laid back Brit, the one who didn’t have to clear his voice every few sentences. Maybe it was a force of habit, you’d tried to reason as your head bowed to scurry out of the room. He has been working with Hobie longer, there has to be an ease between them.

But, as time passed, Miguel remained the same. He tossed you a cold shoulder, and seemed to avoid your presence unless needed. You tried to shrug it off, to pretend like it didn’t hurt you as much as it did, but it was hard to pretend when the sting of rejection slapped as soon as he was brought up. Which actually happened a lot.

You weren’t sure where Gwen had gotten boyfriend from that. Sure, you thought he was attractive. It was hard not to with his broad shoulders, a stark contrast to his (slutty) waist. There was something about his fangs that intrigued you, it was something you’d never seen before. And it wasn’t just the appearance that did it for you: it was that under all the anger and the rough exterior and the mask was a man, vulnerable and caring and wanting to stop what happened to him from happening to someone else.

He might be blunt and mean and pushy and all those things, but he came from a truly caring place, from a want to help. You could see that shine through in the way Gwen and Hobie and even Lyla talked about him, and you could see that in the mission notes he writes and in the slim amount of time that you were graced with his presence.

“That’s why.” Gwen’s voice shakes you clear of the memories.

“Wha?” You blink incredulously at her, like that would somehow shock you into understanding her sentence.

She shoves your wrist, which hovers in front of you with the button to call Miguel in a booming orange. “Call him.”

You glare at her, but all that earns you is a tilt of the head and a not-so-encouraging punch from Pav. “Fine! Fine.”

You take a deep breath before hitting the call button. It sends off some sort of interdimensional wave towards Nueva York, and you buzz with a different type of frequency, suddenly nervous. The Miguel effect. Your brain blurts. Always nervous. You sigh and remind yourself that there are three other spiderpeople next to you as the call goes through, and Miguel’s face pops up unceremoniously in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Uh, well, you see–” You start, only to be rudely cut off by his attitude. “Get to the point. I don’t have all day.”

The blunt words don’t roll off your back like normal, maybe it was because you could hear the anomaly pound, inching closer. “We need help. We need your webs, they’re stronger and can hold this guy’s claws together. He’s been tearing up the city.”

“You’re supposed to be containing the threat, not me.”

“Miguel, if you don’t get your fucking ass over here right now, all four of us are gonna be dead.”

“Doubt it.” He sounds distracted, like he was observing something else in front of him.

“Seriously? You can’t take two seconDS..!” You cut yourself off to launch off the building as the anomaly slams her fist into the spot you were rested at just a few seconds before.

You go to follow your partners in chasing the monster away from the buildings, to yell at the stubborn man currently still on call from the watch encircling your wrist, but your spidey senses perk up and then you’re swinging back towards the anomaly. Your eyes train on a woman, not much older than thirty, running for her life from the gnarly creature above her.

You don’t think. Normally, you’re all about thinking and finding the best course of action to try and save everyone, but you don’t now. Not when you’re so short on time, not when that woman could die. You dive, holding your arms out as you beeline to the poor woman. Her face turns from fear to relief when she sees you, reaching out to grab your hand as you scoop your arm around her waist and carry her to the nearest roof.

You’re off before she can say a word, and the glance back you lend her tells you that she knows exactly why you couldn't linger and conveys the thank you she couldn’t say to your face. It fuels you, and you move quickly, pulling the anomaly farther and farther from the people. “Are you a quiet one, huh?” The anomaly’s voice is low and gravelly. “I’m always up for a little banter.” You shoot back, taking a quick left to navigate to where you see your partners waiting, hidden and ready to attack.

“Alrighty then, let’s banter!”

“Let’s.”

“Are you expecting me to now spew out my whole plan and sob story, cus it ain’t happening.”

You shrugged. “Nah. Most of you don’t anyway.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” You shake your head, coming to a stop. “We usually have you caught by that time.”

Right on cue, Pav, Gwen, and Hobie shoot webs out, attempting to contain the anomaly. You realize, as you're adding your own webs to the mix, that Miguel must’ve hung up the phone during your little fright. “What happened with the boss? We getting that bloody help we need?” Hobie calls out, tightening his grip. “Dunno!” You call back. “Maybe he hung up.”

“Call him back, eh?”

“I- I can’t! This is harder than it looks.”

“We know!” Gwen screeches, voice strained.

“What do we do, guys?”

“Try and hold on.” Pav’s voice is uncharacteristically dim, lacking its normal cheer.

His tone sinks into your stomach. “What if we don’t–”

“You will,” Miguel’s voice crackles from your wrist. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“Uh–” You risk a look around as the anomaly struggles with a scream. “Open field. I can see an ocean from here, and there’s mountains to my right. Actually, I think it’s a river– we’re at a bend in it.”

“Got it. I know where you are, I’ll be there in a minute tops. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”

“Will do.”

“He won’t be here in time.” You look up at the anomaly, her deep green eyes locked unsettlingly with yours. She yanks hard this time, and you see Gwen nearly topple and Hobie’s footing slip slightly, giving her arms more wiggle room. “Yes he will.” Your jaw sets as you shoot another web to wrap around her wrist, yanking her down onto her knees.

“You’ll lose. Wouldn’t that be crazy? Spiderman. Losing.”

“Crazy? Yeah, cus it won’t happen.” Gwen grunts from above, struggling to keep a clean facade.

“I’m almost there, cariño, hold on.”

“I am, we’re fine–”

And then you’re not. Because the anomaly bursts up in a spur of movement, effectively breaking the confinement you four had put on her. She runs forward, taking a straight track for you. You leap up, swinging away as quickly as you can. You pick through the strain on your forearms, through the cloud of fear in your head. You try to stay in the same general area you told him you’d be in, but it’s hard with the anomaly on your heels.

“Miguel! Help, she’s chasing me, I can only keep her away from me for so long–”

“I know, I know, I’m coming. Hold on.”

But you’re not responding anymore. The anomaly swings a mighty claw straight into your abdomen, effectively sending you into the ground. Pav lets out a scream, sliding to catch you before you can slam into the grass, and Miguel knows something is wrong. You can hear his yells and Pav’s telling you to respond, but the pain in your side is excruciating and your brain feels like mush and your mouth is dry like sandpaper and your vision is tunneling into black and you try to speak but–

…

It’s very dark.

That’s the first thing you notice when you come to. It’s nice. But there’s an off putting feeling about it, like something’s lurking in the dark, and then you’re itching to turn on the lights so you can see something. “You have something covering your eyes, you do realize that.” Miguel’s smooth tone slides in from the left, decorating across the bland abyss.

Ah. So that was the problem.

Your arms feel foreign as you reach up to pull the fabric off your eyes, exposing you to the room you were in, only slightly brighter than before. “Lyla said the mask was supposed to help you heal better,” Miguel starts, and you can’t quite bring yourself to look at the man next to you quite yet. “I listened, she’s better at this than I am.”

“Am I not in the infirmary?” You question, before frowning at the way your voice sounded. You sit up, clearing it a few times.

“You were, but I moved you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you in there.” He answered bluntly, yet it lacked any substance at all.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You chuckled dryly. “Miguel, you moved me from the fucking infirmary to your office. I think you owe me a damn explanation.”

“No.” He turns away, slinging a web out to launch him onto his floating platform.

“Miguel–”

“No.” The orange screens encircle him, effectively slamming his hard tone into the flow of conversation that wasn’t really flowing anymore.

You frown, half sat up in the bed that he’d placed you on. You’re frustrated, you don’t understand what’s been going on between you and him. He hated you. You’d previously established that, his vibrant reaction to your question confirmed it. But he saved you. And he moved you into his fucking office.

Your head swims with this new information, and you flop back down unceremoniously onto the bed. Your head tilts automatically to him again, the fiery red in the bleak, monotone room. His back is to you, and he’s furiously tapping at something on one of his many screens. The boldness of his stature, the way he’s standing is so unwelcoming that you’re now sure he never really wanted you there at all.

You sit up and hop out of the bed as quietly as you can, even though you know he can probably hear you in the silence that enveloped you both. Yet he doesn’t react, he doesn’t turn and yell like you thought he might. He stayed stoically and almost stubbornly facing his screens, so you turn and slip towards the door.

Fucking say something, Miguel.

He doesn’t. You don’t know what you expected anyways.

So you continue your walk, your path out of noose that the room brought. Yet, steps to the hallway seem harder and harder to make, like the hallway is getting longer or maybe you’re moving a lot slower than you normally do. You move to shoot a web, hoping to gain traction and move somewhat faster, but you can’t quite get your aim right–

And then your vision is fluctuating and you start to feel unbalanced. You’re not moving. You’re moving your feet, but you’re not going anywhere. Your brain is fuzzy and the ground is getting closer than it normally is- you don’t remember being this short? “Ay, cariño!” Is exclaimed from behind you, and then something’s grabbing onto your back and pulling you back upright.

Miguel has his arm wrapped around your waist as you wobble, guiding you back to the bed and then lifting you up to sit on it. Your hands come up to rub your eyes, trying to get them to refocus. They blur and then unblur, finally resting to take in your wobbly hands, which are held out shakily in front of you. In response, you twist your hands together just enough to feel the pain of it, reminding you that you were in fact awake and aware.

“Are you okay?” It’s then that you realize that Miguel is still in front of you. He’s got you caged in, blanketing you in his grand shadow. Your neck cranes up to reach his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let your eyes linger during their ascent. When you meet the scarlet of his irises, you’re taken aback by the level of concern in them. Like he was actually worried about you.

“I’m okay,” You respond, tilting your head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” He scoffed, but didn’t move away. “I’m not worrying.”

“If there’s one thing you’re bad at, Miguel, it’s lying.”

“I am a great liar.”

“Oh?”

“Dios mio, cariño, yes.”

“What does that mean, anyway?,” You question, rocking backward to tuck your feet underneath your legs. “I tried to get Lyla to tell me, but she will not let the secret loose.”

He freezes. “Nothing, sorry, slip of the tongue.”

“You do realize I can just search it up, right? Would you rather me find out from the reach of the internet?”

“Not really, what if you just don’t–”

“Miguel.” You rise onto your knees, leveling your gaze with his own and resting a hand on his shoulder. “What is it? It can’t be that bad, it’s not like you’re saying you’re in love with me or something.”

“Well–”

“Right, cus that would be like…” Your words tumble over him, your brain too keen on keeping your feelings, your delusions to yourself. “Te amo? Te quiero? I’m not sure…”

“Either one.”

“Yeah, so it’s not one of those, so what is it?”

He takes a deep breath, looking slightly troubled. His face twists his face up like he’d just bit into a lemon, and then you’re panicking again.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that–”

“It’s a term of endearment,” His voice stops your apologies in their tracks. “It literally means affection, but when you use it as a nickname it’s more like sweetheart or darling. Dear is another way to say it, but you get the point.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry about that–”

“Don’t be,” Your head tilts with his, following the way he turns his gaze away from you in embarrassment. “I like it.”

He meets your eyes again, curiosity and hope strung in his vibrant eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. The way you say it is so satisfying, if that makes sense.”

“You like when I speak Spanish, huh?”

You nod, and suddenly you’re the one hiding your face from his smirk.

“Querido, mírame.”

“Miguel–”

“Ahora. I won’t ask again.”

You sigh, glaring at him. “I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn,” He leans down and then innnn, so that the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I know you can do it.”

“Do you?” Your brain is screaming at you, making you even more painfully aware of his proximity to your face, yet you somehow manage to clearly deliver the line.

“Mhm.”

“Well, it’s only cus I’ll have the best teacher. You.” You hit his nose with your finger, catching him off guard.

“I am happy to take that title.”

“Good.”

He hasn’t moved. Even as the room fades into silence, he hasn’t moved. He’s still so close, like you could lean in, barely four inches, and you’d be kissing him. You can smell him, a tinge of metallic blood yet so earthy and centering. It’s intoxicating: your brain is swimming and you're struggling to keep your head above the water.

Cariño. Sweetheart. A term of endearment. You still haven’t quite wrapped your head around that, not that you’ve been given much time to mull over it. Was that him telling you that he liked you, more than a friend? Was that a normal thing, using that term? You didn’t know, but you had a feeling that would be the best confession from him you were getting, if he meant it that way at all. You were gonna have to make the leap yourself.

“Everything okay?” His hand lands on your shoulder, a gentle reminder that you’d been staring into nothingness for what must’ve been a painfully long time for him. “Yeah,” You stumble to regain your words. “Sorry, I-”

“Spaced out.”

“Yeah.”

He nods, smiling just enough so you could see his fangs peek out. You were caught.

“Migu–”

“I could kiss you right now, you know that?”

“Huh?” stumbles stupidly out of your now slack jaw.

“I could kiss you. You’ve been staring at my lips for the past few minutes, mi amor, whether you realize it or not.”

“I have? Oh my god.”

He chases your drifting gaze, just like you did with his. “It was cute.”

“Cute is a word I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

“Cállete, you hear me? Shut up.”

You giggle, grabbing his hand and sliding it up to fit comfortably on the back of your neck. “You wanna kiss me, O’hara? You’re very welcome to do it.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Now he’s leaning in, closing in those four painstaking inches to lock lips with you.

And it’s insane. Showstopping. Any kisses you had before then? Not even a fucking kiss. Sure, it was a bit awkward at first– mainly you, you suppose– but it worked itself out. Miguel must’ve really gotten into it, because once you swear he nipped at your bottom lip with those fangs of his, just hard enough to draw blood. Your hands, in the meantime, explored his mass of brown curls, previously smoothed back but released by your fingers.

His own hands nestled themselves in your hair, tugging on it just enough to draw a sigh out of you. He tastes like blood– surely yours– yet ever so homey. You lean into him inadvertently, so content in the moment. The rational part of your brain reminds you that you’d probably suffocate if you kissed him for much longer, but nothing in you cared very much about that fact at all.

In the end, it’s him who takes a dip for air, who drags your face off of his reluctantly to gasp softly. You do the same, resting your forehead on his toned chest. His hand, still in your hair, guides you gently back up, just so he can absorb your appearance and vice versa. It’s crazy, taking him in like this. He looks so out of control, his hair disheveled and his lips puffy and his cheeks red, releasing air in quick puff puffs. You’re sure you’re not much better looking.

“Out of breath already?” He says, head tilted with a goofy sort of grin adorning his face. “I’m regaining it currently, don’t tease.” You puff back at him, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“Oh, but teasing you is the best part.”

You stab a finger into his side. “Be quiet.”

“If you fare like this, mi alma, you won’t last very long where we’re headed.”

Your head whips up, equal parts confusion and frustration. “First of all, I’m fine. Second of all, what?”

“C’mon.” he pulls you off the bed.

“Are we sure I can even–”

His arm is around your shoulders, hand clamped tightly around it to squeeze you reassuringly. “I got you.”

“Thanks.” Your smile towards him is mushy, but you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care.

“De nada,” He smiles back, and you mentally note to tease him about his softness later on. “Let’s get all the way to home plate, huh?”

“Let’s.”

feel free to drop by my inbox anytime, everyone, before i run out of ideas

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv #oscar issac #oscar issac x you #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac characters #oscar issac imagine #oscar isaac x you #spiderman #spiderman: across the spiderverse

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 4 months

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FORD MUSTANG BOSS 302

BOSS-A-NOVA!

They called it The Boss and for two short years it ruled the muscle car scene in the US, establishing itself as one of the greatest road and race cars of the era. Now, it’s one of the most collectible.

In 1960s US street lingo, if something was ‘boss’ it was cool, tough, the best. And the 1969 Boss 302 Mustang wore its badge with pride. It launched just four and a half years after the first Mustang was revealed to critical acclaim and record sales. Yearly updates to keep Mustang fresh in the face of tough new challengers from General Motors and Chrysler (particularly the Camaro) resulted in the once lean and pretty ’Stang muscling up, both in body shape and under-bonnet brawn, and the 1969-70 Boss models were the zenith of Mustang styling.

Thereafter, Mustangs became increasingly bloated and anaemic as the 1970s fuel crisis and stricter pollution laws cut horsepower and stylists lost their way; the rippling flanks and thrusting nose of the late 60s/early 70s cars gave way to boxy, bland designs. That early look would not be recaptured until 2005, when new Mustangs were given retro styling.

The Boss 302 was launched at the same time as its big-block brother, the Boss 429. Both were positioned as competition specials; Ford wanted to homologate its 302-cuber for Trans-Am and the 429ci monster for NASCAR. In fact, Ford went wild with engines between 1969-70, offering nine V8s – the ‘economy’ 302, 351 Windsor, 351 Cleveland, 390, 428 Cobra Jet, 428 Super Cobra Jet, 429 ‘wedge’, Boss 302 and Boss 429.

For the Boss 302, Ford’s high-compression 302ci small-block V8 was beefed up with four-bolt main bearing caps and redesigned ‘Cleveland’ cylinder heads with bigger inlet and exhaust valves, and ports that allowed the engine to breathe more efficiently.

These ‘semi-hemi’ heads were based on the Ford 427ci racing engine’s combustion chambers, and a balanced forged steel crankshaft and forged steel conrods allowed the engine to handle high rpms for sustained periods. A single 780cfm four-barrel Holley carburettor sat atop a high-rise aluminium inlet manifold, while a dual-point distributor, high-pressure oil pump, windage tray and screw-in welch plugs were further indications of its competition intent.

A rev limiter was fitted, progressively cutting spark from 5800rpm to 6150, but it was easily bypassed and the Boss 302 could reportedly keep making power up to 8000rpm with minor mods. In the muscle car marketing war, Ford claimed a peak horsepower figure of 290bhp at 5800rpm (the same as the Camaro Z/28), but that was extremely conservative.

Two four-speed manual Top Loader transmissions were available: a wide-ratio ’box with Hurst shifter more suited to street and strip use, and a close-ratio unit for racing. Adding to the race or road options list were four diffs: the stock 3.5:1 nine-inch, Traction-Lok 3.5:1 and 3.91:1 and the No-Spin 4.30:1 built by Detroit Automotive. Axles and diff centres were also strengthened to take the loads.

Suspension was also race-inspired with heavy-duty springs, shocks and sway bar up front, and Hotchkiss-style rear suspension with heavy-duty leaf springs, sway bar and staggered shock absorbers. The left-hand shock absorber was bolted behind the axle and the right in front, to reduce axle tramp under acceleration. Amazingly for such a high-performance car, braking was still only discs and drums with power assistance.

Ironically, the Boss 302’s sexy shape was styled by former General Motors designer Larry Shinoda, who is often credited with coming up with the Boss moniker. When asked what he was working on, he replied, "The boss’s car", a reference to new Ford president ‘Bunkie’ Knudson, who was also ex-GM and had recruited Shinoda to Ford.

While the wheelbase remained unchanged at 2740mm, the ’69 Mustang was 96.5mm longer overall to accommodate all the V8s offered, although the big-blocks still had to be shoe-horned under the bonnet. Shinoda’s ’69 Boss 302 was also one of the first production cars to offer an optional front air dam and adjustable rear wing, and his use of high-contrast black panels, rear window SportsSlats, and go-faster stripes made the Boss a real attention-grabber. The ’69 was also the only quad-headlight Mustang, a feature that was dropped for 1970 models.

In 1970, American Hot Rod magazine dubbed the 1970 Boss 302 as "definitely the best handling car Ford has ever built", while the conservative Consumer Guide called it "uncomfortable at any speed over anything but the smoothest surface". Unique Cars resident Mustang maniac, ‘Uncle’ Phil Walker, never read the Consumer Guide review, but even if he had it wouldn’t have stopped him buying the immaculate 1970 Grabber Orange Boss 302 you see here.

Phil already has his beloved 1966 Shelby GT350H, but the Boss 302 really got his Mustang juices percolating. And he wasn’t alone, because the first Boss he saw, some 43 years ago, is still one of Australia’s most iconic race cars: Allan Moffat’s Trans-Am racer. Phil remembers it clearly.

"I saw Moff race it Calder and I was inspired to own one," Phil recalls. "It was the most aggressive-looking car; its stance was something you had to see to believe. It looked like it was doing a million miles per hour when it was parked.

"My Boss was originally a one-owner car and I bought it from a friend of mine in California, Dave, who I also bought my Shelby GT350H from 19 years ago. Dave found it in a barn with a blown engine, but in otherwise pretty good condition.

"The lady who owned it from new didn’t realise it had a high-compression engine and had run it on standard fuel. When it blew up she just parked it.

"Dave did a nut-and-bolt restoration over two years, then put it up on his hoist. He didn’t want to sell it, but I got my way in the end – unfortunately he had the last say on the price (laughs). I didn’t even bother to test drive it; I knew it was a good car. It had 21 (new) miles on the odo when I picked it up and only 54,000 miles in total."

Since then, Phil has only put a couple of hundred miles on the car, but that’s enough for him to have bonded with it.

"I’ve only had the Boss since January and it’s growing on me. It’s different to the Shelby. It’s bigger and very low.

"The engine is incredible. Dave is one of the best engine builders in California and when he rebuilt the 302 he changed the cam spec. US camshaft technology was okay in the 60s and 70s, but if you had a big-cam muscle car they wouldn’t idle and they were terrible for driving in cities.

"A proper Boss engine can rev to 8500rpm all day and for a V8 that’s pretty serious. But they’re not renowned for low-down torque; it starts coming on from 3500rpm. My car still has a solid-lifter cam, but it pulls like a train from 1200rpm in top gear and I can drive it around at 1500rpm in top all day.

"It’s got the four-speed close-ratio Top Loader with the long first gear and with a 3.7:1 rear end it does about 55-60mph (89-97km/h) in first gear. It bloody goes!"

Phil is a fussy bugger and his cars have to look just right, so Russell Stuckey from Stuckey Tyres has ordered him a set of genuine 15 x 8 Minilites from England to replace the standard Magnum 500s.

"I want it to look like the Parnelli Jones race car, and to get the stance I want it’s going to have 275/60s on the rear and 255/60s on the front. At the moment it’s a pretty car that is tough, but I want a tough car that looks tough. And that’s all I’m going to do to it."

After his first real fang in the Boss, Phil felt that his Shelby would be half a lap in front at the end of a 10-lap sprint at Sandown, but now thinks the Boss would be quicker. We might have to put both to the acid test one day. What do you mean "no way", Phil?

It was a nervous Phil who turned up at a Melbourne storage facility in January to pick up his new Boss 302. So nervous, in fact, that he took along Unique Cars art director Ange and a sturdy tow rope – just in case.

The storage people were even more apprehensive – they had been warned about just how anal he is with his cars, as he explains: "The lady there said, ‘You must be pretty fanatical because we’ve been given strict instructions that no one is to touch the car except you’." Fortunately, the car arrived in pristine condition.

"I was pretty excited, I’d been waiting for seven weeks," Phil laughs. "I took the car cover off it, fired it up, and it drove home like a brand new car. It was as good as I thought it would be. I spent the next three hours washing it."

Sounds like our Phil.

PARNELLI AND ME

Three years ago, my mate Dave and I were invited to a Trans-Am dinner at Portland International Raceway where Dave was racing his 1970 Trans-Am Boss 302 and I was crewing for him.

When we were driving there we noticed this black Mercedes following us. When we stopped it did too and this bloke got out and said, "I noticed you guys back at the hotel. You’re going to the Trans-Am dinner aren’t you? I’m lost." It was Parnelli Jones!

I jumped in with him and when we got there I ‘invited’ myself onto Parnelli’s table, which also included Pete Brock – the guy who designed the Shelby Daytona Coupe. There was I, Mr Nobody, with all these US racing heavies, but Parnelli was a real gentleman, not up himself in any way.

The next day they had free lap time at Portland and, when I saw Parnelli there with Ford’s new ‘Parnelli Jones’ Boss 302 tribute Mustang, I asked if there was any chance of a ride and he said jump in. We did 10 laps and the guy hadn’t lost any of his ability; my eyes were getting bigger and bigger coming into the corners.

It was a great experience that I’ll never forget. – PW

IT's MINE...

Moff’s Mustang is probably the most iconic Australian racecar and after seeing it I was inspired to own a Boss Mustang. Then, about 25 years ago, I went to Pebble Beach in Monterey for the first time and saw a 1970 Grabber Orange Boss 302, which was the colour Parnelli Jones raced in Trans-Am. That day I knew I had to own a Boss. It was the car I’d always wanted after my Shelby, which was my lifelong dream car.

My Boss 302 is fully optioned, including the Shaker, extra side mirror, tacho and rear louvres, and it’s got a lot of wow factor. When you drive down the freeway, you get the thumbs-up from all sorts of different people. I think it’s the colour.

It’s closer to show standard than my Shelby. It’s got the paint marks on the tailshaft and all the little concours details, but I’m never going to show it; I’m not into that.

The 1969/70 body shape is still the best. Ford got it right then, but lost the plot after that and it’s reflected in their collectibility today. – PW

#car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #ford #FORD MUSTANG BOSS 302 #ford mustang #boss 302 #MUSTANG BOSS 302 #mustang

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smellingofpoetry · 6 months

Note

I thought of Beau Arlen when this song came across my playlist yesterday, so thought I’d pass it s as king in case it might inspire you. Enjoy! https://youtu.be/bTNLYeaL7No?si=oUk5owojOctRP_8i

(Songbird by Eva Cassidy)

Characters: Reader, Beau Arlen

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 351

A/N: Hi! Here I'm answering a new request just as promised. I'm slowly answering every one of you, so don't worry if you don't get an answer immediately. I'm reading all of you and writing down everything while doing my best to fulfill your wishes. I had to admit that I wasn't a real fan of this song. It's not quite my genre, and I was worried I couldn't write anything down. Nonetheless, I managed to write something in the end; something I quite like, if I can say so myself. I'm just hoping you'll like it as well. Let me know what you think. ❤ All errors are mine.

Y/N woke up with the chirp of songbirds, which was quite common when she stayed over and slept in a van in the middle of nature. That was happening a lot lately, which meant she was supposed to be used to that sound, and yet, she couldn’t help the groan that escaped from her lips. Y/N had to admit that those little birds were helpful during work days. She has never been so on time, something even her boss appreciated. Today, though, was Saturday, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Y/N nestled a bit more under the cover, trying to find the warmth and comfort of the body next to her. She shifted a bit more, but all she could find was cold. She turned around, noticing the empty spot beside her. Y/N frowned, getting up, begrudgingly grabbing the shirt on the nearby chair. She put it on, wrapping it around her middle as she could before walking towards the door. The chilly morning air hit her in the face as soon as she was out. On her right, sitting in one of the chairs with a cup of coffee was Beau. “Hey, sleepyhead.” He smiled at her, opening one of his arms in invitation. Y/N shortened the distance and went to sit in his lap. Beau welcomed her, hugging her with his arm and pulling her closer. “'Morning.” She whispered, nestling against his warmth. Her head found the space between his neck and shoulder to lay over. “Birds again?” he asked with a hint of a smile, kissing her forehead. “Those little –” Y/N stopped herself from swearing at the first ray of the sun. “Next Saturday, we’re staying at my place.” She stated matter of factly. “Uhm, I don’t know…” Beau started, unsure, making her sit straight to look at him better. She even raised one of her brows for good measure. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nature; can see the alba, breathing fresh air and –” “I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes.” She cut him off. “Deal!” He answered right away, making her giggle.

#ask #request #beau arlen #big sky #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #big sky fanfiction #big sky fanfic #big sky fic #beau arlen fic #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fanfic #beau arlen x reader #dean winchester

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frenchcurious · 9 months

Text

Ford Mustang Boss 351 1971. - source Amazing Classic Cars.

#ford mustang

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exist4me · 1 year

Text

Stressful Day

Hi! I am new to writing. Please read my little blurb. feedback is appreciated. THANK YOU :)

cw:angst?fluff

wc:351

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stared at the TV watching a random reality show, when you heard the front door was slammed shut. You thought your boyfriend must be home.

"Honey is that you?". You yelled leaving the living room.

You met Aaron in the kitchen as he angrily undid his ties after throwing his briefcase onto the marbled countertop.

"Babe are you okay? How was work?"

He let out a grunt, grumbling fine under his breath.

"It doesn't seem fine. What happened?" You asked in a concerned voice.

"I'm not ready to talk about it love." Aaron said exhausted. You sighed " that's Okay...how about you go upstairs and undress while I run you a bath to relax"

Before Aaron could protest you quickly made your way upstairs to the bathroom to prepare a bath. You filled the tub with warm water, essential oils, and soap for bubbles. You added a few lit candles around the bathtub for ambiance.

"You can come in now"

Aaron walked in with a towel wrapped around his waist. " you didn't have to do this love but thank you" you smiled at him as he stripped down from the towel and got into the bath.

"I wanted to honey. I was hoping it'll make you feel better" you gave him a small smile.

Aaron let out a relaxed sigh. A moment passed when he decided to tell you about his day and the terrible meeting he had with Strauss. His boss has always been a touchy topic.

"I'm sorry you went through all that today babe. I wish I could lessen your burden" you expressed sadly.

Aaron looked at you lovingly." I appreciate what you did to make me feel better. Coming home to this...to you, makes my day a million times better." He smiled at you while holding your hand. You softly kissed each of his fingers before releasing his hand.

" I love you so much. Enjoy your bath hun. I'll be outside waiting to give you more love." you smiled brightly at your boyfriend.

Aaron chuckled at your statement. "I love you more. Thank you, darling."

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader

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bigboppa01 · 1 year

Text

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sethcohnn · 9 months

Text

For anyone with no patience, here are the captions of Jeronica in Riverdale 7x17:

WARNING: Spoilers for tonight’s episode

00:01:02,818 --> 00:01:05,121

So, how do you wanna do this?

00:01:05,155 --> 00:01:08,058

Wanna go in first

and I mosey on in

30 seconds later?

00:01:09,259 --> 00:01:10,492

Absolutely not.

00:01:10,526 --> 00:01:12,661

Veronica Lodge's signature

color may be purple,

00:01:12,695 --> 00:01:14,197

but she is no shrinking violet.

00:01:15,031 --> 00:01:16,199

So, come on.

00:01:16,232 --> 00:01:18,935

Let's give these cubes

something juicy to goss about.

00:01:18,969 --> 00:01:20,869

["Come On" playing]

—------------------------------------------------------

00:01:51,767 --> 00:01:53,003

Wowza.

00:01:53,036 --> 00:01:54,770

I've never had so many

peepers on me at one time.

00:01:54,803 --> 00:01:56,373

Well, if it's any consolation,

00:01:56,406 --> 00:01:57,873

I haven't gotten

this much attention

00:01:57,907 --> 00:02:00,243

since I arrived to school

wearing my sexy witch costume.

00:02:03,712 --> 00:02:05,382

Sexy witch costume?

00:02:05,415 --> 00:02:06,916

Jughead Jones.

00:02:06,950 --> 00:02:10,153

Do you have a thing

for sexy teen witches?

00:02:10,186 --> 00:02:11,388

Well, yes.

00:02:11,421 --> 00:02:12,621

[chuckling] Yes, I do.

00:02:12,654 --> 00:02:14,623

But I also know a boss idea

when I hear one,

00:02:14,656 --> 00:02:17,093

and sexy teen witch

is a very boss idea.

00:02:17,127 --> 00:02:20,863

Hmm. Well, glad to have

inspired something.

00:02:22,598 --> 00:02:23,799

Catch you later, alligator.

—----------------------------------------------

142

00:06:34,883 --> 00:06:35,918

[Veronica] I have to tell you,

143

00:06:35,952 --> 00:06:39,022

this is the bee's knees,

Jughead.

144

00:06:39,055 --> 00:06:40,890

I didn't realize

you could draw too.

145

00:06:40,923 --> 00:06:42,692

[Jughead] Well,

I'm no Ethel Muggs,

146

00:06:42,725 --> 00:06:46,262

but I think this brain egg

could be the thing

to save Pep Comics.

147

00:06:46,296 --> 00:06:48,965

Mr. Fieldstone is looking

for a fresh breakout character

148

00:06:48,998 --> 00:06:51,234

to get past the code

and bring in new readership,

149

00:06:51,267 --> 00:06:54,704

and I think it's

Veronica the Teenage Witch.

150

00:06:54,737 --> 00:06:56,205

[footsteps approaching]

151

00:06:56,239 --> 00:06:58,341

Veronica, you're not

gonna believe who's here.

152

00:07:00,677 --> 00:07:03,279

Miss Josie McCoy.

—------------------------------------

333

00:15:59,916 --> 00:16:02,919

[Veronica] Veronica

The Teenage Witch

is too sexy, you say?

334

00:16:02,953 --> 00:16:04,887

I mean, he's not wrong.

335

00:16:04,921 --> 00:16:07,157

I am cut from the same cloth

as Veronica Lake

336

00:16:07,190 --> 00:16:11,727

and therefore,

too provocative for

those feeble-minded censors.

337

00:16:11,760 --> 00:16:13,395

It's their loss.

338

00:16:13,429 --> 00:16:15,531

On top of which,

I have to figure out

a new name,

339

00:16:16,266 --> 00:16:18,068

something more magical.

340

00:16:18,101 --> 00:16:22,538

Hey, did you happen to see

that Audrey Hepburn picture

that came out last year?

341

00:16:22,571 --> 00:16:24,640

Her character had

a superb name in that.

342

00:16:26,309 --> 00:16:27,877

What was that movie

called again?

343

00:16:27,911 --> 00:16:29,212

Sabrina.

344

00:16:29,246 --> 00:16:30,679

Audrey played

the title character.

345

00:16:30,713 --> 00:16:31,747

Sabrina.

346

00:16:31,780 --> 00:16:32,815

Yeah.

347

00:16:34,251 --> 00:16:36,086

Yeah, that could be the ticket.

348

00:16:42,758 --> 00:16:47,330

"In the bloom of Eden's garden,

the first transgression.

349

00:16:47,364 --> 00:16:50,466

A simple apple,

Eve learned her lesson.

350

00:16:52,601 --> 00:16:55,537

Different garden,

same temptation.

351

00:16:57,439 --> 00:17:00,809

A young man

seeking an education.

352

00:17:05,315 --> 00:17:07,951

A teacher's pupil

brings her apples,

353

00:17:07,984 --> 00:17:10,653

and sinful thoughts

with which he grapples.

354

00:17:10,686 --> 00:17:14,124

While she teaches,

he sits through classes

355

00:17:14,157 --> 00:17:15,691

wondering how she looks

356

00:17:17,093 --> 00:17:18,194

without those glasses."

—--------------------------------------------------

590

00:31:42,125 --> 00:31:44,227

[Veronica] I'm so

sorry, Jughead.

591

00:31:44,261 --> 00:31:46,897

Sabrina The Teenage Witch

is a brilliant idea,

592

00:31:46,930 --> 00:31:49,331

and I'm not just saying that

because I inspired her.

593

00:31:49,365 --> 00:31:50,733

She's just ahead of her time.

594

00:31:52,969 --> 00:31:54,703

Give it a few years.

595

00:31:54,737 --> 00:31:58,507

Let the hysteria die down

and there will be

no stopping her.

596

00:31:58,541 --> 00:32:03,213

I just feel like Pep Comics

is sinking in quicksand.

597

00:32:03,246 --> 00:32:05,148

Listen, if you're down

in the mouth

598

00:32:05,182 --> 00:32:06,983

and not in the mood

for a premier,

599

00:32:07,017 --> 00:32:08,484

I'd completely understand.

600

00:32:08,517 --> 00:32:10,386

Are you kidding?

This is probably

the only chance

601

00:32:10,419 --> 00:32:13,756

I'll ever be invited

to a Hollywood premiere.

I'm not going to miss it.

602

00:32:13,789 --> 00:32:15,324

-The only thing is--

-You don't have a suit.

603

00:32:16,725 --> 00:32:18,929

I barely have any clothes

without an S on them.

604

00:32:18,962 --> 00:32:22,132

I thought we might

run into this predicament.

605

00:32:22,165 --> 00:32:27,103

So I may or may not have taken

some precautionary measures.

606

00:32:28,337 --> 00:32:31,908

Tailored exactly

to your measurements.

607

00:32:31,942 --> 00:32:36,246

I think you'll find nothing but

the best for my flutter bum.

608

00:32:36,279 --> 00:32:37,379

Yowza.

609

00:32:40,016 --> 00:32:42,118

Are you absolutely sure

you're not a teenage witch?

—-----------------------------------------------

#THEY ARE SO CUTTE #jeronica #riverdale #riverdale spoilers #jughead jones #veronica lodge #vughead #jughead x veronica

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