this is my car guys

Guys and Cars: Chapter 3

Summary: Adrenaline, fast cars, and freedom.

Nesta Archeron doesn’t take anyone’s shit. She loves few things in life besides her candy apple red 1969 Charger, racing, and the ocean. When a stranger in a sparkly new Audi rolls into the picture, she discovers just how quickly that can change.


Nesta drove

and drove

and drove.

She took them down California Route 1, the road hugging the coast, air filled with a salty breeze of the sea. Neither she nor Cassian spoke- the silence broken only by the roar of the engine as she turned onto Mullholland Drive and flicked on her brights.

It was a road she had traveled many times before. The hairpin turns were as familiar to her as the comforting feel of the soft, supple black leather of the Charger’s interior. Her headlights cut wide swaths of white in the inky night, illuminating the sheer drop offs looming around each bend.

Rubber squealed softly on pavement as she swung around another turn, taking them higher up the ridge. Should she have slowed down? Probably. Would she? Hell no.

Speed equaled adrenaline. Adrenaline emptied her mind of anything that wasn’t here and now.

Cassian breached the silence. “I don’t think I’ve ever been out here before.” His voice was low, not wanting to puncture the fragile calm they had constructed. He must not have lived here long then. Every California native she knew had traveled this legendary road, made famous by Hollywood movies and stars.

“I come out here when I need to clear my head.” She inched off the gas so she could be heard over the engine. “The city can be so loud, sometimes I can’t think. But out here…” Gravel crunched beneath the tires as she pulled off, parking at a scenic overlook. She was acutely aware of Cassian’s gaze pinned on her, waiting to hear the rest.

“There’s nothing but peace.” She jerked her chin to the valley stretched out below them. He turned, gazing down at the bustling metropolis. It was a bowl that was the Los Angeles Basin was filled to the brim with light, evidence of the always-moving populous that inhabited it.

Nesta opened her door and stepped out into the cool night. She clamored onto Bertha’s still warm hood, leaning back against the windshield. Cassian joined her moments later, pillowing his arm under his head. His eyes slid shut and he sighed, the perfect picture of contentment.

There weren’t any stars here; they were still too close for the city for that. But the moon hung low and full in the sky, bathing Cassian in it’s soft, white light. She studied his face, noting the scar that cut through his left eyebrow and the prominent Cupid’s bow above his lip. Sometime on the way here, he’d pulled his hair back into a messy bun, a few stray curls framing his tanned face.

He turned to her as if sensing her stare, hazel eyes alight with intensity. Those eyes brought forth a million questions in her mind.

Why had he stopped that day on the highway? Why hadn’t he called her? Why did he save her tonight?

Gazes still locked, he whispered, “Beautiful.”

She didn’t know if he was taking about her or the view.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Keep reading

I lost control of my car and started sliding sideways down a hill in my neighborhood like 20 minutes ago, I was SO scared! My brake worked so I had to stop my car in the middle of street and think bout how the hell I could straighten my car without traction. Fortunately, there was a young guy cleaning off his car and an old guy shoveling near me so they coached me on how to fix it and I made it home!!!!!

He Thought He Could Intimidate Me Into Sacrificing a Stranger

I’d been bar-hopping with several friends, and they’d headed home, leaving me in the last bar. As I was getting ready to leave, I saw a guy come in and make his way through the bar, just surveying the scene. There had been a table of college girls toward the back, and I realized that all of them had left except for one girl who was obviously intoxicated. I was in my mid-twenties at the time, and the guy was probably the same or a little older, but the drunk girl was obviously a second year student, maybe even underaged. While I watched, the guy sat down at her table and attempted to talk to her. She was so drunk she could hardly interact with him. I went over to the bartender and asked if he knew where the girl’s friends had gone, and he shrugged, saying that they’d left earlier. While I was standing there talking to him, the strange man got the college girl on her feet, half carrying her, and started toward the door.

Me being me, I intercepted the guy, and asked him if he knew the girl. He insisted that he did, but refused to tell me her name. Then he produced a first name but no last name. Her purse was hanging on her outside arm, just a wristlet around her wrist and I snatched it off her arm, and pulled out her college ID and it was a totally different name than the one the guy had given me. Now that I had the girl’s purse, he started to get angry, but he couldn’t tell me where she lived, or anything else about her. He kept insisting that he was just going to give her a ride home, and I kept refusing to let them leave. The entire time, the bartender just watched, like he didn’t know what to do.

Finally, the guy let go of the girl and kind of shoved her toward me (she could barely stand on her own) and then he starts telling me that I should mind my own business, and that I’ve got some nerve insinuating that he was anything but a good samaritan trying to make sure a drunk girl got home safely. I informed him that I was going to call a cab for the girl, and he asked me if I was going to call one for myself, because it was late, and “not very safe for single girls with bad attitudes to walk anywhere alone” I have never been easily intimidated by anyone, and I’ve grown up working on farms and training horses, so physically I’m very fit and strong even though I’m only 5'5. I told him I’d never met anyone I couldn’t handle yet, but that he was welcome to step up and try me. He blew me off and left the bar in a huff.

I called a cab. The bartender asked who was paying for it, and I told him I would if the bar wouldn’t, and then wondered what it would do for their reputation if people found out this was how they treated college girls in a college town. After that, the bartender offered to pay for the cab. I called numbers in the girl’s phone (she just sat there in a drunk stupor) until I got ahold of her roommate (who hadn’t gone out that night) and explained what had happened. The roommate gave me their address and told me that she was going to go out front and wait for the cab. When the cab got to the bar, I told the driver where to go, and that I had his cab number, and the girl’s roommate was waiting for him, and that if anything went wrong, it was going to be his ass. He was dubious, but left with the girl, and within 15 minutes the girl’s roommate texted me on my phone and told me that she’d gotten her friend and everything was fine.

Then I started to walk to my car, which was a few blocks away. And there was the guy from the bar, actually waiting around to try and scare me. He honestly thought, after all of that, and even after I made it clear that I wasn’t afraid of him, that he could intimidate me. He started to cross the street my way, saying that I should have taken him seriously when he warned me about how it wasn’t safe to walk  alone and that I’d better be prepared to make up for getting in his way earlier. I thought he might attack me, but instead of backing off, I headed right for him, reiterating that I’d be happy to take him on if he wasn’t afraid of getting his ass kicked by a woman. I was honestly ready to fight him, but he abruptly backpedaled calling me a “crazy bitch” and saying that I “needed to learn how to take a joke” and then he left, yelling back over his shoulder that “There aren’t nosy bitches in every bar, but there are plenty of drunk ones in this town.” I’ve never seen him in the decade since, but I never go out that I don’t think about that asshole, and wonder how many girls he’s carted off from bars and raped or assaulted.

there are few places to be that are more dangerous than between me and fresh pizza
  • ADHD stereotype: reckless, proactive, creative, funny, charismatic, talkative, ambitious, sociable, energetic
  • Me, ADHD goblin: barely has enough energy to get up in the morning, speaks in garbled Satan-tongue, devoid of wit, socially anxious disaster, crashed my car into another guys car this morning because I literally forgot it was there within seconds of seeing it

proof that doc was actually a little shit under his grumpy and stern exterior

- intentionally tricked a rookie into driving off a ledge into cacti
- “the only thing to be scared of our here is your imagination” “yeah and of course the screaming banshee”
- pretended to crash/fall off a cliff to get ahead of lightning in a friendly race
-call himself ‘the fabulous hudson hornet’ before he even started racing can you believe

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THANKS TUMBLR AND ALL YOU KIND FOLKS