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Hey guys I am seeking some advice on having a sales cap. So, I'm new to the industry just starting within the past year(10 months in). I've had decent success within this job so far, but something happened that I need to know how to handle. The dealership I work at has amazing hours and a great group of salesman and managers that are awesome people who I have enjoyed getting to know. My pay plan is also somewhat decent %25 on $0-$1400 - %30 $1401 front gross. With rolling average bonuses and so on. But there is also a part in the pay plan I noticed saying that management can change these percentages at their discretion.
So, I sold a new car with a pretty high mark up and should have made roughly $3,200 dollars. However, when I checked my sheet, I saw that I made $2,700. Confused I asked the manager about this, and he said there is a sales cap on new vehicles at $2,700. This is not in my paperwork, and no one has ever told me about this. I asked the reason for this cap and did not get a straight answer (something to the effect of selling a new vehicle isn't difficult)
I am beyond irritated. I do not know what to do. If I should try to fight this. I mean it is only $500 but at the same time I feel as though I earned that money. I am green to this industry can you kind redditors please offer insight on how I should proceed. Thanks in advance for any assistance.

My wife was rear ended while at a stop light in January. The car behind her came to a full stop then just decided to go. The light was still red for several seconds after we were hit. Not sure what he was thinking. We exchanged insurance snapped some pictures and went on our way as the car was still drivable. Both us and the other driver have Progressive as our insurance company, which in New Mexico I’m just glad the other driver even had insurance. Also I know they are horrible and it’s a mistake I will be correcting as soon as we get the car back.
Fast forwarding it has now been 6 months. We were told we could take the car to any shop we wanted. We called one of the very few certified shops to do body work on her car in the area. We called the body shop today, which has been fantastic and very communicative since they have had the car. They informed us that they were sent used parts and it is their policy to only use new OEM parts. Is there anything we can do do get insurance to pay for the correct parts, as I really don’t want to have to take it somewhere else and start this process over again. Or have to pay extra to have the shop order the correct thing as, ya know, that’s what I pay insurance for.

Last fall our 2012 Sonata engine decided it was finished at 116K. Called dealership and basically was told “sucks to be you”. This vehicle had been purchased certified used at this same dealership. Let it sit in yard for months, trying to decide our next steps. I started reading your posts about getting company to extend engine warranty. Armed with my research, I called again. I had the car towed in, and within just a few weeks, it is now running and ready to roll with new life without cost. (I did have a few small things serviced, a couple new tires and A/C recharged.). Thanks to you all!

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TLDR: Melee Rogue is still the closest thing to D3 Monk (any set).
Here are some thoughts if anyone here is thinking about “Can I play like a Monk in D4.” Realistically, I bet everyone who would be in this sub has already purchased just because of franchise enthusiasm, which has gotten passe in some Reddit circles.
D3 Monk builds are diverse, and Rogue gets you the closest in terms of ops and literal mechanics. Leveled to 55, and 18ish on other classes.
Rogue feels halfway between D3 Monk and D3 DH. I played melee rogue builds almost exclusively. There is not really a PoJ or GoD style of constant-channel play.
Rogue is a generatospender and trap class at the same tie. While the power’s delivered via the spender, it originates from the imbuements (poison for me; shadow or combination on some builds) applied to the spender and other skills.
You have an offensive ability (poison/shadow imbue) to use strategically, not unlike Mantra of Retribution in design, but is unlike in that it only applies to certain skills: Your spender and optionally traps and the “dash.”
You have a defensive ability (shroud), which is a little bit like Desert Shroud Epiphany, but no teleport, no increased resources, and instead of a cooldown you have “ticks” that decrease each time you’re hit. Perhaps D4 Shroud is most like D3 Desert Shroud in the way ham and hamster, car and carpet, Java and javascript are alike.
You can have a literal dash, which is fine but a little sloppy (too far; I always overshot). You can instead have shadow step (I suppose you could have both but you’d miss out on other critical things - no room on the bar). Shadow step is a targeted dash that actually feels more like SSS. Shadow step is imbueable. The damage is worth the QOL loss in sacking Dash (imo).
You have traps, which are not unlike D3 DH. What is very un-Monk like is traps are more or less required (for buffs/bonuses). Some of them are pretty nuts and I recoiled at having to place them early on but now wouldn’t go without.
Then you have your left-click / right-click with a spender choice of Flurry, Twisting Blades, and nonsense ranged stuff. The spender is where longtime Monks could probably argue the most about what is and isn’t akin to D3.
After a night of playing, I said Flurry was like SSS in another thread here. Actually, Shadow Step is more like SSS. Flurry is an outward/360 AOE attack. The AOE doesn’t feel like PoJ, it feels more like 5 fire WoL procs with a long cool in between (no Tzo Krin Gaze of course).
Twisting Blades could be imagined as PoJ-like (when I say PoJ I guess I really mean TR), in that you have blades in a ring around you. While the visual is similar, the application is more akin to pre-PoJ TR with periodic use only.
The reality is there is no fast-moving, wide AOE, trash-clearing go-to farmy mcfarm build like SoJ PoJ Electric. There are some nods to D3 Monk in the nomenclature of D4 Rogue skills and abilities.
I don’t know if I like D4 or not. The pace is way different than D3. WAY different. It feels like playing old Zelda games a la Link’s Awakening. I liked D3 Monk even before getting heavy into seasons, opto, and playing with a solved meta. I don’t like D4 Rogue in that same way.

I know my life isnt the worst thing possible. Im thankful for what I have I just cant help but feel like shit about it. So im gonna talk about it here.
Lets start at the beginning. I was born in L.A, from what I know my biological father (lets call him Brian) had an affair with another woman. So my mom got divorced and took us (at the time me 3, my bro 5, and my sis 7) to Nebraska. Far away from family, but most of them spoke only spanish anyways. Brian didnt pay child support until recently.
Struggles (idk): We were homeless for a bit less than a year, living at a shelter and a church. We got an apartment. My mother was a hard working single mom, and we moved 4 times in 6 years. Alot of school changes which was hard for me. The lack of a father figure, not even an uncle or grandfather or anyone, was also hard. The overall lack of family sucked balls. It was just us 4.
Stepdad: In 2015 my mom got married (after 10 years fatherless lol 💀). Turns out he never told her that he was a purple heart. Or was an ex-alchololic. Got shot in Iraq + some degenerative spine disorder + PTSD = a not so ideal, in pain, father. He also got my mom pregnant, a kid 10 years younger than me. Parents argue alot over small things which is really annoying. (also his family, my step family is all fragmented. i never had a big family bbq or thanksgiving before, and still havent had one now)
Lil Bro: This kid, fuck bro, he is honestly just a little brat but i still love him. He has ashma, partially deaf in one ear, is overweight, doesnt listen. He causes immense stress on everyone. Especially my short tempered veteran father.
Brother: older brother seemed rather normal until he was about 12. He was always a little nerdy but whatever. Thats when I noticed something was off about him. I think he is slightly autistic but you cant just ask your mom if your bro is a autistic. He has had only one friend come over and that was in like 2nd grade. He is 18 now, no job, no car, no friends, no gf. All he does is play Xbox and jerk off or whatever.
Sister: Around last year my sister (20) was ultra religious in a church we didnt go to anymore (some drama with my parents and the pastor). She got very attached to the pastors daugher and they are besties. Also jesus or whatever. She didnt like our house i guess, i dont blame her. So when she said she was moving, i was proud because she had grown up. Until she told us she was moving in with the pastors family. Yeah. The ones my parents dont like. So yeah that really hurt my mom and made my dad angry.
Back in like 2020/2021 life was looking great. Our new house in omaha was a bit small, but i was near all my friends, school, and a gym a 5 minute walk away. Until we moved to North Omaha. If you dont know all thats up here is old white folks, trailer trash, and poor black people. My parents wanted a ranch style house, without many neighbors. They found one and its an old ass house which had none of those qualities. "but its next to grandma and grandpa". Sadly grandma and grandpa are very old and seeminly tired of being grandparents because its been over a year and we havent visited once. Grandma has had cancer 3x and maybe has dementia so i dont blame her. I decided to go to the same school, now 15 miles/25 minutes away. I dont wanna change schools/North High is the worst school safety wise in the omaha metro. I have my liscense but no car yet. I cant wait to have to drive my autistic brother to his college when i save up for a car. And for my parents to make me drive myself to school, 25 minues away. for a small tank thats a fillup every 2/3 days. Nope. Take a girl on a date? Nope strict mom and father who is distant and uncomfortable to have a conversation with. Wanna hang out with friends? Find a ride. No one likes me enough to drive 30 minutues into north omaha lol.
Goodbye, I typed this quick. If you read all of this ty and keep ya head up big dog. Peace.

was in a car accident a couple of days ago and my car is totaled, not sure if I’m getting anything back but if I do it won’t be allot. I have no money saved, I had a months worth of savings but had to use it on getting my car serviced. All the extra money I had was going to paying down my debt (I had planned on being debt free in a year) . I need a car ti get back and forth to work (a bus isn’t a option it’ll take a hour & a half depending. Lyft would be $15-$20 per trip so $30-$40 a day)
My base salary is around $40k a year but I usually get OT over week and bring home $750-$900 (after taxes) without OT it’s $650 (after taxes) without my car debt I only have around $9k in debt . Realistically I can afford a $300-$400 car payment but that’s setting me back on being debt free.
Not sure what to do, not having a car isn’t a option I need one. This was unexpected and unplanned for. Any advice I’m grateful for
Also I would need a car that can last 5+ years . Financially I didn’t plan on getting a new car for at least another couple years
Without a car payment my monthly expenses is only around $1200

absolutelly different car before update and after... I didnt know if they change car or track or weather or track usage, whatever.. I drive everyday CUP because its my favorite car.. I know how this car breathe.. PB on Gesamtstrecke VLN 7.55.080 and I drive that time 10x in a row.. in half day, half night.. and I finding new purple sectors everyday..
right now... I cant make under 7.56.0, its impossible.. and it happens right after the update.. anyone else feel that?
maybe I damaging my floor on the car over kerbs because new damage model?
but I have full speed on straights.. dont believe thats the reason.. Dont know.. :)

Almost everyday I hear a news that talks about climate change and what the problems are. Now its the wildfire in canada for example. It is also the droughts in every country, the floods in other countries and also the dying forests, I've seen in my country. Climate change is literally affecting everyone and I tried my best, to buy as climate friendly as possible, became a vegetarian because of that, even though I really loved the taste of meat. I stopped travelling with planes and I only vote for parties, that make climate change their main priority. I also only buy second hand anymore and get my electricity from companies that get their energyy from fossil-free sources but everything feels so meaningless.
Yes in my bubble a lot of people do what I do, but in this day and age with that climate crisis, I feel like someone strangles me and every bad news feels like someone is tighten the grip harder and harder. Then I speak with people, who eat meat, vote fore economy instead of environment, buy cars, fly around 5 times a year and they don't waste a single thought on their participation in this whole thing. They argue their meat consumption with taste. An animal, a living fucking being has to die, just because someone likes the taste and it isn't even healthy for us. So many scientists and doctors has already proven the risks it has, when you eat meat regularly. Most fo our illnesses like cancer, heart diseases or strokes coming from a diet based on meat and processed food. There is just no good reason to eat it and if the whole humanity would atleast eat it only once a week, it would have such a massive impact on the environment, that nobody can imagine.
It frustrates me and makes me bitter but most importantly really scared, because one day, we will suffer a lot from not acting fast enough. The chances are high, that this will happen in the next 10 years and I'm just scared. So scared, that I don't know why I even push myself to learn the things I learn currently. There might be a day one day, where the skills I learn currently in university are not even needed anymore. Where in order to survive, I have to learn skills, that are adjusting to the new weather.
It really feels like the majority of humanity gives up and doesn't care what happens to their home planet. Even the big guys musk and bezos are rather investing in rocket science and leaving this planet instead of using their wealth to do good for the environment and rescue our planet. I feel just powerless in all of this, so I tried to avoid news for a while but somehow it still reaches me anyway.

I was in a car accident a couple of days ago and my car is totaled, not sure if I’m getting anything back but if I do it won’t be allot. I have no money saved, I had a months worth of savings but had to use it on getting my car serviced. All the extra money I had was going to paying down my debt (I had planned on being debt free in a year) . I need a car ti get back and forth to work (a bus isn’t a option it’ll take a hour & a half depending. Lyft would be $15-$20 per trip so $30-$40 a day)
My base salary is around $40k a year but I usually get OT over week and bring home $750-$900 (after taxes) without OT it’s $650 (after taxes) without my car debt I only have around $9k in debt . Realistically I can afford a $300-$400 car payment but that’s setting me back on being debt free.
Not sure what to do, not having a car isn’t a option I need one. This was unexpected and unplanned for. Any advice I’m grateful for
Also I would need a car that can last 5+ years . Financially I didn’t plan on getting a new car for at least another couple years
Without a car payment my monthly expenses is only around $1200

What's going on?

A recent Reddit policy change threatens to kill many beloved third-party mobile apps, making a great many quality-of-life features not seen in the official mobile app permanently inaccessible to users.
On May 31, 2023, Reddit announced they were raising the price to make calls to their API from being free to a level that will kill every third party app on Reddit, from Apollo to Reddit is Fun to Narwhal to BaconReader.
Even if you're not a mobile user and don't use any of those apps, this is a step toward killing other ways of customizing Reddit, such as Reddit Enhancement Suite or the use of the old.reddit.com desktop interface .
This isn't only a problem on the user level: many subreddit moderators depend on tools only available outside the official app to keep their communities on-topic and spam-free.

What's the plan?

On June 12th, many subreddits will be going dark to protest this policy. Some will return after 48 hours: others will go away permanently unless the issue is adequately addressed, since many moderators aren't able to put in the work they do with the poor tools available through the official app. This isn't something any of us do lightly: we do what we do because we love Reddit, and we truly believe this change will make it impossible to keep doing what we love.
The two-day blackout isn't the goal, and it isn't the end. Should things reach the 14th with no sign of Reddit choosing to fix what they've broken, we'll use the community and buzz we've built between then and now as a tool for further action.
What can you do?

1. Complain. Message the mods of /reddit.com, who are the admins of the site: message reddit: submit a support request: comment in relevant threads on /reddit, such as this one, leave a negative review on their official iOS or Android app- and sign your username in support to this post.
   
2. Spread the word. Rabble-rouse on related subreddits. Meme it up, make it spicy. Bitch about it to your cat. Suggest anyone you know who moderates a subreddit join us at our sister sub at /ModCoord - but please don't pester mods you don't know by simply spamming their modmail.
   
3. Boycott and spread the word...to Reddit's competition! Stay off Reddit entirely on June 12th through the 13th- instead, take to your favorite non-Reddit platform of choice and make some noise in support!
   
4. Don't be a jerk. As upsetting this may be, threats, profanity and vandalism will be worse than useless in getting people on our side. Please make every effort to be as restrained, polite, reasonable and law-abiding as possible. This includes not harassing moderators of subreddits who have chosen not to take part: no one likes a missionary, a used-car salesman, or a flame warrior.
   

I've been playing the Ice Hockey mode on Rocket League. But, the whole car-controls thing kills it for me. IDK how theres no new NHL pc games since like 2002 LMAO.

I'm trying to purchase a car from an individual that lives in Missouri with me. His lien holder is in New Mexico from when he was in the military. Im getting a loan to buy the car. His bank is stating upon payoff, they will send the title to him. My bank won't issue the payoff without an endorsed title signed by him. His bank won't release the title without the payoff and my bank wont payoff the loan if the title is going to be sent to him. He's requested a power of attorney but his credit union in New Mexico has denied that saying they don't do that. How can we get this done? His idea was to put my banks address as the person the bank sends the title to and then he just drives a couple hours out of his way to sign it when it arrives.

There’s a saying in my hometown: “Nobody leaves Copper Hill for good.”
For years, I’d mostly managed to defy it. In the decade that followed my graduation from Copper Hill High School, I hardly set foot in its vicinity.
Instead, I absorbed myself in my studies at an out-of-state university and, eventually, my career. I spent the little free time I had with my girlfriend, who I’d met as a sophomore in a chemistry lab, and her friends. When we eventually broke up, I lost not only her, but also what little social life I had.
It was in this state of loneliness that I found a letter from my old high school in the mail. This surprised me, as I hadn’t realized that anyone there even knew my current mailing address.
I opened the envelope to find an invitation inside. Its design was fancier than I’d expected, complete with gold-colored glitter, a royal blue background, and a finely-drawn silver border. It read, in cursive letters: Cheers for 10 Years! Zachary R. ___, Please Join Us for the CHHS Class of 2013 Official Reunion. It went on to list a start time and the school’s address.
On its back, it even contained a personalized handwritten note: I know you live far away, Zach, but it would mean so much to me if you can make the trip. Paul and I will be there, and Arthur may fly in as well. I’d love to catch up! Hope to see you soon – Vince K___, Co-Chair, CHHS Reunion Planning Committee.
Vince had been one of my best friends, once. You see, Copper Hill is one of those rare small towns where you can easily graduate from high school alongside the same friends you first made in kindergarten – in my case, my buddies Arthur, Paul, and Vince.
I’d spent most of my youth with them. The four of us were in the same scout troop, played on the same sports teams, and took mostly the same classes. On weekends – and on weeknights, when we felt like sneaking out without permission – we often stayed up late together playing video games and drinking whatever cheap beer we managed to keep hidden from our parents.
We’d meant so much to each other once. So why, since graduation, had I neglected them so badly? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d talked to any of them.
Perhaps this reunion could serve as an opportunity for me to reignite friendships I’d let fade. At a minimum, I knew that spending time – even just one evening – with my old pals would do me a lot of good, especially considering how lonely I’d been lately. Accordingly, I resolved to attend.
~
By the time I reached Copper Hill, I was an hour behind schedule due to congestion caused by an accident. As I approached town, I observed amidst the fading evening light that it appeared even quieter and more deserted than I remembered. Bars that had reliably drawn decent crowds on a Friday night ranged from boarded-up to barely occupied. Meanwhile, the few other cars on the street drove lethargically at speeds far below the limit, and I spotted no pedestrians.
In my memory, the school was only a short distance from the courthouse, city hall, and post office that formed most of ‘downtown,’ but my GPS took me down a long, unfamiliar route bordered on both sides by tall cornfields. I was about to pull over and double-check the address I’d entered when, sure enough, my headlights illuminated a sign in the school’s distinct black and red colors that stated: CHHS: Home of the Patriots.
The brick building that loomed behind it was just as I remembered, from its tall, towering middle section to the two narrower wings that stretched out to the left and right. Through the rectangular windows that lined the main building, I made out indistinct, shadowy figures milling about inside.
A banner displaying Welcome – 10 Years – CHHS Reunion stretched over the stairs that led to the main entrance. Underneath it, a familiar figure scurried towards the main entrance. “Arthur,” I said to myself with a smile.
Seeing Arthur improved my mood. He was the only other member of our class to leave town after graduation, and I suspected that he might share somewhat of an outsider status with me.
It’ll be just like old times, I reassured myself as I approached the building. Strangely, though, it still didn’t feel that way.
For one, the air had a staleness to it that was difficult to describe. It felt artificial and thin such that, as I climbed the front steps, I found myself needing to breathe in more of it than usual to avoid getting winded.
Plus, the school’s location still seemed off somehow. It didn’t make any sense – it’s not like a building this large could have been relocated. But, amidst the eerily quiet surrounding countryside, everything felt more isolated and remote than I remembered it being.
I tried to stop worrying. After all, with any luck, I’d soon be laughing and reminiscing with old friends who’d be happy to see me.
Inside, balloon garlands, multicolored streamers, triangle flags, and small banners welcoming attendees decorated the main corridor. I observed tables stocked with snacks, pamphlets, and information about fundraisers.
The only noise came from the intercom, which planned an era-appropriate Calvin Harris song. Everything necessary for a reunion was there, with only one notable exception: the people.
As I approached an unmanned table marked “Check In,” I wondered where everybody had gone. Perhaps the event had moved to a different room? I was late, after all.
As I added my signature to a sign-in sheet, my eyes scanned the list of other attendees who were marked as having already arrived. I recognized many names on it.
Like Alice, who’d shared a stand with me in orchestra. Our conductor was a hard-ass, a real disciplinarian who snapped at us constantly, and Alice was one of the many students he’d driven to tears on a semi-regular basis.
I’d had this petty fantasy of comforting her after class, and then mustering the courage to ask her out. But I never did it. It was Vince, actually, who’d ended up with her.
That had always annoyed me. I’d confided in Vince about how I felt about Alice and, soon after, the two of them were together. It felt as frustrating as it sounds. But, oh well, that’s what I get for hesitating for as long as I did.
Drifting down the hallway, my eyes caught the words “Reception” displayed over double-doors that led to the gymnasium. It made sense as the main location for the event – that’s where homecoming, prom, and plenty of major sports events were held, after all.
I could hear chatter, laughter, and the loud thump of dance music just beyond the gym doors. I approached it excitedly.
But, when I stepped inside, all the noise instantly cut out, leaving me in an eerie silence. Even more perplexingly, the room before me, like the entrance corridor, was entirely devoid of people.
A party had just been here, no doubt. I spotted a makeshift bar stocked with a standard assortment of liquor, tables holding half-finished drinks and refreshments, and an area cleared for a dance floor in the room’s center, but there were no people around. Had I missed everyone again? Where had they gone?
“Hello?” I called out, to no avail, as I drifted around the room in a state of bewilderment.
As I did so, I came across the entrance to the boy’s locker room. Just a whiff of the musty, sweaty smell emanating from it unlocked long-buried memories of the time I’d spent in there.
I remembered one occasion, in particular, where Paul had gotten pissed at me. Paul was usually a pretty low-key guy, but when he lost it, he went wild. On that particular occasion, he’d been angry with me, hadn’t he? But why?
I recalled his hot breath as he got in my face and screamed at me. When I gently nudged him away, he responded by slamming a locker door into my head.
My memories from that moment forward were hazy. There was a growing pool of blood, the pain of his fist against my cheek, and the cheering of the classmates who had encircled us. They were egging us on to continue the ‘fight,’ as if my beating could be called that.
I hadn’t thought about this event in years. How could I have forgotten something like that? My mind churned in confusion. Feeling dizzy, I took a seat on a bench that appeared to be part of a crude photobooth setup as my mind continued to replay this repressed memory.
As Paul had continued to pummel me, I’d spotted Vince among the gathered crowd. I’d begged for him to intervene. But neither he, nor our strangely absent instructor, had done anything to help me. It was only when Arthur got between us that Paul had reluctantly cooled off.
It had taken weeks for those bruises to heal. Had Paul ever been punished for it, or even apologized? Surely he must have. We’d remained friends, after all.
A strange pressure around my shoulder and a sudden bright light jolted me back to the present. The flash on the camera facing the bench I was sitting on had…gone off, somehow, even with nobody around to operate it. How was that possible? Maybe it was automated to go off every so often?
It didn’t make sense, just like so much else that was happening. Where was everybody, and whose voices had I been hearing? I’d seen people from the road, and I’d even watched Arthur come inside, but, as far as I could tell, the event was deserted.
I texted Arthur asking if he’d found anyone. For all I knew, he could have changed his number in the many years that had gone by since I’d last used it, but I figured it was worth a shot. To my relief, he responded right away.
Hey man, long time no see! Paul just called me. He says everyone’s up on the third floor, in Mr. Minelli’s old room. I’m on my way there now. Meet you there soon.
I couldn’t fathom why the entire event would relocate from the area clearly designated for it to the third floor. There wasn’t much up there, after all, aside from classrooms and a few administrative officers.
Nonetheless, I resolved to head up there. Arthur was there, after all, and hopefully the rest of my friends would be as well.
Navigating off my memory of the building’s layout, I hopped up a small set of steps that connected the gym to the second floor. From there, it would just be a short walk past a few classrooms before I’d arrive at the central staircase, which would take me to my destination.
I’d never seen the school quite this gloomy before. Each footstep echoed through the halls. The classrooms were weirdly empty, too, bereft of any decorations or other signs of use.
I recognized one as my calculus classroom. I remembered how, after class had ended one day, I’d come across a group of students congregating in the hallway.
Mary, Michelle, and Abby, like so many of my classmates, had grown up with me, and I’d always gotten along with them. But that day, they were harassing a shy girl – Morgan, I think. Calling her all sorts of names – ‘slut,’ ‘whore,’ ‘bitch’. She was trying to get away from them, but they wouldn’t let her leave. Their taunting of her became a regular thing, and it often left Morgan in tears.
What ever happened to Morgan? Like most of my friends, I’d known her since I was a little kid. She was quiet, but she was perfectly nice.
Then, one day, gossip about her started to spread. The type of nasty, embellished rumors that often make their way through high schools, full of sexist undertones and double standards. Her former friends shunned her, and she’d been subjected to taunting and ridicule as she walked to class and sat alone at lunch. And, one day, she was just…gone. I’d always assumed that her family had moved away, but was that true?
Growing up, Mary, Michelle, and Abby had always been sweet girls. I’d never seen them treat another person the way they’d treated Morgan. But Copper Hill High School had a way of bringing out the worst in people. There was just something about this building, this place, that ate away at their – at our – souls.
Had I bullied Morgan, too? Maybe not, but, once her mistreatment started, it’s not like I’d made an effort to be kind to her, or ever invited her to sit with me and my friends in the cafeteria. I could have done more.
I reached the central staircase. With each step that I took up towards the third floor, a feeling of dread ran through me. I’d seen something terrible happen up here, hadn’t I?
It was Paul and Vince. Arthur had done something to offend them. It could have been the rumors spreading about his reasons for never having a girlfriend, his diminutive size, or the way he’d reacted when Paul had beaten me half to death.
Whatever the reason, Paul and Vince – without my knowledge – had decided to subject Arthur to a cruel prank. After school one day, they’d lured Arthur up to the third floor, where they’d taken hold of him and tried to wedge him into his own locker.
Now, there’s a reason this sort of thing occurs primarily on 90s sitcoms: most people simply can’t fit inside of a locker. Arthur, as short and skinny as he was, turned out to be no exception, but this only made things worse for him.
As Arthur later related to me, Paul and Vince laughed rowdily as they slammed him repeatedly into the metal frame. By the time they finally relented, Arthur had bruises all over his body.
There were other horrible acts, too. Other victims, other beatings. It dawned on me that this place had been an absolute hellhole. It’s no wonder I – and Arthur, too – had gotten as far away from it as we could at the first opportunity.
The peculiar thing was that, in the years that had passed, I’d somehow forgotten all of this until just now. Instead, my recollections of high school were all happy, all positive. Had false memories of camaraderie and friendship drawn Arthur back as well?
Finally, I reached the third level. The overhead fluorescent light fixtures flickered sporadically, revealing, in brief spurts, dilapidated lockers, litter, and layers of dust and dirt that coated the floor.
I approached Mr. Minelli’s classroom. Through the shaded hallway window, I could discern the outlines of roughly a dozen figures inside. I heard a voice, too. It was muffled and indistinct, but I could tell that the speaker was giving some kind of speech. She stopped, and a loud round of applause followed.
I reached for the door handle, unsure of what to expect. Hopefully, it would just be the people I’d driven four hours to see. But, after the events thus far, I half-expected the room to be empty. If so, I was jumping ship and going home.
To my surprise, just before I made contact with it, the door slowly opened on its own. The brightly-lit room before me was filled not with people, at least in the general understanding of the word. Rather, the still, bony forms before me resembled the kind of props a biology teacher might use to teach human anatomy.
The skeletons that stood silently throughout the room – that stood posed with drinks, that sat at desks, and that had assembled around a speaker - had to be props, right? Even though Mr. Minelli was a history teacher?
My mind searched desperately for some kind of explanation. This had to be an elaborate prank, right? Had Vince and Paul lured me, and maybe Arthur, too, out here just to freak us the fuck out? I wouldn’t put it past them – it’s precisely the kind of thing they’d do, even if the whole set-up, complete with an array of prop skeletons, was a bit extreme.
But, then, who was making all the noises I’d been hearing? Was that part of the prank, too?
Fuck it, I thought. If this was a big gag at my expense, then I’d just have to deal with the embarrassment later. I was getting out of there.
“Zach,” called a strained voice in the hallway.
“If this a joke, then it’s not-”
The voice interrupted me. “Zach, help me, please!” It was Arthur’s voice, and it was coming from the hallway nearby.
He sounded like he was in serious trouble, so I hurried after him. Eventually, I found myself in a corner of the hallway – one where, if I remembered correctly, he and I used to have lockers. But, once again, I found myself alone.
I yelled out his name several times: “Arthur! Arthur!” It was no use. I appeared to be at a dead end.
That’s when the locker next to me shook. I jumped back, surprised.
It was shut, but not locked. I gripped the handle and pulled it open.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw inside: it was Arthur’s torso. The rest of his body was gone, and something was dragging what was left of him further away, further back into a dark abyss where the wall should have been.
Blood gurgled out of his mouth as he gasped my name one last time. He reached out a blood-covered hand. Hoping to somehow pull him out, I tried to take it, only for whatever unseen force had taken hold of him to pull him away, leaving behind a wide hole in the back of the locker. More blood gushed through it, leaking onto the hallway floor.
“So glad you could make it,” said a monotone voice behind me. I whirled around to see two fleshy arms emerge from another locker across from me. The skinless figure left wet, red stains on the white surface as she got to her feet and stepped towards me. “Don’t you recognize your old crush? Surely ten years haven’t been that rough on me.”
“A-alice?” I stuttered, stepping backwards.
Lockers all around me started opening, each accompanied by a new pair of bloody, seemingly boneless arms of figures that slowly crawled outwards.
My survival instincts kicked in. I sprinted away, my legs frantically carrying me towards the main staircase. All around me, figures emerged, reaching out to me as I passed by. Through an open door, I noticed that another classroom was filled with skeletons, just as Mr. Minelli’s had been.
When I reached the main staircase, it was guarded by a tall, fleshy figure. “Don’t you want to be with us?” it asked in a familiar, deep voice that I knew to be Paul’s. “We can be complete. A full class. All of us, together again. Like old times.”
He lurched for me. Just barely, I managed to dodge him, but I lost balance in the process. Before I knew it, I was tumbling down the stairs. Pain shot through me as I collided with step after step.
Finally, I landed on a level surface. Dizzily, I climbed to my feet and did my best to ignore the soreness that spread throughout my body.
A quick glance upwards confirmed that the bloody figures – the ones that somehow resembled my old classmates – were, indeed, heading towards me.
Meanwhile, the temperature inside was rising noticeably, and the walls around me were steadily changing in color from a dull gray to a deep red.
As I scrambled down the rest of the stairs and across the main corridor on the first floor, an intense tremor ran through the building, sending me sprawling to the ground. Despite a sharp pain that spread through my ankle, I hobbled as quickly as I could to the exit.
I didn’t look back as I made my way across the parking lot to my car. I started the ignition, backed out, and headed towards the long road I’d used to get there.
In my rearview mirror, I chanced a glance back at the school. It was shaking violently, like it was being struck by an earthquake.
My car lurched in different directions as the ground underneath me also started to rumble. In an effort to avoid my car being sent off the road and into the neighboring fields, I frantically steered it to the center, between the lanes heading into and out of town.
When I looked back again, the school was, somehow, even closer to me than it had been before. How was that possible? Was it following me?
I floored the accelerator. Row after row of cornfield flew by me as I drove at the fastest speed of my life.
~
I was on the edge of town, close to the nearest interstate ramp, when local police pulled me over.
As the officer approached me, I stared into the rear view mirror. At the first glimpse of whatever it was that had chased after me, I’d hit the road again, law enforcement be damned. In truth, I hadn’t seen my pursuer since I’d exited the cornfield a few minutes ago, but I hardly felt safe.
“Clocked you going nearly a hundred, son,” said the officer.
I stayed silent. My baffled self was unsure of how to best handle the situation.
The officer gave me a quizzical look as he examined my ID and registration. “You’re Don and Fran’s son, aren’t you? The one who left town?”
I nodded.
“Why’d you come back?”
“There was, uh, a ten-year reunion. For my graduating class.”
He shook his head. “I doubt that.” He looked down, then at my perplexed face. “Where, exactly, was this ‘reunion’?”
“At the school,” I said. I struggled to understand his reaction. What about my story didn’t make sense? And, regardless, was I about to be booked for driving fifty miles over the speed limit? Is that something they throw you in jail for?
“Wait here,” barked the officer. He went to his car where he proceeded to have a long conversation over his radio. After a few minutes, he returned to me. “Get out of here, son. Leave, and don’t come back. Don’t do something like this again. You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” I said, astonished.
“Then scram,” he ordered.
I obliged and began the long journey home.
~ I had no idea what to make of what occurred. I can hardly find anything at all online about Copper Hill High, or any of my classmates who went there, and I’m not exactly eager to reach out to any of them.
I can’t make much sense of what happened, but I am sure of one thing: that I barely made it out of that situation, and that I shouldn’t press my luck much further.
My ankle needs some more time to heal. Once it does, I’m going to try joining a social club and making new friends. After what happened to me in Copper Hill, I decided that the past is not a place where I need to dwell any longer.
Two weeks have passed since the reunion. Today, an envelope with no return address arrived with my mail. It contained a single photograph on glossy paper with a short note written underneath.
The photo featured me on the bench in the photo booth. Sitting to my side, with his arm over my shoulders, was Vince. He wore a blue collared shirt and looked…normal. No missing skin, no bloody imprints on the surface around him.
Paul crouched behind us, a dopey grin on his face. He, too, looked just as I’d imagined he would in his late twenties. To Paul’s right, Abby, Morgan, and Michelle posed together with their arms around each other.
It was…a perfectly ordinary image - the exact kind of photo you’d expect to be taken at an event like that.
The handwritten caption underneath read, “Although your visit was briefer than we preferred, we all had a splendid time catching up with you, Zach! Please feel free to come by anytime! Nobody truly leaves Copper Hill, after all. – Vince K___, Co-Chair, CHHS Reunion Planning Committee.
P.S., the note continued, We are delighted that Arthur has finally joined us. Maybe you will, too, at our 20th.
The writing up to this point was cursive font in traditional black ink. The last few words, however, were larger in size, messily scrawled, and colored a deep shade of red: See you then, buddy, if not sooner.
X

So my 04 Camry has a problem where its AC system only blows warm air. I took it in to a local mechanic to look over my AC system. He found no leaks or anything. So he suggested that the system is either clogged, or needs a new compressor unit. My compressor is soaked in oil from a previous oil leak (Valve cover gasket got replaced. No more oil leaks) that I had a year back. Anyway, irrelevant. It used to blow cool only if I drove it. It never blowed cold when I sat there idle. Now it doesn't even blow cool air period. Its got the correct amount of freon in the system. I also put in a can of AC oil, and it still doesn't work.
My question is, I'm not trying to break the bank and spend a shit ton of money on my parts. So I looked on RockAuto and found the compressor kit for $285. I was wondering how good the quality on the kits are on RockAuto, and how they deal with warranty on RockAuto. It comes with the compressor, condenser, and the dryer. Anybody have any luck with RockAuto's compressor kits?

Hey guys I’m trying to get a new clutch kit on my car and I don’t which way to go with the slave cylinder Which one do you recommend for drifting ?

I've been casually looking for a 718 GT4 for a few months, and after realizing that new allocations are a dead end, I started browsing for used ones in all the typical places. I recently saw a real gem for sale in Westwood, MA at the Porsche dealer, being offered for ~$124K. Gentian Blue, Manual, Carbon Bucket Seats, Carbon Ceramic Brakes, 1 owner, 15k miles.
Not to my surprise, but when I called up the dealership the salesman told me that it was already spoken for, and actually it didn't even last a week at that price. He was a really friendly guy and offered to keep me in touch on any similar ones down the road, which I of course appreciate.
Flash forward a week and now I see the same car being sold at some "side of the road" exotic car dealership in MA, for $137k. WTF?!
This is the kind of stuff that makes my blood boil and honestly is part of what drives the outrageous prices in the used car market. I like owning sports cars that appreciate, and I also understand that a dealer needs to make a profit (especially if they actually do some work on the car), but $13K for flipping a car that you basically just picked up 3 days ago is robbery in my opinion. It's instances like this that make me secretly hope the market tanks and people like that lose a bunch of money.
Sorry for the rant, but pretty pissed about that one.