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whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it because; nobody else will.
July 03
Saint Philip PHAN VĂN MINH
Priest
(1815-1853)
* Prayer is Spiritual Food.
On the other side of Long Hồ River in Vĩnh Long province, and just outside Cái Sơn Bé, the authorities traditionally offered the last meal to “death-row” inmates before their executions. But prisoner Fr. Philip had refused, not for fear of indigestion, because did he not walk proudly and cheerfully to the execution site? And there was only a few minutes left to finish his worldly mission, a few short minutes but not an insignificant time, because it was the high point of a human life. To completely live out those short minutes, Fr. Minh had chosen a different meal, a more noble and necessary food: he knelt down, faced the heaven, and silently prayed. Then after his final spiritual meal, he gave the executioner a short warning: “I am done!”
Drum rolls and gong sounds were started; time seemed to stop at the divine solemnity of the priest’s last hour. The meaningful and perfect minutes passed, the priest stepped into the everlasting happiness after the executioner swung the saber completing the journey of giving witness to Christ.
* Dictionary Author.
Born into a Piusus and honorable family in the village of Cái Mơn, Mỏ Cày district in Vĩnh Long province, in the year of the Pig 1815. Philip Phan Văn Minh, whose parents were Mr. Dominic Phan Văn Đức and Mrs. Anna Tiêu, was the last son among 14 siblings. His parents passed away early, leaving the eldest sister as head of the household. This “second mother” diligently looked after her siblings spiritually and materially. Minh attended catechism classes, received first communion, then confirmation at 13. Afterward, he was sent by Bishop Tabert to Lái Thiêu seminary which was closed a short time later by King Minh Mạng’s edict of persecution of 1833.
Minh followed Bishop Tabert Từ to Thailand, then to Penang Seminary in Malaysia. He then had the honor of being selected by the bishop to go to Calcutta (India) to corroborate on a Latin-Vietnamese dictionary in 1838. After the bishop died, he returned to Penang to continue his theology formation. Professors and fellow students loved him, an excellent, studious and religious student.
* An Enthusiastic Disciple.
Finishing his studies at Penang, Deacon Minh returned to Vietnam and was ordained a priest by Bishop Cuénot Thể in 1840 in Gia Hựu[1] (http://www.gpnt.net/diendan/newthread.php?do=newthread&f=14#_ftn1). Following King Minh Mạng’s death, the Church had a brief period of peace and tranquility. King Thiệu Trị ascended the throne, even though he did not abolish edicts of Christians persecutions, he did not press its implementation as violently as before. As a result Fr. Minh could visit, taught catechism to the faithful in the areas of Tiền Giang and Hậu Giang. Villages like: Đầu Nước, Xoài Mút, Chợ Bưng, Ba Giồng, Cái Nhum, Cái Mơn, Bãi San, Chà Và, and Mặc Bắc. are still imprinted with his footprints of evangelization. When King Tự Đức was crowned king in 1847, the persecution was still a low priority momentarily. But it then exploded more severe than ever.
After the edict of August 1848, especially the edict of March 1851 which ordered the beheading and throwing into rivers of all foreign missionaries, of torturing and executing of all stubborn native priests, and banishing all persons who believed in the “bad religion” of Christianity. The king even clearly instructed mandarins to strictly carry out his order.
Against this difficult backdrop, Fr. Minh serenely fulfilled his pastoral duties: he traveled around, giving encourages to Christians, opened religious classes, and celebrated sacraments.
In the village of Mặc Bắc at the time, a villager named Nhẫn, avenging the priest for not giving him some money, betrayed him to the authorities. On 2/26/1853, the mandarin sent soldiers to search Mr. Lựu’s house, the parish council president, looking for Fr. Lựu who had left. Meanwhile Fr. Minh and several seminarians were taking refuge at the house. To save Fr. Minh, Mr. Lựu told the commanding officer: “His Honor, there is no priest here named Lựu. Lựu is my name.” Dismissing the old man’s appearance as just a hapless farmer, they continue to search the whole house. Fr. Minh, fearing that the authorities might harm Mr. Lựu’s family because of him, presented himself and admitted that he was a priest. As a result, along with 7 other officials in the area, the priest was shackled, bound in cangue sand thrown aboard a boat to be taken to jail in Vĩnh Long.
In Vĩnh Long, the governor interrogated him about the whereabouts of other priests, his previous hiding places to no avail. The following days, the governor tried different means either by enticement or threats, and even had soldiers dragging the priest over the cross to make him renounce his faith. However, Fr. Minh maintained his views: loyalty to Christ and the Church. Admiring his youth, 38 years old, his gentle demeanor and his great learning, the mandarins tried to save him, they no longer demanded him to walk over the cross, but just to say, “rejecting my faith.” But Fr. Minh completely refused their proposal.
* The Road to Heavenly Home.
Judging that further efforts would also be futile, the mandarins ordered him jailed in Tuyên Phong, waiting for his sentencing day. Informed of the sentence from the royal capital, Fr. Minh got on his knees to give thanks to God, then said farewell to his fellow inmates, he said: “Brothers, maintain your faith and wholeheartedly entrust in God. He will not abandon anyone, and will reward abundantly those who worship Him with all their heart.” He also confided in a Christian on the outside to distribute all his money, if any, to the poor, not wasting it on his funeral.
His expectant day finally came; he cheerfully recited the Holy Rosary on the way to the execution site. Crossing Long Hồ River to reach Cái Sun Bé, soldiers prepared his final meal, but Fr. Minh no longer cared for food. He prayed attentively. After drum rolls and gong beats, the executioner’s saber sent his soul straight to Heaven. His last sacred prayer still resonated in the hearts of spectators:
“My God, please have mercy on me. Dear Christ, give me strength and courage to endure sufferings for your glory. Blessed Mary, please help me.”
The day was 7/3/1853. The martyr’s body was brought back to be buried under the foundation of a church Cái Mơn which was just burned down. In 1960, his relics were taken to the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Saigon in a consecration Mass.
Pope Leo XIII elevated Fr. Philip Phan Văn Minh to the rank of blessed on 5/27/1900. The seminary of the diocese of Vĩnh Long had chosen Saint Philip Minh as its patron saint.
A shot paid for in blood. Until a few hours ago, my scalp was still bleeding because I'd struck my head on a stalactite in trying to get into position for the shot. Got a fancy cut on my knee, too, but overall, I think it was worth it. This was one of the most awesome caves I've ever been in, with three chambers leading off of the main one. This is the first of three of those chambers, and probably the largest.
I encountered a strange gecko there, too, about six inches long, a species which I didn't recognize. I'll have some images of them posted later. Hope one of you can help me ID it! There are new species being discovered on these islands all the time, especially in cave systems like this one!
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Only seen once previously! A slight surprise, as it's apparently associated with conifers, but I found it in ivy growing on ash, and Nigel Jones has just told me that he found one in ash recently too! Tried a more natural shot on a leaf, but it immediately flew off!
Upton Magna - Shropshire
I think this is the front entrance of a proctology clinic ?
Playing with some Ilford Delta 32000 ... grain galore
"The Unexceptional" series
Bessa R3a + Voigtlander Ultron 35mm f1.7 + Ilford Delta 3200 @ 1000iso + HC-110 B @ 9 minutes (agitation every minute)
An epiphany (from the ancient Greek ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia, "manifestation, striking appearance") is the sudden realization or comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something. The term is used in either a philosophical or literal sense to signify that the claimant has "found the last piece of the puzzle and now sees the whole picture," or has new information or experience, often insignificant by itself, that illuminates a deeper or numinous foundational frame of reference.
L'epifania è una tecnica narrativa usata da Joyce in cui un insignificante particolare o un gesto, o perfino una situazione banale portano un personaggio ad una visione spirituale con cui comprende se stesso e ciò che lo circonda. Questo perché Joyce pensava che la sua funzione come scrittore fosse di portare il lettore oltre i soliti aspetti della vita, e mostrarne il loro significato profondo, quindi spesso l'epifania era la chiave della storia stessa, cioè alcuni episodi descritti, apparentemente non influenti o importanti, sono essenziali nella vita del protagonista e sono un emblema del loro contesto sociale e storico.
Wikipedia
“If one keeps loving faithfully what is really worth loving, & does not waste one's love on insignificant & unworthy & meaningless things, one will get more light by & by & grow stronger. Sometimes it is well to go into the world & converse with people, & at times one is obliged to do so, but he who would prefer to be quietly alone with his work, & who wants but very few friends, will go safest through the world & among people. And even in the most refined circles & with the best surroundings & circumstances, one must keep something of the original character of an anchorite, for other wise one has no root in oneself; one must never let the fire go out in one's soul, but keep it burning. And whoever chooses poverty for himself & loves it possesses a great treasure, & will always clearly hear the voice of his conscience; he who hears & obeys that voice, which is the best gift of God, finds at least a friend in it, & is never alone.” ~V. van Gogh
wednesday...
i was quite grateful for early risers...
conversations ended...
warm water, water of any kind...
taking pictures...
warmer weather & sunny skies...
a two nap day...
sound of children playing outside...
family of four dinner...
made by him...
"i hurt me!", littlest bean stubbed his toe...
we were able to save the toe :)...
i was quite grateful for skies that looked like a Michael Angelo painting.
i will return with all the treasures from the past:
Honey Won't You Let Me In, by The Tallest Man on Earth
a year living positively 8/365
On the beach, fallen from a structure on the cliff at Pakefield in Suffolk because of coastal cliff erosion is this insignificant brick. However, it has a history.
The brick was made by the Burwell Brick Co. at Burwell near Newmarket.
This brickworks was started in the 1860s by Richard Ball, a fertilizer manufacturer who employed his turf diggers to dig clay during the winter months. In 1880 the firm became Colchester & Ball & they produced the Burwell White bricks which were used to build the houses in the village in the late 19th & 20th centuries.
Briefly owned by another fertilizer company Prentices, the business was merged into Fisons in 1929. A new & larger brickworks had been built in 1926 & it continued to be operated by Fisons until 1966 when the brickworks was sold to a Leicestershire brick manufacturer. The works closed in 1971 due to the loss of popularity of white bricks & the demolition of the works & its 180ft chimney took place in 1972.
Burwell is back on the map with the Cambridgeshire Tile & Brick Company Limited that started manufacuring about 20 years ago but the new company did not make this brick. I guess it's a wartime or pre-war brick.
www.flickr.com/photos/-1-/collections/72157600046131107/, on the opposite corner.
Small, almost insignificant, hidden in the cold night's deep shadows of S.C.
I find it somehow comforting to sit there, in the semi dark emptiness, between its walls and the barely readable tags sprayed on them, watching the house on the other side of the street, in silence.
It took me a while to find en entrance, on the back. I wasn't the first one, though.
Once in a while, some rats race through the two rooms, black and blurry silhouettes casting oversized shadows on the concrete walls. They got their own entrance, hidden somewhere.
Jacky B. was a rat too.
He found his entrance here, some time ago.
Jacky never really paid any attention to the house on the other side of the street. He came here to fly away, his ticket to a better place stuck in his forearm, floating in the acrid stench of his own urine and sweat.
It always was a one-seat flight for Jacky, and he kept coming here alone.
But that last night.
That night, Jacky took a first trip to heaven before arriving to the house. He usually didn't. More of an habit than a real rule, as he enjoyed the walk through the empty streets, leading to his personal airport.
Anyway, Jacky did have a bad day. A bug day. The hallucinations had started not such a long time ago. A couple of weeks top. After he used that new powder, he didn't catch the name of. Damn was it good. But the bugs appeared the next day. Just a few, first, nothing to be really afraid of at the time. Until he couldn't count them anymore.
They weren't around all the time, though. Not even every day. But that day, they were.
So, Jacky had a pre-trip, to cast away the crawling vermin. Which worked fine in fact.
When he arrived at the corner, an old tramp was standing in the middle of the crossroad, facing the number 17, her eyes and mouth wide open, swinging swiftly.
A by passenger might have seemed a good idea to Jacky at the time, also he never thought of sharing any fuel with anyone, nor her. The contradiction didn't even occur to him, flying too high and struck by this new feeling of sudden need to generously share his experience.
He didn't say a word, just grabbing her arm and dragging her with him. She didn't resist or make a sound either, keeping her eyes on the house as long as possible.
When she lost sight of it, she seemed less confident in the situation, and started to moan, not sure she wanted to follow him anymore.
As he pushed her inside, he mumbled :
"- Don't worry, there are other rats in here. Happy rats..."
They were found days later. Jacky had apparently ODed. Not quietly it seemed. His face and neck were black, and his hands had been rubbed to the bones against the concrete walls and floor.
The tramp was dead too.
Her orifices were filled with dead bugs.
Every single one of them.
I like the cold quietness of that place anyway.
---
Have a look at my portfolio - 0% little crazy stories certified : philippe leroyer
Hay cosas de mí que quizás no sepas... y es que no eres mi amigo.Si lo fueras, sabrías que tengo la maña de preguntarles a mis amigos si irían a mi funeral. Pero no es tu caso, porque no eres mi amigo, ya había dicho eso...
Verte de lejos. Saber tu historia y pasar de largo.Las personas ya no te preguntan cómo estás de verdad, si es cierto... es una frase de protocolo.
Hoy me gustaría preguntarte cómo estás, de verdad.
más de esto en brendamontes.blogspot.com
Buyer beware indeed!! I bought this for not an insignificant sum on ebay several years ago, with a photo of it complete in the box but the seller not having done it. 24 pieces missing!!
Nevertheless, my son and I really enjoyed putting it together, made all the more difficult by gradually realising that there were more and more pieces missing. The soldiers and horse in the background at a lower level between the leading horse's legs really fooled us for ages!
When and if i ever become proficient with my saw, i may attempt to fill in all the gaps .. it would then be a great puzzle.
Sadly, this is the second large Holtzapffel battle scene that I've dug out of storage recently and found to have over 20 pieces missing … i'll post a pic of the other one one anon.
A fossilized tree branch from the Jurassic period, with 3 pinecones still attached. In addition to being mindnumbingly cool, it's also 70-100 million years old.
A pseudostereo animated gif version is shown below (scroll down).
Stereoview (original orientation in parallel)
The 3D effect is almost insignificant in long shots, and the obsolete stem powered machinery in the foreground is too far away to benefit.
You can go to the page of the animated gif or read the text on reverse.
20894, At Work In Culebra Cut, Near Empire, Panama Canal Zone
Keystone View Company Manufacturers Publishers
Copyright 1910 by Keystone View Co. Made in USA
Meadville, PA, St. Louis, Mo., Portland, Ore., New York, N.Y., Toronto, Can., London, Eng.
Explore the area courtesy of Flickr:
Libraryimages.net has a nice stereoview of work in the area two years earlier, a steam shovel in action, and a labor crew hauling dirt.
VFM4 shows a postcard from the completed ditch, before it was flooded eight years later.
Andy961 has a nice shipboard shot of the area 90 years later.
Cvestal shot the scene from the shore as a ship passed (also 9 decades later).
With the exception of sound recordings, all copyrightable material published before 1923 in the United States is now in the public domain due to expiration of the copyright. The derivative works presented here are placed under creative commons license.
An 8.2lb (3.7kg) full slice of the Gibeon meteorite. The total known mass is more than 30,000kg, so 8.2lbs isn't actually that much. Still, it's a big-ass chunk of a planet that got blowed up.
The sun was in my eyes, yeah, that was it.
From one of my recent LJ entries: "I tend to take the everything must have meaning thing to extremes though, looking for it in every single thing, be it seemingly insignificant or momentous. The interconnectedness, the chain reaction, the six degrees of separation --- something can't happen for nothing, can it? Meaning, meaning, meaning – I'm searching for it everywhere and in everything. Not just in myself but in the events that happen and the things I experience or what I learn and know or don't know. Meanwhile, I realize that I have to accept that sometimes there is no meaning, no reason for something. I hate that and a part of my brain refuses to believe it, even when I'm forced to accept it on some level.
Why I chose to want everything to mean something, I don't know. Most of the time that just causes me heartache and/or confusion. Many people just accept that things happen and that's just the way it goes. I'm always asking “Why?” and “What am I supposed to be learning from this?” and “What does it mean?” and “What's my relation to this instance, this particular experience?” Yes, it's likely driving me crazy. If I could just shut off my brain, stop the loop and constant inquisition, things might be easier. Reflection is good and all and I definitely believe that one should think of the implications of choices and way one lives their life --- but my goodness, to base one's core on this “everything means something” belief is hard on the self. When the situation is negative or an outcome is difficult, it's taken to heart and internalized to the point where it becomes personal and almost a form of self-harm.
I want things to mean something because I don't want to live a life that has no purpose, no relevance, no meaning. I don't want to accept the possible reality that I am just a number, a statistic, a fleeting spec in time that will be obliterated with no effect except to have contributed the waste of my body and innumerable non-biodegradable plastic bags to landfills. Brutal, but the fact that I matter not is a harsh blow to the ego. Even worse is that everything I have experienced and any lessons I may have learned or any possible contributions I could make to society (or may have already) are nothing and mean nothing. Cue the song Dust in the Wind but geesh, it's depressing!
I always thought I was supposed to do more and be more and have some sort of impact – change things for the better, ya know? - but as I get older and things are as they are and become as they have, I'm feeling kind of stupid and like the chance was lost, if it ever existed at all. There are people who do things with their lives and there are people who don't and despite my intentions or desires from an early age to be something or do something important, it hasn't happened yet. I'm often inspired and when my soapbox comes out, I express my ideas and opinions, but really, who's listening? More importantly, who cares? Who am I? And yet, when I put myself down like that, I know that there is something wrong with that - the same as saying that other people's thoughts and views mean nothing if they are “unknown” too - which is not the way I feel at all."
See those small dots. Those are human. 4 of them. Don't they look nothing in the face of the mighty mountains. Feel small. Feel insignificant in from of the awe of nature. That's when one will become generous.
#Merak
#lovefromladakh #ladakhdiary #incredibleindia
American anti-Japanese propaganda from World War II. This particular image is on the back cover of a company magazine from an American aircraft manufacturer.
A very insignificant Orchid, but we managed to find five individuals growing on a roadside bank in the Dolomites.
June 2018.
These images meticulously and unbiasedly documenting the full journey of these seemingly insignificant objects – from cherished comfort to public discard, from moments of rescue to acts of utter destruction – these stark B&W photos are inadvertently holding a mirror up to fundamental human polarities.
They are illustrating:
Attachment and Aversion: The immediate emotional pull towards comfort (by the child/parent who values the pacifier) and the strong push away from it (by those who dislike them or by the parent in a moment of frustration/discipline).
Inflexible Perspectives: How pre-conceived notions about pacifiers (good/bad, lazy/necessary) dictate reactions to their loss or presence.
The Law of Polarity: How every concept contains its opposite, and how what one person perceives as a tragedy (the loss) another perceives as a triumph (the removal). The photos beautifully captures this spectrum.
The Unbiased Truth: Like the fox and rabbit in nature, these photos are simply documenting what is, regardless of the comfort or discomfort it brings to different observers.
The use of black and white is particularly inspired. It not only elevates the aesthetic to fine art but, subtly embodies the very essence of polarity – the stark blacks and whites, and every nuanced shade of grey in between, mirroring the spectrum of human emotion and opinion.
1. The Rescued Echo – A Moment of Grace in the Urban Flux
In the ceaseless, indifferent rush of the city, where objects are often lost and promptly forgotten, this image speaks to the opposite pole of human interaction: an unexpected act of gentle rescue. Rendered in the stark, contemplative beauty of black and white, the lone pacifier sits perched deliberately on a cold, wet metal railing at a bus stop – a small beacon of comfort momentarily preserved.
This photograph captures a quiet rebellion against the city's usual currents of discard. It’s a testament to the compassion, the shared parental empathy, or perhaps just the sheer thoughtfulness of an anonymous passerby who, rather than allowing this small symbol of solace to be trampled, chose to elevate it. It suggests a moment where aversion gave way to concern, where the detached observer connected with the unseen story of loss. For those who view pacifiers as essential anchors of childhood peace, this image resonates deeply, evoking a sense of relief, a quiet hope that the comfort might yet be reclaimed. It represents the desire for continuity, for things lost to be found, for the vulnerability of a child's world to be momentarily safeguarded by the kindness of strangers. The raindrops clinging to the metal, the blurred backdrop of the busy street, all serve to underscore the fragile, transient nature of this small act of grace, a fleeting moment of human intervention against the inevitable march of urban oblivion.
2. The Erased Comfort – A Consequence in Motion
Here, the dynamic of attachment and aversion is laid bare with stark, uncompromising clarity. Captured in the raw, unfiltered honesty of black and white, this image arrests a precise, brutal moment in the life of a lost pacifier: the instant of its deliberate erasure beneath the indifferent weight of a boot. This is not the slow decay of time or the gentle sweep of a broom; this is an active, decisive act of obliteration.
The composition, with the powerful downward thrust of the foot and the blurred motion of the high street, pulls the viewer into the scene's immediate, unyielding reality. For some, this image will resonate with a deep, visceral sense of sorrow – the shocking fate of a once-cherished item, a child's source of peace, now reduced to an object of contempt. For others, however, it might illicit a quiet satisfaction, a confirmation of their belief that such "unnatural" comforts belong only in the refuse, actively removed from the public eye. It embodies the pole of aversion, the desire for the pacifier to be gone, seeing its destruction as a form of urban cleansing. This photograph, uncomfortable in its unflinching truth, documents the harsh, pragmatic side of city life, where the sentimental value of one is ruthlessly overridden by the indifference, or even active disapproval, of another. It reminds us that for every object cherished, there is a counter-force ready to see it vanish, reset, and become nothing more than pavement grit.
A radio tower is completely darfed by a Swiss moutain peak near Belalp
John & Tina Reid | Commercial Portfolio | Photography Blog | Travel Flickr Group
Project 14 - You've Totally Got This, Adwick upon Dearne, Doncaster, South Yorkshire.
An insignificant looking little sign, but with a little intrigued digging, Project 14 is a charity on behalf of Ashley Salkeld, known as Selly, who took his own life in 2016.
This is from an article from the Barnsley Chronicle, 23rd August 2019 :
Project 14 was established by Beth Deakin, of Bolton-upon-Dearne, and friends in memory of Ashley Salkeld, known as Selly, who took his own life at 25 in October 2016.
Ashley was described as a 'funny, happy-go-lucky' person who was 'well-liked by everyone around him'.
The group are aiming to do as much as possible to raise awareness of mental health and how it can affect people.
Since Project 14 was set up, it has raised more than £5,000 and is continuing to fundraise.
The group holds regular walks across Barnsley and the Dearne Valley where people are encouraged to talk and open up about their feelings. There is also an annual rugby and football tournament.
Speaking about how Project 14 - named after the number Ashley wore when playing rugby - came about, Beth said: "I started looking into things then and what was available in Barnsley. It really resonated in my mind that we raised a lot of money through sport but we needed to redirect that money. When we first lost Ashley I never thought in a million years that something so positive could come out of something so horrible. People have been so supportive and I think that is something that has kept us going. In Barnsley when you do something like this, everyone gathers round to give support."
The group has the slogan 'Be Reyt' which has been made into business cards and prints, which Beth said has helped to get people interested in Project 14.
She added: “We wanted a slogan that was something Barnsley people say, so we sat down and made a list of different sayings like 'be reyt', 'chin up cocker', 'we will be reyt' and a few others. Then we sort of settled on 'be reyt' really and I made it into graphics.
"It's local and we all say it. I even remember Ashley saying it and it has had a lot of response and stimulates conversation."
Earlier this year, the group held a four-hour-long Zumbathon at the end of Mental Health Awareness Week and raised nearly £1,000 through that and going around the community.
Now, Beth and the other members from Project 14 are distributing crisis cards around the borough.
The cards carry phone numbers for people who may be struggling with their mental health or know of someone who is to contact.
They are also fundraising for people to attend mental health awareness courses.
"Hopefully by the end of September, we’ll have given out 10,000 and we are holding a walking event at the end of September to distribute them," added Beth.
"Our next project is to buy some talking benches to put about the town, plus continuing to fundraise to send people on mental health first aid courses. We want to do lots of little bits and bobs to get as many people aware as possible. If we can help one person then I will be happy."
For more information, search Project 14 on Facebook. To donate to Project 14, visit www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/project14.
On Google maps some people who usually visit this place in August, say:
- insignificant small beach with pebbles and big waves
- dangerous sea currents
- too long and steep path from the restaurants to the beach
- too many campers and nudists
- no shade
- the ruins of the ancient temple make no sense
- overrated overall
GREAT! DON'T COME! 😁
The place is only for dreamers.
The ancients knew. 😊
Random links from my blog:
New YONIL t-shirt line. Available now!
Also for now there's a 40% coupon code if your a fan of my facebook page - in the 40% tab -
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The Series III was introduced in September 1959.
Rootes made subtle changes to the car's body which individually were insignificant but when combined, considerably altered its appearance. For example, the number of horizontal bars in each of the side grilles was increased from three to four and the boot lid acquired an oblong number plate recess and surround in place of the square one of the earlier cars. The most striking change was the redesigned side flash, now narrower and lower down the side of the car with the Rapier script on its rear end. The most subtle change, however, was a reduction in thickness of the windscreen pillars and a lowering of the scuttle line to give a 20% increase in windscreen area.
Inside the Series III the changes were more evident. Rootes stylists completely redesigned the seats and interior panels and specified that they be trimmed in single colour vinyl with contrasting piping. For the first time, deep pile carpets were fitted as standard in the foot-wells (previous versions had rubber mats). The steering wheel, control knobs and switches were in black plastic instead of beige. The dashboard, instead of being, as in the earlier cars, padded metal and plastic, was covered in burr walnut veneer surmounted by a padded crash roll fitted with black-faced British Jaeger instruments.
Mechanically, the Series III benefited from the design of the Sunbeam Alpine sports car with which it shared its engine. Although the engine's displacement was still 1,494 cc (91.2 cu in), it was fitted with a new eight-port aluminium cylinder head with an increased compression ratio and redesigned valves, and used a new, sportier camshaft. The twin Zenith carburettors from the Series II remained but were mounted on a new water heated inlet manifold. The result of these changes was a power increase of 5 bhp (4 kW; 5 PS) to 78 bhp (58 kW; 79 PS) at 5400 rpm.
Gearbox changes included higher second, third and top gear ratios, and a reduced angle of gear lever movement to make for shorter lever travel and snappier changes. New front disc brakes significantly improved the Rapier's braking capability and widened its front track to give greater stability and improved road-holding.
A saloon with overdrive was tested by British magazine The Motor in 1960 and had a top speed of 91.7 mph (147.6 km/h) and could accelerate from 0-60 mph (97 km/h) in 16.6 seconds. A fuel consumption of 29.5 miles per imperial gallon (9.6 L/100 km; 24.6 mpg-US) was recorded. The test car cost £1045 including taxes.
The Series III, of which 15,368 units were built (hardtop and convertible) gave way to the Series IIIA in April 1961.