by Eric Vall
I cracked my neck and brought the jug along to finish up the front end. Stan tapped against the hull of the jug when I clunked it to the ground, and he leaned over the mouth to listen to the echo inside. Then he continued to tap the jug in different spots to experiment with the different tones.
I smirked at the little metal man’s intrigue and turned to pull another two control arms over. This next suspension system took me about half the time since I knew the angles and dimensions I would need already. The back two caught me up for a moment because I didn’t need the exact same style of steering knuckle. No steering system attached at the back end, so I quickly formed the rear knuckles with only two arms attached at the top and bottom, and then I continued installing the independent suspension systems for the rear end.
The wine was working well to keep my energy from flagging now, and I took another few gulps before I turned to Stan.
“Ready to get those differentials mounted?” I asked the little metal man, and he nodded enthusiastically as he made to climb the steel blocks. By the time I brought the front differential and axle assembly over, Stan was standing on a crossbeam of the frame at the ready.
“That’s actually where I have to set this,” I told him with an apologetic grin, and Stan hustled along the beam to perch on the side bar instead.
I settled the differential on the cross beam between the two front suspensions, and then I carefully fed the spindle of one end through a steering knuckle. It fit perfectly snug, as did the opposite end, and once both spindles were in place, I shifted the differential at the center to be sure it was where I wanted before I summoned my magic to weld the base of the differential directly to the crossbeam.
I couldn’t help grinning as I moved on to the rear axles. With both systems secured to their beams, the frame was finally beginning to resemble a car. Even without the full chassis completed, I couldn’t wait any longer to see it with the tires on, and I wanted to test all of the rotational bits of the differentials to be sure the spindles would drive the wheels properly.
“What do you say we get some tires on this baby?” I asked Stan.
Bobbie’s two studded tires already had hubs and wheel bearings, so I finally headed over to uncover the skeleton of the bike and remove her two wheels.
Stan came along for moral support, but I could tell he was getting just as excited as I was. He leaned in close while I unscrewed the wheel bolts, but when I had both tires removed and brought them over to the frame of the mustang, we both realized they were too small for the car.
I took a few lumps of steel and softened them in my palms, and then I pressed them into the studded steel tires from bike. The metal fused and the tire slowly began to expand, and with another chunk of steel added to top it off, I had the proper wheel radius to handle the Mustang.
Next, I laid one palm on the central hub of the wheel and closed my eyes. My mind sifted through the wheel bearings and all of the inner components I’d created when I first made Bobbie.
It took me nearly half an hour because I couldn’t quite remember all of the inner mechanisms at first. As I attempted to work through the glitches, though, a strange sort of map churned through my mind, and my metal magic began to piece things together for me. I could see the entire thing like a moving puzzle, and after sitting for a while with my eyes shut and my brows pinched in concentration, I finally had the design in place.
Then I blindly pulled another chunk of metal over as I tried not to lose sight of the details. The process of forming the bearings while also assembling the entire mechanism and matching it to the design felt like mental acrobatics, but I didn’t open my eyes until two identical images were side by side in my head.
I took a deep breath as sweat dripped down my brow, and when I opened my eyes again, the wheel hub and bearing assembly lay complete in my palm.
“Hell yeah,” I sighed as my stomach growled once more, but I wasn’t about to stop now.
I drank a bit more and closed my eyes to form the last one, and I was already grinning by the time I’d finished because I’d beaten my time by at least three minutes. Then I dug several scraps of steel up from the chaos of the floor around me, and with all of it in a small pile, I formed the last two tires around their respective hubs, complete with steel studding for traction.
The spindles were too large to fit through these hubs, so I tried to expand the holes, but the bearings immediately stopped working properly. I couldn’t slim down the spindle without losing durability, and in the end, I had to resize all of the wheel bearings while simultaneously flexing the width of the hole until the spindle fit properly and the bearings cooperated. My hands were shaking slightly from the magical drain, but I secured a stout bolt on the outer edge of the spindle just the same, and when I stood up, the wheel was finally mounted.
Stan pointed eagerly at the differential, but I sent him a wry grin as I wiped some more sweat from my brow.
“Sorry buddy,” I said, “gotta get the other wheel mounted before we can try it out.”
Stan slumped and dropped to sit on the axle rod.
“Hang in there,” I tried, “we’re in the home stretch now.”
I hopped over a few crossbeams to bring the next wheel over, and after I sat for about ten minutes tweaking the inner bearings, I had the second wheel mounted and ready to test.
“Alright,” I sighed as I lazily pulled the jug over.
Stan stood and tight roped along the axle to my hand, and I walked us around to stand at the front of the chassis.
First, I raised the steel blocks another few inches, so the studded tires were well suspended off the ground, and then I took a deep breath and summoned my magic to the surface of my palms.
“Now, ideally, I should be able to rotate the gears in the differential, and the wheels will turn,” I told Stan.
He rubbed his metal hands together with anticipation, but I was too nervous to be excited now. I took a long swig and raised my arm out, and as I focused on rotating the pinion gear that would be powered by the drive shaft, I needed to remind myself not to close my eyes.
I forced myself to look toward the studded tires instead, and my heart gave a kick as they slowly began to turn.
“No fucking way,” I breathed, and I rotated the pinion gear a little faster.
The tires responded perfectly, and Stan began to hop up and down on my shoulder as I gaped and laughed like an idiot. We played with the speed of the rotation for another few minutes before we finally settled down a bit, and Stan nudged my cheek to get a high five from me.
With a solid success under my belt, I practically bolted to mount the rear wheels, and I managed to have all of the adjustments made in under ten minutes each this time.
I could feel the strength of my magic building the more I flexed and altered designs, as well as the makeup of the metal.
Building the train and laying tracks felt like a physical work out that strengthened my power, but this was entirely different. Tweaking the tiny mechanisms and easing the steel into entirely new forms had sharpened my mental connection to my element, and the effect took on a whole new feel.
My magic threaded from my brain straight down my spine, and instead of vibrating through my veins, now it seemed to pulse in the same rhythm as my heartbeat. It was like an extra organ functioning within me.
I couldn’t wait to tell Aurora about all of it and ask her if she’d noticed the same thing with her Ignis Magic, but for now, I mostly wanted to finish the Mustang. None of the women had ever seen a car before, and the looks on their faces would be priceless.
I chuckled at the thought, and with a last loud stretch to force my back to a more upright position, I turned to the worktable and pulled the sketch I’d made of the modified chassis over.
Stan swooped down my arm like a slide and headed for the drawing, and after he considered all of the details, he pointed to the steering column.
“That’s right,” I told him. “We’re doing a rack and pinion system for
the steering and bypassing the transmission. We can connect the drive shaft directly to that bar there.” I tapped the drawing, and Stan nodded his agreement. “I’ll mount it so both of them can rotate, and hopefully, the direct connection to the gem will channel everything at optimum power.”
The rack and pinion mechanism itself would be connected to the front wheels, but I decided to flesh out the steering system before I began to connect all of the components to the chassis.
I formed the rack that would slide in response to the steering wheel first. The rack was essentially a rod about an inch and a half thick with teeth along the top, and I molded the pinion gear that would spin across these teeth next in order to match the grooves properly. I tested the rotation of the pinion a few times while I sent a tendril of magic out to make minor adjustments in the alignment between the teeth and grooves, and eventually the rack slid smoothly without catching anywhere.
Then I extended the rod of the rack beyond the teeth a little more on one end than the other since the pinion gear wouldn’t extend down the center of the car. It would be beneath the steering column on the driver’s side, but the tie rods would accommodate for the off-center placement and transfer the movement of the rack to the wheels.
The two inner tie rods were slim but sturdy shafts of steel that ended with a ball joint on one side with a threaded top to screw directly into each side of the rack. When the rack rolled side to side, these inner tie rods would be shifted with it.
Stan had a bit of fun hopping up and down on the boot, and I chuckled as I imagined building the little man his own steel trampoline for fun. Cayla would no doubt support the idea.
“Sorry buddy,” I said with a grin as I caught Stan mid bounce. “I need those right now, but I’ll make you your own once things calm down a bit. Sound good?”
Stan gave a decisive nod and started practicing his climbing on the studs of a wheel instead, and I fed the bolt tip into the rack while I focused on forming the threads between the two pieces of steel.
Then I split the malleable boots open to slip them around the inner tie rod where it bolted into the rack and carefully sealed their seams. Next, I needed to create the outer tie rod that would connect the entire rack and pinion system to the steering knuckle. This would transfer the movement of the rack into physically turning the wheels.
The connection at the steering knuckle was a modified ball joint with a few extra details to ensure the wheel had a full range of motion as it turned. The housing chamber held a steel bearing inside which the ball stud fit inside of, but there was a small spring support at the base of the ball to keep it centered in the bearing, and the stud that extended out of the joint needed a tiny dust boot before the bolt threads began.
My initial attempt didn’t rotate properly, and I realized I needed both an upper and lower bearing around the ball stud in order help it rotate despite its seal. Once I made these adjustments, the ball joint had enough range of movement, and I secured the small boot around the stud.
To connect the shaft of each tie rod together, the inner tie rod threaded into the outer tie rod, and I added a taut clamp around this point to be sure the two stayed in place.
I wanted to get this portion of the steering system mounted before I moved on to the steering column, so I formed a housing chamber to encase the rack itself, which ended where the boots of the inner tied rods began. Then I brought the rack and pinion assembly over to the chassis.
The stud of the ball joints on the outer tie rod fit into the last arm of the steering knuckle, and I threaded a nut to secure each one. Once I had both steering knuckles attached to the steering system, I raised three small mounds from the base frame to support the rack at the center and bolted it down.
With a good gulp of wine in me, I crouched down and used my magic to slowly rotate the pinion gear along the rack.
“Check this out,” I mumbled to Stan, but he was already teetering at the top of a studded tire as it began to swivel.
The pinion slid the rack to the left, and both front wheels angled themselves to steer the car to the right. When I rotated the pinion in the opposite direction, the rack responded by shifting the wheels to turn left.
The positioning of the tie rods was a little off though, because the right tire didn’t have the proper range of motion, so I adjusted the length of the shafts until the angle lined up where I needed it to. I double checked the left wheel’s alignment as well, and Stan finally lost his balance and clinked to the floor.
I glanced over. “You alright?” I asked, and the metal man waved his arm. “Cool. Sorry about that. It’s all in line though, so we’re moving on to the steering column.”
I picked up Stan and set him on the table, and then I sat down to sketch out a universal joint. The mechanism would be needed on both drive shafts as well as the steering shaft because the rods that rotated wouldn’t meet their points at perfect lines after branching from the steering column. With a universal joint, the rotation would remain fluid despite the slightly angular attachment of the shafts.
I briefly considered using a single, straight rod to connect directly from the steering wheel to the pinion gear of the rack, but this would be an incredibly awkward angle, and it also wouldn’t absorb the shock from the road well at all. With two separate shafts meeting at a universal joint, the shock would be absorbed without jolting the steering wheel too much, and the rotation would still be translated properly to the rack and pinion system in order to turn the wheels.
The universal joint was a simple mechanism to create and consisted of only a few basic components. First, I formed a small cross out of steel that was equal lengths on all four sides. Then I formed the two driving forks to hold the cross.
The ends of the cross wouldn’t be fitted directly into the forks, because the friction of the metal wouldn’t allow for rotation. So, I needed to create four needle bearings to mount at each point. Stan helped me keep the tiny steel needles in line, and I even let him line them up in the bearing shell for me since he was honestly the perfect guy for the job.
He carefully lined the needles along the rim of each bearing case, and I inserted the inner ring to secure them in place. Then I formed four small rings from the same material as the bushings I’d made in order to give some cushion between the bearings and the cross they sat on. These bearings slipped into the two prongs of each driving fork, and I cinched the metal tightly around them to be sure they couldn’t slide out.
I welded a short shaft to the end of the pinion gear first because this angle wouldn’t change, and then I welded the flat base of a driving fork to the other end of the shaft.
The second fork was welded to the second steering shaft, and the other end of this one would be inserted at the center of the steering wheel itself. I grabbed a few stray chunks of steel once everything was in place and joined Stan at the worktable once more.
I’d never had a full metal steering wheel before, but as the armature began to take shape, a grin spread across my face, and I decided every car I owned from here on out would have the signature style. I took hold of the metal as I molded it to leave light grooves behind from my fingers for grip, and when I was finished, I tweaked the surface all the way around, so the metal had a brushed quality to it rather than a smooth and gleaming surface. Where the three spokes of the armature converged in the center, I left a large enough swatch of steel to mount the channeling gem into later, and I flipped it around to create a hole at the back for the steering shaft to insert.
I didn’t mount the armature to its shaft just yet, because I needed some structural support to hold it upright in the car, so I set it aside and let Stan explore the strange new piece while I turned to consider the headway I’d made on the chassis.
I was nearly finished now, and only the drive shafts were missing. I knew I’d need a few more universal joints to mount them all, and I was just finishing up the third one when another knock echoed at the iron door.
I quickly hopped over the frame to avoi
d another giant wall incident and slid the door open only a crack. Then my stomach growled its approval, and I opened it another smidge with a sigh of relief.
Aurora had a plate with deep brown and steaming slices of bread arranged around the rim of a silver platter, and in the center there was a generous pile of shredded meat that looked tender enough to swallow straight down.
It smelled like heaven, and the half-elf handed over a little bowl of what looked like whipped butter as well.
“Thank you,” I sighed as I tried not to snatch the plate away as quickly as I wanted to, but Aurora’s emerald eyes had a calculating look in them that I recognized immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” the half-elf told me in a low voice, and she glanced toward the house for a moment. “Two heads of Houses arrived about two hours ago. The elf from House Pree and another. I think it must be the head of House Elyn from the other side of Lyralus.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are they here for?”
“I have no idea,” Aurora admitted. “We were all in the gardens when Aeris and his sons joined us. Cayla challenged one of the sons to a dagger throwing competition, and everything was fine, aside from the obvious … but then a servant came out, and I could hear her tell Aeris about the heads of Houses arriving. She said it was urgent, and the sons overheard as well. None of them returned to the gardens.”
“What do you mean, aside from the obvious?” I clarified.
Aurora smirked. “Deya’s little outfit is causing a bit of tension between the brothers. They’re more determined than ever to show up one another. The dagger throwing distracted them well enough, though.”
My jaw immediately locked, but I only nodded. “That makes sense,” I allowed.