Oliver had come back from Crovan's Gate works and had been fully mended. His accident in the turntable pit had been relatively minor, and the works hadn't had too much difficulty in repairing the damage. Now he was good as new, as he had been just a few weeks earlier, and was eager to get back to work with Scootaloo. Oliver was, understandably, nervous about working with trucks, and would have preferred not to.
He had good reason to be nervous, as unfortunately, the trucks had not forgiven him, or had any mind to let him forget the incident, and sat there in the yard singing rudely. They were led in their rude singing by one S. C. Ruffey, a private owner's wagon belonging to a Tidmouth ballast contractor (which, since this chapter was recorded, has sadly gone into administration). They sang, rude, loud, and in perfect four part harmony.
“Oliver's no use at all, he thinks he's very clever!
He says that he can manage us; That's the best joke ever!
When he orders us about, With the greatest folly,
We just push him down the well... Pop goes old Ollie!”
Then they began singing in a round, much like they had for Diesel;
“Oliver's no-
Oliver's no-
Oliver's no-
Oliver's no-"
The other engines had had enough. Thomas, Percy and Duck all whistled loudly. "Be quiet!" they ordered.
"Or what?" one of the trucks jeered in response. "Are you so scared of offending that little reject who drives him?"
Scootaloo froze in shock. How did that truck know she was adopted?
S. C. Ruffey sensed the bait, and went in for the killing blow. "That's right! She and Oliver stick together because nobody else wants them! Hahahahahahahaha!" And the other trucks joined in laughing rudely.
Scootaloo began to sob, but Apple Bloom had had enough. She threw a ball at S. C. Ruffey, which bounced of his frames. "Ah don't care what anybody else thinks, but SHUT UP!"
"Quite right!" Twilight added. "You silly trucks are nothing but a nuisance!"
"But you can't do without us," one replied, and they started laughing and jeering again. The engines bumped them to make them be quiet, but they couldn't be everywhere, and everywhere they weren't the trucks simply began singing and cheering again.
“Oliver's no use at all, he thinks he's very clever!
He says that he can manage us; That's the best joke ever!
When he orders us about, With the greatest folly,
We just push him down the well... Pop goes old Ollie!”
Eventually, the engines gave up. "Sorry about them," said Percy. "I should have warned you about them."
"It's my fault really," Oliver said sadly. "If I hadn't been naive, I wouldn't have fallen in the pit."
"Rubbish!" Pinkie said in response. "Even the most experienced of engines find trucks difficult to work with! Once, Percy and I got pushed into the sea by trucks."
"Though may I remind you that's because Percy told them to?" Twilight replied rhetorically.
"Alright, alright, there's no need to split hairs," Percy responded.
"You don't have any hair," Duck said, confused.
Apple Bloom then spoke up. "Scoots, Ah'll make it up ta ya. How about we have a sleepover at Sweet Apple Acres next week? Ah'll invite Sweetie Belle too, and we can just have fun together."
Scootaloo smiled weakly. "I'd like that," she said. It was obvious that a lot was on her mind.
Toad the brakevan had overheard the entire conversation, and safe to say he felt sorry for Oliver. One day, in the yard, Douglas rolled under the loading gauge and came to a stop.
It was then Toad spoke up. "I find it shocking, Mr Douglas," he said. "This complete and utter disrespect for engines, and disregard for safety. It's only going to end in somebody being hurt or worse, killed."
"I know," said Douglas, "but as long as they regard us as pushovers, there's nothin' we can do."
"Unless," said Bon-Bon, "we make an example of one of them. That S. C. Ruffey has been the one causing all the trouble, so if we were to do something to him, that would solve the problem."
"I have a plan, Miss Bon-Bon," Toad replied to her, "so can I stay here and work with Mr Oliver and Miss Scootaloo? We're all Great Western, and Great Western engines and rolling stock must stand together."
"You're quite right," Douglas replied. "We Caledonian engines would, so it is reasonable that Great Western machines would too. Cheerio!"
Later on, Toad explained his plan to Oliver and Duck. Duck looked surprised. "Are you really sure that step is neccesary?" he asked. "It does seem a rather extreme response."
"You sometimes have to be cruel to be kind," Toad replied. "Besides, what is one humiliated truck to all the lives this will save?"
"He not only insulted me," Scootaloo said, rubbing her hands together, "but my friends too. I'm in, Toad. We're taking this step."
"Besides," Oliver said, "I started this off, so I must put it right. As you just heard, Scootaloo agrees it must be done, so we're doing it."
"Alright," Duck sighed. "I don't like it, but I won't try to stop you. Besides, Apple Bloom and I must be off, passengers to pull. Goodbye!"
"Good luck Scoots," Apple Bloom called.
"I think we'll need it," Scootaloo grimly replied.
Oliver spent the rest of the morning assembling the worst trucks he could find, leaving S. C. Ruffey for last. He put him behind him, as Duck came to a stop at the platform.
"Hold back, hold back," S. C. Ruffey laughed, and the trucks laughed with him. Though Oliver wasn't fussed. This was planned. Scootaloo spread sand on the rails, and he knew exactly what he had to do. His driver back on the footplate, he whistled.
Scootaloo knew that was the signal. With one move, she pulled his regulator open to full, and he surged forward, pulled back by the weight of the trucks. But he continued to apply power, and could hear a creaking noise behind him.
S. C. Ruffey didn't seem to be enjoying himself. "I don't like this!" he exclaimed.
"Keep it up!" Duck yelled. "You'll make a fool of him yet!"
"Wait!" Apple Bloom shouted over all the commotion. "That wagon's startin' to break up!"
But nobody heard a word of what she was saying. S. C. Ruffey could be heard making noise, but nobody could understand it.
Scootaloo just happened to glance behind her, when she heard it.
"I'M COMING APART!"
She looked forward. "Oliver, stop!" she shouted. "The truck's co-"
She didn't finish her sentence. The nails holding S. C. Ruffey together broke, and his sides were ripped off as his rear coupling snapped. His frames split in two, and Oliver dragged the front half of the former truck for fifty or so feet before he came to a stop.
"What just happened?" Oliver asked. He hadn't expected that at all.
Scootaloo sighed. "We're dead."
Sir Toppham Hatt arrived to look at the mess. "This is the second time there's been trouble between you and the trucks," he said, "and you seem to not know your own strength, is that it?"
"Yes sir," Oliver said quietly.
"Well, given what we just saw, I doubt there will be a third. Or else, Scootaloo, your parents will be informed."
"We already know," said the voice of Snap Shutter from the nearby train. "And to think our child was capable of something like that!"
Scootaloo sank down on Oliver's footplate. "Sorry."
"Whatever for?" Mane Allgood replied. "This should help to keep the trucks in order!"
Sir Toppham Hatt sighed. "This is typical of Private Owner's wagons," he said. "Rotten frames, dodgy nails, bad wood. This thing was a wreck on wheels. Hopefully, when the carriage and wagon works reassembles this mess, he won't fall to pieces again."
Oliver and Scootaloo now only take goods trains when they have to, but they rarely have trouble if they do. The trucks are absolutely terrified of them, and behave themselves.
S. C. Ruffey himself dispenses much of this advice. "Watch what you do with him," he says, "or else you may find yourself a different truck- literally!"