//------------------------------//
// Embrace the Magic, of a Supercharger 
// Story: A Chicagoan in Phoenix 
// by Split Scimitar 
//------------------------------//

“Max, Rarity had a crush on you because of your money.”

My heart drops to my stomach more out of betrayal than unrequitedness.

“Rarity was gold digging me??”

“I’m sorry Max. I know how much that trip meant to you. Both of you.”

I immediately start pacing around the room, again not because I’m jilted, but because now my gears are turning. I want to piece this puzzle together. I want answers, whether they’ll hurt or not.

“I hate to jack AJ and Pixar’s lingo, but ‘what in fucking tarnation is going on inside her head??’”

“I wish I knew.”

“Oh great. This is gonna keep me up all night thinking about it.”

“Try not to let it bother you.”

“We’re still on for the Grand Canyon tomorrow?” I say putting my hand up and shaking my head.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay. Well, I think I should go. Finding out this truth about Rarity really changes what going to Europe means to me now.”

“Max, I’m sorry. I really am. If there’s anything I can do to help take your mind off of it, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you Sunset, but for now, I think I just need a little time to process this. What time do you want to meet tomorrow?”

“Well, I assume we’ll need gas, so maybe 8:30?”

“That’s fine. It’ll take maybe 3 hours to get there, so 6 hours of travel time. Plus an hour or two in town?”

“Give or take.”

“Okay. Um, maybe even as late as 10:00?”

“Let’s say 9:00, so we can take our time getting gas and such.”

“9:00 it shall be. Night Sunset.”

“G’night Max.”

When I fire up the car, I turn the radio off so I can try and dissect the Rarity situation as best I can.

Rarity is far from selfish, but selfishness doesn’t always mean gold digger. I’m shaken to the core now knowing that Rarity could be capable of such motives. I still love her, but if what Sunset said is even true, it changes everything. Worse still, in an absolute worst case, I feel like my friendships with the other girls could be affected.

At the same time, I guess I should’ve seen it coming. I suppose that that would explain Rarity’s otherwise uncharacteristic displays of affection. Even for one of her normal crushes (this according to what I’ve been told, as I’m the first Rarity crush I’ve witnessed) with a level of flirtatiousness usually reserved for a more… proper infatuation.

Nevertheless, that does not explain Rarity’s own coddling when I was in hospital. Unless she put on a really good ruse, I cannot deny that Rarity wasn’t acting purely out of financial motivation. There were moments where I knew that what Rarity and I had was real.

I guess I’ll just have to sleep on that and worry about it if and only if it becomes necessary.





Next morning, I’m awake at 7:10 because after my analysis of the situation, I tired myself out and fell asleep so heavily that I got a full recharge. Nevertheless, I decide to wait on breakfast in case Sunset wants to go somewhere.

Sure enough, Sunset rolls up to my house in a Yellow C7 Corvette. If you could capture the look on my face seeing Sunset at the wheel of a Corvette, you’d ask why when you consider my garage. To that I would say “you don’t get it. Sunset Shimmer is enough of a petrolhead to own a Corvette. Color me impressed.”

“Close your mouth, you might swallow a fly.” Sunset smirks, knowing I’m very much turned on.

“No wonder you wanted to do a gauntlet run to the GC.

“So why did you get a Corvette?”

“Power. [It] was all I desired.”

“You didn’t want a ZR1?”

“That was a bit… outside my price range. Besides, I got a good deal. It was practically a steal.”

“Go figure. If price was no concern, you could’ve gone for…” I pause and point to my car.

“No way. I would never own a Demon.”

“Hellcat?”

“Not really a fan of the Challenger. Plus Twilight has one.”

“Mustang?”

“Rainbow Dash has one, and I’m not much of a fan either.”

“Viper?” I chuckle.

“I don’t know how to drive stick.”

“Would you be interested?”

“Not really. I’d never use it. I-10 traffic and all.”

“Understandable. The invitation is always open.”

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

“Did’ya eat?”

“No.”

“Waffle House?”

“Aw yeah!”

The two of us then head for a Waffle House on the route, and conveniently just down the way from a petrol station.

Going for my obligatory grits along with my usual breakfast plate, we enjoy ourselves rather nicely ahead of our little day trip. To drink I dangerously have coffee, but as the crowds start to increase perfectly in tune with our departure, I do use the bathroom before we head for our fuel stop.

I cover her fuel tab for obvious reasons before I purchase a couple bottles of water. Sunset then purchases a can of Red Bull before I give her a handheld so we can communicate.

Sunset takes the lead so she can get us out of Phoenix and onto the highway. I however utilize a radar detector to look for any speed traps. This is my first time outside of Phoenix or the journey to, so I’m definitely in unfamiliar territory.

Even though today is Sunday, the possibility of a speed trap is still definite. Considering that two best friends are both in fast cars in the desert, on a gauntlet run to the Grand Canyon? Cop bait for days.

“No more holding back, just let it all out.” Sunset calls as she floors her accelerator and starts to get away from me.

Turning up the volume on the radar detector, I follow suit and flick the down paddle, sending the engine into the max torque range and spurring on the blower that’s responsible for 2.8 Liters of the total displacement.

Whining and screaming like the car’s namesake, or that song and album by Meat Loaf, the red mist descends and mixes with T-rage that’s kicked into overdrive from chasing [the] Sunset.

Aside from the occasional semi and people carrier, I keep my foot down in the left lane. Sunset, being just far enough ahead of me, is doing all the proverbial snowploughing. All I have to do is maintain the gap.

As we navigate through the Black Canyon for which the freeway is named, Sunset slows her pace as the road starts to become a little more challenging. Eventually, I put brakes on as Sunset slows to under 80 mph for the first time since getting in the freeway.

“Yo Shimmy, everything Gucci?”

“Yeah, two trucks are playing the passing game.”

“Yay.”

“There’s also a patrol off to the side according to Waze.”

“The trucks must be helping us out then.”

“It seems that way.”

“Cool. How are you on gas?”

“Half tank.”

“Cool. We’ll top off in Flagstaff on the return, roughly.”

“Sweet.”

When we pass the trucks and get our pace back up to about 85 mph, we’re about 14 miles from Flagstaff. This is my cue to do what it is I do best and draft Sunset.

Unmoving in her pace, I decide to get further back. Any other cars on the road keep their distance, since I at least am trying to keep up the façade of “Let’s Have a Race.” Naturally, Sunset refuses to oblige me by moving into the right lane and saying, “Your turn.”

I overtake her and pick up speed and hold a new speed of about 97 mph. The ungodly cruising speed is only to get to Flagstaff so I can see if Sunset wants to eat or stretch.

“Can you make it all the way? We still have another hour or two.”

“I can keep going. I’ve got about 150 miles of range.”

“I’ve got 147.”

“Sweet.”

“Which spot are we going to?”

“South rim.”

“You’re using Waze? You should lead.”

“Okay. Get out of the way!”

I then slide over into the right lane and let her overtake again. The sound of her V8 and the oh so subtle whine of her own supercharger is intoxicating. My turn.

When my own blower whirs up and the Signature Hemi exhaust note becomes the sound of the highway, the first signage for I-40 appears.

I-17’s northern terminus is at I-40, which is a modern supplantation of Route 66. The I-17 North to I-40 West interchange is a cloverleaf, which for the sideways petrolhead – for lack of a better term, is a wide open opportunity for a drift. I don’t have Rosalina here to restrain me, and I’m pretty sure Sunset is actively trying to, and successfully has, spurred me on.

Sunset hits the brakes and takes it relatively slowly. I on the other hand, feeling a bit Down The Mine morally, bump the traction control button and hit the brakes. To my surprise, as Sunset rounds out the cloverleaf, I give a slight increase in throttle as I throw the wheel. Rubber’s squealing, and revs are increasing. I just unhooked the backend.

Increasing throttle and counterbalancing the steering, I keep the revs constant as my “angle of attack” in the turn plays against my proximity to the edge of the road. A single guardrail running parallel to the off-ramp from I-40 West closes in, to which I tighten the loop to try and keep the smoking tires in the center of the lane, trying to make a centerline with my skid marks tyres.

As I round out the loop, I bring the wheel back to neutral center, keeping my foot down until the tires stop smoking. Once I verify I have full grip on the car, I turn traction control back on and then give it the beans so I can catch up to Sunset.

Feeling a bit too showboat-y, I breathe deeply to calm myself back down. The radar detector shows no police in the area, but I definitely don’t wanna stick around.

Riding the engine in the neighborhood of its redline, I resume automatic shifting once I can remain a healthy distance from Sunset without needing to use excess power.

“That was a very naughty move. I saw you.” Sunset says as soon as I catch back up to her.

“Glad you were out [of the way]. I won’t do it again.”

“Please don’t. You got lucky this time. I would never forgive myself if you wiped out trying to drift like that.”

“I honestly didn’t expect it to hold like that. The Demon is built for the drag strip. If I still had a Focus RS in my garage, then I could get away with drifting, even without using drift mode.”

She doesn’t answer as we race down I-40 to the exit for the Grand Canyon, following literally every other car going our direction.

For the first time since Phoenix, my speedo drops below 20, as the traffic light off ramp is red.

For the remainder of the drive, we blend in with the flow of traffic, since there’re too many cars to pass safely; not a lot of RV’s or trailers, to my surprise. Though, if anyone did take an RV or Caravan, they should theoretically already be set up at camp.

Because of the high traffic, our slow pace allows for the mathematical average pace and travel time to catch up to us, if you take my meaning. Not that I’m bothered. At least it’s nice to know that Sunset and I, in our American supercars, are the most out-of-place on the road.

“Doesn’t it feel nice to be the fastest ones on the road.”

“Not when you can only use 50 of the several hundreds of horsepower at your disposal.”

“Yeah, but at least we can increase our MPG, and the range. Less to fill up later.”

“But it’s really cutting into our time.”

“Don’t worry about it. We have some wiggle room, so long as we get back before 19:00.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

With only an hour left until we reach the South Rim, I take the time to recover mentally from what we can basically write off as the entire gauntlet run. Most of the drive up here is I-17. Even though I was hoping we could hot brakes into the town of Grand Canyon, it’s probably a good thing we’re under an artificial speed limit (though the one on this road is 65). State police are all over the road. For good reason. According to Maps (via CarPlay), there’s a hazard in the road. The traffic color is orange. It turns to red closer to the hazard, but next to the hazard is a red sign with a car on it. Accident.

When we reach the scene, two cars, both of which appear to be very nearly totaled, are sitting aside the road next to an overturned semi. I let out a slight chuckle because despite the obvious damage to the cars, the overturned semi looks like it has no connection to the other two. A handful of police cars, a couple fire trucks, and an ambulance are on the scene, but the line of traffic heading north is agonizing.

“That could be you if you keep up your shenanigans.”

“Thanks Sunset. It’s nice to know you care.”

When we reach the town, marred by hotels, roads, and plenty of cars in the area, Sunset and I head straight for the parking lot of the south rim observation deck.

We both find spots and park right across from each other such that when we park, we both back in so we’re both facing each other.

Eager to stand for the first time in almost 4 hours, I stretch out everything, cracking both shoulders, both kneecaps, one of my ankles, and of course, my neck. I have noisy joints, so nothing even hurts, but it is fun to gross out my friends.

As Sunset and I walk to the observation deck, I stand in awe at the beauty of the phenomena of nature before me. I’ve never been before, but I’ve flown over it many times. Normally, the perspective is better from the air. Not so here. While yes, it is true that admiring such a massive spectacle would be arguably nicer to see from up above, the rationale to my reasoning is “detail.”

See, admiring such a wonder of nature from the air is nice to be able to see and admire the grandeur. At the surface level however, things are a little more… down to the “molecular” level. Admiring the different levels of rock showing the formation and creation of those layers over the millennia that the canyon have formed are at least for me quite fascinating. From the topmost layers of the newest minted rock all the way down to the basin where the Colorado River twists and turns is interesting. Though the formation was obviously very gradual over the course of many many years, the difference in layers is staggering. It looks layered rather than faded in over time, if you take my meaning. The beauty of nature.

Sunset takes a few pictures then snaps a selfie and gets me in on one too.

Getting close to Sunset puts me in an awkward position where my height over her puts me right in her hair, though I should say that’s not literal. I’m right around a foot taller than her. Nevertheless, every in-breath is strong with the smell of her shampoo. Not that it bothers me, but it pays to have a height advantage over someone like Sunset.

We take a few shots, one with and one without glasses (for my sake) before she uploads the one with specs (at my request) with the caption,

“Surround yourself with people who make you feel like the best.”

Once it uploads, I get the ‘tagged in post’ notification. I hit like, but guess who’s beat me to the punch?

“Are you two dating?!?!?!” Pinkie Pie comments.

“Oh Pinkie.” Sunset says, not obliging the comment.

*Rosalina likes a photo you’re tagged in.*

My heart stops for a brief second. I know what the photo and caption means, Sunset knows what the photo and caption means, so it shouldn’t imply anything at all. In fact, I cackle internally knowing that the one person who I would expect to bite took the bait.

“Sunset, you think that taking all this time to catch up and acting so platonic right off the bat is a sign of something?”

“I don’t think so.” She responds after a slight hesitation. “Wait, let me preface that by saying that the conversations we’ve had were rather personal from the get go, so this is, at its core, just a behavioral manifestation. I don’t think it suggests anything romantic, nor should either of us believe that’s so. You’re someone I’ve just grown really comfortable with over the time that we’ve known each other. You’re letting me be myself, and are a great sport to most of the jabs and snarks I’ve thrown at you.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Pinkie Pie took the bait, so I am entertained. However, with the whole Rarity thing you told me about, there is still one thing on my mind.”

“Yes?” She asks with a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

“What about Applejack?

“I know that it’s not the best time to mention it, but I bring it up mostly for rhetorical purposes, and because I think Rarity may be playing off of my feelings for AJ, since it’s no secret that those two are basically an old married couple. I guess I should say ‘as a psychologist, is it possible that Rarity’s gold-digging could be a result of some form of projection or even vying for my affection since I do have feelings for Applejack?’”

“Maybe. I’d have to see it for myself. I don’t like psychoanalyzing my friends. It makes me feel like I could undermine the friendship.”

“Yes, I can see that. Can you answer the question though? I’ll be honest…”

“Honest about what?”

“Uh, never mind. If you can answer, go ahead.”

“I don’t think Rarity gold digging has anything to do with Applejack. I know that the Apple family has been going through some financial difficulties, but that’s about all I can say on Applejack’s side. As for Rarity, she can be a hopeless romantic, which is very endearing for all of us, I can comfortably say. However, whether she likes it or not, Rarity did have feelings for you. She admitted it rather loudly before she opened the boutique, while you were in the Mushroom Kingdom. When you came back from Europe however, I think the romantic feelings disappeared and… well…”

“I can fill in the blanks. What we had was a holiday romance, if your suspicions are correct. Simple as that.”

“Max, I…”

“No, no. That’s okay. I can see you’re sorry, but don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, and in fact, thank you for shining some light on the subject. I’m honestly just surprised that I fit in your group as nicely as I did; that fling with Rarity really clinched it for me. I’m fairly certain that if I had met anybody else first, I wouldn’t have gotten to know any of you as well as I have. Even so, I can’t say I’m unhurt, but hey. Feelings change, people change. It’s… normal. Besides, even if I did act on my feelings for Applejack, or Rarity for that matter, I would just drive a stake into the relationship between the two of them. If my inclinations are true, and there’s a love triangle amongst Rarity, Applejack and I, I would kill myself. They’re best friends, I’d hate to see them fight over me.”

“I understand Max. Though I can say, if you are interested in one of us, I know some of us do reciprocate.”

“Really??”

“Yeah, we kind of tell each other everything.”

“Okay then, if that’s so, how good of a kisser did Rarity say I am?”

“You’re not the worst. Though she’s had better.”

“I see. Well, despite being married three times, it’s nice to know I’m still kind of a virgin at heart.”

“Or maybe that’s why you‘ve gotten divorced.” She laughs.

“Very funny.” I say rolling my eyes. “Rosalina’s not one to discuss her intimate life though, so you couldn’t corroborate your claim.”

She blushes and laughs semi-diabolically.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am genuinely floored that you’re someone I can be so… personal with.“

“I like you Max. I like talking to you; and I can handle deeply personal, vulgar, explicit, raunchy, what have you. Despite most people’s conceptions, I appreciate someone who isn’t afraid to throw out an expletive. I firmly believe that people who swear have a greater command of the language than those who don’t.”

“I’ve always thought about that!” I exclaim as we head back to the parking lot. “I’ve always believed that since they’re willing to use it, generally there’s a healthy respect for explicit content and when and when not to use it.”

“Exactly. I phrase it as ‘people who don’t swear are usually afraid and as such tend to feel nervous when dealing with it.’ That as I’m sure you know has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not someone has a filter or lack thereof.”

“Yes! I know a lot of people who don’t swear and have no filter. Conversely, some people I know like keeping their mouth shut but aren’t afraid to drop an F-bomb. Myself included.”

“Yeah! Twilight can back me up on that. Though she’s an exception to the rule. She doesn’t like to swear, but isn’t afraid to say some ‘shit’ from time to time.”

“Isn’t it great to be different?”

“Isn’t it wonderful to be exactly who you are?”

“Sailor mouth is one of the ways I express myself, and most of the people I grew up with hate it. They believe that people who swear are the exact opposite. ‘If you have to resort to bad language, one has no command of the language and a limited vocabulary.’”

“Disagree, but I understand where they come from.”

“Yeah. I have a relatively conservative background.”

“I think relatively is kind of a loose meaning.”

“More or less. I’m definitely a rebel, and more liberal in some of my views.”

“Yeah. I see it. Let’s stay out of politics though.”

“Oh, I hate it too. I’m glad you can see sense and actively avoid rabbit holes.”

“You wanna head back to Phoenix or spend all night talking here?”

“We should probably head back. I don’t know about you, but I think we should continue the conversation over dinner.”

“Hungry already? It’s barely 14:00.”

“No, but I will be after driving back. Maybe I should’ve brought a plane.”

“Nah. Everyone would hate you.”

“Why, because I’m a private owner of an airliner doing his own personal tours?”

“Something along those lines.”

With that, we hop in and fire up.

“Gas in Flagstaff.” I say on the horn.

“Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Sunset has me lead, probably so she can keep tabs on me. No matter, I don’t want to unhook the tyres again. For what I like to do on the highway, I need as much grip as I can get, and as large of a petrol tank as I can get.

Going past the accident site, most of the wreckage is cleared, but there’s a heavy wrecker from Winslow to get the semi back on its wheels.

“That looks like a scene from one of my TV series’ I watched with my flat mate, Highway Thru Hell. It’s a lot of fun for a vehicle enthusiast like me, but I figure you may not be interested.”

“Probably not.”

“It takes place in Canada. BC and now Alberta in addition. Haven’t followed it much though as of late.”

“Only you would find a series like that. You never watch TV to begin with, and the one show you scoured for was a show about what appear to be tow truck operators?”

“Yep. Call me crazy. But you knew that already.”

“Yeah.”

Onto I-40, I set a left-lane pace of 79 once again despite my radar detector showing a severe clear. Making good work of passing trucks and some caravaners heading home one day early, we meet I-17 with a targeted arrival time of 17:55, so we’ll be back at around dinner time.

When we make our fuel stop at one of the southerly petrol stations still postmarked as Flagstaff, I get another bottle of water. I-17 southbound should be easier, since most of the drive is a mad descent from about 7,000’ in Flagstaff to about 1,200’ at the terminus. I think it’ll be fun.