Twilight had never even heard of a “car meet” before, so her only expectation was that of an event like Magi-Con, where there are stalls of merchandise and a panel of some knowledgeable folk, in this case Mareton Senna or somepony. However, when she and Celestina pulled in to the parking garage where the meet was held, she was appalled to say the least. A tremendous amount of cars filled parking spaces, with almost twice as many ponies walking about and interacting with their cars and each other. A decent amount of cars had their hoods raised revealing engine bays of all kinds.
“Um… Princess,” Twilight started. “What are those snail-looking things attached to some of these engines— Princess?”
To her surprise, Celestia had put her mane underneath a top hat and donned a monocle and a mustache.
“I don’t want to draw any attention to myself where it should be going to these wonderful builds,” Celestia said, giving Twilight a wink.
They parked the 911 by a few other cars, but before she even got her last hoof out of the car, Twilight heard the squeal of tires coming from one of the lower levels. Suddenly, two cars emerged from a cloud of tire smoke, drifting. One of them was a tinted, gunmetal-gray Mustang, and the other was a miniscule yellow car, the only branding on it being a decal on the side skirt that read “Honda.” That said, the lack of proper badging didn’t stop Twilight from being able to tell that it was Pinkie Pie behind the Honda’s wheel. They flew past Twilight, and eventually ceased their burnouts in the center of the meet.
“Was that… Pinkie Pie?” asked Celestia.
“Yeah…” said Twilight.
They both trotted toward the large plume of tire smoke generated by the pair.
“...Pinkie?” asked Twilight.
“HEY TWILIGHT!” shouted Pinkie “What are you doing here? :D”
“I just got a car, so Celestia brought me to my first meet,” she said, as she looked up at Celestia and remembered that she was still wearing that ridiculous hat.
“Pleasant eve, Ms. Pie,” said Celestia.
“Pleasant eve to you too, Celestia!” said Pinkie, giggling.
“Pinkie!” shouted the driver of the mustang, aggressively.
“Lime! Twilight and—”
“Ugh, Pinkie! You engaged your throttle too early on corner 15b!” said Limestone Pie, emerging from the dust like Darth Vader in Rogue One.
Twilight always forgot that Limestone was Pinkie’s older sister, on account that she never saw her much and when she did she was always angry.
“Hi, Limestone,” said Twilight. “You have a car, too?”
Limestone looked somewhat bashful. “Oh, uh… Hey—”
“YUP! This is my Honda Beat!” said Pinkie Pie, cutting her sister off enthusiastically.
“—Princess…es,” said Limestone. “Yeah. Me and Pinkie come out here to San Featherscolt every other meet or so—”
“Lime here is the circuit champ here!” squealed Pinkie.
“I guess it’s obvious now, after I saw you and Pinkie drift, but I didn’t know you were into car racing,” said Twilight.
“Yeah,” said Lime. “and in my GT500 Super Snake, I’ve never lost.”
“She learned how to drive on our parent’s rock farm, so her technique is super good!” said Pinkie. “Avoiding rocks, avoiding fissures, not to mention navigating the mountain—”
“That’s enough, Pinkie,” said Lime.
“You must be pretty good, then,” said a mare from inside the newly formed crowd.
“Who said that?!” Lime barked.
The crowd parted, and a Toyota MR2, a Lexus LC 500, and a Scion XB rolled forward. All were jet-black with neon-green accents, and neon-green lightning bolts painted on the rear fenders. The mare inside the MR2 stepped out.
“I did,” she said. “The name’s Lightning Dust, but I doubt you’ll be forgetting it.”
By now, the drivers of the two other cars had stepped out, too, and all other noise at the meet had ceased.
“You want a race?” asked Lime.
“Winner gets the loser’s car,” said Lightning, cockily. “Come on, you have a Shelby GT! Against my MR2? What have you got to lose?”
The other two behind Lightning Dust snickered.
“Come on, it’s not like you’re good enough for the ol’ Stang, anyway…” she said, chuckling. “… Champ.”
Limestone Grimaced.
“M-maybe you should just ignore her,” Pinkie said, sheepishly.
“Yeah,” agreed Twilight. “Limestone, the best thing you could do right now is walk awa—”
“Quiet! S-sorry, Princess,” Limestone climbed into her cabin. “We start at the San Featherscolt Bridge. You’ll get the layout of the circuit there.”
The shriek of her tires spinning filled the garage, before the sound of her engine replaced it, and she took off.
Lime waited in the alley of a building by the bridge, confident that Lightning Dust would lose and she’d walk away with the keys to an MR2. Maybe I’ll give it to Marble, she thought. She’d perfected the art of drifting a cumbersome vehicle, especially in places where cars as nimble as the Miata would struggle. Lime ran her hoof across the dash. It was once a dented, brick of scrap, totaled by some poor creature who missed the perfect line on a circuit and paid the price for it. At least, that’s what the scrapyard pony who gave it to her said. Since then, she’d poured nearly everything into her GT500. She added fiberglass body panels to make the car lighter, on account of the replacement engine—an SR20DE—not being as powerful as the stock one. To make up for that, she also improved the aspiration by adding dual turbos.
“I’m not gonna lose you,” she said, softly.
Finally, Lightning Dust and her posse arrived at the bridge, followed by the Beat, the 911, and several other cars from the meet. Lime rolled out of the alley, and parked her car on the lane adjacent to Lighting.
“I’ve already got the run-down of the course,” said Lightning.
“Good,” said Lime. “I’ve got space in my garage for your car.”
Lightning laughed. “Let’s get started, why don’t we?”
Pinkie stood between the two cars.
“Three… Two… One… GO—GOOD LUCK LIME!!” she screamed.
They peeled from the start and immediately Lime took the lead. In a circuit race, one of the best strategies is to follow, to see how your opponent drives, and overtake them somewhere later on the circuit. This was something that Lime wanted to do, but a sinking feeling in her mind told her to simply blow past her and run her usual race. Unfortunately, as soon as she entered the first corner, she saw the reflection of the MR2’s headlights in her sideview mirror. Lime exited the corner at a decently high speed—one she was positive the MR2 would need a bit of time to achieve, but to her dismay, Lightning Dust was practically fused to her bumper. For the next several corners, Limestone tried her hardest to ignore Lightning and run her usual race, but something about her opponent just… Pissed her off.
About 300 meters away was a set of three high-speed corners—The only few where Lime was always anxious about entering, and her time trials always suffered because of it. The reason for that was because there were three buildings that outlined the corner, and it was impossible to see if there was any traffic or bystanders on the other side of the buildings.
She slowed down to safely pass through, but as she did, the MR2 pulled in front of her, not slowing down, even a bit. It flew into the corners, and all Lime could hear was shouting and the honking of horns. She safely exited the corner, receiving shouts from the onlookers still angry about Lightning’s pass. Unfortunately for her, Lightning was already a couple blocks away. Fortunately, Lime knew that for the next kilometer or so, the circuit was a straightaway. She pressed her hoof against the accelerator even harder, closing the gap between her GT500 and Lightning’s MR2.
Lightning looked in her rear-view mirror.
“Finally catching up?” Lightning asked out loud. “I’ll put an end to that.”
The straightaway neared its end, and as Lime turned for her usual line, Lightning swooped right in front of her, and took the same line, forcing Lime back.
Damn it! thought Lime. She’s taking my optimal line! She knew that I was going for it— How? Shit, for all I know, she’s watched me run the circuit dozens of times. But I don’t know anything about her. This has really turned against me…
The two shot through the next several bends and straights of the circuit on the same lines, like the carts of a roller coaster, until finally, the last street was upon them. The final leg of the course consisted of a narrow strait—that Lime and Lightning were currently on—and two high-speed hairpins, which were the most brutal part—The second hairpin was the only portion of the road that traffic was at its most difficult to navigate, so the racers had to be careful as to not lose control and hurt themselves—or worse, others.
Lightning grinned to herself. In all of her years of shattering speed records—both in her car and in the air—one trait about her set her apart from the rest. It wasn’t blistering reflexes or a resistance to high temperatures at high speeds, but her willingness to do what nopony else will. Her willingness to ignore the safety of herself and others if it means that she can be the fastest, and it was the only ideal, that—unbeknownst to her—made it that she could never win against her nemesis.
“You lost this the moment you accepted the race,” she said, snickering.
Meanwhile, Limestone had been surveying the distant traffic. There were many places that she could slide through, but no opportunities for her to overtake and lose The MR2 for good. Unlike the rest of the course, there was never a set line that was the most optimal; it was always changing due to traffic, but there were usually lines that were at least good. Suddenly, she saw an opening. Wide enough to drift through, but subtle enough that anypony who was just mimicking would never notice. The perfect line. Lime put her hoof on her handbrake, waiting to rip it.
Just as she was about to, the lanes of traffic grinded to a dead stop, accompanied by horns and shouting. She jerked her head to the commotion, to see Lightning, skirting through the jam, only passing because everycreature else didn’t want to partake in a crash with her. Suddenly, the glare of headlights filled Lime’s windows.
“FU—!” she screamed, as the eighteen-wheeler barreled towards her, unable to stop in time.
She floored the accelerator, but just as she was about to be clear of the truck, it slammed into her rear fender, crushing the wheel. The rear end of the GT500 went airborne for a second. At the same time, Lime was all over the steering wheel, trying to still save as much of her car as possible, but it was futile—by the time it had landed, the car had begun pitifully tumbling to a stop, almost all of its panels shattered, or in the very least cracked.
Lime laid in her seat. Her forehead was bleeding profusely, and she couldn’t feel the whole left side of her body. Thank Celestia for roll cages, she thought. In the distance she could hear the screeching of tires, followed by the wail of sirens. As her eyes grew drowsy, she saw the MR2 roll up beside the wreckage, followed by the Lexus LC 500 and the Scion XB.
Lightning Dust rolled her window down. “On second thought, you can keep your car. It isn’t any good to me now,” she said, craning her head back. “This place is Washouts territory from here on. Caio, champ.”
They took off, and as they left, the emergency services finally arrived.
“Don’t worry Lime!” screamed Pinkie through tears. “The ambulance is here! You’re gonna be—”
“Please step back, ma’am,” said a ponymedic. “She’ll be okay.”
“DON’T FOLLOW THE LIGHT!” wailed Pinkie.
Be… Quiet… Pinkie…