//------------------------------//
// Resurrection of the GT500 
// Story: Friendship is Magic: 1st Gear 
// by Akeno 
//------------------------------//

It had been a day since the crash. Twilight and Pinkie sat in the waiting room at the Ponyville Hospital. It wasn’t long ago that they were there for another crash, that time involving their friend Rainbow Dash. However, unlike Rainbow Dash, Lime didn’t have fast-healing bones, and needed surgery because of that. Although the doctor had told them that she would be alright, it didn’t stop Pinkie from worrying, something unlike her usually comically bubbly behavior. Twilight, taking note of this, placed a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder, but stayed silent. Finally, the doctor stepped into the room.
“Mrs. and Mrs. Pie?” called the doctor.
“Oh, we’re not—” said Twilight, embarrassedly
“—The patient is ready to see you now.”
They followed the doctor into one of the patient rooms. Lime was in a hospital bed by the window, angrily eating peas.
“LIME! YOU’RE OKAY!!!” cried Pinkie, leaping toward the bed to hug her sister.
“No, wait! She needs to—”
“Pinkie! Stop that!” said Lime.
Pinkie latched onto Lime’s side, fortunately the side that wasn’t wrapped in a cast.
“Doctor, what’s the prognosis?” asked Twilight.
“Well, she broke her left arm—crushed her humerus as well as her ulna—and broke her femur and tibia. Additionally, she tore a lot of the muscles in the left side of her body” said the doctor. “She’ll need to stay here for a few weeks and then we can discharge her on medication.”
“Okay, thank you doctor,” said Twilight.
“Yep,” he said, leaving them alone in the room. “Thank Celestia for roll cages,” he muttered
The three waited around in silence. Finally, Lime cleared her throat.
“Hey, so… My car is alright?” she asked.
“Yup!” said Pinkie, her worriedness completely gone. “Our cousin Applejack is letting us keep it in her barn!”
“That’s good,” said Lime. “If that’s it, then you should leave.”
“Oh. Alright,” said Pinkie, dejectedly.
They both left upon Lime’s request. Once outside, Twilight thought of something she was sure would raise Pinkie’s spirit.
“Why don’t we visit Sweet Apple Acres?” she asked. “We can fix Limestone’s car and have it ready for her when she gets released from the hospital. It’ll be a surprise!”
Pinkie immediately lit up. “Okay! And Applejack should be done bucking today, so she can help us!”
They both got into their own cars and drove off to Sweet Apple Acres. Twilight was somewhat proud of herself. She was getting better at driving every time she went anywhere, despite having driven at most seven times. They arrived at Sweet Apple Acres, but much to Twilight’s surprise, dirt tracks winded throughout the orchard, and various crates of car parts and barrels of apples littered the area outside of the barn. Twilight parked her car on a bit of land that had the least mud—Spike had warned her about taking a sports car off-road. Something like “Grounding out,” or so he called it. Pinkie parked close by, and the two walked toward the farmhouse. They approached the door, but before she could knock, Twilight heard the sound of a roaring engine, paired with the sloshing of mud. They turned around, to see a bright red-and-white truck drift out of the orchard, covered in dried mud.
The truck slid to a halt in front of the barn. The driver stepped out; somepony in a green-and-white fireproof suit and a matching helmet, with a hat over the helmet.
“Howdy, girls!” she said.
“Applejack?” asked Pinkie.
Twilight was as confused as she was, but Celestia did say that Applejack drove a truck.
“Who else?” said Applejack, removing her helmet. “What brings y’all here?”
“We wanted to do some repairs to Lime’s Mustang,” said Pinkie. “Can we?”
“Ya sure can,” said Applejack. “Big Mac’s been in there since ya brought her in. I reckon he feels some sort of responsibility when it comes to Mustangs, seein’ as how he drives one, too.”
They followed Applejack into the barn, where a big, red colt was leaning on a stack of hay bales, drinking a cup of cider. The barn had the usual farming equipment, but it also had two car lifts, similar to the ones Spike had installed in Twilight’s garage. Both of the lifts were occupied, one by a black coupé-style car that loosely resembled Limestone’s, but it reminded Twilight of her car more than anything. On the other lift was Lime’s GT500 itself, but so many of the body panels were removed that it took her a moment to connect the dots.
At the very back of the barn, covered in dust and rogue straws of hay was a black sports car, its windows gone and rust enveloping the hood. Pinkie hadn’t noticed it and Twilight decided not to bring it up.
“Afternoon, Big Mac,” said Applejack. “How’s Lime’s car coming along?”
 “Nope.” he said, grabbing a cloth to wipe some sweat off of his forehead.
“Are the GRP panels really no good?” she asked.
“Eyup,” said Big Mac.
“Ah see,” said Applejack. She turned to Pinkie and Twilight. “Well, y’all heard here first. You can do whatever you want to fix the car, but the body panels are beyond repair. Big Mac’s probably gonna try to order some new ones. Anyway, Granny Smith’ll be here in a short while.”
“Thank you very much,” said Twilight. “Thank you Big Mac!”
“Eyup.”

By the time Pinkie and Twilight were done with the internal repairs on the heap that was Lime’s car—with the occasional assistance from Big Mac and Applejack—the Princess of the Moon had already raised it high into the sky, and the Apple family was fast asleep. Twilight yawned. She looked at a clock in the barn; Twelve past one.
“Alright Pinkie, I’m going home. I figure I’ll just fly there. It’ll be faster.” She yawned. “...Y’know, because of traffic… I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Twilight spread her lengthy alicorn wings and took off in the night.
“BYE—” Pinkie screamed, remembering that the Apples were sleeping just a few rooms away. “Bye, Twilight!” she whispered.
Unlike the Princess of Friendship, Pinkie was in no mood to go home. She looked back at Lime’s Mustang. It was a lot more complicated than her Beat or Twilight’s 911, so they were having trouble fixing it. As far as internal damage went, the radiator was bent, and the intercooler piping was torn, which pulled on the compressor housing of one of the turbos, which crushed the compressor wheel. Pinkie was thankful that Lime never found an OEM supercharger when she rebuilt the car, as it surely would’ve been obliterated in the crash. Of course, the exhaust manifold was severely dented and the exhaust piping was crushed like a tin can all the way to the high-flow catalytic converters. Despite her obvious hesitations, she was ready to tackle the challenge, if her name wasn’t Pinkie “Pinkamena” Pie! As she was about to undo the bumper frame, she heard the sound of a lantern falling.
She gasped, but as the light of the lantern revealed the build of a quite stocky pony, she realized who it was. “Wait, Big Mac?”
“E-eyup,” the red stallion said sheepishly, as the lantern illuminated him further.
“What’re you doing here—hold on, you were gonna try to fix the car too?!” she said excitedly.
Big Mac looked at her, surprised that she immediately understood his intentions. “… Eyup…!”
Pinkie felt a warmth in her heart. Big Mac and Lime never really interacted aside from the occasional ApplePie reunion, and even if he was only doing it because he also drove a Mustang like Applejack said, it showed that he cared either way.

The morning rolled by quickly, and Twilight had eagerly flown back to Sweet Apple Acres. The night before, she had Spike whip up some flashcards and quiz her on automotive engineering. When she arrived at the barn, however, she was shocked to see that Pinkie Pie was fast asleep in the GT500’s passenger seat and Big Mac was snoring loudly from inside the black coupe. The barn was even more cluttered than the day before, with torn-open boxes strewn about, somewhat burying the GT500 and the black sports car at the back of the barn. She knocked on the big wooden door.
“Big Mac? Pinkie?” she asked, hoping for one of them to wake up. No avail.
“Mornin’ Twi,” said Applejack, walking out of the house.
“Morning, Applejack,” said the purple alicorn. “What happened last night?”
“Ah reckon they were up fixin’ Limestone’s Mustang. Must’ve got em plum-tired, too, seein’ as how they left the farmhouse full of those NOS drink cans.”
They heard a groan come from Pinkie. The pink mare climbed out of the passenger seat.
“Morning, Applelight. Twijack,” she said, exhaustedly. Her eyes were at half mast, and her usually floofy hair was crusty.
“Pinkie? Are you alright?” asked Twilight.
“I’m great…!” said Pinkie, about to fall over. “Just a little tired.”
“Yer clearly not, sugarcube,” said Applejack, leading Pinkie into the house. “Come on, let’s get you showered and you can eat breakfast.”
As Applejack and Pinkie disappeared into the house, Twilight inspected the work on the car. The engine bay was shiny, as if it were new. All of the cracked tubes were replaced with shiny new ones, and some components that weren’t there before had been installed
“They did all of this last night?” Twilight mumbled to herself.
“Eyup,” said Big Mac, tiredly.
Twilight jumped in surprise, but caught herself. It was his house, after all. “B-Big Mac…!”
Big Mac approached the car, a mug of coffee in his hoof.
“Pinkie’n I replaced the fuel lines with a rail, installed a new exhaust manifold, replaced the coolant reservoir, replaced the radiator… a whole cartload of repairs,” he said in a rare moment of multi-syllability. 
Twilight stared at him. “I don’t—where did you get the parts for all of this? All of the parts outside are still where they were yesterday.”
“Eyup,” said Big Mac. “All of these newer parts are ones that we’ve been storin’ up—me ‘n’ Applejack were gonna give ‘em to Applebloom and her friends to fix that Nissan 300ZX  in the back of the barn. But the specs lined up nicely aside from the manifolds, and Ah figured they’d do a lot more good on Limestone’s Mustang than the Crusaders’ project car… But Ah reckon that’s a story for another day. ”
They stood in silence, taking in the newness of the engine bay. Finally, the silence was broken by the scream of a familiar V10. Twilight whirled around to see Spike’s red-and-black Dodge Viper skidding to a halt just outside of the fence.
“There you are, Twilight!” said Spike, flying over to her.
“Spike? What are you doing here?” she said, chuckling.
“I came here to help Big Mac! We’re gonna take the car to the garage in Manehattan that Rarity co-owns with Miss Pommel so we can get some new body panels!”
Applejack and a refreshed-looking Pinkie Pie stepped out of the farmhouse.
“Howdy, Spike!” said the farmpony. “The truck has a little under three quarters of fuel in it, so have Big Mac fill ‘er up once y’all get to Manehattan. The tow dolly is ‘round here somewhere.”
She tossed him a set of keys. At the same time, they heard mechanical whirring from inside the barn, followed by the healthy rumbling of an engine. The black coupe rolled out of the barn.
“Big Mac, yer takin’ the Mustang?” asked Applejack confusedly.
“Eyup,” said the stallion.
“We’re hoping to catch a meet, and we don’t want to end up damaging your truck,” said Spike. He leaned in closer to the mares. “But between us, he’s just taking his car out because he heard that Sweetie Belle might be in Manehattan, too,” he said, shooting them a wink.
Applejack smirked and rolled her eyes. Twilight and Pinkie giggled.
“N-nope!” shouted Big Mac, his cheeks growing pink.
Soon, they located the dolly and attached it to Applejack’s truck, with the GT500 strapped onto it by the rear wheels, since the front differential was still in good condition. Once it and some spare parts that they’d put in the bed were secure, Spike turned the ignition.
“Alright, y’all, be safe!” said Applejack.
“Have fun you two!” said Twilight.
“BYE, BIG MAC! THANK YOU!” screamed Pinkie.

Big Mac and Spike set off on a journey to Manehattan. Each of them had a walkie talkie that they used since they were in separate cars.
“Hey, Big Mac!” said Spike, testing the walkie. “Can you hear me?”
There was brief static, then Big Mac responded.
“Eyup!” he shouted. The background noise consisted of wind and Rock music.
“112.7?” asked Spike.
“E… Eyup!” Big Mac affirmed, having checked the station.
Spike turned on the radio, and the two of them drove to Manehattan to the tune of “Hunting High And Low,” by Stratochariot, while Spike filled his daydreams about his violet-maned crush.