With the paint of the mining engine now looking factory-fresh, Gallow and Pinkie finally set about fitting the wooden components of the kiosk around the engine. The little loco sat low to the ground, which was ideal for the cramped quarters of the mineshafts it was designed for. This meant that Pinkie could fit a tall kiosk on top of it without having to worry about clearance issues. In the meantime, Pinkie had found various cans of wood varnish in the car shops next to the machine shop. She then started painting the varnish on the external surfaces of the wood, making sure not to stain the paint of the loco. Gallow gave her tips to ensure best coverage.
The two ponies stepped back to admire their work. The roof of the kiosk itself stood ten feet in the air; tall enough for Pinkie to walk around in, yet still short enough to clear the roofs of the rail-yard’s buildings. There was more than enough room inside for Pinkie to climb over the compressed-air tanks without much difficulty, and the fact that the mining engine was powered by air meant that there was practically no risk of the thing getting dirty. The shelves along the kiosk’s sides were well-protected by the overhang of the roof, ensuring top-quality goods even in less-than-ideal weather conditions.
“Well, I’d say that’s a job well done,” Gallow said, grinning.
“Alright, now get in!” Pinkie said, jumping into the engine’s cab.
“Wait, what?” asked Gallow.
“We have to test-drive the darn thing, silly,” Pinkie pointed out, “There’s no point to this if it doesn’t even run!”
“Then why’d we go through all the trouble of building it if we’re not even sure it runs?!” Gallow exclaimed.
Pinkie thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and said, “It looked in good enough condition to me.” Gallow sighed and rolled her eyes before stepping into the cab.
Inside, the cab looked a bit less like any other cab Gallow had seen before. The Johnson bar reverser was still on the right-hand side, with the brake handle next to it. The throttle was located in the center of the backhead, however, similar to more European-style locomotives. There was no firebox, no water glasses, and no brake gauges. There were still pressure gauges: one for the air tanks and the other for the valve chests on the cylinders. And unlike most locomotives where the brakes were actuated by either air or vacuum, the mining engine’s brakes were mechanical. This wasn’t supposed to be an issue, though, since the engine was light and slow enough to not require a stronger braking system. Gallow hoped, however, that the addition of the kiosk would not increase the engine’s weight beyond the brakes’ capacity.
“Can you tell if it works?” asked Pinkie.
“I’m not really sure,” Gallow replied, “There’s no noise made by these compressed-air engines until they’re actually moving.” She looked at the tanks’ pressure gauge. “Well, at least we have pressure. We should be able to get a few miles out of her.”
“Alright then, let’s go for it!” said Pinkie. Gallow pushed the Johnson bar forward, pulled the brake handle back, and pushed the throttle into the full-left quadrant. A loud hiss of air issued from the tanks, followed by the same sound from the cylinders. With a lurch, the mining engine jumped forward before grinding to a halt. “What the…?” asked Pinkie.
“Oh, oops,” said Gallow sheepishly. Realizing that she had accidentally applied the brakes, she pushed the brake handle forward.
It was around this time that Gallow realized that opening the throttle all the way before releasing the brakes was not the best idea. Now freed from the brakes, the engine’s wheels spun wildly before catching the rails, at which point the engine quickly accelerated down the track, knocking the two ponies off their hooves. Gallow quickly jumped back up and shut off the throttle. The engine began to coast, but was still flying down the track at a relatively high speed. Gallow grabbed the brake handle and pulled it back once more. The brake shoes instantly clamped down on the wheels, causing sparks to fly. Realizing the serious fire hazard, she re-released the brakes, stopping the sparks. This time, Gallow pumped the brakes, trying to stop the runaway engine without accidentally setting fire to the kiosk on top. As she did so, the entire machine rocked back and forth uncontrollably. “I don’t think [grunt] this is [grunt] what you [grunt] had in mind [grunt], huh Gallow?” asked Pinkie as the engine rocked. Gallow simply shook her head. Her technique worked, though. She had the engine under control and soon brought it to a stop.
“Well, that was intense,” Gallow stated, “I think this shows that you shouldn’t drive this thing too fast around the shops.”
“Aww, but there’s a lot of mouths to feed!” Pinkie whined.
“I know, but you can’t brake suddenly when going fast,” replied Gallow, “You saw how much sparking there was from the brake shoes.”
“What about what you just did with pumping the brakes?” asked the pink pony.
“Not recommended,” Gallow said, “It might shake the whole kiosk apart, and you’ll likely have a case of flying pastries.” Gallow looked back to the pressure gauge. It didn’t seem like their little adventure had cost them much in terms of compressed air. “Do you know how to drive a locomotive?” Gallow asked.
“Nope,” Pinkie responded.
“Well, it’s a skill you’ll definitely want to learn before starting up the business,” the unicorn said with a small laugh.
“It doesn’t seem too hard,” Pinkie replied, “I mean there aren’t too many controls to memorize.”
“Just be glad we’re using a mining engine and not a full-blasted steamer,” Gallow stated.
“Yeah, I’ve been in 2398’s cab enough times to know how much of a pain in the flank that is,” Pinkie replied. Gallow explained each control to Pinkie in detail, giving tips she learned from Ironside like using cut-off on the valve gear to save air (or steam in a steam engine’s case). She also recommended limiting the speed of the engine to about 15 mph, since engines like this one weren’t likely to be used for fast operations.
With the lecture over, Pinkie took over for Gallow and drove the mining engine out of the yard. “So, are we going to pick up some pastries from the Corner?” asked Gallow.
“Yep,” came Pinkie’s answer.
“Um, the tracks don’t go all the way into town. You know that, right?” asked Gallow.
“I know. They end right about…” There was a crash as the engine smashed through the buffers at the end of the rails and skidded across the ground.
“PIIIIIINKIIIIIIEEE!!!” Gallow screamed as the engine slid. Ponies trotting along the streets of town jumped this way and that in panic as the runaway rail-kiosk rolled by. The engine smashed whatever it ran into: carts, tables, chairs, and even Applejack’s stand! Luckily, AJ wasn’t on duty at the time, though it’s safe to assume that she flipped the shit when she saw what befell her apple stand. Meanwhile, Pinkie wasn’t even phased by what was going on. In all honesty, she seemed to be enjoying her little joyride through Ponyville. Gallow, on the other hand, felt her heart skip a few beats.
Perhaps it was luck, or perhaps Pinkie has some weird hue about her that makes physics and nature work in screwed up ways, but the rail-kiosk ended up stopping right in front of Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie gingerly hopped out of the cab and skipped into the shop, singing “The Ballad of Casey Jones” (another gift from Ironside) and skipping in tempo with the song. Gallow, who had been hugging the backhead of the engine like her life depended on it, finally felt safe enough to let go. Her stride was very uneven and unstable; not surprising given her roller-coaster of a ride on the engine. Pinkie came back in no time at all with a tray of cupcakes balanced on her poofy hair, still singing “Casey Jones.” She slid the cupcakes into the shelves, and then trotted back inside for more. After only about five minutes, the shelves on both sides of the kiosk were filled with various assortments of pastries. And using her crazy Pinkie powers, she backed the mining engine towards the shops, following the grooves the engine had already dug in the ground during its joyride.
Once the engine was back on actual rails, Pinkie took off in the engine to deliver her goods to the workers and pay a visit to Ironside, who I should point out was still suffering from a lack of mental integrity. To be fair, Gallow wasn’t in much better condition. Having hopped off the engine, she sat down on a pile of crossties and stared blankly into space. “Nothing in the world makes sense anymore,” she said to herself.
“With Pinkie, nothing ever does,” said 2398 as he rolled by.