Blazing a Trail to the Past.

by Daylight_Dreamer

64- Prior preparation prevents piss poor performance.

"So are we ready?" Gilda asked. We were in a secluded section of the orchard where we could shoot safely. She was already looking her gun over.

"Just hold on a moment," I said, "I need a gun."

I pushed the driver's seat forward on its custom track until it was actually touching the steering wheel and pedals. I used the extra space to climb in behind it facing the back seat. Using a wrench I removed the bolts holding the seat down and lifted it on its hinge, shoving a board in place to prop it up, This wasn't designed for convenience.

With access to the floorboards, I was able to find the bolts holding the middle section in. I was pretty sure dad had to cut the section out.

Once that was out of the way I could see the top of the gas tank. Or rather, I could see a thick sheet of steel covering all but the very bottom, designed to reflect x-rays in a way that appears like a full gas tank. Looking at all the modified structure I wondered if my father had left anything original. I was pretty sure the gas tank wasn't even in this spot on the other one. This obviously wasn't the original tank at the very least, and everything around it was cut up and reinforced to make room.

I lifted the sheet of steel off and set it outside the jeep. I had to unbolt the steel box from the undersized gas tank. I slid it into the cabin and opened it with the jeeps own key. My father loved making locks.

I removed the two handguns and was instantly worried about flashbacks. In my right hand, I held a Colt forty-four magnum revolver, in my left was a Colt forty-five with an eight round clip. They weren't Wonderbolt issue, but they were the closest thing I could actually shoot without drinking any potions.

That being said, using a forty-four magnum one handed is like asking to injure your wrist. Pony hooves are a little less delicate than a human hand. Not to mention hoofguns strap to the leg so that takes the brunt of the recoil.

I set them aside and considered if I wanted to take the time to put the last gun together. It was a forty-five caliber, Winchester rifle. Even disassembled it didn't fit in the box as the barrel had to be attached to the floorboard I had removed and made to look like a structural piece. It was more of a jigsaw puzzle.

I was kind of wishing my dad had hidden a shotgun. Gunpowder and other reloading supplies were taking up the rest of the available space meaning I could have made some rocksalt rounds for less deadly encounters.

"You really like these things, huh?" Gilda asked examining the forty-five.

"My father did," I said, "I don't mind them. As long as they are treated with respect."

I decided not to waste time and grabbed a box of forty-five ammo. I was going to wait to unload everything later anyway. The rifle could wait too, even if I did want Gilda to try it out.

Something about a chick with a Winchester just gets my motor running.

Being the reality of her possibly having to use it, I made sure this lesson centered around safety and when not to go for a gun. She seemed to understand and assured me she would rather use her claws if they will do.

Gilda had clearly gotten the hang of looking down the sights, I let her try the forty-five and she took out six out of eight targets in rapid succession.

"This thing is pretty fast," she said setting the safety and handing it back, "but I think I like mine better."

"Yea," I said, "That Smith and Wesson is a pretty well-balanced gun. I'm glad you like it. You should keep it somewhere safe, but where you can get to it. If those creeps I told you about show up at the house, send them packing."

"Sure will," she said, "and I think you're right that we shouldn't kill them... but Is it ok if I make them wish they were dead?"
-
It was about noon. Gilda had gone off to hang out with Rainbow Dash since I didn't really have anything else to cover with her.

I had just set up my reloading station in the back of the shed and put the jeep back together properly. I swung the assembled Winchester over my shoulder on a strap, put the forty-five in a side holster that had been folded up under it, and set the forty-four under my seat to replace the one I gave Gilda.

I only had one box of forty-four magnum rounds so that was the emergency hand cannon. I had enough forty-five rounds and slugs to supply a small army. So that was the go-to. I could also keep Gilda comfortably set for a while.

Before leaving the shed I looked over at a bench where I had left the special issue sidearm sitting in two pieces. I took the bullets out, leaving them on the reloading bench and put it back together.

I put it under the seat with the other forty-four, then I put the empty shell in my pocket. I don't know why.

I went into the house first to stash the rifle in my closet. I had to laugh when I realized almost everything hanging in the closet was mine.

I had a suit for every occasion. While Gilda had one dress, and only because Rarity made her wear one. Come to think of it, just about everything in here was Rarity's design.

I pushed the clothing aside to place the rifle in the back corner for now and was confronted by the Wonderbolts flight jacket. The one thing Rarity didn't design.

I had liked it but hadn't actually worn it since the day it was given to me. I had so many jackets, and I'm used to cold weather, so I don't even always wear one.

I looked at the inside of the jacket and saw the familiar plethora of pockets, ready to hold whatever a Wonderbolt might need for whatever situation they find themselves in. I decided it was time to wear it. Suits never really were my thing.

I was about to head out to gather ingredients when there was a knock at the door. I opened it hoping for word about Sweet Harvest but was instead greeted by Slag.

"Jerry," he said, "just the guy I wanted to see."

"I'd hope," I said, "you knocked on my door."

"Yea," he said, "I just passed the school and Scootaloo flagged me down from the playground saying you wanted to talk to me."

I actually had to think for a moment before remembering what I wanted of him, "Do you know anything about Harvest Moon Ranch?" I finally asked.

"I know where it is," he said, "and that it's where those ponies from the party live."

"That was family of mine," I said, "if you couldn't tell by the resemblance."

"You're shitting me," he said, "are they, you know, secret holders?"

"What if I told you there was a jeep in Equestria all along?" I asked, "It's just been sitting at that farm waiting for me to claim it."

"I would literally shit an iron ingot," he said.

"Well I hope you had your Geritol," I said, "because I thought it would be a good idea to have you take a look at it before you bring it to me."

I heard something heavy hit the ground behind Slag as he stared at me wide-eyed and slack-jawed, "What the fuck is Geritol?" he finally asked.
-
After giving Slag detailed instructions I decided it was time to set about my potion making. I had a few of Gilda's books, and some of the books we got from the party covered the subject, but I knew there was only one place with the recipes I really wanted.

I tried to think of what books I wanted but I wasn't sure, so I made an executive decision looking at the empty shelves on the bookshelf Sawdust made for my cutecenyera. I grabbed one of the books I did have to put on it and scribbled a note.
--
Dear Princess Celestia,

I was wondering if you would mind sending me a few books?

Let's start with every book I wrote and I'll let you know if I need more.

Your loyal subject,
Daylight Drea--Jerry
--
I facepalmed realizing it would have been less embarrassing to just finish my pony name. At least Celestia would have a good laugh.

I waited a moment but nothing happened. I figured she was likely in a meeting.

I at least had a good idea what ingredients I needed, so I figured I could start with that. I had a lot of potions to make so I didn't want to waste time.

I was starting to wish Gilda or Scootaloo were home to ask for help, but what I really needed was a pony that understood complex potions. Not necessarily a master, but an apprentice to a master would be a godsend.

I grabbed a basket and headed out to Apple Blooms Garden. I was surprised when I found Apple Bloom outside reading a book.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" I asked.

"The doctors said ah should take a few days off to avoid roughhousing on the playground," she said, "ah wanted to go see if ah could get a lesson from Zecora, but then ah remembered how easy it is to chip a tooth heading out that way. So ah'm just readin' up for the next time."

"Well I don't have Zecora's rhyming schemes," I said, "but I could use your help it seems."

"It don't really work when you do it," she giggled.

"Sorry, I'm not too good with the whole sagely talk thing. Let me try another one," I cleared my throat and did my best Yoda impression, "Helt me, will you? Many potions, I must brew."

She burst out laughing, "You're silly. Let's just get to it! Ah'll get the cauldron going."

"I think I'd rather use my kettle," I said, "We can do it in my kitchen."

"Alright," she seemed to like the idea, "let's get what you need, if it needs to be dried, you'll find it hanging in the shed."
-
"Did ah do it?" Apple Bloom asked as the potion in the kettle started to change colors.

I set the book down and looked at the kettle, it settled on a candy apple red.

"I think so," I said, "but I'll test it." I took a ladle and a glass and got a sample. Once in my hand, the contents of the glass turned midnight blue.

"Is that supposed to happen?" she asked.

"Eeyup," I did my best Big Mac voice before taking a sip and quickly setting the glass down. Sure enough, the transformation was flawless as I briefly became my pony self.

"Alright!" Apple Bloom cheered as I changed back, "What next?"

"I'm still waiting to hear back from the princess about my books," I said, "I don't dare make anything else in this one. Is there anything you wanted to make?"

"Not really," she said, "but there is one thing ah wanted to ask you."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Scootaloo told me about the Protectors, how you guys were like the Elements," she paused.

"Sort of," I said, "we mostly used the elements as a form of identification. We got them to spark a little, but that was pretty much it."

"That's still pretty cool," she said, "but muh question is. How did you get them all together? Ah mean. How did you know you had the right ponies?"

"I don't remember," I said, "let's see if this helps." I drank the rest of my potion sample.

Comments

[Lord Legion]

I can’t remember if Jerry did or not, but did he attempt to drive his Jeep whilst in pony form? I imagine he wouldn’t for two reasons. One being that he’s a Pegasus and two being that it must be uncomfortable. I did make an attempt at a picture of a pony driving an open top truck a little while back.

[Daylight_Dreamer]

9490195
You are correct. Jerry wouldn't bother trying to drive as Daylight. Especially now that Gilda can drive. He has no reason to, even if it had to be moved.

Part of having Sawdust's truck made was to show the problems a pony would have in the form of Slag's solutions-raised pedals and holes in the steering wheel to place hooves in.