On a day of solo crusading, Scootaloo finds an abandoned pickup truck.
On a day of solo crusading, Scootaloo finds an abandoned pickup truck. Being a brave little filly, she decides she should drive it back to Ponyville. But can she figure out how to make it work?
She saw it as she came around a vine-covered tree. It was lurking in the bushes a hundred feet away, bright silver-white eyes staring at her. She hastily backpedaled to safety, crouching with her cheek tightly pressed against the gnarled bark of the oak. Heart thudding in her chest, she waited for crunching brush to announce that it had spotted her.
She squinted her eyes shut and waited. She’d been crusading alone in the Everfree—Sweetie and Apple Bloom had been doing things with their sisters, leaving her to fend for herself. She was certain that doing something risky was more likely to gain her a cool cutie-mark than the safe ideas Sweetie always had, although she was beginning to second-guess her decision. She had no illusions about being able to outrun it, but maybe she could outmaneuver it. Large creatures couldn’t turn quickly, after all.
When an attack didn’t come, she cautiously peeked around the tree, body still tensed for flight. Whatever it was, it was staying in the brush. Emboldened by its lack of activity, Scootaloo nervously moved forward to get a closer look. She knew that most predators in the Everfree would chase on sight; she was unfortunately unaware that there are some types of predators who prefer to watch and wait for their prey to come close.
This, however, was not that type of predator at all. As she stepped forward on trembling knees and took a closer look, she discovered that it was not a creature at all, but rather a strange construct. Its body was a dark blue, with a silvery strip of metal across the front, between what she’d initially believed were eyes. In short, she had discovered a 1969 Chevrolet C/10 pickup, although she was unaware of what such a thing was, as they were not native to Equestria.
Now intrigued, she jammed herself into the brush to get a better look, ignoring the branches that plucked at her coat. It was only natural that her eyes would investigate from bottom to top, so it happened that the first thing she discovered was the wheels. She liked wheels—things with wheels were things that could be taken on crusades.
She sniffed carefully at its sides, wondering at the strange smell it seemed to be emitting. It was kind of like lamp oil, but sharper. Deciding that was a mystery to be solved later, she wormed her way to the back, looking up in wonder at the strange red eyes it had and the giant white markings across the backside. There was a silver step that ran across the back; with a furious flapping of her wings she managed to leap onto it and perch with her hind legs on the step while her forelegs draped over the back so she could see inside.
Here, it looked like pretty much every wagon she’d ever seen, although the wheels were tucked up underneath, and there were metal strips separating the floor planks. With a lot of grunting and flapping, she finally managed to get a hindleg hooked across the tailboard and gracelessly flopped down into the back. Her nose quickly found that the floor was littered with fairly fresh alfalfa, and she was never one to let an opportunity slip through her hooves: she began contentedly munching on it while she pondered her next move.
It was pretty obviously some kind of wagon. She’d never seen a wagon like this before, but everypony knew that the Everfree operated under its own Discordian rules. It would have taken a whole team of ponies to pull, and she couldn’t imagine how it could have even gotten here in the first place, or why it would have been abandoned. Maybe one of the legion of Everfree monsters had dragged it here and forgotten it.
With a fuller belly, she began pacing around the cargo area. She finally stopped with her muzzle pressed up against a glass window—quite a strange thing to have in a wagon that appeared to be for work. Some of the fancy Canterlot carriages had glass panes in their windows, but such a thing was far too decadent for a hard-working town like Ponyville. Still, it didn’t require a genius to know that windows were designed to be looked out of, so there clearly was a way to get in.
Scootaloo studied the cabin intently. It had a large black wheel on one side, and reminded her of the parade float they’d built—they’d used a wheel to steer it. Why, it might even have hoof pedals to make it go! It was a lot bigger than her scooter, and therefore a lot cooler.
She sighed. If she couldn’t get in, it would hardly matter. If everything else failed, she could always buck out the window, but that would get broken glass everywhere, and broken glass was very sharp. She’d cut her hoof on some once and had to go to the hospital and get fixed up, and it hurt a lot for a few days—she wasn’t allowed to walk on it at all, which was even worse. It was not an experience she really wanted to repeat.
A close examination of the panes of the window gave her the solution she was looking for. There was a slight seam in the center, which meant it could probably be opened. She managed to carefully work her hoof into the gap, and the window panes slid open with little persuasion, leaving a gap in the center easily big enough for an adventurous filly.
She gently squeezed herself through the opening, cautiously sliding down the cushioned couch and began inspecting the cabin thoroughly.
She began by sitting in what she presumed was the operator’s position. As she had guessed, a pair of pedals were positioned underneath the tiller wheel . They were obviously not sized for a filly—she could hardly get her hooves to the edge of the wheel, and she certainly coudn’t grip it—and her hind hooves only reached the pedals if she scooted her rump dangerously close to the edge of the couch. It made sense—such a wagon was clearly meant for a big pony, like Big Mac.
To her left, a flat panel held a few chrome levers, which were within reach of an adult operator. She had to scooch over to reach them, but some experimentation revealed that the lever opened the door, while the crank made the window go up and down. The other door was similarly equipped.
In front of her, a dashboard reached across the cabin, filled with strange knobs and gauges. Being an inquisitive filly, she naturally had to try to use each one.
Some of them had no apparent effect, although one to her left could be pulled out, which made lights come on across the dashboard. The greenish glow actually looked quite pretty, she thought, then winced at having such a thought. It would have been cooler if it had made flames come out, or something like that.
On the opposite side of the column which supported the tiller wheel, a flat blade with a dangling ring of keys stuck into the dashboard. Keys were wonderful things—each one might open a secret door or a chest or something. Daring Do was always looking for the key to something.
Scootaloo grasped it with her teeth and gently turned it clockwise, wondering what strange mystery it would unlock. She leapt back as a loud sound roared out of the dashboard, but then began slowly nodding her head to the beat. It was music—a strange kind of music, unknown to her—but it was clearly coming from some sort of hidden record player. A little more experimentation revealed the knob that controlled the volume of the music, and she set it to a more reasonable level. There was no reason to draw predators to her, after all. While music might have charms to soothe a savage beast, she worried it might be soothed only after a belly-full of filly.
With the volume sorted out, she turned her attention back to the ring of keys. She’d had the presence of mind to remember which way she turned it to unlock the music; and sure enough, when she turned it counterclockwise, the music stopped.
Music. No music. Music. No music. She’d mostly figured out how this thing worked, but she’d pushed the pedals and turned the tiller wheel, and nothing had happened. It might need to be recharged by a unicorn.
Scootaloo wasn’t ready to give up quite yet, though. She imagined that discovering a heretofore unknown type of wagon might be a way to get her cutie mark. It hadn’t appeared yet, but that didn’t totally rule out the possibility. Surely, it would be even more likely if she could get it back to Ponyville herself. It was obviously too large for her to pull, so the only option was to get it there under its own power, were such a thing possible. The device which had shown the most promise thus far was the key in the dashboard. Without any hesitation, Scootaloo turned it further clockwise with her mouth.
She nearly wet herself as the wagon made a very predatory rur rur rur rur and began trembling. With a sudden roar it came to life. Across the dashboard, red and amber lights illuminated. As soon as her breathing slowed to normal, Scootaloo slumped back into the couch and gave her a few moments to recover. She apparently had figured out how to turn it on, although it was really bucking noisy. No wonder the record player had been so loud.
Sure enough, when she turned it up, it mostly drowned out the loud purring noise the wagon was making. Scootaloo wasn’t sure if the strange wailing shriek coming from the dash was an improvement, although whoever had left the thing here had clearly meant for it to be.
She slid over to the driving position, getting herself into the best position to see through the windscreen and reach the pedals and tiller wheel. It was quite awkward, and she wished that there were some way to move the couch forward, but a quick glance underneath had revealed that it was securely bolted down.
Neither pedal caused the wagon to move, to her frustration. The one on the right, however, caused the wagon to go from a loud purr to a screaming roar. She yanked her hoof off that one as fast as she could, coughing as a blue cloud of smoke billowed into the operator’s cabin through the open back window.
There were a couple of levers she hadn’t tried. One to the right of the tiller wheel, and one to the left. Carefully considering her options, she decided that since the pedal which made it louder was on the right, that must be the side that also made it go forward. She shoved the lever towards the dashboard since she wanted to go forward. It didn’t budge.
Not one to give up easily, she wiggled it a little, and it dropped down into a detent. The purring from the wagon changed, and she was suddenly tossed off the seat unto the floor as the wagon lurched backwards ten feet and crashed into a tree hard enough to rain acorns across its metal roof.
She hastily moved the lever back up, noting as she did that a pointer just forward of the wheel also moved.
Hmm. Everything on this wagon seems to respond favorably when I move knobs and dials clockwise, and turn off when I rotate them counterclockwise. Without a moment’s further hesitation, she braced herself and dragged the lever toward the floor. The wagon eagerly surged forward, branches crackling under its rubber wheels as it crawled out of the underbrush.
With a grin fit to split her face, Scootaloo aimed for Ponyville. She couldn’t wait to show this off to everypony.
The feel of power nearly overwhelmed Scootaloo. Their parade float had been feather-light. It had to be, since unicorn-powered wagons usually weren’t very powerful—most of them could drag themselves and a few occupants along, but they’d had to floor it to make it up the slight rises in the main street.
This . . . thing was in a totally different class. She’d felt that kind of raw power coming from the steam locomotive that pulled the Friendship Express, but she’d never been in control of it. It terrified her. She loved it.
Hooking the spokes on the tiller wheel with her pasterns, she crashed along the narrow trail towards Ponyville. It was a very tight fit—the mirrors were occasionally brushing foliage, but they seemed sturdy enough to handle it. Scootaloo gently worked the accelerator pedal, hardly moving it through a tenth of its range. It was more than sufficient.
Just around a sharp corner, she slammed on the decelerator pedal when she saw a tree limb lying across the path. It was an obstacle anypony could jump over easily, yet it would effectively stop any wagon. She’d have to figure out how to drag it clear, or else back up and find a different route.
She moved the directional lever all the way up, then banged her head against the tiller wheel in frustration. From the front of the wagon came a horrifying bleat.
Scootaloo found herself lying on the floor, jammed between the operator’s couch and the pedals where she'd dived to safety. When the angry noise didn’t repeat, she risked looking above the dashboard. Nothing moved in the forest, save for a few leaves gently twisting in the wind.
She pulled herself back onto the couch. There might be something outside, and maybe it was waiting for her to get out of the wagon. In fact, maybe it had put the branch there to stop her. Maybe it was waiting for her to get out of the wagon so it could steal the wagon for itself. Or else it wanted to eat her.
Scrunching her face up in concentration, Scootaloo regarded the branch thoughtfully. She’d discovered by accident that the wagon was more powerful than she’d thought when it went backwards into the oak tree. Maybe it could climb over the branch, too?
She slid her rump back onto the smooth cushion and yanked the lever downward. The wagon lurched forward, rolling at about her own walking pace. Using the decelerator pedal, she slowed it to a crawl until it bumped into the branch and stopped completely.
This was it. Carefully, she gripped the tiller wheel as tightly as she could—experience on her scooter had taught her that uneven surfaces could jerk the steering off to one side unexpectedly—and stomped her hoof all the way down on the accelerator pedal. With a throaty roar, the wagon lurched over the branch, spraying dirt and gravel out from its rear wheels.
She barely held on as the rear wheels bounced over the branch, sending her into a brief flight off the couch. Even though it was almost totally ineffective, she flapped her wings frantically until she landed again. Her hoof came off the pedal, but that was just as well—the wagon was now proceeding down the path with a frightening velocity.
Biting her lip, she struggled with the oversized tiller wheel while her back hooves felt around for the decelerator pedal. Just like the locomotive, once this thing got moving, it didn’t seem to want to stop. Unlike the locomotive, there were no tracks to guide it. It glanced off a rock in a shower of sparks, mowed down some saplings and jumped a small gulley before she finally got it back under control.
~
The wagon—now slightly worse for wear—finally emerged from the forest near Fluttershy’s cottage. Scootaloo snickered as the pegasus galloped for cover, a herd of small animals rushing after her into the dubious protection of her tree.
She briefly considered driving it right up to the house, but that might end badly for her. Scootaloo knew that while Fluttershy was, well, shy, she would stand up for her animals if she thought something was trying to hurt them. Plus, she had that terrifying stare. Anypony who could make a cockatrice change its mind wasn’t somepony she really felt like facing. The cockatrice had even gotten Twilight Sparkle, and Twilight knew more magic than anypony but the princesses.
As she closed on Ponyville, a few other ponies who lived on the outskirts of town galloped for their houses as the strange blue wagon rumbled by. She watched them run with a small smile on her face. The Cutie Mark Crusaders weren’t afraid of things like magically-powered wagons, nope!
Still, she slowed down a bit. She’d probably get in a lot of trouble if she ran somepony over. She didn’t like getting yelled at for things, even when they were her fault. If this wagon could fly, she’d skip town entirely, and just go up to Rainbow’s cloudominium.
Without really thinking about it, she brought the wagon to a halt and moved the lever into the upright position. She didn’t know that it wouldn’t fly. It had tried, both when it went over the branch and when it bounced over the gulley. Maybe, to make it fly, she needed to get it going really fast, and jump it off something tall. Her eyes locked on the bluff where they’d tried ziplining. If she could get it up there. . . .
Sweetie Belle would say it was a dumb idea. Even Applebloom would probably be against it. While it might work, it would more likely just crash into the forest below, and it might get damaged. She’d already spotted new scratches across the flat metal piece in front of the windshield, and one of the mirrors was folded inward from hitting a tree. As tough as it seemed, it probably was breakable. It was probably too heavy to fly, anyway.
Scootaloo settled on a compromise plan. She could avoid going to town entirely, instead heading towards Rainbow’s home. She’d stop underneath and somehow get the mare’s attention, That way, nopony in town would make a fuss, and Rainbow would see just how cool she was. If Rainbow wasn’t home—well, it was pretty flat under her home; she could just drive it around a bit. Maybe see how fast it would go.
She dropped the lever back into its forward position, and stomped on the accelerator. The wagon lurched forth in a spray of divots, the back swaying side-to-side as it got in motion. Eventually, it seemed to decide to respond to her steering inputs and straightened out.
It hardly took her any time at all to get to Rainbow’s house; unsurprisingly, the filly knew the quickest way there from almost any point around Ponyville, and was often the first to know when Rainbow had moved it somewhere else.
On her way, she’d decided that the wagon made more than enough noise to get Rainbow’s attention, especially when it was slipping on the grass. With that thought in mind, she began to do large figure eights, which turned out to be much easier in the wagon than it was on her scooter. Basically, she just stopped it and then stomped on the pedal. The back end would slide out to one side, and if she kept her hoof down, it would spin in a complete circle. If, however, she let her hoof up just a bit, it would start to move forward. At that point, she simply turned the front wheels a little bit and stepped down on the accelerator pedal again, and the tail of the wagon would kick out in the opposite direction. Not only was it a lot of fun, but dirt and grass flew everywhere when she did it, and the wagon was giving off happy roaring noises which were even louder than the record it was playing.
It was so loud, in fact, it completely drowned out the noise of an irate blue pegasus landing in the open bed. Scootaloo’s first notion that she’d found her idol was when teeth gripped her mane and rudely yanked her out the back window of the wagon.
Scootaloo Finds a Truck in the Everfree Forest Chapter 3 Admiral Biscuit
“Dom’f woffy, I’f gof ya sfirt!” Rainbow jumped back—really, more straight up—and the wagon shot out from under the pair, aimlessly roaring across the park. The pair of pegasi watched as it bounded across small hillocks, bounced off a rock, and dove into a gully. Its glowing red hind lights vanished over the edge.
As soon as she felt ground under hooves, the grip on her mane loosened, and she twisted her head around to look into the concerned magenta eyes of Dash.
The pegasus spit out a mouthful of purple hair before speaking. “What was that monster?”
Scootaloo sighed. It was really awesome how Rainbow had rescued her—it was just like something from Daring Do. But at the same time, she’d lost her new toy.
“I dunno.” She looked back to where it had fallen over the ravine—and suddenly saw its lights beam up at the bottom of Rainbow’s house. The light wavered across the cloud, until it suddenly swept away like a spotlight. Just then, she saw it crest the other side of the ravine, now splattered with mud and trailing cattails. It almost made it over, but when the front wheels broke over the embankment, its belly dragged along the edge and it jerked to a stop. Scootaloo held her breath as it slid back a foot before finally settling into a resting position, its rear wheels still spinning uselessly against the soft dirt of the ravine. “It’s not dangerous, though! It’s just the same as the parade float!”
Rainbow looked at her dubiously. “The parade float that went out of control, careened off a cliff and crashed into a lake?”
“Well. . . .” Scootaloo scuffed her hoof against the ground awkwardly. “Yeah?”
“Wait right here.” Rainbow flew over the gulley, darting around the strange metal wagon. The angry growling it was making was disconcerting; the unicorn-powered parade floats had been mostly silent. A foul odor emanated from under the tailgate—it was almost like flying around the ceiling in Ponyville’s only dive bar, where the fumes from the guttering oil lamps collected and stayed. She’d only been there once, unwisely choosing to perform a stunt after a dozen glasses of cider . . . on her third loop she’d gotten really dizzy and crash-landed across Snowflake’s table, whereupon he’d promptly ejected her through the front window. She absently rubbed her side—he’d planted one hoof on her shoulder muscle and the other on her thigh. When she tried to stand up, neither of her right legs had worked, and she’d just fallen flat on her face again.
“See?” Scootaloo was standing on the opposite edge of the ravine, having forgotten Rainbow’s earlier instruction. “It’s not dangerous at all. It’s just a machine.”
“I dunno.” Rainbow looked back down at it dubiously. “As much as I hate to say this, I’ve been, like, everywhere in Equestria, and I’ve never seen anything like this before. We’re going to have to have an expert look at it.”
“Aww.” Her ears flattened. Visions of driving this thing around Ponyville vanished like a sandcastle in a tornado. Twilight was going to take one look at this thing, levitate it back to her treehouse, toss it in the basement, and analyze the heck out of it. She’d be lucky to ever see a single part of it again.
“So, what do you think?”
The mare put down the magnifying glass. “I think it’s a super-awesome wagon! Ooh, we should throw it a party! A welcome to Ponyville party.”
“No.” Rainbow crossed her forelegs. “No offense, but your parties for inanimate objects are kinda creepy.”
Pinkie’s mane deflated a little bit. “Yeah.” She brightened back up. “Okay, let’s just throw a party for Scootaloo, for finding such an awesome thing!”
"Much cooler.”
Rainbow boosted Scootaloo back up into the cabin so she could turn it off. Because of the angle, she had to push her hind legs against the back of the driver’s couch to reach the key, but after a few fumbles she finally managed, causing the needles on all the gauges to drop to zero. She remembered to push in the switch for the lights, too, and move the directional lever all the way back to its resting position. The crusaders had learned an important lesson about operating machinery during their brief foray into locomotive engineers yay! Always make sure the machine is secured before you leave it unattended.
“What is it?” Scootaloo asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I don’t know.” Pinkie began to study the nose of the truck. “It’s hot in front, so that’s probably where the engine is. It might be steam powered, ‘cause it’s heavy and metal.”
“I didn’t see anywhere to shovel fuel into it.”
Rainbow sniffed the wheels of the truck. “Don’t rubber wheels seem kind of flimsy? They’re okay for wagons and prams and stuff, but a real wagon ought to have steel wheels.”
“Maybe there are instructions in it.” Pinkie jumped up in the bed of the truck and stuck her head through the back window. “My gyrocopter came with all sorts of instruction. ‘Do not operate before reading and understanding all the instructions. Do not operate while inebriated. Do not operate over populated areas. Do not operate without proper personal protective equipment. Manufacturer assumes no liability for death or dismemberment. Warning: All machines—’”
“I think we get the idea,” Rainbow muttered to Pinkie’s poofy tail—the only part of her body still visible. She’d managed to jam herself into the operator’s cabin muzzle-first and was rummaging around with her forehooves.
“Aha! I think I found it!” She triumphantly slid a thin glossy book from under the seat. “Can somepony pull me back out?”
“I’m on it. Stay over here, squirt.” Rainbow flapped up into the back of the truck and grabbed Pinkie’s tail in her teeth. Bracing against the front of the cargo box, she tugged the earth pony back out of the window. “Ya know, you should lay off the cupcakes.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly healthy weight for an earth pony,” Pinkie snarled. “I’m just big-boned in the hips. Some stallions like that, you know. A good—”
“Ixnay on the allionstay.” Rainbow muttered, pointing towards Scootaloo.
“Oopsie! So, I think I found the instructions.” She flipped the booklet open. A foldout dropped of its own volition and the two mares stared at it intently.
Rainbow spoke first. “I give. What the hay is that?”
“It looks like a shaved Diamond Dog, but curvier.”
“That’s a lot of cutie-marks. Maybe it has cutie-pox.”
“Yeah.” Pinkie folded the page back in and closed the booklet. “This isn’t helpful at all. Maybe there’s another instruction booklet in here.” She started jamming herself back through the window again and then thought better of it. “You know, maybe you and Scoots can look through it. I can find some ponies to help pull it out of the ravine. Scootaloo figured out how to make it go, after all. It can’t be all that complicated.”
Pinkie looked over the edge of the bed at a beaming pegasus filly. “You wanna look through your new toy with Rainbow?”
Scootaloo nodded eagerly.
“Ok. I’m gonna get some ponies to pull it back onto level ground. You see if you can find the instructions.” Pinkie stretched out her neck and began whispering. “And I’m gonna bring back some super-special cake, too!”
“Nopony’s gonna take it away from me, are they?”
Pinkie jumped back down to the ground and pulled the filly close. “I don’t know. If it belongs to somepony else, you’ll have to give it back. I can put up lost-and-found posters around town. I keep pre-written forms stashed all around, just in case of emergency. But if nopony claims it, it’s yours.”
“Yay!” Scootaloo jumped out of Pinkie’s embrace. “Cutie Mark Crusaders . . . um Self-Powered Wagon Drivers!”
“I’ll be right back!” Pinkie waved a hoof before pronking back towards town.
Scootaloo struggled to pull herself up over the tailboard. “Uh, a little help?”
“Heh, sorry squirt.” Rainbow hooked a pastern around her foreleg and yanked her up into the back of the truck. “I’ve got to admit, this thing is kind of cool.”
Scootaloo beamed. As Dash helped her into the operator’s cabin, she wondered if the day could get any better.
