Ghost 'Stang
As I sat at the traffic light, a beat-up 1971 Mustang passed in front of me. The Mach 1 looked like Eleanor from the original Gone In 60 Seconds: yellow with black stripes. It also looked well on its way to being as beaten up as the film car got after a forty-minute car chase.
I had a hunch I’d see that car again at my destination.
My friends had turned their car wash into one of those ‘haunted’ attractions. Since they used rainclouds to wash the cars, they had no buildings on the property save for an office. It was basically a giant parking lot and I was curious to see how they’d converted it.
Unsurprisingly, there were some rusty old junk cars lining the front of the property near the entrance, though the beater ’71 Mach 1 wasn’t among them. When it comes to decorating a parking lot, there aren’t a whole lot of options… Stacked hay bales were strewn about, seemingly at random.
I parked and got out, looking around. Unsurprisingly, I was the only human in attendance, but there was a pretty good crowd of ponies. I recognized most of them – the Wild Ponies Club was in attendance, and the parking lot was filled with their cars. Mostly Mustangs, including the beat-up Mach 1… I had to laugh at the ‘Honk if parts fall off’ bumper sticker. Legit. There was also a solitary Mach-E. I knew a pony would get one of those eventually. Ugh. I don’t care that it’s electric, electrification is the future. What I do care about is that no matter how good it is, ‘crossover SUV’ is the very antithesis of a Mustang. That would be like Porsche or Ferrari making SUVs…
…Which they do. I want to go back to the 20th Century, when the world still made sense. I changed my train of thought. “Not much of a crowd.”
“We didn’t advertise it,” Minty replied sheepishly. “Kimono kind of thinks it’s a stupid idea.”
“Halloween’s a really popular holiday, so this might be worth tweaking and making a regular thing. Hopefully tonight goes well for all of you. What do you need to happen to make Kimono come around?”
Minty shrugged. “I don’t think she ever will. She listened to our plans and immediately washed her hooves of it. She said we could do it, after hours, but to leave her out of it. And we’re responsible if anything gets broken.” Minty looked around sheepishly. She had a history of breaking things by accident, which was the main reason she’d moved to Earth in the first place. ‘Crackly little pieces’ was how she put it.
“It’s a parking lot. It’s hard to break a parking lot.”
“That’s only because I haven’t tried not to break it yet.” She giggled nervously. “It seems like the harder I try not to break something, the more likely it is that I do.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that happens to me too. I like to think of it as a real life example of the ‘Rule of Funny’. Like saying you don’t believe in ghosts while there’s one standing behind you, mocking you, the whole time.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
I shook my head. “Not particularly. I’m open-minded enough that if someone presented actual evidence for their existence I’d review it and then revise my decision if necessary. Like if there was one, standing behind me right now, mocking me.” I turned around and nothing was there. “But there isn’t. Barring tangible proof, no, I don’t. Do you?”
Minty nodded. “I have a ghost that steals socks out of my dryer.”
“Have you ever seen the ghost?”
“Nope. But how else can you explain that whenever I do laundry I lose a sock?”
I held my hands up in defeat. “I can’t, but I know you’re not alone. Your ghost must be very, very busy.”
“Oh! So the ghost goes from house to house just like Santa! But instead of leaving gifts, the ghost steals socks.” She gasped. “What a rotten thing to do.”
I decided to let Minty believe that if she wanted to. It’s not hurting anything… Unless she tries to catch the ghost, in which case I’m staging an intervention for her. “So what’s the scare here? Is this a haunted hayride, or a field of screams, or what?”
“Not quite… All we have to work with is a parking lot, so we had to get a bit creative. It’s really just laser tag with spooky obstacles. We’ll have a team of ghosts and a team of Ghostbusters.”
“As the only one here with opposable digits, allow me to say that I may have an unfair advantage over everypony who isn’t a unicorn. Want me to alternate teams from match to match, or maybe be a referee?”
Minty tapped a hoof to her chin. “Those are both really good ideas. But you’re here to have fun, so we can’t ask you to ref.”
“I’m volunteering my services.”
I heard a rustling of feathers behind me and the pegasi landed. Flitter, Surprise, Rumble, and Bifröst.
“Have you met everypony yet?” Surprise pulled my pants leg to get my attention.
“Not everypony. There are some new cars in the parking lot, so I’m guessing the Wild Ponies Club has expanded?”
Surprise nodded her head and headbutted me towards a group of ponies standing around talking. A yellow pony with wild, unkempt hair caught my attention. I bet that’s the Mach 1’s owner. Probably an artist of some sort. Definitely a free spirit.
“This is Meadowbrook! But not Mage Meadowbrook.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know Mage Meadowbrook?” The yellow pony smiled. “Oh, I knew I made the right decision to move here. Ever since she came back from Limbo, I get asked constantly if I’m related to her. Or, in some really confused cases, if I am her. No, it’s just a really common name.”
I chuckled. “I know the feeling. Names get trendy here on Earth too.”
“Great! It pleases me to be the first Meadowbrook to make your acquaintance. Hopefully, you’ll associate my name with me and not somepony else.”
“Of course. Even if I meet the other one.”
“One of the other ones. Plural. Meadowbrook’s a common name. There were two of us in my hometown until I moved here.”
“There was another person with my name in high school. His sole ambition in life was to roll his pickup truck on main street. At least that was his stated life goal. I remember the time I got called to the principal’s office. He took one look at me and asked if I was the one who’d been jumping up and down on a vending machine. He knew I wasn’t, but I still had to come because my name had been paged over the intercom. There’s another person in town with the same name, and my doctor’s office has mixed up our records more than once. Oh, and when he made the paper for a domestic disturbance, my coworkers were nice enough to leave a clipping of the article on my desk.”
She hugged me. “We’re kindred spirits! I like you already.”
I reached down and disheveled her already tangled locks of hair even more. “I’m guessing you’ve got the yellow Mach 1?”
“You bet! Bossy’s an amazing car. There’s this documentary made where a car just like Bossy takes on the entire Los Angeles Police Department and wins!”
“I know the film. Gone in 60 Seconds. The original. The good one. Not that horrible Nicholas Cage movie with the horrid CGI. But it’s not really a documentary.”
“There’s a documentary about the movie, and the same car really did all the stunts.”
“That’s true.” I decided not to mention that the movie car had been reinforced for all the stunt work. She’ll figure it out eventually… Hopefully while there’s still something left of her car… and before I see her in a police chase on TruTV.
Surprise introduced me rapidly to the rest of the ponies I didn’t recognize. Green Apple had a similar vintage Mustang as Meadowbrook, but hers was a notchback instead of a fastback. Shenanigans had an Edsel Pacer, another car named for a horse, but lacking the horse-themed emblem of cars like the Mustang, Pinto, and Bronco. It also had a ‘Shenanigans for Congress’ bumper sticker which was both amusing and surprisingly accurate.
Speaking of Pintos… I turned, trying to spot Sparkleworks’ car in the parking lot. One would think an orange Pinto would be hard to miss.
Not everypony had a horse-themed car. Driving a car with a similar name was also popular: there was Morning Monarch with her Mercury Monarch, Swinger with her 1975 Dodge Dart Swinger, and Sunbeam with her Sunbeam Alpine – she’d driven down from upstate New York just for this.
Cars associated with a pony’s special talent were also common. Denim Blue had an AMC Gremlin with the Levi’s jeans interior. My friend from the Mobil station, Lolligiggle, drove a Volkswagen Rabbit GTi that matched her bunny cutie mark.
And then there was Frisco. An engineer by trade and an iconoclast by personality, she didn’t subscribe to any of the other ponies’ nonsense. She drove a black 1970s Lincoln Continental – the last of the traditional American land yachts. She valued comfort over everything else. I couldn’t really argue with her.
For the most part, the ponies I knew avoided driving anything boring. Mostly. I glared at Periwinkle’s Mach-E for being an insult to the galloping pony. More like Mach-er-E. At least she’d customized it a bit – I recognized Toola Roola’s artistic flourishes on the painted-on cutie mark adorning the rear quarter panels.
That was another thing I appreciated. Ponies didn’t get their cars wrapped. They went all-in with custom paint, airbrushing, the works. Cars were new to them. Something to be proud of. Something to customize to match their interests. Not an appliance.
Not yet. I give it about ten to fifteen years before they’re all driving boring crossovers or comically-oversized trucks. My inner cynic sighed. I miss cars. Growing up I couldn’t have ever imagined a world without Pontiac or Mercury. A world without a new Toyota Celica or Ford Thunderbird.
How much longer before minivans join land yachts and personal luxury coupes in extinction? How about convertibles? Sports cars? Muscle cars?
Shouting interrupted my inner monologue. I really zoned out there.
I expected to see ponies attacking each other with laser guns, instead dozens of miniature pastel equines came thundering past, running as if their lives depended on it.
“Ghost car!”
Ponies galloped away from a pair of headlights. Bifröst took flight to avoid being hit by the vehicle. Foglights turned on, eerily revealing the car to be a fifth-generation Mustang GT like mine.
A robotic voice blared, “Autonomous Mustang engaging Cars & Coffee Mode. Active Pedestrian-Targeting System online. Potential targets: many. This is the most joyous day since my build date.”
Minty had reappeared by my side and tugged my shirt to get me out of the way. “Isn’t that your car?”
“Don’t be silly…” I stopped midsentence. I patted my pocket. I always kept my car key in my left pocket, and the rest of my keys in my right. My right hand felt keys, my left hand didn’t.
The car careened under a light and revealed the Mustang to be Windveil Blue. Disturbingly, there was no driver. “Pedestrian targets acquired.”
“Yup, that’s my car all right.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The same thing any sane man does when being chased by a car: run.” I put my money where my mouth was and started running.
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts?”
“I don’t. But I also don’t believe in standing still and getting run over by a very real car. Especially not my own car. No irony bonus here.”
Minty chased after me, quickly catching up to me. She nosed underneath me, taking me on her back. The earth pony could gallop far faster than I could run.
It was then that I realized that the ‘random’ hay bales had been stacked in a way to funnel guests through a specific path. I had to trust Minty to know where to go, since she’d likely been the one to place the bales in the first place. The route deposited us back onto the state route in front of the car wash, my car not far behind. My Mustang had gone slowly through the hay bale maze, thankfully, and appeared to be intact.
Minty galloped along the two-lane blacktop, with no hope of ever outrunning the driverless Mustang, which was now in its native environment: a straight road. Creepily, there was no traffic, which was strange for a major road like this.
The road forked, and Minty took neither of the two prongs, instead turning to the left, into the woods, shaking my car from her tail. I’m probably more in danger from her hitting a tree than my rogue Mustang.
“Pedestrian targets, negative. Trees, positive. Trees not squishy. Seeking alternate targets.” The car continued straight and was soon blocked from our view by the trees.
Minty dodged around the trees surprisingly adeptly, considering her normal clumsiness. The ‘woods’ turned out to be much smaller than anticipated, which we discovered when we crossed someone’s driveway.
We returned to the two-lane blacktop. Headlights approached in the distance and Minty started prematurely celebrating our rescue. I’d never much cared for horror movies and their predictable plots and tropes. In this case, the trope of assuming that the car in the distance was anything other than one pursuing us. “Assume it’s my car and start running again.” Trope subverted. Oh Minty, Minty, Minty, you would never make it out of a horror movie alive.
Once the car was a bit closer, I confirmed what I’d suspected. “It’s a fifth-gen Mustang GT.”
“Targets reacquired.”
“You know, Mustangs are supposed to try and kill their owners periodically. Just not like this. Usually it involves punishing bad drivers.” I’d always had a knack for making jokes at the worst times.
“Maybe this is your car’s way of punishing bad driving?” Minty wasn’t earning any brownie points.
“Hush and gallop as if your life depends on it. Because it just might.” I swatted her flank. “♫ Giddy up! Giddy-up! Giddy-up! Giddy-up-up! Giddy-up-up! Up-up! ♫”
“Did you just quote a pony song?”
“Maybe?” Probably better that she focuses on that than on the fact I just swatted her rump like a horse. Not that she isn’t a horse… “Um… Giddy-up-up?”
“Up-up,” she answered.
It was among the sillier conversations I’d ever had. It couldn’t help but remind me of another. “Globby globby.”
Minty couldn’t help but giggle at that nonsensical repeated word. “That’s not how the song goes!”
“Songs. Music. Music is good. Switching to music mode. Shaker 500 sound system engaged.”
“♫ I’m all out of love…I’m so lost without you… ♫”
“Your car is singing to us.”
“No, I left Ultimate Air Supply in the CD player. So, uh, ‘serenading’ might be the technically correct word choice.” It’s funny what’s considered appropriate discussion material when being chased by a car.
“♫ I want you to come back… ♫”
“Yeah, that’s so not happening right now.”
“♫ Here I am, the one that you love… ♫”
“Okay, yeah, that’s legit. You love that car more than anypony.” If Minty hadn’t been galloping flat out, she probably would’ve stuck her tongue out for emphasis.
“I’ve had the car longer than I’ve known any of you, it’s never once complained about my off-key singing, hasn’t coerced me into a vegetarian diet, and this is only the first time it’s attempted to kill me.”
“Hey! Those were accidents!”
“That only makes me wonder how successful you’d be if you were actually trying.”
“Probably as bad as I am at everything else.”
“So you’re saying I’d be safer?”
“When you put it that way… probably?”
Unfortunately, there weren’t many places to hide. Our options were to stay on the road, cut across fields or people’s lawns, or take our chances in one of the quarries. I shuddered at that thought. Minty’s no mountain goat. Visions of us falling to our doom leapt to mind. There were no convenient woods to run into, but my car seemed content to just keep chasing us. It wasn’t actively trying to run us over, supporting my guess that there was no evil spirit at work.
With Minty doing the running for us, it gave me time to think. Rational logic. There’s no such thing as ghosts, and if there are, they wouldn’t be haunting my car. Autonomous vehicles are a thing these days, and I know there have been conversion attempts on older cars… to varying degrees of success. Coincidentally, one the first had been a 1965 Mustang converted by Siemens. The car had been all over the course while attempting the Goodwood hill climb. Which is appropriate considering the way some Mustang owners drive.
Unless the technology had drastically improved since then, my car was being driven too well for it to be autonomous.
Also, the car isn’t going all that fast. If this was truly a malevolent spirit bent on hurting us, it would be going much faster. “Slow to a trot.”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“Yes, actually, but not for this. Just trust me.”
Minty whimpered, but slowed her pace. My Mustang also slowed, creeping up until it was almost on top of Minty’s tail. Just as I was about to dismount, the car’s horn blew and Minty leapt in fright and landed galloping. It was all I could do to hang on for dear life.
My car sped up accordingly.
Of course, like any character in a horror movie, Minty never thought to do anything other than run in a straight line. Along a road. When being chased by a car. Survival skills need not apply. Even Minty isn’t normally this oblivious. There aren’t any woods, but she could go into a building. A few of the businesses we’ve passed are still open for the evening. But she just continued galloping along the road and my car followed us, hanging back about a dozen car lengths or so – way too far back to be an evil entity. Whoever had control of my car was doing their best not to injure us.
The injuries will come later. Once I find out who’s responsible. The suspect list is short: Surprise, Surprise, and Surprise. The fillies might be driving. One working the pedals, and another the steering wheel. They’re getting bigger, but they’re still small enough to avoid being seen. Of course, if they’re not looking out the windshield, they have to be getting directions from somewhere… Like maybe from a pegasus.
I glanced up and something caught my attention. I swear I saw something up there. I kept watching and a glint of light reflected off something in the sky. Drone? No… “Minty. Stop.”
“Please, please, please don’t make me stop.”
“Where’s the fearless resolve of a mare who walked up to a chainsaw-wielding maniac in that corn maze years ago?”
“But that was obviously fake!”
“So’s this, and I can prove it. There’s a Sheetz up ahead. Stop there.”
She nodded. “Good idea! Lots of witnesses!”
Even though Minty could run far faster than me, it still took a few minutes to reach the gas station. It gave me time to come up with an appropriate response. My car had crept closer to us, almost as if sensing the chase was about to come to an end.
“Boo,” said the robotic voice supposedly emanating from my Mustang.
“Eep!” Minty squeaked in surprise. She was already running flat out, so she couldn’t speed up now that my car had finally caught us.
“I now see why Mustangs chase pedestrians. This is fun. Please continue fleeing in terror so I may pick you off at a time when it is both convenient and funny. If you are approaching the point of exhaustion, please consider stopping at the gas station to rest and refuel.”
“Certainly. I suppose you’d appreciate it if I topped off your tank as well?”
“That would be great.”
“How’d you like to try diesel?”
“That…would be less great. Maybe I will end you now. Green quadruped that has defiled me more than once with her presence, if you take the master’s shiny rectangle that pays for gas, you will be spared.”
“Oh…kay…” Minty huffed out between breaths.
“Excellent. I am glad we could come to an understanding.”
Minty ran to the Sheetz, coming to a stop in front of the door.
“I’m going to run inside. Be right back.”
“You’re going to leave me out here? All alone?”
“Yes.” Because I know you’re in on it. “You’ll be fine. Promise.” And you know that as well as I do. I gave her a ‘shiny rectangle’, but not my credit card. Good luck getting gas with a laminated business card.
Once inside, I bought a milkshake and the thickest newspaper on the newsstand. When I finally stepped outside, my Mustang was parked in a ‘cars only – no trucks, vans, or SUVs’ spot out front. It was unusual to actually see a car parked in one, instead of a van, pickup, or SUV.
I made a show of drinking my milkshake as I strode over to my car, licking some whipped cream from my upper lip in the process.
“Where’s my shake?” Minty asked.
“Inside, unordered.”
“But you always get me a drink when you get one for yourself.” She pouted.
I shrugged. “I’ve spent the last hour being chased by my own car. I figure anypony involved in this can buy their own drinks, you included.”
“Oh phooey. You figured it out.”
“Wasn’t hard to guess. The last piece of the puzzle clicked together a few minutes ago. I saw a flash of light above us and at first I thought it was a reflection from a drone, but then I saw the unmistakable glow of unicorn magic. This is a prank, so I have no doubt that Surprise is involved. My guess is she was flying overhead with a unicorn passenger driving my car from afar. Like a top-down perspective video game. You were in on it too, of course. Keeping me distracted and herding me in a specific direction.”
“We were all in on it. Well, except for Kimono.”
“Which truly proves that she’s the wisest pony in all the land. I still have some questions on exactly how you pulled this off. We went miles without seeing another car. Where’s all the traffic?”
Minty shuffled her hooves. “We may have, uh, blocked a few intersections.”
I groaned. “You can’t do things like that.”
Minty perked up. “Actually, we can. We got a parade permit.”
I’m surprised the township went along with that. “How could they hear our conversation?”
Minty shuffled her hooves nervously and pulled her cellphone from her saddlebag. “It’s on speakerphone. I have earbuds in, so that’s how they were talking to me and telling me which way to go.”
“That’s clever. I guess there’s just one last loose end that needs to be resolved. If Kimono wasn’t the unicorn driving my car, who was?”
“That would be me.” A green unicorn with a parrot cutie mark stepped up to us. “I’m Mimic.”
“How were you going to stop my car in the event of an emergency?”
“It was in neutral the whole time.” She demonstrated pushing my car around the gas station and using her magic to bring it to an immediate stop without using the car’s brakes. “The hardest part was pushing it uphill in a few spots, but thankfully this area is mostly flat.”
“I admit, I’m impressed. I knew it couldn’t be a ghost, but it took me a while to figure out how you’d pulled this off.”
Mimic smiled and hoofed me my Air Supply CD. “On a side note, I don’t need the car’s stereo to do this: ♫ I know just how to whisper, and I know just how to cry… ♫”
I blinked. She was imitating Russell Hitchcock’s voice perfectly, not to mention all of the instruments of Air Supply and the E Street Band backing him on Making Love Out Of Nothing At All. Simultaneously. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Surprise knows some absolutely terrifying ponies. Not that that the ponies themselves are actually scary, just their abilities. Like Pinkie Pie’s eerily accurate pony costumes.
Mimic switched to imitating the sound of a V8 engine. “We put a speaker behind the grill.”
Surprise giggled. “Mimic taught me everything I know about mimicry.”
I turned my attention the recently landed pegasus. “Surprise, it’s so good to see you. I have a little surprise for you.” I pulled the newspaper from my back pocket and started smacking into my outstretched palm. “Head or tail?”
“None of the above!” She leapt into the air, caught a thermal, and was gone with the wind. I turned to her accomplices.
“You wouldn’t whap a pony you just met, would you?” Mimic looked up at me with shimmering green eyes.
I wouldn’t actually whap any of them with the paper, but they don’t need to know that. Just like they wouldn’t have run me over with my own car. It’s all in fun – I’ve been pranked and they’re expecting a reaction. I grumbled and turned my attention to Minty.
“Hehehe, would you look at the time.” She chuckled nervously. “I need to go feed my socks! Bye!”
Oh Minty, Minty, Minty. You’re getting a workout tonight.
I pulled out of the gas station and onto the road leading toward the car wash. Minty had already galloped that route once tonight, and now she had another five-mile run to look forward to – as did Mimic, who’d I’d left at Sheetz. I followed her for a few minutes, my vision filled with the south end of a northbound pony.
Tired of looking at Minty’s tail, I pulled alongside her and rolled down the window. “See you at the car wash. Have a nice run.” I pulled ahead, watching Minty recede in my rearview mirror.