Cars have somehow arrived in the world of Equestria from the human world, and it isn't long until the joys of burning blacktop in a sweet set of wheels are realized by anycreature with a competitive spirit.
Automobiles have entered the world of Equestria, sparking enthusiasm in the hearts of creatures all across the land, and even monsters see racing and tuning as a fun pastime. While car culture is a great source of friendship, bitterness arises as adversaries set out to finish their rivals on a motoring circuit, as there is always somepony to take an enjoyable hobby and blow it out of proportion.
Numerous cars lined up on the pavement. Ponies of all kinds gathered on the Canterlot slope, leaving the only ground uncovered was the road in front of a Dodge Viper. An older model, possibly from the early 2010’s judging from the body style. The windows were tinted, the only thing visible through them were the gleam of scales.
“It’s starting!” said somepony from the lot. “She’s here!”
Sure enough, the squeal of tires became increasingly louder, until they ceased. No noise from the engine, though. Finally, the crowd cleared, and a yellow BMW i8 rolled through. The driver of the Viper stepped out to greet them.
“Heya Fluttershy. You ready to race?” asked Spike.
Oh, I don’t know. There are lots of other cars here, and I’m sure they're very fast,” said Fluttershy, getting out of her i8.
Come on,” said Spike, rolling his eyes. “You agreed to this just a few hours ago. Besides, I’m sure you’d smoke me out here.”
He climbed into his car and started the ignition. Fluttershy, anxious with the countless eyes following her, got into her car, too. Sassy Saddles stepped between their cars.
“Are your engines ready?” she asked.
Fluttershy and Spike nodded.
“In five, four, three, two, one… Go!!”
They took off, with Spike in the lead, darting down the mountain. His Dodge Viper had almost twice as much hoofpower as Fluttershy, and he was going to use as much of it as he could. In his mirror, he could see her headlights. She was getting closer, and it wasn’t much time before she overtook him. He looked at the tank of NOS in his center console. Enough of it to blow his car off of the mountain. His plan was to jump on the nitrous as soon as he managed to countersteer from the last corner, and propel to the finish.
Meanwhile, Fluttershy maintained a solid gain on Spike. While it was true that he had almost double of what she had in hoofpower, it was also true that she had a much higher top speed, around a hundred kilometers more. She only raced for fun, mainly because Rainbow Dash wouldn’t stop talking about it, but was still a complete noob. In the desire to get a car that was both fun to drive, as well as environmentally friendly, the 2020 i8 was an obvious choice. However, with no real knowledge of cars, Fluttershy didn’t really know what she was racing against.
They tore through the few corners on the pass, and with each corner, Spike managed to shake the i8. Unfortunately for him, Fluttershy made up the distance on each straightaway. One corner left, and it was a mostly straight road from Canterlot to Ponyville. As they entered the corner, Fluttershy entered even more aggressively, drifting centimeters from Spike. As they exited the corner, Spike got nervous. He forgot about recovering from the oversteer, and activated the nitrous, shooting into the guard rail, his Viper grinding to a halt. Fluttershy flew past him, securing her victory.
Spike rolled down to meet his victor, mainly glad that his car only suffered cosmetic damage.
“That was a very good race, Spike,” said Fluttershy, seeing his disappointed face.
“Yeah… I guess,” said Spike. “I’ll see you in Ponyville.”
“Oh… Bye, then.”
He finally rolled into Ponyville. The streets were completely empty, which made him feel a little better; no one would be around to see the side effects of a losing streak, at least until morning. He parked in front of the castle, and walked in. As soon as he did, a purple alicorn shot toward him.
“Spike!! Where were you? I’ve been worried sick!” she screamed.
“Sorry, Twilight… just left to get my scales handed to me again,” he said dejectedly.
“Don’t tell me you were out racing again,” said Twilight.
“Yeah. I went against Fluttershy,” said Spike. “I lost. Again.”
Twilight looked out of the window at the street, and saw Spike’s Viper SRT. The paint on the right side was scratched off, and the front right fender and grille were caved in.
Twilight sighed. “I just don’t understand why you like racing so much that you break your car over it.”
“Come on!” said Spike. “What I don’t get is how you don’t like it! The feeling of powering through a track at top speeds, modifying your car for the race… It gets my scales shivering just thinking about it.”
“But all of that, and you still lose,” said Twilight.
“Ouch,” said Spike. “But it’s not the car’s fault. It’s mine. I’m just not skilled enough as a driver.”
“Hmm,” Twilight said. “Well, let’s get you a good night’s rest, I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”
She carried Spike to bed. As she closed the door, she thought about what Spike said. Was driving really all that he cracked it up to be? Why would she get a car if she could just fly everywhere? She went to bed, thinking about Spike’s banged-up Dodge Viper. She decided to ask the most race-obsessed Pegasus she knew, first thing in the morning.
“I can wait until morning,” she said, staring up at her ceiling.
Twilight turned over in her sheets, trying to rest, but the question was eating her alive.
“Rainbow is probably still awake, right? At… 11:23?” she asked herself, already picking up her phone to call Rainbow Dash.
“Howdy, Twilight!” said Applejack.
“Oh, I’m sorry, AJ. I was trying to call Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight. She looked at the caller ID. It was definitely RD.
“Yeah, I can wake her up for ya,” said Applejack. Twilight heard rustling from AJ’s side of the phone. “Pardon me, Rainbow. Twilight wants to talk to ya.”
“Hey Twilight,” said Rainbow. “What’s up?”
“Wait, are you at Applejack’s house?” asked Twilight.
“Yeah. We’re having a slumber party,” she said, yawning. “Maximum slumber, minimal partying. Anyway, what do you need?”
“I want you to tell me what’s so great about cars,” said Twilight.
“Seriously? Okay,” said Rainbow, taken aback.
“You’re obsessed with flying. With the Wonderbolts.” said Twilight. “Why would you drive cars when you can just fly everywhere?”
“Well, not everyone can fly, but anyone can drive. My opportunities to race have grown since I got my car,” said RD. “I’d win any race in the air, but in cars, I get real challenges.”
“Huh,” said Twilight.
“But don’t get any ideas. I’m still the fastest flier in all of Equestria, and I’m still just as passionate about it as I’ve ever been,” said Rainbow.
They said their goodnights. Twilight lied in her bed, thinking about what Rainbow Dash said. Rainbow’s passion was winning, and racing let her do that on a scale triple the magnitude that Flying had. She eventually went to bed, dreaming of races. Roaring cars, the friction of the tires scorching blacktop. Spike’s Viper slamming into a guard rail. Applejack and Rainbow Dash wearing matching pajamas. In her subconscious, her mind made up her mission: to gather the perspectives of her friends on cars, and maybe, get one herself.
Twilight woke up, to the sound of a roaring V10. She looked out of her window to find that Spike had already peeled out, likely to repair his car. Whatever. She noticed a note on her kitchen counter. Celestia is visiting today. 8:30 AM. Twilight looked at the clock. It was 8:24. She managed to prepare the castle in time, and waited to hear the galloping of the princess’s coachponies, but instead, she heard the high-pitched whirring of… Something. Finally, the whirring revealed itself; a white-and-turquoise car. It stopped in front of the castle’s entrance, blasting Reggaeton. The driver stepped out.
“Princess?” asked Twilight.
“Do you like what you see?” asked Celestia. “It’s a Lotus. The 2019 Evija.”
“I didn’t know you had a car,” said Twilight.
“Yes. I got into them through Luna. She was never able to ride in the royal carriages, so she got her own car,” said Celestia.
“I’m just having trouble understanding why everypony I know is obsessed with cars,” groaned Twilight.
Celestia gave her classic Celestia chuckle. “Come, we have more important matters to attend to. We can talk about it afterward.”
After several hours of royal matters, they finally finished. Twilight excused herself from the map room and went outside to brood on the balcony.
“So, Twilight, what did you want to talk about?” asked Celestia as she followed Twilight out.
“Cars,” said Twilight. “I talked to Rainbow Dash about it last night, but all she talked about was racing. Is this whole fad really over racing? I just don’t get it.”
“Well, tell you what, Twilight; we’ll go looking for a car for you. You can test-drive it, see if it’s comfortable and if it looks good. If you’re satisfied with the car, you and I will do a basic tune-up and we’ll take it to a car meet. There’s a meet starting tonight in San Featherscolt.
“Are you sure?” asked Twilight. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Of course,” said Celestia. “Besides, if nothing else, cars are a great way to connect with others. For now, just think of this as a moderately expensive friendship lesson.”
Twilight agreed, and awkwardly climbed into the passenger seat of Celestia’s Evija. They took off, but not before she offered Twilight the aux. Shortly after, they arrived at a car lot. There were all sorts of vehicles, from ATVs to trucks, and even RVs.
“So, Twilight, what are you looking for?” asked Celestia.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Twilight. “Just something that can help me understand the deal with these.”
“Ooh! What about this?” asked Celestia, clearly about to start geeking out. “A 2001 Audi TT!”
Twilight quickly looked up the car. “Apparently, this one requires a lot of maintenance. And… the camshaft has oil leaks? I don’t know what a camshaft is but it sounds important.”
Celestia rolled her eyes and snorted. She trotted about for a bit, eventually finding a different vehicle.
“What about the 1999 Ford F-150 Lightning? You could lower the suspension, install a body kit, maybe find a ducktail spoiler, no?” she asked, subconsciously trying to get her pupil into the rally scene.
“What kind of car is that?” asked Twilight, confusedly.
Celestia’s eye twitched. “This is a truck, Twilight. Your friend Applejack has one. They’re commonly used for holding things in the bed,” she said, motioning at the end of the truck.
Twilight looked at Celestia like she was insane. That didn’t look anything like a bed to her. She turned her attention towards an adjacent car.
“What about this one?” asked Twilight. “The Chysler PT Cruiser—”
“Stay away from that,” Celestia said flatly.
She looked around, when finally her eyes lit up, and a smile beamed across her face.
“TWILIGHT! LOOK! An ‘89 Porsche 911!” said Celestia.
Twilight looked at her mentor. It was quite a sight to see one of the most powerful ponies in Equestria scream like a filly. They walked toward it, Celestia prancing the whole way there. When they reached the car, she asked if she could pop the hood.
“I KNEW IT! This is the turbo limited version!” she squealed. “You need to buy this one!”
Twilight rolled her eyes, and asked to test-drive it. After a minute or two of getting the basics from Celestia, she drove half a kilometer and back.
“What did you think?” asked Celestia, having calmed herself.
“It drives well, I guess,” said Twilight, not really having a basis for what drives “bad.”
“And? It has minimal wear, a decently maintained engine bay. Nothing a fresh coat and a few hours under the hood can’t fix,” the princess said.
“It was a comfortable drive. Are you sure that this isn’t too much trouble to fix up?” Twilight asked.
“Of course not,” Celestia reassured her.
“Okay, then,” Twilight called for the dealer. “I’d like to buy this car.”
After she paid for it, Twilight drove home in her new 911, followed by Celestia in her Evija. They finally arrived at the castle, and Twilight—in an awkward few seconds—finally learned how to open the garage, and found that Spike was already inside, working, his car on one of the lifts.
“Hey Twily— WHOA! Is that your’s?” he asked, stars in his eyes.
“Why is everyone going crazy over this car?” she asked, groaning.
“Hello, Spike,” said Princess Celestia, climbing out of her Lotus hypercar.
Spike’s jaw dropped. Meanwhile, Twilight clumsily drove her car into the other side of the garage, onto a lift. Spike took a break from working on his own car, and together, the three of them got to work on the new 911 Turbo.
“Not to sound like Rainbow Dash, but this is 20 percent cooler than when we started,” said Spike.
After a few hours of hard work, the 911 was more road-ready than ever. A new coat of paint, new Torq Thrust wheels and white-wall tires, and a roof rack to hold copious amounts of books (Twilight’s request). But past aesthetics, it was tuned with performance in mind; a raised OEM wing for increased downforce, a new cat-back style exhaust, a new cone-shaped air intake, and lowered suspension to handle the increase in hoofpower, however slight.
“And just in time, too,” said Celestia. “We should leave for San Featherscolt in an hour. It takes one hour to get there… Twilight, I want you to drive over to Canterlot and practice driving on the mountain.”
“Oh, you guys are going to the car meet?” chimed Spike.
Twilight smirked. “All right. Well, have fun.” She turned to the Princess. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“As I know you will, my star pupil,” said Celestia.
Twilight started the car, and took off for Canterlot. Once there, she stepped out and went over the very basic instructions that the Princess laid out for her.
“Get up to seven-thousand RPM, hard turn on a corner, shift to a lower gear as I do, and rip the handbrake to drift. All while flooring the accelerator,” Twilight read to herself. She looked down the mountain pass. “There aren’t any corners here, just curves where the road turns! What was Celestia thinking?!”
Nonetheless, she got back into the 911 and did as she was told. And, similarly to anything else that she’s had to learn, twilight got the hang of drifting—no matter how neophytic—very quickly. Around an hour later, she drove back to her castle in Ponyville. Celestia was waiting for her by the front steps.
“Yoohoo! Twilight! Are you ready to go?” she asked, stepping into the car.
“Yeah,” Twilight said. “I think I’m getting pretty good at this drifting stuff.
“Good,” said Celestia. “On the way to the meet, you can show me what you’ve learned”
She slid a CD into the car’s port and they sped off to San Featherscolt to the sounds of DJ PON-3, mostly driving the speed limit, except on select corners where Celestia wanted a review of her student’s newfound skills.
“We’re coming up on a series of hairpins here,” said Celestia. “Go at your maximum revs for 2nd gear the whole way.”
“Alright,” said Twilight warily.
She tore through the hairpins as fast as she could. She looked over at the Princess for approval, and Celestia shone her a warm look. Feeling gassed up, Twilight attacked the corners as intense as ever the whole drive to the car meet.
Twilight had never even heard of a “car meet” before, so her only expectation was that of an event like Magi-Con, where there are stalls of merchandise and a panel of some knowledgeable folk, in this case Mareton Senna or somepony. However, when she and Celestina pulled in to the parking garage where the meet was held, she was appalled to say the least. A tremendous amount of cars filled parking spaces, with almost twice as many ponies walking about and interacting with their cars and each other. A decent amount of cars had their hoods raised revealing engine bays of all kinds.
“Um… Princess,” Twilight started. “What are those snail-looking things attached to some of these engines— Princess?”
To her surprise, Celestia had put her mane underneath a top hat and donned a monocle and a mustache.
“I don’t want to draw any attention to myself where it should be going to these wonderful builds,” Celestia said, giving Twilight a wink.
They parked the 911 by a few other cars, but before she even got her last hoof out of the car, Twilight heard the squeal of tires coming from one of the lower levels. Suddenly, two cars emerged from a cloud of tire smoke, drifting. One of them was a tinted, gunmetal-gray Mustang, and the other was a miniscule yellow car, the only branding on it being a decal on the side skirt that read “Honda.” That said, the lack of proper badging didn’t stop Twilight from being able to tell that it was Pinkie Pie behind the Honda’s wheel. They flew past Twilight, and eventually ceased their burnouts in the center of the meet.
“Was that… Pinkie Pie?” asked Celestia.
“Yeah…” said Twilight.
They both trotted toward the large plume of tire smoke generated by the pair.
“...Pinkie?” asked Twilight.
“HEY TWILIGHT!” shouted Pinkie “What are you doing here? :D”
“I just got a car, so Celestia brought me to my first meet,” she said, as she looked up at Celestia and remembered that she was still wearing that ridiculous hat.
“Pleasant eve, Ms. Pie,” said Celestia.
“Pleasant eve to you too, Celestia!” said Pinkie, giggling.
“Pinkie!” shouted the driver of the mustang, aggressively.
“Lime! Twilight and—”
“Ugh, Pinkie! You engaged your throttle too early on corner 15b!” said Limestone Pie, emerging from the dust like Darth Vader in Rogue One.
Twilight always forgot that Limestone was Pinkie’s older sister, on account that she never saw her much and when she did she was always angry.
“Hi, Limestone,” said Twilight. “You have a car, too?”
Limestone looked somewhat bashful. “Oh, uh… Hey—”
“YUP! This is my Honda Beat!” said Pinkie Pie, cutting her sister off enthusiastically.
“—Princess…es,” said Limestone. “Yeah. Me and Pinkie come out here to San Featherscolt every other meet or so—”
“Lime here is the circuit champ here!” squealed Pinkie.
“I guess it’s obvious now, after I saw you and Pinkie drift, but I didn’t know you were into car racing,” said Twilight.
“Yeah,” said Lime. “and in my GT500 Super Snake, I’ve never lost.”
“She learned how to drive on our parent’s rock farm, so her technique is super good!” said Pinkie. “Avoiding rocks, avoiding fissures, not to mention navigating the mountain—”
“That’s enough, Pinkie,” said Lime.
“You must be pretty good, then,” said a mare from inside the newly formed crowd.
“Who said that?!” Lime barked.
The crowd parted, and a Toyota MR2, a Lexus LC 500, and a Scion XB rolled forward. All were jet-black with neon-green accents, and neon-green lightning bolts painted on the rear fenders. The mare inside the MR2 stepped out.
“I did,” she said. “The name’s Lightning Dust, but I doubt you’ll be forgetting it.”
By now, the drivers of the two other cars had stepped out, too, and all other noise at the meet had ceased.
“You want a race?” asked Lime.
“Winner gets the loser’s car,” said Lightning, cockily. “Come on, you have a Shelby GT! Against my MR2? What have you got to lose?”
The other two behind Lightning Dust snickered.
“Come on, it’s not like you’re good enough for the ol’ Stang, anyway…” she said, chuckling. “… Champ.”
Limestone Grimaced.
“M-maybe you should just ignore her,” Pinkie said, sheepishly.
“Yeah,” agreed Twilight. “Limestone, the best thing you could do right now is walk awa—”
“Quiet! S-sorry, Princess,” Limestone climbed into her cabin. “We start at the San Featherscolt Bridge. You’ll get the layout of the circuit there.”
The shriek of her tires spinning filled the garage, before the sound of her engine replaced it, and she took off.
Lime waited in the alley of a building by the bridge, confident that Lightning Dust would lose and she’d walk away with the keys to an MR2. Maybe I’ll give it to Marble, she thought. She’d perfected the art of drifting a cumbersome vehicle, especially in places where cars as nimble as the Miata would struggle. Lime ran her hoof across the dash. It was once a dented, brick of scrap, totaled by some poor creature who missed the perfect line on a circuit and paid the price for it. At least, that’s what the scrapyard pony who gave it to her said. Since then, she’d poured nearly everything into her GT500. She added fiberglass body panels to make the car lighter, on account of the replacement engine—an SR20DE—not being as powerful as the stock one. To make up for that, she also improved the aspiration by adding dual turbos.
“I’m not gonna lose you,” she said, softly.
Finally, Lightning Dust and her posse arrived at the bridge, followed by the Beat, the 911, and several other cars from the meet. Lime rolled out of the alley, and parked her car on the lane adjacent to Lighting.
“I’ve already got the run-down of the course,” said Lightning.
“Good,” said Lime. “I’ve got space in my garage for your car.”
Lightning laughed. “Let’s get started, why don’t we?”
Pinkie stood between the two cars.
“Three… Two… One… GO—GOOD LUCK LIME!!” she screamed.
They peeled from the start and immediately Lime took the lead. In a circuit race, one of the best strategies is to follow, to see how your opponent drives, and overtake them somewhere later on the circuit. This was something that Lime wanted to do, but a sinking feeling in her mind told her to simply blow past her and run her usual race. Unfortunately, as soon as she entered the first corner, she saw the reflection of the MR2’s headlights in her sideview mirror. Lime exited the corner at a decently high speed—one she was positive the MR2 would need a bit of time to achieve, but to her dismay, Lightning Dust was practically fused to her bumper. For the next several corners, Limestone tried her hardest to ignore Lightning and run her usual race, but something about her opponent just… Pissed her off.
About 300 meters away was a set of three high-speed corners—The only few where Lime was always anxious about entering, and her time trials always suffered because of it. The reason for that was because there were three buildings that outlined the corner, and it was impossible to see if there was any traffic or bystanders on the other side of the buildings.
She slowed down to safely pass through, but as she did, the MR2 pulled in front of her, not slowing down, even a bit. It flew into the corners, and all Lime could hear was shouting and the honking of horns. She safely exited the corner, receiving shouts from the onlookers still angry about Lightning’s pass. Unfortunately for her, Lightning was already a couple blocks away. Fortunately, Lime knew that for the next kilometer or so, the circuit was a straightaway. She pressed her hoof against the accelerator even harder, closing the gap between her GT500 and Lightning’s MR2.
Lightning looked in her rear-view mirror.
“Finally catching up?” Lightning asked out loud. “I’ll put an end to that.”
The straightaway neared its end, and as Lime turned for her usual line, Lightning swooped right in front of her, and took the same line, forcing Lime back.
Damn it! thought Lime. She’s taking my optimal line! She knew that I was going for it— How? Shit, for all I know, she’s watched me run the circuit dozens of times. But I don’t know anything about her. This has really turned against me…
The two shot through the next several bends and straights of the circuit on the same lines, like the carts of a roller coaster, until finally, the last street was upon them. The final leg of the course consisted of a narrow strait—that Lime and Lightning were currently on—and two high-speed hairpins, which were the most brutal part—The second hairpin was the only portion of the road that traffic was at its most difficult to navigate, so the racers had to be careful as to not lose control and hurt themselves—or worse, others.
Lightning grinned to herself. In all of her years of shattering speed records—both in her car and in the air—one trait about her set her apart from the rest. It wasn’t blistering reflexes or a resistance to high temperatures at high speeds, but her willingness to do what nopony else will. Her willingness to ignore the safety of herself and others if it means that she can be the fastest, and it was the only ideal, that—unbeknownst to her—made it that she could never win against her nemesis.
“You lost this the moment you accepted the race,” she said, snickering.
Meanwhile, Limestone had been surveying the distant traffic. There were many places that she could slide through, but no opportunities for her to overtake and lose The MR2 for good. Unlike the rest of the course, there was never a set line that was the most optimal; it was always changing due to traffic, but there were usually lines that were at least good. Suddenly, she saw an opening. Wide enough to drift through, but subtle enough that anypony who was just mimicking would never notice. The perfect line. Lime put her hoof on her handbrake, waiting to rip it.
Just as she was about to, the lanes of traffic grinded to a dead stop, accompanied by horns and shouting. She jerked her head to the commotion, to see Lightning, skirting through the jam, only passing because everycreature else didn’t want to partake in a crash with her. Suddenly, the glare of headlights filled Lime’s windows.
“FU—!” she screamed, as the eighteen-wheeler barreled towards her, unable to stop in time.
She floored the accelerator, but just as she was about to be clear of the truck, it slammed into her rear fender, crushing the wheel. The rear end of the GT500 went airborne for a second. At the same time, Lime was all over the steering wheel, trying to still save as much of her car as possible, but it was futile—by the time it had landed, the car had begun pitifully tumbling to a stop, almost all of its panels shattered, or in the very least cracked.
Lime laid in her seat. Her forehead was bleeding profusely, and she couldn’t feel the whole left side of her body. Thank Celestia for roll cages, she thought. In the distance she could hear the screeching of tires, followed by the wail of sirens. As her eyes grew drowsy, she saw the MR2 roll up beside the wreckage, followed by the Lexus LC 500 and the Scion XB.
Lightning Dust rolled her window down. “On second thought, you can keep your car. It isn’t any good to me now,” she said, craning her head back. “This place is Washouts territory from here on. Caio, champ.”
They took off, and as they left, the emergency services finally arrived.
“Don’t worry Lime!” screamed Pinkie through tears. “The ambulance is here! You’re gonna be—”
“Please step back, ma’am,” said a ponymedic. “She’ll be okay.”
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.
Big Mac and Spike finally arrived in Manehattan, even if it had taken all day. The city lights of the towering Manehattan infrastructure were blinding to Big Mac, having never been to Manehattan before. The streets were packed, with some lanes even being bumper-to-bumper. He looked into his side mirror at Spike, in Applejack’s 1500. Spike looked a lot less fazed by the night life. Suddenly, Spike came in on Big Mac’s walkie-talkie.
“Big Mac! Can you hear me?” asked the dragon.
“Eyup!” hastily responded Big Mac.
“Let’s take a left here. There’s a meet going on underneath the Hooflyn Bridge,” said Spike. “Rarity and Coco have their garage just a few streets before that; we can leave the 1500 there!”
While Big Mac felt somewhat bad just dumping the GT500 on Rarity’s porch, he did want to see the car scene of south Manehattan.
“Eyup.”
They arrived at the garage owned by their friend, Rarity, and Coco Pommel, a Bridleway fashion designer and a dear friend of Rarity’s. The outside was completely contrasting to the surrounding architecture: tall marble pillars tracing the face of the building, and a set of three garage doors. Light bars were set above the windows, one of which displayed a set of Falcon tires. On the other display was a 90’s Civic hatchback with a—as Rarity would put it—simply divine bodykit and livery.
Spike knocked on the centermost garage door. It flew open, and a mare in a blue—though the pony wearing it would say “oxford” blue—coverall and a respirator stood before them.
“Spike! Darling!” she said.
Spike blushed profusely. “Hiya, Rarity.”
“What are you doing here? Oh, and I see you’ve brought Big Macintosh with you! Come, come inside!” she said, dragging them with her.
The inside of the garage was even more decadent. Polished tools hung above a scratched toolbench. A wide elevator slowly descended from the upper levels, the floors of which were glass, and a silver sports car with metallic purple accents could be seen through the glass, in a well-illuminated area of the shop. Another, much smaller car, sat across from it on the circular platform. On a nearby lift—one out of six empty lifts—was another compact underneath a spotless white sheet.
“Whoaa…” trailed Spike. He glanced at Big Mac. The stallion’s mouth was also hung agape.
“I’m glad you both find it impressive,” said Rarity. “But anyway, what was it you came here for? Surely it wasn’t just to chat—I was in Ponyville just a few days ago.”
“Um, actually, Rarity… We were wondering if you could repair the body for this Mustang?” asked Spike. “Pinkie Pie should’ve sent you the bill already.”
Rarity looked out the window at Big Mac’s car.
“Big Mac’s Mustang? It looks fine to me, darling,” Rarity said, confusedly.
“No, um… Big Mac, would you mind pulling the truck in here?” Spike asked sheepishly.
“Eyup,” said Big Mac.
He drove the truck through the garage doors, pulling the GT500 behind him.
Rarity let out a sharp breath. “Oh—Oh dear. I did receive bits already… Alright darlings, I suppose I could get to work on this now. You two can go, An artist needs time alone to ponder their muse.”
Spike’s eyes widened. “R-really?! Thank you so much!”
“Eeeeeyup!”
Having parked the 1500 by the bigger of the two sports cars, Spike and Big Mac got into the latter’s Mustang, and took off to the Hooflyn Bridge.
They arrived at the meet, underneath the bridge. Contrary to the Ponyville car scene, the majority of the cars at the meet were Euro makes. Big Mac parked the Mustang by somepony’s 370Z, and walked about, exploring the meet. They came across many sweet-looking cars; a riced Ion 3, a drag-tuned Avant RS 6, and a Bimmer that some mad creature had removed the hood from to attach a Dominator supercharger to name a few. After about half an hour of inspecting the function and talking to other enthusiasts, Big Mac and Spike returned to the Mustang, but were stopped in their tracks by the screech of tires. They turned around, to see two cars barreling towards them. One a late-nineties Porsche Boxster, and the other a black and neon-green Toyota MR2 MK2. The Boxster was badly scratched, and looked as if it were trying to escape from the MR2, the latter of which was stuck to the former’s bumper like glue. They approached a part of the road where the streetlamps didn’t work, and the pony behind the wheel of the MR2 turned their lights off. Suddenly, the Boxster began to swerve, almost drunkenly, creating a crunching sound. The road was once again illuminated, and the MR2 was leading, stringing along the poor Boxster, who was somewhat covered in a garbage bag and the bag’s contents, but finally, they crossed the spray-paint finish. The MR2 spun left, facing the Boxster, who had come to a halt. Both drivers exited their cars, a light-blue Pegasus from the MR2 and an orange Unicorn from the Boxster. The Pegasus wore a coat that matched her car, with around fifteen of the emblems of various car manufacturers sewn onto the sleeves.
“You know the deal, Suncharge,” said the Pegasus.
Suncharge hung his head as the Pegasus pulled out a razor blade. Very carefully, she removed the Porsche badge from the Boxster.
“Now, go on,” she said, chuckling. Soon, her expression changed. “My first Porsche. You’ll go right here…” she trailed off, muttering to herself.
Spike and Big Mac watched the defiled Boxster meekly leave the meet. The two decided to approach the rambling Pegasus.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” asked Spike. “Why’d you do that to that guy’s car?”
The Pegasus glared at them. Suddenly, her face contorted, and she grinned at the two. “Who’s asking? Do they want me to do the same thing to their cars? Ha, listen, kid; I’m on a mission. I want to get to the top. My team and I’ve been traveling across Equestria to race every record holder. So far, we, the Washouts, haven’t lost a single race.”
Big Mac grimaced. Spike opened his mouth to say something, but on the opposite side of the meet, he was interrupted by the roar of engines, and headlights pierced the crowd. Two cars skidded toward the newly-formed crowd around the MR2; a mid 2000’s Mercedes-Benz SLR and a Lexus LFA. A gray Earth Pony wearing a magenta bow-tie stepped out of the SLR and a white Unicorn wearing sunglasses followed out of the LFA.
“What’s going on here?” asked the gray mare, as she approached the MR2 driver.
Spike felt his palms sweat. Though he considered himself an intermediate driver at best, he could feel the auras of the two masters that stood before him. He looked to Big Mac. The stallion was sweating bullets.
The blue pony chortled. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Octavia Melody,” said the mare. “I’m the current record holder for the Manehattan drift circuit.”
“So, what was that about racing every record holder?” Spike asked smugly.
“Ha… I’ll just keep the winning streak up and come back when I can beat you,” said the other pony, jamming a hoof at Octavia. She climbed into her MR2, but before taking off, she rolled down her window. “And I’ll come back for you,” she said to Big Mac and Spike. “I’m always open to crushing another Mustang.”
She did a quick donut, and by the time the tire smoke cleared, the MR2 was gone. The crowd dispersed, but meanwhile, Octavia and the LFA driver walked toward Spike and Big Mac.
“I’m terribly sorry for interrupting your conversation with that Pegasus,” said Octavia. “But I saw poor Suncharge and his Boxster—I came here to see who it was that did that to him.”
“No, it’s okay,” said Spike. “Big Mac’n I were probably gonna get kinda heated if you hadn’t shown up. Thank you. Hey, is that an SLK55?”
“Close,” said Octavia, giving the dragon a soft smile. “That is my SLR.”
Big Mac and Spike had stars in their eyes.
“Sorry,” said Spike, sheepishly. “We both drive American cars—EDMs aren't my strong suit and Big Mac here only knows Mustangs.”
“Oh? Is that your’s over there, Big Mac?” asked Octavia.
“Eyup!” said Big Mac. Octavia glanced at the Unicorn, who was bobbing up and down enthusiastically. “Oh—My apologies. This is Vinyl.”
The boys waved.
“Vinyl’s just my—Nevermind. Anyway, We’ll be seeing you both,” said Octavia, as she and Vinyl climbed into their respective cars, and like bullets, they shot into the star-soaked night.
“Well, I guess we could take off, too,” Spike said to Big Mac. “I have things to tend to at Twilight’s castle and I doubt Applejack is eager to cover for you for another day.”
“Eyup,” affirmed Big Mac.
They both climbed into the Mustang, and left the meet.
They drove en route to Ponyville. The night air was fresh. Luna would lower the moon in about five hours, and the road was completely empty. Suddenly, in the left corner mirror, Spike noticed moonlight reflecting off of some sleek, metallic thing. Hastily, he nudged Big Mac.
“Hey, uh, Big Mac? Do you see that shiny thing behind us?” he asked his friend.
“N…Nope,” said Big Mac, rapidly checking his six.
The unidentified driving object soon creeped up to Big Mac’s Mustang like fog on a cold window. As it got closer, Spike finally got a better look at what it was. Jet-black, and a blacklight underglow. Spike felt his heart sink as the dead-silent Nissan Skyline GTR R-33 passed them, and like magic, the road before them warped like a wormhole. In an instant, they were back on Rarity’s street in Manehattan.
“Nope,” said Big Mac.
The R33 cornered tightly, and drove right through the garage doors of Rarity’s shop, phasing through them. Suddenly, Spike heard a high pitched, transatlantic scream from inside the shop.
“Rarity!” he cried.
He leapt out of Big Mac’s mustang—the latter of whom hastily followed—and ran toward the shop. Before they could enter, the garage doors flew open, and the shriek of a boosted engine filled the air, canceling out all other noise. Then, the once silver car—now jet-black, with the same underglow as the R33—tore out of the shop and throughout the Manehattan streets.
“No!” screamed a mare from inside the shop.
The mare ran out. She was a light-tan color with a light blue mane, slightly smaller than most adult ponies. Spike recognized her from the time that Rarity forced her friends to become a sweatshop.
“Ms. Pommel!” shouted Spike. “What happened?!”
Coco had tears welling up in her eyes.
“This black cloud was absorbed by Rarity!” she screamed.
“Nightmare!” said Spike. “We have to chase her! We’ll be back!”
Spike ran back to the Mustang, but before Big Mac could turn the ignition, Coco spoke up.
“I’ll follow you,” she said.
Spike nodded. Big Mac floored the accelerator, following the skid marks that Nightmare—possessing Rarity—left in their wake. In his rear-view mirror, Big Mac saw the other car from the shop—the infamously compact Suzuki Cappuccino—bolt through the doors. It was a platinum color, with a somewhat comically large wing behind it. Despite its whimsical appearance, he could tell that she—both the car and Coco—meant business.
They finally caught up with Nightmare, though it wasn’t as tough a challenge as expected; though Rarity’s car looked fast—and probably was, Nightmare/Rarity seemed to be manipulating the transmission lever like she was rabid, audibly near-stalling out. By the way she was driving, Big Mac knew there was now chance she’d pull over.
“Spike,” he said. “You remember when that other black car sent us back to Rarity’s shop.”
Spike looked at his friend with wide eyes. “The GT-R R33? How could I forget? It happened just a few minutes ago.”
“And it drove through the doors without so much as a scratch. Ah reckon it ain’t got those powers in Rarity’s car…”
“Big Mac? What are you thinking of doing?” worriedly asked Spike.
“This ‘ere’s two-lane highway my Mustang is long enough. Ah’ll stop ‘er,” said Big Mac.
“Big Mac?!”
Big Mac grew more firm on the accelerator, and as soon as he was some car-lengths in front of Nightmare Rarity, he swerved his car, blocking the road. True to his hypothesis, she didn’t warp away from him, nor did she phase through him, but instead she slowed down completely. Coco stopped with her, blocking her from simply going in reverse. Nightmare Rarity stepped out of her car, and the three finally got a good look at her.
“Out of my way!” she snarled.
“Nope,” said Big Mac, flatly.
Suddenly, Spike had an epiphany.
“Wait,” he said. “Let’s make a deal. You’ve already got one Element of Harmony. Race us, and if you win, we’ll give you the rest. If we win… You have to let Rarity go.”
Nightmare Rarity cackled. “And who are thee, little drake, to place that wager?”
“Someone who has access to the other Elements,” said Spike confidently.
“Who will you send to race me?” asked Nightmare Rarity, her interest clearly caught.
“Me,” announced Coco.
Nightmare stared at Coco as if she were some filly playing make-believe. Suddenly, she began roaring with laughter.
“Spare me! I could walk faster than that toy,” she said snidely.
“Then you have no problem racing me,” said Coco. “Here, in four hours.”
Nightmare Rarity’s sneer vanished. She climbed back into her car, and once Big Mac moved his, she took off. Meanwhile, Coco dropped to her hind legs, her hooves on her head.
“AHH! What was I thinking!?” she wailed.
Spike ran over to comfort her. Eventually, she calmed down.
“Okay… I have four hours until I have to race Rarity,” she said. “Excuse me, you two. I need to prepare.”
“Eyup.”
“You got it. We’ll be here when you race, and we’ll try to help any way that we can,” said Spike. “Thank you for challenging her.”
Coco got into her Cappuccino and turned back for Manehattan, leaving Spike and Big Mac to themselves.
“Big Mac! We have to get to Ponyville, right away!”
Where the trip would’ve taken a full day of travel any other time, Big Mac and Spike—fortunate enough to be clear of traffic—made it in just over two hours.
“Alright!” said Spike. “Drop me off here!”
Big Mac pulled up to a foliage-topped cottage, and Spike got out, running toward the door. As he knocked on the door, his nerves were so tense he felt as if he would break a hole through it. Finally, a pink-maned yellow Pegasus opened the door.
“Spike? what are you doing here,” asked Fluttershy, her voice soothingly soft.
“Fluttershy! I need your Element of Harmony,” Spike blurted out. “And do you know where Rainbow Dash is?”
Fluttershy looked panicked, whether it was because Spike was shouting or because of his insane request.
“Never thought I’d say this, but slow down,” said a voice from Fluttershy’s living room. “Here, I trust you.”
A blue foreleg raised from the lounge sofa in the living room. In its hoof was a golden pendant with a red lighting bolt in its center. The pony tossed it over to Spike. Fluttershy sighed.
“I guess if Dashie is willing to go along with this, I will too,” said Fluttershy, as she summoned a similar pendant, with a pink butterfly as the center gem.
She handed it to Spike, and the dragon thanked her and the blue pony profusely. Meanwhile, Big Mac had driven all the way to Sweet Apple Acres in order to get the Element of Honesty from his sister. As soon as he got to the farm, he burst into Applejack’s room.
Applejack rose her head toward him, her face muscles doing their very best to pull her eyes open.
“Ya had a nightmare? Ain’t you a grown stallion?” She was entirely dumbfounded. “And ya need my Element of Harmony?”
Applejack probably thought she was still dreaming. Anythecase, she produced her Element and handed it to Big Mac. Quickly and quietly, he ran out of the farmhouse and back to his car.
Coco rolled up to the peak of the mountain pass. Big Mac and Spike waited there for her, their Mustang and Viper behind them. They handed her a small wooden chest, its contents; the Elements of Kindness, Loyalty, and Honesty—ironic since Spike had lied to Nightmare about giving her all five.
“When you go up against Nightmare, you’ll want to have these, even if you can’t use them they will still somewhat protect you,” said Spike. “Oh! And one more thing…”
He opened the passenger door of his Viper and pulled out a gold necklace with a red crystalline heart in the center.
“I just thought it’d come in handy,” he said, blushing. “Rarity really likes it.”
Coco piled the jewelry in the passenger side of her car, and it wasn’t long before Nightmare Rarity pulled in. The two cars lined up side-by-side, and Big Mac stood between them.
“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… EEEYUP!”
The cars shot from the starting line, and instantly Nightmare Rarity took the lead. However, instead of completely dusting the Cappuccino, the sports compact stayed stuck to the leader’s bumper as if it were welded there.
“Impossible!” growled Nightmare Rarity.
The dream demon tried to take corners as intense as Rarity’s car would let her, but it was no use. Wherever it went, the Cappuccino went too.
“Ugh!” snarled Nightmare. “It’s that blasted wing! That toy is already lightweight. With that spoiler it has superior control!”
You taught me that yourself, Rarity, thought Coco, practically reading Nightmare’s mind. Of all of the factors that make a car fast, it isn’t hoofpower that was the most important. It’s weight and aerodynamics. And compared to your 240SX, I’ve got you beat!
While she’d lose Coco on the straightaways, Nightmare Rarity would always find the Cappuccino’s headlights breaking through the tint of her window. As they drifted through the corners, Coco’s mind drifted away from the race. She began to think about Rarity.
You were kind to me in the fashion competition, even when I helped sabotage you. You stuck with me when I wanted to revive the park plays. When I’ve ever bit off more than I could chew, you told me what I needed to hear. You’re an incredible friend. And I wouldn’t be deserving of your friendship if I just let you be like this.
Unbeknownst to Coco, the contents of the box next to her began to shimmer. As the next corner approached them, they accelerated into a drift. In just a matter of moments, the Elements were glowing radiantly, but she wasn’t paying attention. Meanwhile, Nightmare Rarity glared at Coco through their side windows. However, she felt different… Weaker, even. Then, through the tint of the window, she could see it; the Fire Ruby. A gem that symbolized Spike’s love for Rarity. Her glare broke, replaced with the face of distraught. Her eyes darted back to Coco, trying to build her anger back up, but to her shock, the sand-colored mare was staring right back at her.
In her distraction, she lost control of her 240SX. The black respray began to chip away, and the underglow fizzled out. Rarity slammed on the brakes, spinning out. She laid back in her seat as a black cloud seeped out of the car. Coco quickly stopped her own vehicle, and rushed to Rarity’s.
At the top of the mountain, Big Mac and Spike watched as two sets of headlights sat on the road. The race was over. In the distance, Spike saw a blacklight glow under a metallic-black blur appear once again, driving away.
