Horsepower #3

You mull over the question for a bit, showing a level of thought that clearly surprises Lug, who probably anticipated you shouting out your answer in seconds.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” she advises. “This is just for the first race. If we do a good job, get some attention from sponsors, build up some resources we can have a few different cars, a lot of the really big name pros do.”

“Alright, alright,” you say, waving a claw to brush her off. “We’ll go middle of the road for now. Make it a cruiser, that way we’ll always have a reliable fallback.”

She nods. “That’s a good idea, Comet. Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. You should probably get some sleep. After that race, you’re probably-”

You don’t hear the rest of it, already sawing logs.

The next day is mostly dominated by the drive back to the homebase, though it’s a bit quicker thanks to the lack of a car to tow along with it. The race organizers scrapped it after determining that the Celestia of Mechanics wouldn’t be able to repair it and paid the two of you a decent fee for the salvage as well as your winnings. All told, a fortune compared to the scraps that you had been getting by on. Smaller races were usually a shoe-in for victory but they were barely enough to keep the lights on: this was your first taste of real money.

The garage she inherited from her grandpa was right where you left it, one big room for working on cars, a lot out back where a dozen wrecks and a couple of functioning cars are sitting, and a more liveable addition with the basic necessities of life. It’s a bit cluttered, full of auto magazines, car parts, greasy rags… anything and everything driving. The two of you had decided three years ago that you had wanted to be the best and everything else was secondary. It didn’t make the lifestyle any easier, but it gave you purpose.

You take a whiff of milk that’s just a couple days past the expiration date and pour yourself a bowl of cereal with it after determining that it probably won’t get you sick. “So if we’re going through with the cruiser concept,” you say in between bites. “We’re gonna do at least a little bit of hiring. Even if you and I are both racing”

She shakes her head as she starts to tie her mane back into a ponytail and dons her customary goggles, getting ready to do some of her miracle work in the garage. “I am definitely not getting behind the wheel. Or anywhere wheel-adjacent, for that matter.”

“Way to help build up my confidence,” you say drily. “C’mon, I know it can be scary at first, but with just a bit of a training-”

“Training!” She says, a bit too enthusiastically, and reaches into a drawer to fish around for a few seconds. Finally, she pulls out a box of pills and slides them in front of you, a select handful of vitamins and supplements. You sigh but it is part of your end of the partnership, so you open the different compartments and down the pills inside of them.

You push off from the table and put your claw down to catch yourself in front of a stack of notebooks.  Running your claw down it, you expertly pull one out and flip through it, putting your claw tip down on a page. “Well, seeing as I can’t get even a single day off,” you complain with exaggerated effect. “I guess I’m off to do some sprints.”

Lug snorts as you make your way past her, pulling out a design manual from another stack and flipping through out, producing a sketchbook and grabbing a protein bar. You drain the rest of your ‘Fruit Os’ (“A Free Waifu in Every Box”) and head out to the gym to get back to the training regimen.

To the average pony your daily workout schedule would probably look pretty nasty, but once you’ve gotten to this point, it’s pretty much an automatic process. Not to mention that it’s part of your job, and it’s not even the most intensive training regimen you’ve ever seen a racer taking part in. Some of the boarders in particular go absolutely crazy, and it's hard to imagine them packing it all into a single day. That said, considering it’s actually their job to kick the living shit out of other ponies as quickly as possible, you can understand why they feel the need to be buff as hell.

Still, the most important part of car racing is actually driving a car, so the two of you take some time and money to look for an old stock car that will let you do laps at the nearby racetrack. It takes a while for the two of you to turn up a car that you can use on the cheap, and even then it’s a bit of a junker. Still, it can go around a track easily enough and the crappy steering helps you shore up your handling a bit more carefully than before. Training is a cumulative thing, but you’re more conscious after the big victory just how helpful it is as long as you keep it up. G-forces impact you a little less, you get past jostling a little easier, that sort of thing. Still, there’s always a little more that you can do and before long you’re exhausted mentally and physically.

Lug Nut is feeling it, too. While she might not be the athlete between the two of you she’s definitely doing her share of hard work. It’s not uncommon for her to be up well past midnight and beyond in the garage sketching out designs, making models, and crumpling up her papers and starting over again. As per usual her secretive streak starts to win out and she compulsively hides any of her work, scooping it up and squirreling it away in a panic with disturbing vigilance whenever you try and sneak a peek. Nerves, you figure.

Eventually, though, she settles in on a design. It’s not hard to tell when she does, either: her sleep deprived, caffeine-addled face is stretched into an unnerving smile.

You stay out of the kitchen that day.

About three days later she collapses in a heap of sketched papers and caffeine haze. And she still manages to perfectly shift to keep you from seeing her completed car concept no matter how hard you try. Nutty is a good nickname for her when she’s dedicated to something.

Thus, it’s about two weeks until the Haymaker when you see her again, looking particularly happy and pleased with herself. Even better, she looks well rested, which is a trait the both of you can lack when you get a bit too caught up in race preparations. It’s a nice change of pace, though, and she sashays and shimmies through the kitchen while you step in to get some breakfast. She’s faster than you, however, and already has something that smells delicious cooking.

“Okaaaaay…” You say with a slightly concerned smile on your face. “I take it car design went well?”

“Mhm!” She says cheerily before she slides a plate in front of you. The food looks… okay. She’s a much better mechanic and engineer than chef, but that doesn’t actually say all that much about her cooking ability. You do appreciate the fact that she’s so happy as you tear in. And make a mental note to pop a couple of Horse Alka Seltzer. Just in case.

It’s hash browns, pancakes, and a rare treat in Equestria: bacon. You slather an extra helping of syrup on since you’re pretty sure she’ll let you get away with it and start to dig in with gusto. She has her own plate and slides in next to you. “So,” She says, looking up at you. “Your torso is pony, right?”

You nod. “Torso, hind legs, head-shape, and ears. Beak, front legs, and tail are all griffon, though, plus the feathers. Not sure what the wings are. Maybe a hybrid?”

“Well, how do you eat meat, then? Wouldn’t your stomach be a pony stomach?”

You shrug, poking a piece of bacon right then and snapping it up in a bite. “I guess it would only make sense that my internal organs are less a mishmash than a blend. Better for the constitution.”

“Magic does work that way.” She notes, and takes a bite out of her pancakes before she makes a face down at it and pushes it away. “Alright, I do have a design down and I’m gonna start working on that… but first, we’ve both been really killing it. Your times are pretty crazy for the piece of garbage we have you running the track, and I think what I’ve got is just really good. Maybe Haymaker good”

“Alright!” You say, punching your fist in the air. “First place, here we come.”

She snorts and waves a hoof. “I doubt I managed to cobble together a world-class car on our budget,but maybe once we’ve got some better parts and some more money to the throw into the production. It’s good. That’s all I’ll say. But more to the point: we’ve earned a break. Today you get a day off exercise and training, and I’m gonna let my brain rest. I’ll keep track of indulgences like the syrup-” you wince “-and we’ll hammer out those later. But for right now, let’s just chill for today, okay?”

Of course, this does bring up two important questions:
What kind of town do you live in?
What do you do when you’re not thinking about racing?