Equestrian Graffiti by: Speedy Silverstreak and Oliver Hellfire

Socket Wrenchturn rubbed the gloss white roll bar on the Dodge Victory Six Coupe as he thought. His sister, All Star Wrenchturn, walked into the garage and gazed at the low and open engine bay.

"Socket, that's a 392 Hemi," she said, shocked, and not acknowledging the lower than legal ride height.

"Yep," he said.

"Where's your windshield," she asked.

He pointed a hoof at the goggles on his head.

"You never change brother," she shook her head.

"I just hope that you make something of yourself," she said as she left.

Socket examined the rack and pinion steering system, and the open wheel wells. He had made this car to beat those Deuce coupes, and would. With four on the floor, and a barely legal 392 with Lake Headers and exhaust that ended just in front of the upper corner of the doors. The little roadster was truly a hot rod worth racing.

The last night of summer, then he was shipping off to a shop in Ponyville. He had butterflies in his stomach as he sheepishly stepped into the car. He was quiet all his life, but tonight he would open up.