GASP

At the festival, Spitfire was testing out her new bike. She came every year, eager to see what new toys and other machines ponies could come up with. This year, she was particularly interested in something called a ‘motorcycle’. It was supposed to be something like a bicycle, but you didn’t have to pedal! She was super stoked to see it.

She’d found the pony’s showcase where it was going to be shown off, but it was all covered by blankets and sheets. On the positive side, there were four of the covered devices she could see, which got here even more excited, but they were all still covered, so she couldn’t see any of them yet. He was waiting for some big reveal or something before he took them off. She stalked off, a mixture of excited and impatient, and looked for something else to do.

There were plenty of things to look at, like other cycles, pedal-powered carts, flying machines (which she didn’t need, but thought were cool ideas), and the carts built specifically for the Rolling Rock Races. She was going to take part in that herself this year. A sort of luge-type thing somepony had come up with some years back and it had stuck around ever since. There was actually a prize this year, despite it having been done for fun before! It was a good time.

She was wandering around when she bumped into somepony in the crowd. She smelled them before she could see them and was more than a little repulsed. When she turned her head to look, she wrinkled her nose up in disgust.

“Dude, excuse you,” Spitfire said, staring at the filthy stallion next to her. He coughed, and she covered her mouth at the same time she backed away from him. “Gross! Excuse you again!”

He mumbled at her, his medical mask appearing wet and ragged. She didn’t trust it to hold back any of his coughing. “Oh, my apologies, miss. I didn’t see you there.” His rheumy eyes looked at her, glittering wetly in the setting sun.

“Yeah, well, you probably shouldn’t be hanging out at a festival with a sickness like that. You’re gonna get everypony around you sick, you nasty old thing.” She wasn’t being very nice, but she didn’t care. Ponies that had no care for others got her goat, and she wasn’t going to hesitate to tell them so.

“Yes, yes. I know, I know. I’m looking for somepony.”

“Well, you should probably look for them elsewhere. Get lost, dude.” Spitfire left him where he was, shaking her head as she retreated. There was nothing worse than being sick at a party, and she didn’t want to hang around him any longer than she had to.

She left him there and went back to her own booth. Soarin was watching it for her. They’d brought their own luge-cart for the downhill contest. Custom-built, ignoring safety precautions, and built for nothing but speed, she was exceedingly proud of it. Whether or not it made it all the way down the track, she didn’t really care. She just wanted to prove to everypony that attended the Rolling Rock festival that she was the fastest, most reckless thing they had ever seen, and her cart was aiming to emphasize that. Soarin was talking to somepony about it when she walked up, and she butted into the conversation immediately.

She’d heard a comment on how fast they figured it could go. “We figure it’ll be faster than anything else here. May not make it down in one piece, but it’ll be leagues ahead of anypony else, I can guarantee you that!”

“Hey, Spitfire, welcome back! You get a peek at that mottocycle you’ve been so excited about?” Soarin asked.

“Motorcycle, Soarin, and no. They have it covered up until showtime Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

“Yeah, no. With something that amazing, I’d keep it a secret, too.”

“Do you think it’s faster than our luge-cart?”

“I doubt it.” Spitfire patted the front of the cart, which had been streamlined for maximum aerodynamics. “When this baby gets going downhill, nothin’ can stop her.”

The pony who had been interrupted perked up. “How fast was the maximum you’d gotten on it?”

Spitfire posed in front of it. “Goin’ straight, we hit speeds you can’t even imagine. Only a pegasus can drive this thing because there’s no stopping it, you have to just take off and let it crash. That’s why we named it ‘Spitpyre’, because all that’s left is a smoldering wreck.”

The pony ‘oooo’d’ appropriately, and Spitfire grinned. The motorcycle was one of the big draws of the show, but even though Spitfire wasn’t Equestria’s best mechanic, she was still a showpony, and she knew what audiences wanted to see. A technological marvel was one thing, but a show would draw more attention.

“Well, I look forward to seeing your show, Wonderbolts! I want to go investigate that mottocycle thing you mentioned,” the pony said.

“Good luck, kid. I hear it’s got a train engine built onto it, so let me know if you get a peek, eh? I want to know how they fit that in there,” Spitfire said.

“Yeah!” he said, and ran off. Spitfire relaxed once she no longer had an audience and heaved a sigh.

“You don’t seem to happy, Spitfire.”

“I’m just worried, is all. I bumped into this sick pony on the way back, and I really hope I don’t get ill.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah. Had on a medical mask, dirty clothes, and crusty eyes.” She shivered. “I hate it when ponies don’t take care of themselves. It’s even worse when they expose others to their illness.”

Soarin looked disgusted. “That’s nasty. I don’t need some pony coughing all over me or my food. In a crowd like this it’s even worse.” He reached under their table and plunked down a bottle of vitamins. “That’s why I always bring immune boosters with me every time we travel!” He opened the top and popped two of the pills into his mouth. “Y’wan’ some?”

Spitfire smiled patiently and held out a wing. “Yeah, better safe than sorry, I guess. I don’t need to get a cough before the big race tomorrow.”

“That’s the way I see it. Anything is better than nothing.”

“Yeah.” Spitfire popped two pills in her mouth and took a drink of water. “In the meantime, help me organize this, it looks terrible. We need everything to draw in customers. Appearances are half the show.” She shifted the Spitpyre around, Soarin helping her.