"And there's one lap left at the Monaco Grand Prix!"
"Hamilton and Vettel are battling for first with Renault's Equestrian rookie Scootaloo in a close third."
"The other two Equestrian rookies are in fifth and seventh. A good showing for their first Monte Carlo."
"If young Miss Scootaloo podiums today, it will renew the debate about allowing ponies to compete in human sports."
"Don't forget the disaster when the American Football league allowed Griffons to sign."
"And the Minotaurs who are currently dominating Sumo in Japan. They're coming up on the Grand Hotel hairpin—"
"Crash! We have a crash in the middle of the pack! It looks like Wind Sprint lost her brakes and went into the back of Hülkenberg!"
Gasps rose from the crowd.
"The leaders are entering the tunnel—Look at that!"
Cheers now.
"Scootaloo in her number three Renault is making a move, she's passed Vettel, coming up on the Nouvelle Chicane, braking hard."
"Around the Tabac, and the pony is in the lead! Scootaloo has passed Hamilton."
"Hamilton's fighting her, around the last curves. The final hairpin, the pony takes the inside."
"They're accelerating into the checkered flag and it's—photo finish! We'll have to wait for the race stewards, that's the closest finish I've seen in years. Vettel completes the podium in a clean third, Bottas fourth, and Rumble the Pony fifth."
Scootaloo swerved into the pits and stomped the brakes. As soon as the pit crew chocked the wheels, she leaped from her car.
Sctooaloo's crew chief, Rainbow Dash, flew to her. "Scoots! That was awesome! I think you won!"
"How's Wind Sprint?!?" Scootaloo shouted, throwing off her helmet. "She crashed!"
Rainbow held a hoof to her headset, listened for a few seconds, and then grinned. "She's banged up, but okay."
Scootaloo closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "Wow. Wow, I was scared when I heard—thank goodness."
Scootaloo's pit crew—nine humans, six earth ponies, five unicorns—lifted her up and paraded her to the winner's circle and podium. Dash flew loop-the-loops above them, and nearly collided with a camera drone from one of the TV broadcasters.
Lewis Hamilton was already at the base of the podium.
"Good race, rookie!" He held out a fist.
Scootaloo bumped it. "You were my favorite driver from the minute we got YouTube in Equestria. Coming in second to you is my honor!"
Hamilton laughed. "You might be first, mate."
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom trotted up, wearing Team Renault tracksuits, and helped Scootaloo out of her fireproof racing kit. Scoots was soaked and matted with sweat, and Sweetie Belle levitated up a bucket of water and soaked her down.
"Thanks, Sweetie Belle." She flared her wings and spread the feathers. "Those cockpits really make the wings stiff."
Rumble landed next to her. "No kidding. I always need to stretch them first thing."
Reporters and TV presenters arrived in a massive clump. Half went to Hamilton, the other half to the ponies. "Why don't you ever take a flight after getting out of your suit, Miss Scootaloo? Rumble and Wind Sprint always do," said an Australian.
Scootaloo pulled her wings in and glared at him. "I can't fly."
"But—you're a pegasus."
"I was born with pinneal hypotrophy. I physically can't fly."
"But I thought," asked a Dutch reporter, "that pegasi made such good race car drivers because of their flying-honed kinesthetic sense."
"I have that same senses as all pegasi do. I hang glide and do other extreme sports. I just happen to have a disability. Would you ask a human with a spine injury why he uses a wheelchair? Ask me a question about the race."
"You made a really aggressive move in the tunnel," another reported said. "Can you comment on that?"
"I... wanted to win?" Scootaloo said.
"If you have won today, that'll put you at fourth in the point standings for the season, and you'll be only the second pony and the first female of any species to ever win a Formula One race. Any comments on that?"
"That's because she's so awesome," Rainbow Dash interrupted.
"She deserves it," Rumble said, nodding.
"I hope to win the whole thing, next season, Celestia and Luna willing," Scootaloo said. "I think I have the ability, I just need some more experience."
"What about," asked a British reporter, "the naysayers who claim pegasi shouldn't be allowed to race against humans, precisely because of your magically enhanced reflexes and vision?"
Scootaloo shrugged her wings. "No human complained when we brought five thousand pegasus volunteers through the portal to break up that hurricane before it could grind Florida off the map. Rumble and Wind Sprint were both up there. I worked radios aboard the hurricane chaser airplane, since I can't fly."
An American reporter: "I watched footage of the Spanish Grand Prix from last week. You started dodging the wreck before it happened, Miss Aloo."
"Scootaloo. Not 'Miss.' And especially not Aloo. I'm not a curry."
"It seems apparent that pegasi have about a half-second of precognition."
"You can't prove that."
"It still seems unfair to let your kind race against humans," the American continued.
"Our kind?!?" gasped Rainbow Dash.
Another reporter hit that one over the head with a microphone. "Don't be a jerk, Steve. Scootaloo here raced her heart out. So did Rumble and Wind Sprint."
A motorized cart pulled up, with Wind Sprint and Quibble Pants on the back. Wind Sprint flapped off the cart and landed on three legs, her right rear leg held up off the ground, wrapped in Ace bandages. "Oof, ow."
"It won't be long before the race stewards have the photo finish determined," Quibble said. "I think you won, Scootaloo."
She blushed and waved a hoof. "No way, Lewis Hamilton is the best that ever was. It's inconceivable that a rookie could win Monaco!"
"Rumble won Azerbaijan," pointed out a French reporter. "He's a rookie."
"That's only because Bottas and Hamilton's engines blew," Rumble explained, "and Scootaloo took out herself and Vettel."
"That was an accident!" Scootaloo said. "The track was fouled. There should have been a yellow flag."
A trio—one tall, one medium, one short—approached. "I have a serious question," said the tall one. Scootaloo vaguely recognized the three from the internet.
"Jeremy Clarkson, with Amazon's 'The Grand Tour.'" He looked down at the tiny ponies. "Actually, Hammond, you ask the question. They're your size."
The smallest TV presenter stepped forward and waved his microphone at Scootaloo, Rumble, and Wind Sprint. "How do you, you three, how does one operate a car with hooves? For instance, the flappy paddle gear shifts? How on Earth do you race a car... with hooves?"
At that moment, the master jumbotron updated, marking SCOOTALOO RENAULT #3 into first place and HAMILTON MERCEDES #44 at +0.04 seconds, into second place.
Rainbow Dash pointed a wing at the scoreboard, smirked at the TV presenters, and said, "How does she drive a car with hooves? Superbly."
Author's Note
Constructive comments are always welcome!
If this story is successful, I might write a long-form dramatic fic about "Scootaloo the F1 driver," or perhaps a preposterous Top Gear humans-in-Equestria crossover.
