Cruisin' MLP: The Bridges Of Lancaster County
When ponies first came to Earth, I paid them no heed. Cutesy pastel unicorns and pegasi with rump tattoos weren’t my thing.
That all changed when ponies opened a car wash a few towns away from home. Curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself impressed with the job they did – they cleaned my Mustang far better than I could’ve, and I’d been going back ever since.
Over time I’d built up a pretty good rapport with the ponies, and gotten to know them on a first name basis. It probably didn’t hurt that the first time I stopped there, I was so impressed with their work that I slipped the Kimono a fifty and told her to treat her crew to pizza. I’ve always been a firm believer of ‘you get what you pay for’ and I’m happy to support any business that does quality work.
Considering the sheer volume of cars they'd washed the first day I stopped in, I didn’t think they’d remember me. I figured I was just another anonymous face in the crowd. Aside from their colors, ponies all looked the same to me. So I figured humans would all look the same to them, and cars probably would too.
Much to my surprise, they remembered me. Most people go because they want to ogle the ponies. Admittedly, so did I that first time. But I kept coming back because I wanted my car to look its best. They take pride in what they do, and my enthusiasm for the quality of their work made a lasting impression.
Perhaps most memorable of all, I was the first person they’d met to treat them like people instead of curiosities or pets. And that’s how I ended up invited on the Wild Ponies Club’s first ever covered bridge cruise. Judging from the turnout, this could very well be the first of many. The parking lot was filled with dozens of Mustangs from every era, a few classic Broncos, and even a Ford Pinto. I was the only human present; the rest of the cruisers were all technicolor equines. We’d met up at a Pennsylvania Dutch all-you-can-eat buffet, and those who’d arrived early had stuffed themselves full of the local cuisine.
I’d traveled further than most, and opted for a little extra sleep and a slightly later arrival time – mainly because the cruise was also scheduled to end at a different all-you-can-eat buffet in time for dinner, and if I have to choose between breakfast and dinner, I’ll take the latter every time. Some of my fellow cruisers had run inside and purchased doughnuts, and were passing them out to everyone. Now that’s my kind of breakfast. A nice sugar rush to get the blood pumping first thing in the morning. And caffeine – I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker, so I had a brace of 20-ounce RC Colas in the cupholders.
I munched on a cream-filled powder doughnut as I wandered the parking lot. The first thing that was apparent was that ponies virtually ignored the classic muscle Mustangs, and instead gravitated towards the Mustang II. The second generation was the smallest and cutest Mustang, and it didn’t take long for Mustang II values to jump from ‘can’t even give them away’ to be more in line with other vintage Mustang prices. About time someone finally appreciated the littlest pony car. The only Mustang generation that was underrepresented was the third generation. The Foxbody ran for fifteen years, but at no point was a horse badge ever applied to the grill except for a limited edition Cobra in the final year. The first four years had a medallion on the hood, and those were the only representatives of the third generation to be seen in the lot. Modern Mustangs, however, accounted for more than half of the cars gathered. My Mustang’s a fifth generation, which was the most common of the cars present, hitting that sweet spot between availability and affordability.
Unlike vehicles that serve only as transportation from point A to point B, Mustangs are frequently and easily modified. I often joked that I hold the world record for longest time keeping a Mustang stock, which I earned on the third day of ownership. It turns out ponies are no different from humans in that regard. When they arrived on Earth, the equines known for naming their cities with horse-related puns couldn't resist purchasing the only car on the market with a galloping pony right there in the grill. With Mustangs accounting for approximately 65% of all automobiles sold to ponies, it didn't take long for equines to start individualizing their rides to stand out from the herd.
Ponies preferred wild, colorful paint schemes instead of the performance and body modifications humans gravitated towards. The first thing to grab my attention, however, was that almost every vehicle present had the emblem painted to resemble the car’s owner. Most of them had also had the owner’s cutie mark emblazoned on the car’s rear fenders. In terms of personalization, that’s about as personal as it gets.
The part I found amusing was that – like humans – ponies often started their modifications with a new exhaust. Unlike humans, they went for quieter than stock exhausts due to their sensitive hearing. Aftermarket companies were quick to adapt to their burgeoning equine demographic, offering exhausts guaranteed to ‘muffle even the loudest V8’ alongside the obnoxiously loud custom exhausts they’d been offering for years.
Curiously, as I strolled through the parking lot, I didn’t see Minty, the pony who’d invited me to come along in the first place. One of the employees from the car wash, she was ditzy but lovable, with a melodic voice with an adorable accent. I could listen to her read the phone book.
And I have.
I told her that once, and the next time I saw her she had a phone book ready to go. She didn’t grasp it was an expression as opposed to a request, but that was to be expected with our cultural differences. We still joked about that sometimes, and every time I’d seen her since she picked a page at random and read a few names.
While not required, a navigator is highly recommended for cruises of this nature. Rural roads are less than adequately marked, especially in Pennsylvania, where even interstate highways are often confusing. None of my friends were available to ride along, but since I’d volunteered to take pictures for the club, they were happy to find me a copilot – the perks of opposable digits and having a digital camera. So the club’s vice president, Rainbow Stars, volunteered to ride along with me. She’s an ivory-colored unicorn with two-tone orange hair. She keeps her tail in a bun, and she seems to really like bows since she has them affixed to both her mane and her tail. Her own car was in the process of getting a custom paint job, and wasn’t ready in time for the cruise, so this worked out great for her, too.
In addition to being my navigator, Rainbow was also in charge of making sure I didn't get run over while taking pictures. Mom always told me not to play in traffic, but how else was I supposed to get the best photos?
And you couldn't’ve asked for a better day for a cruise. The sun was shining, the mercury indicated a temperature in the mid-60s, and the few fluffy clouds in the sky gave off a postcard vibe. Oh, wait, that was the forecast for somewhere in Equestria where they control the weather. Here in Lancaster County, overnight rain showers kept the garage queens away, but the precipitation had thankfully ended even if the skies were still overcast.
Minty finally showed up, parked, and removed the T-tops from her mint green Mustang II. “I got lost,” she explained, as she hastily stowed the glass panels in the hatch. Her navigator was Flitter, one of her coworkers from the car wash. Part of me was disappointed to see the two of them riding together: I’d hoped to finally meet Flitter’s twin sister, Cloudchaser. Curiosity truly had the better of me, and I wanted to see if pony twins would be identical right down to their cutie marks. Sure, I could ask, but it seemed rude.
With everyone finally present and accounted for, Sunny Daze, the cruise’s organizer, called a brief driver’s meeting. She passed out maps, and reminded everyone to be courteous to other motorists who might be inconvenienced by our cruise.
It wasn’t long before she finished and we were off and running through quaint, picturesque Lancaster County, home to the Amish. Home to slow-moving horse and buggies. And while the reality is that Lancaster itself is a thoroughly modern city with all of the latest conveniences such as Wi-Fi hotspots, Starbucks, and even indoor plumbing, the image of Pennsylvania Dutch Country remains firmly rooted in pop culture.
But stereotypes exist for a reason, and Lancaster County certainly has its charms, confirmed as we approached our first bridge. There were two covered bridges within a mile of the buffet, and we crossed each of them shortly after leaving the restaurant’s parking lot. I stayed glued to the back bumper of Razaroo’s Foxbody Mustang. A white notchback with a red vinyl roof and matching interior, it was a product of its era: the early ‘80s. It was also bone stock, something Razz was planning on changing eventually. An inline six-powered car, it was so quiet it didn’t even need a custom exhaust. At least the crushed velour seats looked comfortable. Razz was reclining way back in the seat, one hoof on the wheel, her other foreleg reclining on the door, the breeze whipping through the open window.
Not long after crossing our second bridge, Razz gave me the prearranged signal to pass. The thrill of leading the herd of thundering ponies was short-lived, as I quickly left them all in the dust as I raced towards Keller's Mill Bridge. Razzaroo led the rest of the herd around the long way, but we needed time to set up. I parked the car and Rainbow and I scrambled to get to our positions. Not a moment too soon; the Mustangs came into range seconds after I mounted my camera to the tripod. Shots of each car were taken as they emerged from the bridge. The photos would be available for download off the club’s website in the coming week. And thanks to Rainbow, everyone stopped where they were supposed to and no one ran me over.
To alleviate congestion on one highly-trafficked bridge, the first segment of the cruise was split into two smaller groups. And while this was the third bridge for our group, it was the fourth bridge for group number two. At some point in the next few minutes the two groups would pass one another, which gave Rainbow and I time to enjoy a few peaceful moments strolling across the bridge. I enjoyed the view of the stream below us, while Rainbow Stars grazed a few daisies from the side of the road for a mid-morning snack. We took up new positions on the other side of the bridge and captured the second group as they crossed Keller's Mill Bridge. Leading the way was Sunny Daze in her bright red Mustang convertible. Despite the ominous clouds still hanging over the area, Sunny’s in cruise mode, and that meant the top was down.
Trailing group #2 was the purple Mustang of the club president, Wysteria, and her dragon navigator, Heathspike. Her convertible was covered in what I can best describe as glitter metalflake paint. They were bringing up the rear to make sure we didn't lose anyone along the way, and there are already a few cruisers behind them as they cross the bridge. I'm not sure if that's because they got lost, or because Wysteria got tired of running last and decided to pass them.
After crossing the bridge Wysteria fell to the end of the line and then hung back a bit from the rest of the cruisers to allow us to catch up to the group. But before we could do that, Rainbow and I had to sprint across the bridge to my car, dodging road apples in the process – a reminder that we're deep in the heart of Lancaster County. And that means the stuff on the road isn't always mud.
We caught up to Wysteria and Heathspike about two miles later. The rest of the group made a traffic light that they didn't. Not that it mattered, we both caught up to the stragglers at the next turn, as they were approaching it from the opposite direction. It appeared that someone's navigator missed a turn and half a dozen cars followed suit. It wasn’t the first mix-up along the way, and it certainly wouldn't be the last – getting lost is all part of the fun.
We regrouped in the parking lot of a long-abandoned K-Mart, and the two groups were merged into one long string of cars. Sunny Daze led the way, and Rainbow and I once again took the second spot in line. The nice thing about the second segment of this cruise is we were doing photo duty at the very last bridge before the next stop. As long as I stayed glued to Sunny’s back bumper we couldn't possibly get lost.
Not until after we completed the second segment's pictures at Forry Mill Bridge, anyway. This time around there were no Mustangs in sight when we arrived at the next intersection. We’d gone right...
...Everyone else had gone left.
A mile later when the next road we were watching for failed to materialize, we realized we were going the wrong way. Fortunately, the next intersection revealed Chickie's Rock, overlooking the Susquehanna River. I might not have known all the backroads, but this is familiar territory. A quick trip down Pennsylvania Route 441 led us to U.S. Route 30, which brought us closer to our next pit stop, a bowling alley with a parking lot big enough to fit all our cars. The club was planning a bowling party at this alley on New Year’s Eve, and I admit I’m tempted to join them for that, if for no other reason than to witness how a pony could possibly go bowling.
We pulled in well behind the rest of the group, but Sunny had saved a parking spot next to her for us. By this point, you'd be hard-pressed to believe that many of these cars were displayed at car shows most weekends this past summer. Clearcoat had been buried under mud and manure, and fallen leaves were embedded in the grills of several cars. The good news was the sun came out for good during the second leg. I couldn’t help but wonder if some of the pegasi nudged clouds out of the way during or last pit stop. The bad news is that means the mud/manure mixture was now dried onto all of our vehicles. Minty made the best of a bad situation and passed out coupons for the car wash.
It really had turned into a picture postcard day as we left the bowling alley. The ominous dark clouds had turned into fluffy white ones that the sun had no problems shining through. And with this newfound sunlight came an increase in pedestrians, bicyclists, and folks doing yardwork, many of whom gave us a thumbs up as we cruised past.
We were once more tucked in behind Sunny as we embarked upon the third and final leg of the cruise. With the weather clearing up, I contemplated putting my own car's top down. That would probably be easier if my car was a convertible. Hardtop firmly in place, we missed out on the added experience of having the wind whipping through our hair as we cruised. All too soon we got the signal, and for the third and final time I found myself accelerating away from the group.
Rainbow and I took up positions by what I considered the most picturesque of all the bridges we'd passed over, Colemanville Bridge, and my only lament was that the cars were no longer nice and shiny for the most photogenic bridge. But that was okay; the mud merely proved that these cars were driven and enjoyed. Dirt washed off, after all.
Memories last a lifetime.
Another reason I liked this particular bridge so much is that my Mustang was parked close and pointed in the right direction, a luxury we didn't have at the first two stops. Not only did we not get lost this time, but we also caught up to the rest of the group before the next stop sign. By now it was well past noon, and the various churches had all let out. And with that came an increase in horse and buggy traffic. The last three cars in our procession found ourselves separated from the group when we were mired behind a pair of buggies where there was no safe place to pass. The irony of pony-driven Mustangs being cooped up behind a horse didn’t go unnoticed.
Speaking of things that hadn't gone unnoticed, our cruise fell on that list as well. We'd attracted a crowd. More than one family had put aside whatever they were doing to set up lawn chairs to watch the parade of Mustangs pass by. Rainbow and I waved and I felt a tinge of guilt that I had no way of letting them know we were bringing up the rear and that the impromptu show was over. Hopefully only until next year.
All good things must come to an end, and we arrived at our final destination far too quickly. Despite the fact I was supposed to be the last car in line, Minty showed up ten minutes after I arrived, as did the three cars that made the mistake of following her. All-you-can-eat buffets don't come much better than this one. The restaurant was well-prepared for our arrival, and they had employees waiting to park us and ready to hand out our meal tickets. They’d even gone so far as to have equine-specific entrees on the buffet. I decided to avoid the grasses and flowers, personally.
I hooked my camera to Wysteria’s laptop, and we downloaded all of the pictures while we ate. She promised to have a teaser shot on the club’s website before going to bed, and the rest of the pictures up over the course of the next week. Scrolling through the images, it appears that most of them had turned out well.
With stomachs full to bursting and gas tanks running on empty, we all made our separate ways into the autumn afternoon. This is what our hobby should be all about: getting out and enjoying the cars we loved with others who share a similar passion.
All told we'd crossed sixteen covered bridges, covered approximately one hundred and twenty-five miles, and I’d taken over eight hundred pictures. I couldn't think of a better way to have spent a crisp autumn day.
Author's Note
Story notes: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/893943/cruisin-mlp-the-bridges-of-lancaster-county-aka-ponies-horses-mustangs-oh-my
