Yesterday was a good day. It’s after midnight and I’ve got you on my mind. Journey blared from my car’s speakers, a little louder than I’d personally like, but my car automatically adjusted the volume to account for the car’s speed.
I’d driven to Wisconsin for the national American Motors show, and Minty had tagged along, on the premise that she wanted to see more of the country. I wasn’t going to argue – company on a long car trip was almost always preferable to going solo.
Not that we were seeing all that much of the countryside. It was late at night, the interstate was empty, and I had my foot almost to the floorboard. Periodically, I’d take a hand off the wheel and reach over to scratch her behind the ears. At highway speeds, that was incredibly stupid.
“What does AMC stand for?”
“American Motors Corporation.”
“How come we almost never see any AMCs back home?”
“They’re unpopular. That’s why we had to go all the way to Kenosha to see them.”
“That’s a shame. They had some really good-looking designs. I like the Gremlin a lot.”
I had a hunch that was because most of the ones we’d seen were green. Then again, Minty’s taste, like my own, was fairly counterculture.
“They were surprisingly durable for their time, too. They owned Jeep, so their engines had to be tough. But their styling just never caught on. Their best success was in the 1960s with Ramblers, which were fairly mainstream. Then they were acquired by Renault who in turn dumped them on Chrysler when they fled the North American market. Once they were no longer in business people decided they were losers. That’s why you still see them pop up in movies and on TV constantly, despite almost never seeing one in real life. If a character drives a Gremlin or Pacer, odds are good the filmmaker wants you to know the character is a complete loser. Also, the car will almost assuredly be destroyed at some point in the film.”
“Stupid.”
“Agreed. They should use Scions instead. That’s another defunct marque with funky styling. But they’re decades newer and there are still a lot of them left. It would be more realistic than believing people are using a stigmatized fifty-year-old car as a daily driver.”
We drove in silence for a while before Minty shifted positions. Human seatbelts didn’t work well with ponies, and there was no point in trying to strap her to the seat. Instead, she’d made herself comfortable, lying on her back, with her rear half sprawled out on the passenger seat, and her head resting in my lap, looking up at me.
“Getting tired? I can pull over at the next rest stop if you want to get in the back to sleep.”
“I just thought I’d get closer so you don’t have to keep reaching over to scratch my ears.”
“Has anyone ever told you that ponies are way more touchy-feely than humans?”
Minty shook her head.
“You know, it’s funny. I’ve never really liked being touched randomly by people. I had a coworker who used to touch my arm whenever she’d talk to me, and a boss who slugged me in the shoulder periodically. I could deal with that. But there have been other incidents over the years, like the time I was walking in a mall and a massage therapist walked up behind me and just started rubbing my shoulders uninvited to demonstrate her services. I jerked away from her and wrenched my back out in the process.”
“Ouch.”
“That’s what I said. Yet, here we are.”
“Do you want me to move back to my own seat?”
“Don’t you dare move. This is… therapeutic for me? I’m not sure that’s the right word. But I could do with more physical contact. Ponies make it look so easy. A nuzzle here, a lick there.”
“Oh? And you don’t like scratching us behind the ears?”
“Guilty as charged. You’re like sapient cats. Cute, cuddly, and ears that demand to be scratched.”
“Meow!”
“That’s a good kitty.”
“I like cats.”
“Me too. Speaking of liking things… I’m not your only repeat customer at the car wash. I’m probably not your best customer, either. So out of all the people who come in to get their cars washed, why have you all taken a liking to me? I can’t even get most humans to like me, so why am I a smash hit with ponies?”
“Because you treat us like people.”
“Why wouldn’t I? Ponies are people too.”
She sighed. “You’d be surprised. A lot of parents bring their children, and the kids treat us like colorful pets. That’s why we don’t let people get out of their cars anymore.”
“Oh.”
“And most of the car guys really don’t like us. They keep coming back because we’re really good at what we do, but they don’t like it. You, on the other hoof, actually talk to us. You treat us with respect and kindness.”
“It saddens me that I’m the only person who does that.”
She giggled. “Oh, you’re not the only one. We have a bunch of people who like us. You’re not the only human we hang out with, you know.”
“That’s good.”
“But you were the first. Right there on opening day, and treating us all to pizza.”
I blushed. “You did a good job, so you earned a tip. And I sorta have a confession.”
“Oh?”
“The only reason I found out about your car wash is because of the pizza place I recommended to Kimono. I had lunch there, and the owners’ daughter was all excited about going over to see you after work, so I figured I’d send you all to her. I’m a firm believer in supporting the businesses I like, so if I could direct a few more customers their way… well, I do the same with your car wash.”
She laughed. “We gave her pony rides while we were waiting for our food. You made her day, and her parents gave us our meal on the house anyway. Kimono put your money in the employee goodwill account. It’s probably what she used to pay for pizza a week later.”
“Well, as long as it went to all of you, that’s all that matters. What did you think of their pizza?”
“Pretty good. It’s still our go-to place to get takeout.”
We flashed by a sign advertising an exit in two miles and I checked the gauges. Temperature was still normal; gas was down to just over half. We could keep driving for a while, but this was the last metropolitan area before the state line and higher gas prices. “Need a restroom?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
I ignored the exit ramp and focused instead on overtaking a tractor trailer. As normal, little things like all the lights on the rig fascinated Minty. It didn’t matter that we’d passed hundreds, if not thousands of trucks on our trip, she still turned her head to look at the well-lit truck as we zipped by it. All of the ponies I knew had a childlike sense of wonder that only helped endear them to me even more. Earth was new to them, and things I took for granted were all-new experiences for them. Prior to this trip, the only other state Minty had been to was New Jersey; the state with the portal. On the way out to Wisconsin we’d stopped at a park in every state along the way so she could roll in the grass.
Once we were past the big rig, I reached down and scratched Minty’s ears again.
“So what do you think of the country now that you’ve seen more than two states?”
“It’s big. No wonder humans came up with so many fast means of transportation. Cars, planes, trains. You need them! It would’ve taken a week to get this far on an Equestrian train.”
“Of course, because it would probably stop at every city, town, village, and hamlet along the way.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Ponies and humans have very different ideas of what constitutes ‘high-speed rail’.”
“I guess. So how many states have you been to?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Out of how many again?”
“Fifty.”
“Wow. I’ve been to…” She started counting. “Um…carry the one…divide by three…”
“You’ve been to eight states, Minty.” I made a mental note that math wasn’t the mare’s strong suit.
“I wasn’t sure if I should count New Jersey or not because I never had a chance to roll in the grass before we left the portal. And I had to check in at the consulate, and that’s in New York, so I guess I’ve been to nine states. But I didn’t roll in the grass in New York either. Phooey.”
“I’ll take you to New Jersey and New York. I never need an excuse to go to Jersey. I know this great pizza place…”
“Yay!”
“You have your own car, you know. You don’t need me to drive you places.”
“Yeah, but road trips are more fun with friends!” She quietly added, “Plus you’re like, a way better driver than me.”
“Hands help. As does growing up with automobiles. I’m a good driver… when I’m not scratching a pony behind her ears.”
“Ear scratches are good and all, but what’s a mare gotta do to get a tummy rub? I’ve been laying here like this for half an hour. This is an open invitation.”
“I, uh, I’m not good at reading human body language, let alone pony body language. Like I said earlier, ponies are a lot more comfortable with physical contact than humans. What are your boundaries? Like, for ponies in general, and you in particular?”
“For ponies in general, don’t touch anything under our tails, and for me, try not to touch my cutie marks without permission.”
“I’m almost positive I’ve touched your cutie mark at some point in time. And those of several other ponies. Nopony’s ever said anything to me about that?”
“It’s not taboo, I’m just really ticklish there.” She blushed, and her red cheeks were noticeable even at night. “Go ahead, I know you want to.”
“Are you sure?” She nodded, so I moved my hand across her flank. Without looking I couldn’t tell when I brushed against Minty’s cutie mark until I heard her giggling.
“That must get really annoying. If you’re under a blanket at night, or if you’re wearing a skirt that covers your mark, or something like that.”
“Not as much as you might think. It only really started bothering me once I came to Earth.”
“That’s odd. Is it something to do with your earth pony magic?”
“No, it’s more to do with human fingers. A lot of people, especially children, want to ‘pet the ponies.’ Kids are only so tall, and my cutie mark is a picture. It’s like they’re drawn to it. Then, when they find out I’m ticklish… they show no mercy.”
“Huh. All this time I thought you liked kids.”
“I do. I absolutely adore them. I want to have some foals someday.”
I scratched her ears. “You’d be a good mom. What would you name them?”
“Spearmint Robert Wintergreen for a colt, and Fillymint Patricia Wintergreen for a filly.”
“I sense a theme.”
“Mint names run in the Wintergreen family.”
“So Minty’s a nickname?”
Minty let out a sound that I’d come to recognize as some sort of Equestrian expletive – I’d heard it used by more than one pony, and always in a situation that warranted swearing. I’d never heard Minty use it, which made it all the more amusing.
“So what’s your full name?”
“Sweet Celestia, no. I’m Minty. I will always be just plain Minty.”
“Okay, Just Plain Minty.” I moved my fingers to her flank, perilously close to her cutie mark.
“Please don’t make me say it.” She whimpered.
“Is it that bad?”
“No, it’s just whenever I hear my full name, I think I’m in trouble. Growing up, the only time anypony ever called me ‘Peppermint’ was when I was in trouble. And if I was really in trouble, it was ‘Peppermint Jessica Wintergreen’ with a variable number of exclamation points behind it.”
“It’s a pretty name.”
“I like it well enough. When I’m not in trouble anyway. Stars above, please don’t tell Kimono my middle name. It’s bad enough she knows the rest of my name.”
“Oh, are you the car wash’s troublemaker? I would’ve guessed Surprise. Her, or Toola Roola and the new kid. What’s her name, anyway? The filly who replaced Coconut Cream.”
She laughed. “You mean Rumble? You’ve met him – he’s Flitter’s sister’s coltfriend’s little brother.”
“Right, she took him trick-or-treating when we set up in that parking lot for trunk-or-treat. Forgive me, he was in costume. I suppose now’s probably a good time to admit that I really can’t tell the difference between colts and fillies.”
“So that’s why you’re single. You can’t even tell the difference between genders when somepony’s naked. Clothes, yeah, I can see that being difficult for you.”
“I hate you so much.”
“You do not!” She razzed me, so I reached down and grabbed her tongue. “Heyth!”
“What was that? I didn’t quite make that out.”
“Leth go.”
“Let’s go where?”
“Thtop!”
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? Or in this case, a human?” Minty started squirming, so I let go of her tongue. She was dangerously close to the steering wheel as it was, and I had no desire to risk disaster with the notoriously accident-prone mare.
“So why are you single? For real.”
“I’m socially awkward. By the time I figure out someone’s interested in me, they’re usually no longer interested. Or I lose interest, and that’s when they get interested. What about you? You’ve got a great sense of humor. Granted, I don’t know what stallions look for in a mare, but I think you’re adorable.”
“Do you see any stallions around here?”
“There had to have been stallions back in Equestria. Why’d you leave, anyway?”
“I… er, I kinda broke Hearth’s Warming. Crackly little pieces.”
I waited for her to elaborate. I kept waiting. “You know, it sounds like there’s a story attached to that.”
She giggled nervously. “It’s not exactly my finest moment.”
“Minty, you tell me everything. For crying out loud, two hours ago you told me how many times you went to the bathroom yesterday.”
“I dunno.” She looked at her stomach. “I could be persuaded to sing like a canary for a tummy rub.”
I ran a hand through Minty’s soft belly hairs, and her hind legs kicked involuntarily at the air, perilously close to the side window.
“Much better,” she purred. “So Hearth’s Warming is our equivalent of Christmas, but I guess you already know that since you came to my party last year.” She giggled nervously, a little habit of hers whenever she was rambling. She liked to ramble. “So anyways, there’s this big Hearth’s Warming tree in the middle of town, and we put a big candy cane on top. Sweetberry and Triple Treat made it special that year, and Silver Glow put it on top of the tree. But it was crooked, and… I… er, I borrowed a balloon and went up there to fix it. I tilted it to the left, but then it was too far lefty, so I went right, but then it was too righty. Eventually I got it just right, but I leaned out of the balloon too far, and had to grab onto the tree or crash to the ground below. I kinda knocked the special candy cane off the tree on Hearth’s Warming Eve. There was no time to make a new candy cane, and I ruined the town’s celebration for the year.”
“So you left town and came here.”
“Pretty much. Some of my friends came with me, which made me feel wonderful and guilty all at the same time.”
“You really do have great friends. Anypony who’s willing to uproot their life for you is a keeper.”
“Friendship truly is magic.”
I groaned. “That is so cheesy.”
“We could sing about it!”
“Let’s not. I seem to recall you hate my singing.”
“I can’t believe those singing lessons didn’t work.”
“I tried warning you. Humans just aren’t as magically musical as ponies are. On the plus side, I haven’t dragged any of you to karaoke night since.”
“It was… fun. And torture. Overall it was an interesting experience. I think if we could find an all-pony karaoke night, it would be a smash hit.”
“So start one. Can I come?”
“Do you promise not to sing?”
“I’m not in the habit of making promises I know I can’t keep.”
“There’s your answer. If I never hear you sing Every Breath You Take ever again I can die a happy mare.”
“Every single day, every word you say…”
Minty whimpered and I switched to the parody of the song from Tiny Toon Adventures. “Every sound you peep, be there when you sleep, I’ll be chasing you.”
The miles were counting down to the nearest ‘big’ population center, though with just over five thousand residents no one was ever going to call it a metropolis. Still, it was the biggest town in the area and we were low enough on gas I wasn’t willing to push it to the next sizable town.
As soon as I saw a sign that advertised a 24-hour service station I eased off the accelerator. By the time we got to the off ramp we were moving slowly enough that I hardly needed to brake – Minty was still resting in my lap, and I had no desire to send her flying by stopping quickly.
Minty trotted off to the restroom while I filled the gas tank. She returned carrying two shopping bags filled with candy, cola, and a box of doughnuts.
“No eating in the car.”
“I was going to share, but if you’re going to be that way…” She turned her back on me. “This’ll all be gone by the time you’re done inside.”
Amazingly, with the exception of the sodas, she’d polished off the rest of the snacks in the time it took me to buy my own drink. I tried not to think about just how much sugar she’d just consumed. At least I don’t have to worry about her falling asleep on me for a while. I just have to make sure she doesn’t come off that sugar high until after I get her home.
I’d forgone stopping on the other side of the state line, even with gas prices averaging twenty cents cheaper per gallon, because it was too far away from home to make it. Even at the cost of a few extra dollars at the pump, the convenience and time savings of making only one gas stop was worth it.
I started the car up and flipped on the headlights, the V8 rumbling as I pulled out of the station. I accelerated up the onramp and merged onto the deserted highway as Matchbox 20 started playing.
It’s 3 AM I must be lonely.
“No it isn’t.” Minty sat up to look at the clock. “It’s only 2:17.”
“You’re not lonely, either, even if the freeway is. Such is the nature of hitting shuffle on the iPod. Sorta like how on the trip out it played Country Roads in Ohio, an hour after we’d left West Virginia.”
“Like you said, it played on our trip there. Country roads are supposed to take us home to the place we belong.”
“Of course, of course.”
She once again made herself comfortable, using my lap as a pillow as she gazed up at me. It was cute, right up until she burped. She covered her mouth with a hoof, after the fact. “Um, excuse me?”
“I may not be Gerald Ford, but you’re pardoned anyway.”
“You’re driving a Ford. Does that count?”
I couldn’t help but snicker. “It can if you want it to.”
Three hundred miles to go, and all night to get there. With a friend by my side and a V8 under the hood, getting there and back was just as fun as the destination itself.
Author's Note
Story notes: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/990187/story-notes-3-am
