Last Ditch

Chapter Fourteen: Last Ditch Method

Fleetwood relaxed his LeSabre's hurried pace through the mountains, and began to drive more leisurely. The car idled gracefully down the twisting highway, the sunlight sparkling on it's blue-silver paint, showroom-fresh, showing no signs of the hard driving style it had partaken in for so many years. Fleetwood could finally relax, take his time, and enjoy the road, besides, he had WON! The wasn't a real deadline he had to meet, so he could just ramble along the winding roads, and come back to Rarity.

Meanwhile, Spike and Twilight worked furiously to get the spare on the rim. Grease covered their hooves/hands, the sun beating down hard above.

"You think Fleetwood's in Canterlot by now?" Spike asked, shoving the tire onto the rim.

"Maybe, at the rate he was going, but that's not the Fleetwood I know." Twilight paused to flip her mane out of her face. "He's so confident that he beat us, he probably has slowed down a lot. He thinks that we'll just give up and go home!"

"Well, we'll show him!" Spike agreed as Twilight began to use her magic to tighten all of the lugnuts. "Come on Spike," She panted, breathless from the work, "Let's roll!"

Mel was dozing in the passenger seat, shifting uncomfortably while Fleetwood continued to enjoy himself with the relaxed driving style.

After a few minutes, he noticed a recurring buzz noise. It sounded like the buzz of an engine. No, it couldn't be! Fleetwood looked in his mirror to see the gleam of sparkling purple paint closing in quickly.

He shook Mel awake to show him the sight.

"How could this be!" he ranted, shaking his defenseless mechanic, "I thought they ditched the spare to save weight!!!!"

"The drive a Volvo," Mel replied gruffly, pushing Fleetwood back. Suddenly, the older pony seemed twice as large. "They don't have to worry about weight, unlike you. Your car, no matter how powerfull, is laden with the weight of your soul's corruption and evil. Whereas they have nothing to worry about, you will always finally be judged by that bit of weight. God have mercy on you, Fleetwood."

Fleetwood was stunned at his words, but had no time to take in their meaning. He returned his focus to the blur in his side-mirror, and frantically tried to outrun it, trying to attempt the physically impossible: Push his gas pedal through the floor. But the car was flying, it would take him too long to get to the speed to outrun him. He had to think fast, and then, he came up with one idea: If he couldn't have Rarity, Spike couldn't either. He had decided to kill Spike.

"We're nearly on top of him, Spike!" Twilight called gleefully above the roar of the Volvo's V-6, "We're nearly at Canterlot! We're halfway through the race!"

As they came roaring past on the left side, Fleetwood took a heavy swerve at them, causing them to slam on the brakes to avoid him hitting them.

"You know, Fleet," Mel told him, "It's not too late to stop and repent."

"You know," Fleetwood replied, "You're right, I could, but has any good villian in this type of story ever said 'sorry'?"

"Good point." Mel than jumped right out the side of the car, quite randomly for the moment.

"HEY, WHAT'RE YOU DOING!" Fleetwood screamed after him.

"Preparing for the inevitable!" Mel yelled back, "What all villians in this type of story meet: A certain death!"

Fleetwood drove a little bit more carefully from that bit on.

The two cars continued on to Canterlot at this speed, Spike keeping behind his adversery, with the occaisional spontaneous attempt to get past, only to be swung at by the much larger LeSabre. Finally, they spotted the sign that said "Welcome to Canterlot, Land of Royalty!"

As Fleetwood past this sign, he pulled a 180 and began to race back down the mountain. At first Spike wondered why he did this, but then he remembered the terms of the race: "Canterlot and back."

And that's when the race really got interesting. The two cars began to pick up even more speed as they headed downhill. At one point, Spike thought he saw the car's speedometer past 140! The cars weaved in and out of slow-moving traffic, which was picking up, and continued down the mountain, until something extroadinary happened! Fleetwood began to make his move on Spike.

The brown stallion's mane fluttered in the breeze as he slammed on his brakes in a vain attempt to make Spike crash into his rear, and doom them both. Spike shot past, and the chase was on!

****

The cars were now barrelling down the mountain, past 160 MPH, Fleetwood sideswiping, rear-ending, and shoving at the Volvo every time he could. The Concept convertible was now a deadly enemy to them.

"Do something, Spike!" Twilight screeched as the Lesabre began to pass them on the right. It took a final heavy swerve at them, and Fleetwood unleased his insane fury. Spike tried to break away, but Fleetwood wouldn't let up, he kept contact. Suddenly, Spike figured out what the car salesman was trying to do: He was trying to push him over the edge of the cliff!

Spike knew what he had to do: He had to fight back, and hard! He swung the steering wheel to the right to counterract the Lesabre's influence, the Volvo responding instantly. Both cars had an even chance now, it was easy to figure out what was going on: One would leave the canyon alive, the other dead.

"Fleetwood!" Spike cried out the window, "Why are you doing this! Is it because I love Rarity?"

"You fool!" his adversary cackled insanely, "This has NOTHING to do with Rarity! I never liked you! You're going to PAY for doing this to me?"

"He isn't in the right head, Spike!" Twilight countered, "He doesn't mean what he's saying! What did you ever do to him?"

Spike felt another blow to the car occur. Twilight stopped her pep-talk and let out a high-pitched scream as the car started to slip toward the edge of the road. Then, time began moving very slowly: I may have said this a lot in this story, but now I MEAN IT: Spike KNEW what he had to do. He had seconds before destruction.

Spike slammed on the brakes.

Spike noticed Fleetwood began to move away from him.

He swung the steering wheel to the right.

The Volvo darted between the Lesabre and the wall.

Spike felt rage well up in him: He had visions of Fleetwood talking to Rarity at a bar counter on the train. He saw them laugh at some joke he made. He saw an evil flash quickly through Fleetwood's blue eyes. Then, he let it all loose:

Spike swung the steering wheel to the left, and hurled the Volvo at the Lesabre. Fleetwood was shocked to see the small station wagon sent screaming into his side, and had no time to react. The swedish auto gave him a huge shove, and the Lesabre broke over the railing. Fleetwood felt his grip on the steering wheel tighten as the car fell over the cliff.

There were a few peaceful seconds, until an explosion erupted through the canyon. Smoke began drifting lazily up to the road level in a huge cloud. Spike was shocked he had done such a thing, but Twilight just rested her hoof on his shoulder.

"He's in a better place now, Spike. He really is."

Unbeknownst to them, this wasn't the end of their troubles. After Spike and Twilight had escaped the police, they had rounded up two eighteen wheelers, which they had placed across the road just around a mountain turn, anticipating that the fugitives would hit it and explode, in a "Vanishing Point" fashion. But, when he finally came, Spike just went right under them, his top snagging on the underside of the trailer, and ripping off.

Sheriff Trigger Stetson of the Smith County Sheriff's Department, Officer Flegel, Quince, Kirkland, Charlie, and about all of the cops in Equestria, stared bewildered at the little Volvo speeding away, dumbfounded that he had escaped their grasp, until Trigger finally spoke up:

"Let him go, boys. If that didn't stop 'em, nothing will."

By the time they had reached the finish line at Ponyville Town Hall, everyone who had assembled at the finish line, Berry Punch, Rarity, Wilcox, and several others, were so happy to see them. Berry and Wilcox grabbed Spike and carried him into the air, whereas Rarity cheered on, while helping Twilight from the car. Finally, the celebration died down, and Rarity trotted over to Spike.

"Spike," she confessed, nearly speechless that he beat the best racer in Ponyville besides Twilight, "I just wanted to say thank you. If you hadn't won, I would've been slave to that maniac, and I am eternally grateful to you. Although I wanted to say, before this experience, although I never wanted to say it, I was never actually attracted to you. I mean, there was something deep in me that liked you more than friends, but, I-I... I never pursued that interest. But now, oh, you've shown how much you'd do for my affection, and....That's changed everything. I need someone who's LOYAL, Spike. Not just someone who turns heads. I need someone who will stand by our relationship in times of hardship, not someone who would just bail out at the sight of someone whom they feel is prettier. I-"

"GET ON WITH IT!" Berry yelled, "I GOTTA BE AT A WEDDING BY 4:00!"

"Well," Rarity, continued, blushing slightly, "Here it goes: Spike, will you marry me?"

"YES!" Without hesitation, Spike launched himself into Rarity's awaiting hooves, where she hugged him wholeheartedly. It turns out, Berry had planned that wedding in advance, something she and Twilight both knew was going to happen: Spike and Rarity's wedding.

It took place at an old church by Canal Street, one that although was old, was very well-maintained, and had vines growing neatly on it's wall, and when the wedding bells wrang, the newly-wedded couple came down a red carpet to a waiting white convertible Cadillac Eldorado, chauffeured by Checker Marathon, who, hours before, had been pursuing him, but who was now remembering something he had known ever since Pony Kindergarten, but had forgotten a while back: Fleetwood was a jerk.

The married couple rode off, the rest of the weddinggoers following in their cars, and a grand parade down main street ensued, strangers joining in at every moment. Oh, you should've seen it, such an array of cars, old and new, dirty and clean. Even the police who had pursued them joined in, whooping their sirens and flashing their lights. There was one thing that was known for sure that day: Two young lovers had found each other.

And, as cleche as this sounds, they lived happilly ever after.