Post by Shun on May 24, 2017 14:00:55 GMT
This started life as a greentext over on /mlp/ in 2014, in a thread containing greentext stories about various real world celebrities in Equestria, such as Gordon Ramsay. The premise of this particular story was "What would a Top Gear Equestrian Special be like?" and first 6 sections of the story were written and posted then, and after that lay dormant for some time. There was a resurgence at the end of 2016, which got the story to where it is now. I've had hugely positive feedback on this, so I'd like to finish it. We'll see what happens.
The story
The producers had set us a challenge.
We were each to choose our favourite Grand Tourer, which we thought would be best to drive across a country that no one has ever driven across before. The nation...
Of Equestria.
The producers had told us to meet up outside a small bakery in the town of "Ponyville". I was the first to arrive.
>You are Jeremy Clarkson, and right now you are stood in front of a very strange looking building, car behind you, with a camera pointing at your face
"And as you can see, I've been very clever. This is the 2010 Mercedes SLS AMG. It has a 6.2L V8 that produces 563 horsepower, mated to a 7-speed double clutch gearbox, and all this means that it will accelerate faster than Lord Sugar's net worth during an episode of The Apprentice. In fact-"
>You are interrupted by the arrival of one of your co-hosts
"Oh here he is, Mr Predictable with his '911 Godmachine'. Who'd have guessed?"
>You watch as Richard exits his choice, the new GT3 variant of the 991 generation Porsche flagship, smug grin plastered across his face.
>"You've picked the wrong car mate"
"No I haven't, you've chosen a stripped down Beetle. I've chosen the perfect marriage of German luxury and performance. When we're done here, I'll still have a spine."
>Richard opens his mouth, but doesn't manage to get a word in before a barrage of expletives explode from the open windows of the bakery.
>He looks at you, puzzled.
>"Was that... Gordon Ramsay?"
"I think it might've been..."
>"Should we go and have a look?"
"But what if James arrives while we're gone."
>"He won't, he's probably still stuck at customs."
"Did you have to go through customs, Hammond?"
>"No, did you?"
"No, so how is James stuck in customs?"
>"It's James, he's probably gone to the wrong country"
"Ah yes, well, after you."
>You follow your diminutive companion into the bakery
>Instantly, your nostrils are assaulted by the scent of semi-cooked cake batter
>Looking around, you see a wide variety of baked goods placed on various counters and tables
>This place really did hit your senses hard
>Particularly the decor, it seemed very "Hansel and Gretel"
>Trying to take in the surroundings without suffering from a brain haemorrhage, you walk into the back of Richard who has stopped dead in his tracks
>You soon see why
>There's a pink horse serving Gordon Ramsay a cake
>"Jeremy, that's a talking horse."
"No it isn't, it's just serving cake."
>"No Jeremy, it's a talking horse."
"Hammond, horses can't talk, that's ridicul-"
>The horse has noticed you and is now bouncing towards you, spouting something about a welcome party
"Oh my god. That's a bloody talking horse."
>"I told you it was"
>Hammond wears a cocky smirk across his face, but this soon dissipates, becoming a look of worry
>"Do you think James spiked our drinks."
"I haven't had a drink."
>"... Neither have I..."
"I think we should leave"
>"Yep, agree with you there."
>The two of you turn tail and head back out to the camera crew
>The pink horse seems to follow you, still spraying verbal faeces from her face-hole
>Outside you see that James has finally arrived, and is now talking to the camera crew
>And by the looks of things, he'd brought a Weismann
>Did that man even have eyes?
>Following an explanation from the producers as to why the town was populated by talking technicolour horses that served cake, and then spending twenty minutes rocking back and forth in the back of the Discovery trying to make sense of what was going on in your head, you and Hammond had regrouped with James next to the cars.
>You still aren't sure how James was completely unaffected by what was going on
"How come you understand all this?"
>"Well Jeremy, that's because I actually did my research."
>He responds proudly, before going off on one about the things that he'd learned
>You look straight past him, showing your uninterested face to the camera
>Hammond pipes up
>"James, have you actually been blessed with the gift of sight?"
>"Yes, why?"
>James turns to see Hammond pointing at his Wiesmann
"Yes James, why have you picked possibly the most ugly car possible to show off to these people? Sorry, these ponies."
>”What’s wrong with it?”
“Just look at it. It’s hideous. It looks like Kong ate a Morgan and this is what came out of the other end.”
>”I quite like it.”
>”James, it’s awful.”
“See, even Hammond hates it, and he actually likes Morgans.”
>”Well at least it’s more interesting than your Mercedes and Hammond’s 911.”
>The producers elected to interrupt James’ nonsense with a challenge.
>You open the crisp, golden envelope and unfold the paper contained within.
>Hammond and May stare at you in anticipation as you begin to read
“As you three may have noticed, we’ve sent you to a land of pastel coloured ponies; a car is something they’ve not seen before. The three of you are to drive to Manehattan, the most developed city in Equestria, and see if your cars can take on the Equestrian city life.”
>”That doesn’t sound so difficult, right Hammond?”
>”Well, not really, there must be a catch.”
“There is. I haven’t finished. Equestria has very few paved roads, and no Satellite Navigation. You’ll need to get yourself a map from the library in town.”
>”Oh cock.”
>You and Hammond get back in and start up your cars, filling the area with a sound of calculated German precision, whilst James stood, plotting how best to get to the library.
>Hammond and yourself, however, were just going to drive around until you found it, and in the traditional Top Gear way, you left James behind.
>How hard could it be to find a library, anyway?
>As it turned out, very hard. It… was market day.
>You sit behind Hammond, who attempts to traverse his way through the market square, surrounded by hordes of horses bearing a myriad of colours that were trying to go about their business
>You were crawling along, and you weren’t even sure you were going the right way. Evidently, you needed to ask someone, but this was a job for Richard.
>Picking up the radio, you get his attention
“Hammond, you’re going to have to ask for directions mate”
>”You what?”
“Ask someone for directions.”
>”Why me?”
“Because you’re in front.”
>”Yeah, but… They’re all horsey and weird.”
“Oh grow up.”
>”How do we know they even speak English?”
“Just open your window and ask for bloody directions”
>”You know I don’t like foreign things.”
“Hammond, we’re lost in the middle of a foreign town, parked in the middle of a foreign market square, on foreign market day. Wind down the window, and ask a pony for directions.”
>”Alright, alright.”
>Hammond winds his window down, and you watch as he chooses the most Texan looking pony to ask for directions. She has a stetson and everything. Poor, predictable Richard Hammond.
>”Uh… Excuse me, uh, ma’am. You wouldn’t be able to give me directions to the library, would you?”
>”Sure thing sugarcube. It’s in th’ Princess’ castle. Y’all ain’t from around these parts, are ya?”
>”Well, uh, no, not entirely…”
>”Ah guess ah’ll be the first t’say welcome t’ Ponehville. Ah’m Applejack, ah run an apple farm on the edge of town. Y’all should stop by on yer way outta town for sum’n t’ eat, ya hear?”
>Her southern drawl was starting to hurt your brain, and you weren’t even having the conversation
>”Right, well, thanks for that, uh, Applejack.”
>”Ah guess ah’ll see you around, uh, what did you say yer name was again?”
>”Hammond.”
>”Raht, ah’ll see ya around then, Hamm’nd”
>The Texan pony goes on her way as you remove the finger that was stopping your brain from leaking out of your ear.
“So how many lefts did Daisy Duke say we have to turn?”
>Hammond was not impressed with your comment.
>”Haha, very funny. No, she said it’s in the castle, over there somewhere.”
“Right, well lets get a move on then.”
>You put the car into neutral and your foot down on the throttle, the V8 growl startling the ponies in your way and clearing the road.
“Lets see your Beetle do that.”
>You round a corner and get your first good look at the castle
>It was like a giant crystal tree looking affair
“Bloody hell, I don’t know what the architects here must be smoking, but I definitely want some”
>As you pull up, you’re greeted by the sickening sight of James’ Wiessmann
>Hammond gags as he exits his car
>You mock him as you enter the castle, and stop dead in your tracks as you notice the seemingly endless narrow, winding corridors
>”Oh for God’s sake! I’ve only got short legs. I hate walking.”
>Eventually, after multiple wrong doors, much walking and even more complaining from your colleague, you pass an open door and notice James sat at a desk with a purple pegasus-unicorn-horse, reading books.
>He notices you back, as does Purple
>”Took you two bloody long enough”
“It’s market day”
>”Right, well...”
>Purple stands up from her seat to introduce herself
>”You two must be Jeremy and Richard. James has been telling me about you. I’m Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
>She extends a hoof and you awkwardly lean in and shake it.
>”Isn’t Twilight Sparkle that Nissan colour?”
>You elbow Hammond in the ribs and aggressively whisper at him.
“That’s Midnight Purple, you idiot.”
>Midnight Purple looks at the two of you confused and ever so slightly disgusted
>James makes an attempt comfort her
>”Don't worry about those two, they're always like this”
>”Riiight”
>You decided it was time to address the elephant in the room
>Or, more accurately the elephant in your trousers
“Uh, Miss Sparkle, you couldn't point me to the loo could you?”
>”The wherenow?”
>This suddenly got more awkward
“Your toilet”
>”Oh right! It's just down the corridor, second door on the right!”
“Cheers”
>You make your swift escape to go and relieve yourself
>You find the door to the toilet and swing it wide open
>Cue flashbacks to the GT-R vs Train challenge across Japan
>This was no ordinary toilet
>You should've expected that really, this place was populated by magical horses, their bathroom needs were bound to be different to your own
“Bollocks”
>Having finished up your business you return back to the room to find James and Princess Horseface discussing some diagrams on a blackboard and Hammond, leaning on a creased up map, eyeing up some loose rope and the chandelier
>The princess notices you
>”Ah Jeremy! Did you fi-”
“What the hell were the three bloody sea shells for?”
>”Thank God you're back! I swear if I had to listen James explain the benefits of positive displacement superchargers anymore, I was going to positively displace my brains across the floor”
>James scowls at both of you and Twilight looks between all of you like she's missing something
>”Actually we’d moved on to variable valve timing, it's very interesting what you've managed to develop without magic. This internal combustion stuff is fascinating.”
>”Hey Twi, some weird gold letter showed up, I think it's for you”
>Some dopey looking lizard lad wandered into the room, not really paying attention to anything bar his own voice
>What was he, some sort of gecko or something?
>”I don't know what it is, but you need to tell your penfriends I'm not your personal mailbox, a dragon needs his beauty sleep y’kn- WHAAAA?”
>Now he'd noticed you all
>Multiple attempts at further words come from his mouth as Twilight tries to explain what was going on to him
>”Now Spike, these are uhm, these are humans, from Britain. They're here to build diplomatic relations with us.”
>Were you? That was news to you.
>”This is James, Richard and Jeremy. And that's their film crew. They point these strange cameras at us that record everything we're doing somehow. Their technology is amazing.”
>You elect to ignore the conversation going on and take the envelope from Barney the dinosaur and give the challenge a read
“Right, that's enough messing around. You need to start proving what your cars can do. We've arranged a drag race against one of the fastest ponies in Equestria at a local apple farm.”
>James looks at you, confused
>”A drag race? Against a horse?”
“That's what it says here.”
>”So we're racing 560 horsepower against 1? That seems easy enough.”
>You notice Richard smugly daydreaming
“What're you so smug about?”
>”Applesauce said she'd make me something to eat”
>James was now confused
>”Hammond, what on earth are you talking about?”
>”Applesauce. She's a pony that gave us directions. She's got an apple farm on the edge of town.”
>You remember the pony from earlier and suddenly can't help but think of Smokey and the bandit
“Right, we don't have all day, we need to get going.
>You turn and head back out to your car
>”Clarkson! The map.”
>James follows you out grabbing the map, with Richard trailing
>You all leave Midnight Purple and Barney blinking, confused about what had just happened, start up your cars, and follow James on his way to the farm
>You listen to Richard and James bicker over the radio
>”Jeremy, why does James have to lead?”
>”Because I've got the map you pillock.”
>”But your car is disgusting”
>”Your car is a relic”
>You arrive at the farm yard between two flag poles and the three of you line your now very dusty cars up
>You get out to speculate with the others about what you'll actually be racing
>”It's not going to be The Stig’s pony cousin is it?”
>”Don't be stupid Hammond, they don't have cars, they can't have a Stig”
“Well no, if they did, how would they even drive? They don't have hands.”
>”Well yeah, but I've seen them holding stuff.”
“How does that work?”
>”It's quite simple really, their hooves are actually positively charged with-”
>Not in the mood for one of James’ explanations, you and Richard wander off and look around the farm
>There's a messy stack of hay bales behind a barn
>A scheme is hatched between you and your colleague and you begin to rearrange the bales
>Eventually James finds you
>”What are you two knobs doing?”
>”Modern Art mate.”
>”Right. What's it supposed to look like?”
“Well James, you know how there are all those pegasus ponies flying about?”
>”Oh God, you haven’t have you?”
>”Yes we have!”
>Richard seems very proud of himself as he sits straddling a hay bale.
“Yes James, when they look down from above they're going to see a very large gentleman sausage”
>”We should probably run before someone sees this.”
“We should”
>You return to your cars
>The princess and Daisy Duke have arrived and are waiting for you
>As you walk towards them, you hear a sonic boom and everyone's eyes turn upwards
>There was a thick rainbow carving it's way through the sky at pace
>”What the hell was that?”
>”Whatever it was, it broke the bloody sound barrier.”
“Bloody hell”
>”That there wus mah fraynd Raynber Daysh. She's who you’s gonna be racin’ today.”
“Oh for God’s sake”
>”That doesn't make sense, no living thing can break the sound barrier”
>”Well I ain't no ordinary living thing. The name’s Dash.”
>A bright blue pegasus had slipped in behind you all
>Her hair was short, spiky and rainbow
>Was she a lesbian?
>Are horse lesbians a thing?
>You decide not to worry yourself over the sexual preferences of animals
>Her lesbian voice continued
>”So you're who I'm here to race? With those? You don't look fast. This'll be a piece of cake.”
>Her arrogance wasn't going to get a response
“Can we just get this over with?”
>”Yeah yeah, just lemme stretch my wings”
>You and your co-presenters huddle into a group for a pep talk by your cars.
>”Right, forget the horse. Let's just race each other.”
“Well, I've clearly won this”
>”How have you? My car is a GT3. It's basically a race car. And we're on gravel, and who's car has rally heritage? And I'm rear engined, so I can actually put my power down.”
“Yes but Hammond, your car has a flat six, me and James have got V8s.”
>”And? That means nothing on gravel, how many V8 rally cars have you seen.”
“None, but that's because rallying is stupid.”
>”What, just because rallying isn't all about your ape-like POWERRR?”
>”Hammond, how many rally cars have you seen with track semi-slicks?”
>”James, that doesn't matter, race slicks make you faster, everyone knows that”
>”Not on dirt”
>”James, you're wrong.”
“Hammond mate, you're going to lose”
>Rainbow is now lined up with the rest of you on the starting line
>You all start your engines and your V8 growls into life
>The small horse looks up at you, worried
>You smile at her and rev your engine
>She swallows hard, confidence drained from her
>Maybe you actually stood a chance here
>Twilight stands at the side of the makeshift strip, levitating a green flag to her side
>Wait. Levitating? How? What?
>You decide to stop trying to work things out before James starts explaining things again.
>She hovers the flag out further and starts talking
>”Oh my gosh, I'm so excited, I've done so much research into drag racing from the few human sources I could find! So here goes. Drivers! Start your engines!”
>You'd already done that, but you rev it a little more for effect
>Rainbow still looked uneasy
>”Okay… Go!”
>The flag drops and your foot goes straight down on the accelerator
>Rainbow darts off, almost instantly getting up to speed
>Richard seemed to have gotten off the line too
>And James
>You however, were held at ransom by your back tyres fighting for traction, kicking up a huge cloud of dust
>They do bite the ground hard though and you're very quickly moving at pace, reeling in your colleagues
>In seconds you're approaching 100 on your speedometer
>There's a sonic boom and a red shockwave
>And it's coming from James’s Wiesmann
>The sound of your own engine starts coming from behind you
>You check your mirrors and notice a grey shockwave from your own car
>Had you broken the sound barrier?
>You were only doing 130
>James flies past Rainbow
>You fly past Rainbow
>Hammond flies past Rainbow
>You pass James
>You slide to a stop after crossing the line
>May and Hammond pull up next to you
>You get out of the car and shut your door triumphantly and pull your smug face as you walk back around to Richard Hammond who was already out of his own
>”Yes, yes, I know. Semi slicks aren’t for dirt. Your car was faster.”
“Yes Hammond, but forget that. Did we just break the sound barrier?”
>”I think we did you know”
“How the hell did we manage that?”
>”Well, if you two buffoons had actually listened to anything I'd said earlier then you'd know-”
>We pick up the action in the bar of the local hotel
>You and James sit at a table while Hammond is getting you drinks
“When he goes to bed, I say we sneak out and mess with his car”
>”Go on, what do we do?”
“Well, he's already brought the stupidest car for this trip, but I think I know how to make it worse.”
>James raises an eyebrow
“You know how he keeps complaining that they've ruined the 911 by giving it electric power steering? We take the fuse out, so then he has no power steering.”
>”That's evil, but it's excellent.”
“It is”
>Hammond returns to your table with three pints of a golden liquid
“Took you long enough, what'd they have?”
>”Got you both a cider, it's a local speciality.”
>”It's not bad”
>You taste it yourself, and before you know it you're about 6 pints in and having another friendly dig at Richard
“Hammond mate, you've brought the wrong car.”
>”I've brought the fastest thing here, mine is almost a race car.”
“But the challenge wasn't to bring a race car, it was bring a big, comfy GT car”
>”It is a GT car”
“It isn't.”
>”Yes it is.”
>”No it isn't Hammond, you can’t take a car that harsh on any sort of long roadtrip. A grand tourer is supposed to get you from London to Monaco in comfort and style, not in the back of an ambulance.”
>Whilst your associates continue to bicker, a purple-pink horse has wandered over to you
>She looks absolutely wankered
>She smells absolutely wankered
>You decide that Richard would really appreciate her company, and so send her in his direction
>With Richard now held hostage and having to play the role of an Alcoholics Anonymous group, you and James make your escape
>”Guys where are you going?”
>Richard helplessly calls as you leave him
>”Guys… Clarkson! James! You can't leave me here!”
>”I- I can schtandf on thwo legth thoo, shee?”
>You hear a loud crash as you make a run for the door but you don't look back
>Your target, the bright white Porsche, was now in sight
>You reach it and try the door
>It's unlocked as usual
>Would he ever learn?
>James and yourself begin your modifications, giggling with immaturity as you show them to each other
>You take a step back to admire your handiwork
>”Jeremy, you can’t write that on there!”
“Why not?”
>”You’re already on your last warning.”
“All I’ve written is American Airlines.”
>”Yes, on a nine eleven.”
“The American viewers won’t notice, they’re Americans.”
>”You’ve got to rub it off”
“Fine. But if he wants a race car I’ll give him a race car.”
>While James continues fiddling in the fuse box, you set back to work with your coloured marker pens.
“Oh yes, he’ll love this.”
>The next morning you and your colleagues meet in the hotel lobby
“Bloody hell, those beds were tiny, my back kills.”
>”There was nothing wrong with the beds, you're just suffering from old age.”
“Of course there was nothing wrong for you, you're three feet tall.”
>”Yes, and my back is fine. So why is being small a problem?”
>”Hammond, can I see your car keys?”
>”Uh, sure? Why d’you want to do that?”
>Richard hand his keys to James, who holds them out of reach, grinning
>”Oh very funny.”
“Are you going to get your keys back Hammond?”
>”I won't give you both the pleasure”
>”Suit yourself”
>James stands smugly, arm across his chest, and other still held up high
>Richard sighs, and starts jumping for the keys
>The sight leaves you and James in tears with laughter as Richard eventually grabs the keys back
>During this, one of the men in white coats has appeared next to you with a golden envelope, which he hands to you
“Oh, here we go.”
>You open the envelope as the man slinks off into the darkness
“You're supposed to be showing the population the superiority of the car, so you'll be driving two Manehattan each with a little pony passenger and their luggage. To make things interesting, you'll be racing their friends on the train. You're to meet them all at the train station in ten minutes.”
>”Better get a move on then”
>You all sprint for the doors and Richard lays eyes on his “upgraded” car
>”Right which one of you was it?”
>You're about to confess but he continues
>”It looks ace!”
>That threw you
“Wh-what?”
>”It looks like a proper race car”
>You'd coloured his car to look like the Loctite liveried Porsche Supercup car
>Evidently he didn't get it
>”Was this you Jeremy?”
“Well, yes…”
>”I don't know what to say, you never do anything nice for me”
>”Oi, can you pillocks hurry up, we've only got seven minutes left.”
“Right, yes”
>You jump in the car and head off
>You decide to spin your tyres as you leave and kick up another cloud of dust
>And then realise you have no idea where you're going
>You grab the radio to ask James to lead you but Hammond beats you to the airwaves
>”Clarkson! What’ve you done to my car? There're warning lights all over my dash!”
“All I did was colour it in, it wasn't me that did anything else.”
>You hear James laughing over the radio
>”James, what’ve you done?”
“James, I need you to lead me, you've got the map”
>”James, you need to fix my car”
>”Sorry Hammond, we've gotta go.”
>”You can't just leave me here”
“Yes we can, you know how this works”
>”Clarkson!”
>James takes lead and the two of you depart leaving your diminutive companion to try and figure out German engineering
>Leaving was a bit of an exaggeration
>Captain Slow was more than living up to his name
“James, I swear if you go any slower I'm going to call you captain bloody stationary”
>”I'm not going to go any faster Jeremy, I don't know these roads and it's a built up area”
“James, we're against the clock for God’s sake”
>”The station is just around this corner, we're in no rush”
>You round the corner, and as promised the train station is in sight
>The two of you pull up, and then it's a waiting game
>Who would arrive first; Richard, your passengers, or the train?
>It was Richard that arrived first
>But, rather conveniently, your myriad of passengers arrive before he has chance to complain to you
>There were 6 ponies; three of them you knew, another one you recognised, and two you hadn't seen before
>Midnight Purple, Drag Race Wings, Applesauce, Verbal Diarrhoea from when you arrived, and then one horse that was that grim yellow Skoda colour with pink hair, and a pink horse with purple and turquoise hair
>Were aesthetic colour schemes not a thing here?
>Midnight Purple started directing the others to their relevant modes of transport
>”Right, Fluttershy, Pinkie and Starlight; you three are taking the train.”
>Yellow and Pink Purple seem to sigh with relief but the other one seems outraged and proceeds to bounce around maniacally spouting yet more shit that you don't care to pay attention to
>Midnight Purple shuts her down, and she slugs off to the train to sulk
>”Right, Dash you're with Jeremy, AJ you're with Richard, and I'll go with James”
>Your colleagues had been matched up perfectly, but you were left with the arrogant one
>You were going to clash with her
>The train arrives as the ponies begin to load luggage into the cars
>Well, the other cars
>Your pony had no luggage
>But the train though
“What the hell is that?”
>Richard bursts out laughing when he notices the train
>”We're supposed to race that? It looks pathetic”
>Even James seemed unimpressed
>”It's hardly the bloody Mallard, is it?”
>Another one of the men in white coats wanders out with a green flag
“Right, we better get in the cars then.”
>You overhear a conversation between the two honorary Americans
>”Hey Hamm’nd, what's a Loctaht?”
>”They're a company that makes glue.”
>There's a short and awkward silence
>”CLARKSON!”
>You take the opportunity to open the gullwing and take your seat in the AMG next to Rainbow
>The whistle blows on the train and the man in the white coat extends the flag out
>You all take turns tapping your throttles and exciting your exhausts
>The train jerks forward and the flag drops
>You launch from the line up to 40, with Richard getting the jump on you
>You glance at your passenger as she pulls herself forward from being pinned back in the seat
“You're going to have to give me directions, because I've got no idea where we're going.”
>”Right, and are we going to go this slowly all the way?”
“Well what's the speed limit? 40? 60?”
>”Speed limit? What d’you mean speed limit?”
“How fast are we allowed to go?”
>”How fast can this thing go?”
>You grin, and lay your foot into the floor
“POWERRRR”
>You very quickly draw the Porsche in and pass it
>”That's more like it!”
>You ignore your new partner
>Instead, you wonder what things were like in Hammond’s car
>The reality was it was going exactly as follows
>”Have you ever been a rally co-driver before?”
>”Whatnow?”
>”Rally is so much better than the other motorsports, just watching cars get thrown through forests and mud in the rain and snow. Getting all filthy”
>”Lahk mah pigs?”
>”Well kind of, if your pigs were two tonnes and going at 90 mph a few feet from spectators”
>”That sounds lahk a real hoot”
>”Clarkson you oaf, what are you doing? You're going to get us banned from here like you and Richard did in France”
>Captain Boring was on the radio again. >Sometimes you wondered why you had a radio
“James, there's no speed limit”
>”You what?”
“There isn't a speed limit.”
>”You're kidding, right?”
“They don't have cars James. Why would they have speed limits?”
>”That's brilliant!”
>James puts the hammer down to keep up with yourself
>”G-g-g-guys, can you s-s-s-slow down a b-b-bit?”
>”Why would we do that Hammond?”
“Yeah, we can go as fast as we want, there’s no limit.”
>”B-b-b-bec-c-cause this r-r-road is too b-b-bumpy”
“Are you having that problem in your GT car, James?”
>”No, what about you?”
“No, not at all”
>”Good job we brought GT cars”
>”Y-y-yes yes-s-s, c-c-can w-we j-j-just t-t-t-try and f-find a p-paved r-r-road or s-something soon?”
>”Well actually there’s a paved trade route just up the path from here. It’s a bit longer than the train’s route, and it’s mostly used by ponies with carts of heavy goods to get from town to town, but it’s significantly smoother than this.”
>”Y-y-yes! Th-th-thank y-y-y-you Midn-n-n-night!”
>”It’s Twilight.”
>You look over to Rainbow
“When she says paved, how paved are we talking?”
>”Like, black tar surface or something, I don’t know, I’m not a construction worker.”
“I like the sound of that”
>Sure enough, the next turn you take puts you onto a wide, perfectly tarmaced road
>You slow down to 40 and your colleagues straddle you either side
>”Why are we slowing down?”
>Your passenger was seemingly confused
“We’re going to have some fun”
>”Are we actually about to do this?”
>”Yes Hammond, there’s no law about racing on a public road here, just like there’re no speed limits”
“Are you two going to shut up so we can get on with this?”
>You beep your horn three times, and bury your right foot into the carpet, and your colleagues do the same.
>The back end snakes around as, once again, you’re fighting for traction
>Rainbow is trying to find things to cling on to, and you laugh
>Eventually, you’re able to more comfortably put your power down
>The three of you stay pretty level, all breaking the sound barrier once again as you cruise to Manehattan comfortably in the triple figures
>Your passenger starts to relax a bit more
>”How are we going this fast?”
>You try and think of the best way to explain it
“Imagine if we were being pulled along by 500 or so ponies”
>”But there’s nothing pulling us”
“No, but… Uh… magic? We burn things to make noise and go fast. I guess it’s a bit like the train, but more complicated.”
>”I don’t get any of that science magic stuff”
“Neither do I, I just know petrol goes in, and power comes out.”
>Saying petrol reminds you to glance down at your gauges
>You’re almost empty
>Bollocks
>You hoped you didn’t have much further to go
>There’s a tunnel up ahead, and you slow down massively, as do Hammond and May, and you all drop your windows down simultaneously
>As soon as you enter the tunnel, you all go straight back to wide open throttle, and the sound of two V8s and a high revving flat six reverberate around the tunnel
>It’s bliss
>Exiting the tunnel, you find yourself in what feels like 1930’s New York
>It was a stark contrast to the rest of Equestria that you’d seen
>Hammond pulls up next to you at a crossroad
>”Now I wasn’t expecting this!”
“Neither was I mate, this is unreal”
>”So where’s this train station then?”
>You look ahead, seeing a building not too dissimilar to New York’s Grand Central station, which you point at
“My guess is that’s it”
>”Well we haven’t beat the train just yet”
>Richard squeals his tires a little as he peels away
>You give chase, with James just behind
>Arriving at the station, there’s no sign of any of Purple’s friends
>You get out of your cars
>”Have we won?”
>”I think so Richard, the train isn’t due for another half an hour. I’m amazed how quick these cars are. I’ve got so much to learn about them!”
“Well, you can start by learning about how to refuel them. Where can we get some petrol?”
>”Whatnow?”
“Petrol, gas, super unleaded, premium? Did James not go over that with you?”
>”Kinda, but he didn’t say where it came from. I thought it was something you’d brought with you.”
“Oh for God’s sake James”
>”It’s not my fault”
>”James, you were teaching her about how cars work”
>”She wasn’t just going to whip me up some V Power there and then though was she?”
>Just then, one of the men in white coats steps in with another envelope
>James reads this one
>”You’re out of petrol, you idiots. We saw this coming, and your cars are hardly the best things for city life, so we’ve provided you with your favourite selection of small hot hatches. They’re around the corner, outside a sandwich shop. They have all the equipment you should need to get through the night.”
”Sandwich shop? I’m bloody starving!”
>The three of you bid farewell to the ponies that’d had accompanied you for the past two hours, and leave your cars parked outside the station
>”How do you think they’ll get them home?”
>”Same way as they got next cars out here.”
>”How did they do that?”
“Probably on a truck, Hammond.”
>Your colleague could be a bit thick at times
>You round the corner to see a yellow sandwich shop, not too dissimilar to a Subway
>”Cheese Sandwich’s Filly Cheese Sandwich Shop?”
>”Nice to see you can still read James”
>Out front sat three hot hatches; one yellow, one off-white, and one black one.
“Right, I’m guessing the Clio is yours James”
>”It is”
“And Hammond, you’ve picked the smallest car possible, so the Abarth is yours.”
>”It’s not that small.”
“For you maybe.”
>”That’s makes the boring one yours then.”
“I’ll have you know the Polo GTI is the best hot hatch on the market.”
>”It’s not, it’s boring. And yours is black”
“And what colour is yours? Can’t the Italians even paint a car white right?”
>”It’s Campovolo Grey”
>”Hammond, that’s bloody primer. Did they not finish painting it? Just decided that’ll do?”
>”James, your car is puke yellow”
“Hammond, you can't say that about James’s car. Liquid Yellow is one of the best car colours around.”
>”You're only saying that because your Merc at home is yellow”
>”That's not Liquid Yellow”
>”Stop being pedantic, they're all a vile yellow.”
“Shut up and get in your clown car Hammond”
>”I thought we were getting something to eat?”
>You are quite hungry, so you concede defeat to your stomach
“Fine”
>As you head towards the door, some yellow lanky horse bastard bounds out playing a bloody accordion
“Oh for God’s sake”
>He continues to play some polka bullshit
>”Mate, we just want a bloody sandwich”
>He stops playing
>”Oh, you guys want sandwiches huh? Well you've come to the right place! The name’s Cheese Sandwich!”
“Of course it is.”
>”Come inside!”
>He begins his polka again, complete with vocals
“Jesus Christ”
>Having finished your dinner of sandwiches and paid, you wander back out to your cars
>Cheese horse is still bouncing around you playing polka, but you’ve ignored him pretty well for the last 30 minutes
>”I really enjoyed that”
“Hammond, it was literally just cheese on toast”
>”Yeah, and? I like cheese on toast. It’s simple and not foreign”
>”They didn’t even have any brown sauce”
“Have you ever been out of the UK and had brown sauce James?”
>”That doesn’t mean that places shouldn’t have it”
>”Can we just get on with things please?”
“Right, yes”
>You look over at your camera crew
“Where are we staying tonight?”
>They shrug at you
>You sigh
“You don’t know?”
>”Erm… Jeremy…”
>You turn back to Richard, who is holding a gold envelope that he has retrieved from inside his car and begins to read
>”In your car you’ll find all the equipment you’ll need to spend the night. Drive to Central Park, and find a place to start your pitch.”
>Hammond’s face lights up
>No
>God no
“We’re not bloody tenting are we?”
>James holds up a sleeping bag that he’d just pulled out of his boot
>”Apparently so”
>Why did bad things have to happen to you?
>You really felt like giving one of the production team a good left hook
>Hammond was already in the Abarth and had the engine started
>Before you had even got your own started, your colleagues had already taken off
>You flick your heated seats on and follow the other baby sportscars out towards the park in the centre of town
>The sound of strained 4 cylinders and fluttering turbos as ponies stop and stare as your convoy drives by
>You arrive at the park and your inner child takes over
>You rip your handbrake and throw the Polo into a slide, ripping up the grass and taking out a “Please keep off” sign in the process before coming to a stop
>A pony that was gathering flowers with her friends faints
>Richard copies you and the Abarth skips across the grass like a happy little rabbit, stopping next to you
>James, being boring, just parks up next to you normally
>He doesn't seem impressed as you all get out
>”I can't take you two buffoons anywhere without you destroying something”
“It's grass James, why would they put grass here if they didn't want people doing handbrake turns on it?”
>”Because it's a PARK”
“Yes, and a car park is a park and people do handbrake turns there”
>”You are a colossal tool”
>Whilst you and James had been arguing, Richard has pitched his tiny tent next to his tiny car, and now his tiny head was sticking out and staring at you
>”Chaps, can you keep it down? I'm going to bed”
“It's bloody freezing, I'm not sleeping under a sheet of tarpaulin when I've got heated seats”
>”So what, are you going to sleep in your car then?”
“Yes James, I've got five doors and five seats”
>”I might join you then”
“Not in my car you won't”
>”No, I'll mean I'll sleep in mine you nonce”
“Right. Have fun freezing your bollocks off in the cold on your own, Hammond”
>You get back into your car and recline the driver's seat as far back as it would go
>There still wasn't enough space for you
>Why couldn't it be more like the original Twingo, with seats that folded perfectly flat?
>You give up on the front seats and squash yourself into a ball on the back ones instead
>The low orange sunlight of dawn breaking through your windows right at eye level wakes you up
>You notice it'd woken James up too, you wave at him and beckon him over, opening your door to talk to him
>Hammond was still asleep, so you had to whisper
“Hammonds still asleep in his tent, and it's probably his fault we couldn't stay in a hotel”
>”Right, yes”
“So I think we should punish him”
>”And what're you planning to do?”
“Well, you know how we've got all this rope that we haven't used in our camping supplies?”
>”Go on”
“I'm going to tie his tent to the back of my car, you take out the pins, and then I'll drag him around the park”
>James tries to stifle a laugh and the two of you begin to execute your plan
>Within a few minutes, it’s all hooked up and you’re ready to go
>James steps away, and you spin your tires, splattering the tent with mud and chunks of turf as you launch
>You get moving and start running a figure of eight on the grass, tent flailing around behind you
>Richard sticks his head out, holding on for his life to stop himself being thrown out
>”CLARKSON!”
>You continue to snake around, reducing your speed a bit now that Richard was awake
>You mix things up, and instead of the usual figure of eight, you snake about side-to-side
>Richard wasn’t prepared for the sudden change in driving
>You watch in your wing mirror as he goes tumbling out of the tent and gets a face full of mud
>The Polo is brought to a stop under your command, and you join James in laughing at Hammond
>He gets up and shakes off any large chunks of mud, and storms his way over to you
>He was angry, and he certainly looked it
>He starts shouting at you, pointing his finger with each word
>”CLARKSON YOU IMBECILE, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME! I COULD HAVE BROKEN MY LEGS! DO YOU THINK THEY HAVE HOSPITALS HERE? I BET YOU IF THEY DO THEY WOULDN’T KNOW HOW TO FIX A PERSON ANYWAY!”
>You couldn’t take him seriously
The story
The producers had set us a challenge.
We were each to choose our favourite Grand Tourer, which we thought would be best to drive across a country that no one has ever driven across before. The nation...
Of Equestria.
The producers had told us to meet up outside a small bakery in the town of "Ponyville". I was the first to arrive.
>You are Jeremy Clarkson, and right now you are stood in front of a very strange looking building, car behind you, with a camera pointing at your face
"And as you can see, I've been very clever. This is the 2010 Mercedes SLS AMG. It has a 6.2L V8 that produces 563 horsepower, mated to a 7-speed double clutch gearbox, and all this means that it will accelerate faster than Lord Sugar's net worth during an episode of The Apprentice. In fact-"
>You are interrupted by the arrival of one of your co-hosts
"Oh here he is, Mr Predictable with his '911 Godmachine'. Who'd have guessed?"
>You watch as Richard exits his choice, the new GT3 variant of the 991 generation Porsche flagship, smug grin plastered across his face.
>"You've picked the wrong car mate"
"No I haven't, you've chosen a stripped down Beetle. I've chosen the perfect marriage of German luxury and performance. When we're done here, I'll still have a spine."
>Richard opens his mouth, but doesn't manage to get a word in before a barrage of expletives explode from the open windows of the bakery.
>He looks at you, puzzled.
>"Was that... Gordon Ramsay?"
"I think it might've been..."
>"Should we go and have a look?"
"But what if James arrives while we're gone."
>"He won't, he's probably still stuck at customs."
"Did you have to go through customs, Hammond?"
>"No, did you?"
"No, so how is James stuck in customs?"
>"It's James, he's probably gone to the wrong country"
"Ah yes, well, after you."
>You follow your diminutive companion into the bakery
>Instantly, your nostrils are assaulted by the scent of semi-cooked cake batter
>Looking around, you see a wide variety of baked goods placed on various counters and tables
>This place really did hit your senses hard
>Particularly the decor, it seemed very "Hansel and Gretel"
>Trying to take in the surroundings without suffering from a brain haemorrhage, you walk into the back of Richard who has stopped dead in his tracks
>You soon see why
>There's a pink horse serving Gordon Ramsay a cake
>"Jeremy, that's a talking horse."
"No it isn't, it's just serving cake."
>"No Jeremy, it's a talking horse."
"Hammond, horses can't talk, that's ridicul-"
>The horse has noticed you and is now bouncing towards you, spouting something about a welcome party
"Oh my god. That's a bloody talking horse."
>"I told you it was"
>Hammond wears a cocky smirk across his face, but this soon dissipates, becoming a look of worry
>"Do you think James spiked our drinks."
"I haven't had a drink."
>"... Neither have I..."
"I think we should leave"
>"Yep, agree with you there."
>The two of you turn tail and head back out to the camera crew
>The pink horse seems to follow you, still spraying verbal faeces from her face-hole
>Outside you see that James has finally arrived, and is now talking to the camera crew
>And by the looks of things, he'd brought a Weismann
>Did that man even have eyes?
>Following an explanation from the producers as to why the town was populated by talking technicolour horses that served cake, and then spending twenty minutes rocking back and forth in the back of the Discovery trying to make sense of what was going on in your head, you and Hammond had regrouped with James next to the cars.
>You still aren't sure how James was completely unaffected by what was going on
"How come you understand all this?"
>"Well Jeremy, that's because I actually did my research."
>He responds proudly, before going off on one about the things that he'd learned
>You look straight past him, showing your uninterested face to the camera
>Hammond pipes up
>"James, have you actually been blessed with the gift of sight?"
>"Yes, why?"
>James turns to see Hammond pointing at his Wiesmann
"Yes James, why have you picked possibly the most ugly car possible to show off to these people? Sorry, these ponies."
>”What’s wrong with it?”
“Just look at it. It’s hideous. It looks like Kong ate a Morgan and this is what came out of the other end.”
>”I quite like it.”
>”James, it’s awful.”
“See, even Hammond hates it, and he actually likes Morgans.”
>”Well at least it’s more interesting than your Mercedes and Hammond’s 911.”
>The producers elected to interrupt James’ nonsense with a challenge.
>You open the crisp, golden envelope and unfold the paper contained within.
>Hammond and May stare at you in anticipation as you begin to read
“As you three may have noticed, we’ve sent you to a land of pastel coloured ponies; a car is something they’ve not seen before. The three of you are to drive to Manehattan, the most developed city in Equestria, and see if your cars can take on the Equestrian city life.”
>”That doesn’t sound so difficult, right Hammond?”
>”Well, not really, there must be a catch.”
“There is. I haven’t finished. Equestria has very few paved roads, and no Satellite Navigation. You’ll need to get yourself a map from the library in town.”
>”Oh cock.”
>You and Hammond get back in and start up your cars, filling the area with a sound of calculated German precision, whilst James stood, plotting how best to get to the library.
>Hammond and yourself, however, were just going to drive around until you found it, and in the traditional Top Gear way, you left James behind.
>How hard could it be to find a library, anyway?
>As it turned out, very hard. It… was market day.
>You sit behind Hammond, who attempts to traverse his way through the market square, surrounded by hordes of horses bearing a myriad of colours that were trying to go about their business
>You were crawling along, and you weren’t even sure you were going the right way. Evidently, you needed to ask someone, but this was a job for Richard.
>Picking up the radio, you get his attention
“Hammond, you’re going to have to ask for directions mate”
>”You what?”
“Ask someone for directions.”
>”Why me?”
“Because you’re in front.”
>”Yeah, but… They’re all horsey and weird.”
“Oh grow up.”
>”How do we know they even speak English?”
“Just open your window and ask for bloody directions”
>”You know I don’t like foreign things.”
“Hammond, we’re lost in the middle of a foreign town, parked in the middle of a foreign market square, on foreign market day. Wind down the window, and ask a pony for directions.”
>”Alright, alright.”
>Hammond winds his window down, and you watch as he chooses the most Texan looking pony to ask for directions. She has a stetson and everything. Poor, predictable Richard Hammond.
>”Uh… Excuse me, uh, ma’am. You wouldn’t be able to give me directions to the library, would you?”
>”Sure thing sugarcube. It’s in th’ Princess’ castle. Y’all ain’t from around these parts, are ya?”
>”Well, uh, no, not entirely…”
>”Ah guess ah’ll be the first t’say welcome t’ Ponehville. Ah’m Applejack, ah run an apple farm on the edge of town. Y’all should stop by on yer way outta town for sum’n t’ eat, ya hear?”
>Her southern drawl was starting to hurt your brain, and you weren’t even having the conversation
>”Right, well, thanks for that, uh, Applejack.”
>”Ah guess ah’ll see you around, uh, what did you say yer name was again?”
>”Hammond.”
>”Raht, ah’ll see ya around then, Hamm’nd”
>The Texan pony goes on her way as you remove the finger that was stopping your brain from leaking out of your ear.
“So how many lefts did Daisy Duke say we have to turn?”
>Hammond was not impressed with your comment.
>”Haha, very funny. No, she said it’s in the castle, over there somewhere.”
“Right, well lets get a move on then.”
>You put the car into neutral and your foot down on the throttle, the V8 growl startling the ponies in your way and clearing the road.
“Lets see your Beetle do that.”
>You round a corner and get your first good look at the castle
>It was like a giant crystal tree looking affair
“Bloody hell, I don’t know what the architects here must be smoking, but I definitely want some”
>As you pull up, you’re greeted by the sickening sight of James’ Wiessmann
>Hammond gags as he exits his car
>You mock him as you enter the castle, and stop dead in your tracks as you notice the seemingly endless narrow, winding corridors
>”Oh for God’s sake! I’ve only got short legs. I hate walking.”
>Eventually, after multiple wrong doors, much walking and even more complaining from your colleague, you pass an open door and notice James sat at a desk with a purple pegasus-unicorn-horse, reading books.
>He notices you back, as does Purple
>”Took you two bloody long enough”
“It’s market day”
>”Right, well...”
>Purple stands up from her seat to introduce herself
>”You two must be Jeremy and Richard. James has been telling me about you. I’m Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
>She extends a hoof and you awkwardly lean in and shake it.
>”Isn’t Twilight Sparkle that Nissan colour?”
>You elbow Hammond in the ribs and aggressively whisper at him.
“That’s Midnight Purple, you idiot.”
>Midnight Purple looks at the two of you confused and ever so slightly disgusted
>James makes an attempt comfort her
>”Don't worry about those two, they're always like this”
>”Riiight”
>You decided it was time to address the elephant in the room
>Or, more accurately the elephant in your trousers
“Uh, Miss Sparkle, you couldn't point me to the loo could you?”
>”The wherenow?”
>This suddenly got more awkward
“Your toilet”
>”Oh right! It's just down the corridor, second door on the right!”
“Cheers”
>You make your swift escape to go and relieve yourself
>You find the door to the toilet and swing it wide open
>Cue flashbacks to the GT-R vs Train challenge across Japan
>This was no ordinary toilet
>You should've expected that really, this place was populated by magical horses, their bathroom needs were bound to be different to your own
“Bollocks”
>Having finished up your business you return back to the room to find James and Princess Horseface discussing some diagrams on a blackboard and Hammond, leaning on a creased up map, eyeing up some loose rope and the chandelier
>The princess notices you
>”Ah Jeremy! Did you fi-”
“What the hell were the three bloody sea shells for?”
>”Thank God you're back! I swear if I had to listen James explain the benefits of positive displacement superchargers anymore, I was going to positively displace my brains across the floor”
>James scowls at both of you and Twilight looks between all of you like she's missing something
>”Actually we’d moved on to variable valve timing, it's very interesting what you've managed to develop without magic. This internal combustion stuff is fascinating.”
>”Hey Twi, some weird gold letter showed up, I think it's for you”
>Some dopey looking lizard lad wandered into the room, not really paying attention to anything bar his own voice
>What was he, some sort of gecko or something?
>”I don't know what it is, but you need to tell your penfriends I'm not your personal mailbox, a dragon needs his beauty sleep y’kn- WHAAAA?”
>Now he'd noticed you all
>Multiple attempts at further words come from his mouth as Twilight tries to explain what was going on to him
>”Now Spike, these are uhm, these are humans, from Britain. They're here to build diplomatic relations with us.”
>Were you? That was news to you.
>”This is James, Richard and Jeremy. And that's their film crew. They point these strange cameras at us that record everything we're doing somehow. Their technology is amazing.”
>You elect to ignore the conversation going on and take the envelope from Barney the dinosaur and give the challenge a read
“Right, that's enough messing around. You need to start proving what your cars can do. We've arranged a drag race against one of the fastest ponies in Equestria at a local apple farm.”
>James looks at you, confused
>”A drag race? Against a horse?”
“That's what it says here.”
>”So we're racing 560 horsepower against 1? That seems easy enough.”
>You notice Richard smugly daydreaming
“What're you so smug about?”
>”Applesauce said she'd make me something to eat”
>James was now confused
>”Hammond, what on earth are you talking about?”
>”Applesauce. She's a pony that gave us directions. She's got an apple farm on the edge of town.”
>You remember the pony from earlier and suddenly can't help but think of Smokey and the bandit
“Right, we don't have all day, we need to get going.
>You turn and head back out to your car
>”Clarkson! The map.”
>James follows you out grabbing the map, with Richard trailing
>You all leave Midnight Purple and Barney blinking, confused about what had just happened, start up your cars, and follow James on his way to the farm
>You listen to Richard and James bicker over the radio
>”Jeremy, why does James have to lead?”
>”Because I've got the map you pillock.”
>”But your car is disgusting”
>”Your car is a relic”
>You arrive at the farm yard between two flag poles and the three of you line your now very dusty cars up
>You get out to speculate with the others about what you'll actually be racing
>”It's not going to be The Stig’s pony cousin is it?”
>”Don't be stupid Hammond, they don't have cars, they can't have a Stig”
“Well no, if they did, how would they even drive? They don't have hands.”
>”Well yeah, but I've seen them holding stuff.”
“How does that work?”
>”It's quite simple really, their hooves are actually positively charged with-”
>Not in the mood for one of James’ explanations, you and Richard wander off and look around the farm
>There's a messy stack of hay bales behind a barn
>A scheme is hatched between you and your colleague and you begin to rearrange the bales
>Eventually James finds you
>”What are you two knobs doing?”
>”Modern Art mate.”
>”Right. What's it supposed to look like?”
“Well James, you know how there are all those pegasus ponies flying about?”
>”Oh God, you haven’t have you?”
>”Yes we have!”
>Richard seems very proud of himself as he sits straddling a hay bale.
“Yes James, when they look down from above they're going to see a very large gentleman sausage”
>”We should probably run before someone sees this.”
“We should”
>You return to your cars
>The princess and Daisy Duke have arrived and are waiting for you
>As you walk towards them, you hear a sonic boom and everyone's eyes turn upwards
>There was a thick rainbow carving it's way through the sky at pace
>”What the hell was that?”
>”Whatever it was, it broke the bloody sound barrier.”
“Bloody hell”
>”That there wus mah fraynd Raynber Daysh. She's who you’s gonna be racin’ today.”
“Oh for God’s sake”
>”That doesn't make sense, no living thing can break the sound barrier”
>”Well I ain't no ordinary living thing. The name’s Dash.”
>A bright blue pegasus had slipped in behind you all
>Her hair was short, spiky and rainbow
>Was she a lesbian?
>Are horse lesbians a thing?
>You decide not to worry yourself over the sexual preferences of animals
>Her lesbian voice continued
>”So you're who I'm here to race? With those? You don't look fast. This'll be a piece of cake.”
>Her arrogance wasn't going to get a response
“Can we just get this over with?”
>”Yeah yeah, just lemme stretch my wings”
>You and your co-presenters huddle into a group for a pep talk by your cars.
>”Right, forget the horse. Let's just race each other.”
“Well, I've clearly won this”
>”How have you? My car is a GT3. It's basically a race car. And we're on gravel, and who's car has rally heritage? And I'm rear engined, so I can actually put my power down.”
“Yes but Hammond, your car has a flat six, me and James have got V8s.”
>”And? That means nothing on gravel, how many V8 rally cars have you seen.”
“None, but that's because rallying is stupid.”
>”What, just because rallying isn't all about your ape-like POWERRR?”
>”Hammond, how many rally cars have you seen with track semi-slicks?”
>”James, that doesn't matter, race slicks make you faster, everyone knows that”
>”Not on dirt”
>”James, you're wrong.”
“Hammond mate, you're going to lose”
>Rainbow is now lined up with the rest of you on the starting line
>You all start your engines and your V8 growls into life
>The small horse looks up at you, worried
>You smile at her and rev your engine
>She swallows hard, confidence drained from her
>Maybe you actually stood a chance here
>Twilight stands at the side of the makeshift strip, levitating a green flag to her side
>Wait. Levitating? How? What?
>You decide to stop trying to work things out before James starts explaining things again.
>She hovers the flag out further and starts talking
>”Oh my gosh, I'm so excited, I've done so much research into drag racing from the few human sources I could find! So here goes. Drivers! Start your engines!”
>You'd already done that, but you rev it a little more for effect
>Rainbow still looked uneasy
>”Okay… Go!”
>The flag drops and your foot goes straight down on the accelerator
>Rainbow darts off, almost instantly getting up to speed
>Richard seemed to have gotten off the line too
>And James
>You however, were held at ransom by your back tyres fighting for traction, kicking up a huge cloud of dust
>They do bite the ground hard though and you're very quickly moving at pace, reeling in your colleagues
>In seconds you're approaching 100 on your speedometer
>There's a sonic boom and a red shockwave
>And it's coming from James’s Wiesmann
>The sound of your own engine starts coming from behind you
>You check your mirrors and notice a grey shockwave from your own car
>Had you broken the sound barrier?
>You were only doing 130
>James flies past Rainbow
>You fly past Rainbow
>Hammond flies past Rainbow
>You pass James
>You slide to a stop after crossing the line
>May and Hammond pull up next to you
>You get out of the car and shut your door triumphantly and pull your smug face as you walk back around to Richard Hammond who was already out of his own
>”Yes, yes, I know. Semi slicks aren’t for dirt. Your car was faster.”
“Yes Hammond, but forget that. Did we just break the sound barrier?”
>”I think we did you know”
“How the hell did we manage that?”
>”Well, if you two buffoons had actually listened to anything I'd said earlier then you'd know-”
>We pick up the action in the bar of the local hotel
>You and James sit at a table while Hammond is getting you drinks
“When he goes to bed, I say we sneak out and mess with his car”
>”Go on, what do we do?”
“Well, he's already brought the stupidest car for this trip, but I think I know how to make it worse.”
>James raises an eyebrow
“You know how he keeps complaining that they've ruined the 911 by giving it electric power steering? We take the fuse out, so then he has no power steering.”
>”That's evil, but it's excellent.”
“It is”
>Hammond returns to your table with three pints of a golden liquid
“Took you long enough, what'd they have?”
>”Got you both a cider, it's a local speciality.”
>”It's not bad”
>You taste it yourself, and before you know it you're about 6 pints in and having another friendly dig at Richard
“Hammond mate, you've brought the wrong car.”
>”I've brought the fastest thing here, mine is almost a race car.”
“But the challenge wasn't to bring a race car, it was bring a big, comfy GT car”
>”It is a GT car”
“It isn't.”
>”Yes it is.”
>”No it isn't Hammond, you can’t take a car that harsh on any sort of long roadtrip. A grand tourer is supposed to get you from London to Monaco in comfort and style, not in the back of an ambulance.”
>Whilst your associates continue to bicker, a purple-pink horse has wandered over to you
>She looks absolutely wankered
>She smells absolutely wankered
>You decide that Richard would really appreciate her company, and so send her in his direction
>With Richard now held hostage and having to play the role of an Alcoholics Anonymous group, you and James make your escape
>”Guys where are you going?”
>Richard helplessly calls as you leave him
>”Guys… Clarkson! James! You can't leave me here!”
>”I- I can schtandf on thwo legth thoo, shee?”
>You hear a loud crash as you make a run for the door but you don't look back
>Your target, the bright white Porsche, was now in sight
>You reach it and try the door
>It's unlocked as usual
>Would he ever learn?
>James and yourself begin your modifications, giggling with immaturity as you show them to each other
>You take a step back to admire your handiwork
>”Jeremy, you can’t write that on there!”
“Why not?”
>”You’re already on your last warning.”
“All I’ve written is American Airlines.”
>”Yes, on a nine eleven.”
“The American viewers won’t notice, they’re Americans.”
>”You’ve got to rub it off”
“Fine. But if he wants a race car I’ll give him a race car.”
>While James continues fiddling in the fuse box, you set back to work with your coloured marker pens.
“Oh yes, he’ll love this.”
>The next morning you and your colleagues meet in the hotel lobby
“Bloody hell, those beds were tiny, my back kills.”
>”There was nothing wrong with the beds, you're just suffering from old age.”
“Of course there was nothing wrong for you, you're three feet tall.”
>”Yes, and my back is fine. So why is being small a problem?”
>”Hammond, can I see your car keys?”
>”Uh, sure? Why d’you want to do that?”
>Richard hand his keys to James, who holds them out of reach, grinning
>”Oh very funny.”
“Are you going to get your keys back Hammond?”
>”I won't give you both the pleasure”
>”Suit yourself”
>James stands smugly, arm across his chest, and other still held up high
>Richard sighs, and starts jumping for the keys
>The sight leaves you and James in tears with laughter as Richard eventually grabs the keys back
>During this, one of the men in white coats has appeared next to you with a golden envelope, which he hands to you
“Oh, here we go.”
>You open the envelope as the man slinks off into the darkness
“You're supposed to be showing the population the superiority of the car, so you'll be driving two Manehattan each with a little pony passenger and their luggage. To make things interesting, you'll be racing their friends on the train. You're to meet them all at the train station in ten minutes.”
>”Better get a move on then”
>You all sprint for the doors and Richard lays eyes on his “upgraded” car
>”Right which one of you was it?”
>You're about to confess but he continues
>”It looks ace!”
>That threw you
“Wh-what?”
>”It looks like a proper race car”
>You'd coloured his car to look like the Loctite liveried Porsche Supercup car
>Evidently he didn't get it
>”Was this you Jeremy?”
“Well, yes…”
>”I don't know what to say, you never do anything nice for me”
>”Oi, can you pillocks hurry up, we've only got seven minutes left.”
“Right, yes”
>You jump in the car and head off
>You decide to spin your tyres as you leave and kick up another cloud of dust
>And then realise you have no idea where you're going
>You grab the radio to ask James to lead you but Hammond beats you to the airwaves
>”Clarkson! What’ve you done to my car? There're warning lights all over my dash!”
“All I did was colour it in, it wasn't me that did anything else.”
>You hear James laughing over the radio
>”James, what’ve you done?”
“James, I need you to lead me, you've got the map”
>”James, you need to fix my car”
>”Sorry Hammond, we've gotta go.”
>”You can't just leave me here”
“Yes we can, you know how this works”
>”Clarkson!”
>James takes lead and the two of you depart leaving your diminutive companion to try and figure out German engineering
>Leaving was a bit of an exaggeration
>Captain Slow was more than living up to his name
“James, I swear if you go any slower I'm going to call you captain bloody stationary”
>”I'm not going to go any faster Jeremy, I don't know these roads and it's a built up area”
“James, we're against the clock for God’s sake”
>”The station is just around this corner, we're in no rush”
>You round the corner, and as promised the train station is in sight
>The two of you pull up, and then it's a waiting game
>Who would arrive first; Richard, your passengers, or the train?
>It was Richard that arrived first
>But, rather conveniently, your myriad of passengers arrive before he has chance to complain to you
>There were 6 ponies; three of them you knew, another one you recognised, and two you hadn't seen before
>Midnight Purple, Drag Race Wings, Applesauce, Verbal Diarrhoea from when you arrived, and then one horse that was that grim yellow Skoda colour with pink hair, and a pink horse with purple and turquoise hair
>Were aesthetic colour schemes not a thing here?
>Midnight Purple started directing the others to their relevant modes of transport
>”Right, Fluttershy, Pinkie and Starlight; you three are taking the train.”
>Yellow and Pink Purple seem to sigh with relief but the other one seems outraged and proceeds to bounce around maniacally spouting yet more shit that you don't care to pay attention to
>Midnight Purple shuts her down, and she slugs off to the train to sulk
>”Right, Dash you're with Jeremy, AJ you're with Richard, and I'll go with James”
>Your colleagues had been matched up perfectly, but you were left with the arrogant one
>You were going to clash with her
>The train arrives as the ponies begin to load luggage into the cars
>Well, the other cars
>Your pony had no luggage
>But the train though
“What the hell is that?”
>Richard bursts out laughing when he notices the train
>”We're supposed to race that? It looks pathetic”
>Even James seemed unimpressed
>”It's hardly the bloody Mallard, is it?”
>Another one of the men in white coats wanders out with a green flag
“Right, we better get in the cars then.”
>You overhear a conversation between the two honorary Americans
>”Hey Hamm’nd, what's a Loctaht?”
>”They're a company that makes glue.”
>There's a short and awkward silence
>”CLARKSON!”
>You take the opportunity to open the gullwing and take your seat in the AMG next to Rainbow
>The whistle blows on the train and the man in the white coat extends the flag out
>You all take turns tapping your throttles and exciting your exhausts
>The train jerks forward and the flag drops
>You launch from the line up to 40, with Richard getting the jump on you
>You glance at your passenger as she pulls herself forward from being pinned back in the seat
“You're going to have to give me directions, because I've got no idea where we're going.”
>”Right, and are we going to go this slowly all the way?”
“Well what's the speed limit? 40? 60?”
>”Speed limit? What d’you mean speed limit?”
“How fast are we allowed to go?”
>”How fast can this thing go?”
>You grin, and lay your foot into the floor
“POWERRRR”
>You very quickly draw the Porsche in and pass it
>”That's more like it!”
>You ignore your new partner
>Instead, you wonder what things were like in Hammond’s car
>The reality was it was going exactly as follows
>”Have you ever been a rally co-driver before?”
>”Whatnow?”
>”Rally is so much better than the other motorsports, just watching cars get thrown through forests and mud in the rain and snow. Getting all filthy”
>”Lahk mah pigs?”
>”Well kind of, if your pigs were two tonnes and going at 90 mph a few feet from spectators”
>”That sounds lahk a real hoot”
>”Clarkson you oaf, what are you doing? You're going to get us banned from here like you and Richard did in France”
>Captain Boring was on the radio again. >Sometimes you wondered why you had a radio
“James, there's no speed limit”
>”You what?”
“There isn't a speed limit.”
>”You're kidding, right?”
“They don't have cars James. Why would they have speed limits?”
>”That's brilliant!”
>James puts the hammer down to keep up with yourself
>”G-g-g-guys, can you s-s-s-slow down a b-b-bit?”
>”Why would we do that Hammond?”
“Yeah, we can go as fast as we want, there’s no limit.”
>”B-b-b-bec-c-cause this r-r-road is too b-b-bumpy”
“Are you having that problem in your GT car, James?”
>”No, what about you?”
“No, not at all”
>”Good job we brought GT cars”
>”Y-y-yes yes-s-s, c-c-can w-we j-j-just t-t-t-try and f-find a p-paved r-r-road or s-something soon?”
>”Well actually there’s a paved trade route just up the path from here. It’s a bit longer than the train’s route, and it’s mostly used by ponies with carts of heavy goods to get from town to town, but it’s significantly smoother than this.”
>”Y-y-yes! Th-th-thank y-y-y-you Midn-n-n-night!”
>”It’s Twilight.”
>You look over to Rainbow
“When she says paved, how paved are we talking?”
>”Like, black tar surface or something, I don’t know, I’m not a construction worker.”
“I like the sound of that”
>Sure enough, the next turn you take puts you onto a wide, perfectly tarmaced road
>You slow down to 40 and your colleagues straddle you either side
>”Why are we slowing down?”
>Your passenger was seemingly confused
“We’re going to have some fun”
>”Are we actually about to do this?”
>”Yes Hammond, there’s no law about racing on a public road here, just like there’re no speed limits”
“Are you two going to shut up so we can get on with this?”
>You beep your horn three times, and bury your right foot into the carpet, and your colleagues do the same.
>The back end snakes around as, once again, you’re fighting for traction
>Rainbow is trying to find things to cling on to, and you laugh
>Eventually, you’re able to more comfortably put your power down
>The three of you stay pretty level, all breaking the sound barrier once again as you cruise to Manehattan comfortably in the triple figures
>Your passenger starts to relax a bit more
>”How are we going this fast?”
>You try and think of the best way to explain it
“Imagine if we were being pulled along by 500 or so ponies”
>”But there’s nothing pulling us”
“No, but… Uh… magic? We burn things to make noise and go fast. I guess it’s a bit like the train, but more complicated.”
>”I don’t get any of that science magic stuff”
“Neither do I, I just know petrol goes in, and power comes out.”
>Saying petrol reminds you to glance down at your gauges
>You’re almost empty
>Bollocks
>You hoped you didn’t have much further to go
>There’s a tunnel up ahead, and you slow down massively, as do Hammond and May, and you all drop your windows down simultaneously
>As soon as you enter the tunnel, you all go straight back to wide open throttle, and the sound of two V8s and a high revving flat six reverberate around the tunnel
>It’s bliss
>Exiting the tunnel, you find yourself in what feels like 1930’s New York
>It was a stark contrast to the rest of Equestria that you’d seen
>Hammond pulls up next to you at a crossroad
>”Now I wasn’t expecting this!”
“Neither was I mate, this is unreal”
>”So where’s this train station then?”
>You look ahead, seeing a building not too dissimilar to New York’s Grand Central station, which you point at
“My guess is that’s it”
>”Well we haven’t beat the train just yet”
>Richard squeals his tires a little as he peels away
>You give chase, with James just behind
>Arriving at the station, there’s no sign of any of Purple’s friends
>You get out of your cars
>”Have we won?”
>”I think so Richard, the train isn’t due for another half an hour. I’m amazed how quick these cars are. I’ve got so much to learn about them!”
“Well, you can start by learning about how to refuel them. Where can we get some petrol?”
>”Whatnow?”
“Petrol, gas, super unleaded, premium? Did James not go over that with you?”
>”Kinda, but he didn’t say where it came from. I thought it was something you’d brought with you.”
“Oh for God’s sake James”
>”It’s not my fault”
>”James, you were teaching her about how cars work”
>”She wasn’t just going to whip me up some V Power there and then though was she?”
>Just then, one of the men in white coats steps in with another envelope
>James reads this one
>”You’re out of petrol, you idiots. We saw this coming, and your cars are hardly the best things for city life, so we’ve provided you with your favourite selection of small hot hatches. They’re around the corner, outside a sandwich shop. They have all the equipment you should need to get through the night.”
”Sandwich shop? I’m bloody starving!”
>The three of you bid farewell to the ponies that’d had accompanied you for the past two hours, and leave your cars parked outside the station
>”How do you think they’ll get them home?”
>”Same way as they got next cars out here.”
>”How did they do that?”
“Probably on a truck, Hammond.”
>Your colleague could be a bit thick at times
>You round the corner to see a yellow sandwich shop, not too dissimilar to a Subway
>”Cheese Sandwich’s Filly Cheese Sandwich Shop?”
>”Nice to see you can still read James”
>Out front sat three hot hatches; one yellow, one off-white, and one black one.
“Right, I’m guessing the Clio is yours James”
>”It is”
“And Hammond, you’ve picked the smallest car possible, so the Abarth is yours.”
>”It’s not that small.”
“For you maybe.”
>”That’s makes the boring one yours then.”
“I’ll have you know the Polo GTI is the best hot hatch on the market.”
>”It’s not, it’s boring. And yours is black”
“And what colour is yours? Can’t the Italians even paint a car white right?”
>”It’s Campovolo Grey”
>”Hammond, that’s bloody primer. Did they not finish painting it? Just decided that’ll do?”
>”James, your car is puke yellow”
“Hammond, you can't say that about James’s car. Liquid Yellow is one of the best car colours around.”
>”You're only saying that because your Merc at home is yellow”
>”That's not Liquid Yellow”
>”Stop being pedantic, they're all a vile yellow.”
“Shut up and get in your clown car Hammond”
>”I thought we were getting something to eat?”
>You are quite hungry, so you concede defeat to your stomach
“Fine”
>As you head towards the door, some yellow lanky horse bastard bounds out playing a bloody accordion
“Oh for God’s sake”
>He continues to play some polka bullshit
>”Mate, we just want a bloody sandwich”
>He stops playing
>”Oh, you guys want sandwiches huh? Well you've come to the right place! The name’s Cheese Sandwich!”
“Of course it is.”
>”Come inside!”
>He begins his polka again, complete with vocals
“Jesus Christ”
>Having finished your dinner of sandwiches and paid, you wander back out to your cars
>Cheese horse is still bouncing around you playing polka, but you’ve ignored him pretty well for the last 30 minutes
>”I really enjoyed that”
“Hammond, it was literally just cheese on toast”
>”Yeah, and? I like cheese on toast. It’s simple and not foreign”
>”They didn’t even have any brown sauce”
“Have you ever been out of the UK and had brown sauce James?”
>”That doesn’t mean that places shouldn’t have it”
>”Can we just get on with things please?”
“Right, yes”
>You look over at your camera crew
“Where are we staying tonight?”
>They shrug at you
>You sigh
“You don’t know?”
>”Erm… Jeremy…”
>You turn back to Richard, who is holding a gold envelope that he has retrieved from inside his car and begins to read
>”In your car you’ll find all the equipment you’ll need to spend the night. Drive to Central Park, and find a place to start your pitch.”
>Hammond’s face lights up
>No
>God no
“We’re not bloody tenting are we?”
>James holds up a sleeping bag that he’d just pulled out of his boot
>”Apparently so”
>Why did bad things have to happen to you?
>You really felt like giving one of the production team a good left hook
>Hammond was already in the Abarth and had the engine started
>Before you had even got your own started, your colleagues had already taken off
>You flick your heated seats on and follow the other baby sportscars out towards the park in the centre of town
>The sound of strained 4 cylinders and fluttering turbos as ponies stop and stare as your convoy drives by
>You arrive at the park and your inner child takes over
>You rip your handbrake and throw the Polo into a slide, ripping up the grass and taking out a “Please keep off” sign in the process before coming to a stop
>A pony that was gathering flowers with her friends faints
>Richard copies you and the Abarth skips across the grass like a happy little rabbit, stopping next to you
>James, being boring, just parks up next to you normally
>He doesn't seem impressed as you all get out
>”I can't take you two buffoons anywhere without you destroying something”
“It's grass James, why would they put grass here if they didn't want people doing handbrake turns on it?”
>”Because it's a PARK”
“Yes, and a car park is a park and people do handbrake turns there”
>”You are a colossal tool”
>Whilst you and James had been arguing, Richard has pitched his tiny tent next to his tiny car, and now his tiny head was sticking out and staring at you
>”Chaps, can you keep it down? I'm going to bed”
“It's bloody freezing, I'm not sleeping under a sheet of tarpaulin when I've got heated seats”
>”So what, are you going to sleep in your car then?”
“Yes James, I've got five doors and five seats”
>”I might join you then”
“Not in my car you won't”
>”No, I'll mean I'll sleep in mine you nonce”
“Right. Have fun freezing your bollocks off in the cold on your own, Hammond”
>You get back into your car and recline the driver's seat as far back as it would go
>There still wasn't enough space for you
>Why couldn't it be more like the original Twingo, with seats that folded perfectly flat?
>You give up on the front seats and squash yourself into a ball on the back ones instead
>The low orange sunlight of dawn breaking through your windows right at eye level wakes you up
>You notice it'd woken James up too, you wave at him and beckon him over, opening your door to talk to him
>Hammond was still asleep, so you had to whisper
“Hammonds still asleep in his tent, and it's probably his fault we couldn't stay in a hotel”
>”Right, yes”
“So I think we should punish him”
>”And what're you planning to do?”
“Well, you know how we've got all this rope that we haven't used in our camping supplies?”
>”Go on”
“I'm going to tie his tent to the back of my car, you take out the pins, and then I'll drag him around the park”
>James tries to stifle a laugh and the two of you begin to execute your plan
>Within a few minutes, it’s all hooked up and you’re ready to go
>James steps away, and you spin your tires, splattering the tent with mud and chunks of turf as you launch
>You get moving and start running a figure of eight on the grass, tent flailing around behind you
>Richard sticks his head out, holding on for his life to stop himself being thrown out
>”CLARKSON!”
>You continue to snake around, reducing your speed a bit now that Richard was awake
>You mix things up, and instead of the usual figure of eight, you snake about side-to-side
>Richard wasn’t prepared for the sudden change in driving
>You watch in your wing mirror as he goes tumbling out of the tent and gets a face full of mud
>The Polo is brought to a stop under your command, and you join James in laughing at Hammond
>He gets up and shakes off any large chunks of mud, and storms his way over to you
>He was angry, and he certainly looked it
>He starts shouting at you, pointing his finger with each word
>”CLARKSON YOU IMBECILE, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME! I COULD HAVE BROKEN MY LEGS! DO YOU THINK THEY HAVE HOSPITALS HERE? I BET YOU IF THEY DO THEY WOULDN’T KNOW HOW TO FIX A PERSON ANYWAY!”
>You couldn’t take him seriously