Chapter 1

The sun slowly rose on yet another glorious day in Equestria, just barely cresting over the distant horizon. The Princess of Equestria and controller of the sun, Celestia, had promised that today would be as bright as ever. The Pegasi ponies who managed the weather overhead promised a clear sky as well. While most of Equestria was still in slumber, one particular place rose with the sun. More specifically, its residents. Along the outskirts of the small town of Ponyville was a large farm that covered acres upon acres of land. The farm grew several different foods on its land, but one particular fruit was held in higher regard than the rest: Apples. Spread over half of the farm land, a sea of apple trees flowed with the shape of the land, ascending and descending hills and valleys alike.

In the center of this massive farm sat a vibrant yellow two story house, similar to a Victorian-era design on Earth. Roughly one hundred feet behind the house sat a large red barn. Its general state of neglect showed that it had seen better days, though it stood proud despite its age. From the farm stretched a long, seldom used dirt road towards Ponyville. Along this road sat a simple wood sign with red letters across the face saying "Sweet Apple Acres". A rooster call echoed throughout the farm, signaling the wake of morning. The rustling of the sheets to a two-pony bed as its occupants woke up showed that the call did not go unheard. Barely sunrise, a dim light cast itself over the bed.

Framed photos lined the room on every surface possible; on walls, dressers, and even the lone desk, photos ranging from two to a half dozen ponies engaging in activities could be seen. The ponies themselves were of nearly every color: an orange mare wearing a brown cowboy hat over a blonde mane contrasted quite heavily with another stallion, this one blue with a brown mane, but here they are just two of the bunch. Once again the rooster’s call echoed through the bedroom, finally succeeding in forcing one of the bed's occupants to rise.

There was a rustling of the sheets as one figure sat up, rubbing its head with a hoof as it stepped out of bed. With a groan and a stretch, the pony quietly moved towards the bedroom door, opening it with a aged creak. With no movement from its partner, the pony sighed with relief and continued out onto a small balcony, then to the staircase. Taking a slow, cautious step onto the top stair, it casually glanced at the pictures lining the wall. These pictures, black and white, showed other, older ponies, likely from the farm’s past generations.

It stopped at a door directly across from the bottom of the stairs, nudging it open. Stepping out onto a porch, the pony takes a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying every bit of it. Even though the sun was rising from behind the house, it is now light enough to get a decent visual of the pony.

Standing tall despite his age was a fading blue stallion with a gray mane. His wrinkled face stood out among his worn features. With another yawn and a flick of his tail, he took his time in rounding the corner of the house to enter the warmth of the approaching sunlight. Smiling as he trotted along the porch, his hazel eyes focused on his surroundings. All around the house were hundreds upon hundreds of apple trees. Bright and juicy apples of nearly every kind dangled from the branches, waiting to be bucked. Tragically, his age had gotten the better of him; he was too old to do the bucking himself. Luckily, he had his foals and a few grandfoals living with the Missus and himself on the farm to assist with work. This kept the apple bucking in the family, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

Continuing a long running tradition, the first thing this stallion did every morning was come outside to watch Celestia's sun rise over the horizon. This was his only time of solitude before the chaos of the day began; the grandfoals screaming about usually put a quick end to any serenity. After a few moments of walking, the stallion reached the next corner of the house. Sitting on the porch, facing the horizon, sat two simple rocking chairs, with a small table in-between. Carefully, he took a seat in the chair, resting his front hooves on the extra long runners shooting forward. The early sunrise’s warmth filled him with the energy he would need in the hours ahead. Even if he couldn’t buck apples anymore, he still did other work.

There came a sudden ruckus from inside the house, as many hooves marched down the stairs from inside. It was always easy to tell when everypony was waking up, as they seemed to have no regard for the older ponies who were trying to get a few additional minutes of sleep before they had to wake. Especially the foals; with no school for the summer, they all were eager to wake and start the day. Hearing the clanking of dishes inside the kitchen window to his left, he closed his eyes to bathe in the sunlight. He knew breakfast would be ready soon, which would give him the last little bit of energy the sunlight couldn't.

There was a subtle squeak of the kitchen door as a small filly bounced out from the kitchen.

"Hey, Grandpa! Breakfast is ready!" a high, squeaky voice called out.

He jumped a little, but he quickly recognized the voice as one of his grandfoals, Honey Apple. Her little voice was full of excitement matched by her bright eyes and large smile. He smiled back, seeing bits of baking batter fall out of her mane onto her bright red apron. The old stallion looked back at the fields once more, then back to the filly with a nod.

"Alright then, let’s go eat," the stallion spoke in a low, raspy voice.

He rose to his hooves quickly. Too quickly, in fact, as the audible cracking of joints echoed in the silence. Cringing from the momentary pain from his rear legs, he began walking, clearly not used to that treatment. The stallion quickly brushed the pain off when his little grandfoal jumped in front of him.

"C'mon! It’s gonna get cold before you get there!" the little filly said, jumping around the stallion excitedly. "I want you to try my apple pancakes! Mama let me make them all myself!"

The stallion cringed from the thought, remembering the little fillies first attempt at making the customary breakfast. After a while (an eternity for young Honey Apple), he finally made it to the door. Using his right front hoof, he held the door open and smiled.

"Ladies first," he chuckled, looking down at the filly.

Smiling back, the little filly trotted inside. The entire kitchen was one loud cluster of commotion. Ponies were eating, cooking, and talking with one another, making each interaction indistinguishable from the rest. The stallion let out a happy sigh as he stepped into the madness.

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Some time after the morning madness, most in the house evacuate; the adult ponies begin work on harvesting while the foals go out and play. Back in the day, it was just the stallion and the missus, along with her brother, to manage the farm. But a serious back injury left her brother unable to continue work on the farm, leaving it to just the other two. They worked on their own for quite some time, until their foals were old enough to assist. They had three of them, two colts and a filly. And to this day, all three of them helped out on the farm. The two colts were even married and had foals of their own, though the filly, carrying on the stubbornness found in her mother, continued to keep the farm as her main focus.

All the stallion wanted was for his children to be happy, and if apple bucking was what did that for her, then he supported her 110%. One of the colts had went down a different path, choosing to go into teaching, but helped out on the farm during the summer months. The last colt, the youngest, also stayed on the farm to help. He found his calling in caring for the farm animals; dogs, cattle, pigs, and more.

The stallion, standing on the porch once again, began to walk towards the back of the house. He had several jobs that need to be finished from yesterday, one of which was fixing one of the plows. But as he slowly progressed to the large red barn, four little foals jumped in front of him, all with large smiles on their faces. He peered into their large, bright eyes. Seeing those bright, excited faces could only mean one thing, it's Friday.

"It's story time, isn't it?" the stallion asked, looking at the little foals with a smile. The question was rhetorical.

Simultaneously, they all nodded their heads and rushed over to the rocking chair he had previously sat in that morning. The stallion took his time in joining the bouncing foals. He chuckled again, noticing a small red bow stuck in the colt's mane. The stallion let out a small snicker as he bent down to grab it with his teeth, removing it from his short cut mane.

The colt blushed from embarrassment, hating to be seen wearing that. The stallion set the bow down on the table and took a seat in his chair.

"So, what story is it gonna be this time, Grandpa?" one of the fillies asked.

Her voice broke the stallion's concentration, and he focused back onto the four foals.

"Ah yes, story time. Well, which one would you like to hear?" the stallion asked.

"How about the one of you and grandma's first rodeo?" one filly asked.

"Naw, that one's boring. How about the one with the monster in the Everfree forest?" another filly asked.

"I'm sick of that one!" the last filly moaned, then turned to the stallion. "Grandpa, is there one you haven't told us yet?"

The stallion placed his right hoof at his chin, thinking. He just happened to glance at the small colt who had been quiet the entire time. Not unusual for him, but with the excitement of story time the stallion expected something from him. He was looking at something, focusing on it with all his attention.

"What are you looking at there?" the stallion asked, trying to sneak a peek for himself.

As old as the stallion was, his vision was still, by some miracle, as perfect as when he was no older than these foals. The little colt turned to the stallion, then back in the direction he was looking and pointed his right hoof.

"That metal thing. You always tell us not to play around it so we don't get hurt. But it's nothing like I have seen before, not even in our history books in school. What is it?" the colt asked.

The stallion then focused on the large mass of steel. It's completely brown, presumably from rust, broken, and misshaped. Whatever happened to it had pretty much mangled it. It resembled a carriage in shape, though it had four doors on it instead of the traditional two. It had a front section protruding from where ponies would normally stand to pull it. Instead, there sat a large metal block with several wires and hoses running to other parts. It was quite like nothing else in all of Equestira.

He smiled, knowing all too well what it was and what had happened to it. Though the story would sound quite far-fetched to a normal pony, to four little foals it would make a very entertaining one.

"Well, that thing happens to be called an 'Automobile'." the stallion said. All four pairs of the listeners' eyes enlarged with curiosity. "And, it just so happens that it was used to save Equestria."

"A automo-what?" the colt asked, his face stricken with confusion.

"Save Equestria?" one of the fillies asked, looking no less confused than her brother.

"Yes, save Equestria," the stallion said, with a laugh.

"So, are you going to tell us the story?" another filly asked in excitement.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt, I suppose." The stallion smiled to himself, knowing he had grabbed their attention the way he had intended. He leaned back into the chair, rocking back and forth at a leisurely pace. "It began, about 60 years ago..."

Author's Notes:

Welp, this has been a LONG time in the making, but I have had many people request I finish this fic. So, to do just that, I am now editing and posting it onto here, FimFiction.net. I hope you enjoy, and if you have any questions feel free to comment!