It’s never been so quiet in Trottingham. Usually the tight, winding streets are filled with the commotion that comes with the crowd of ponies going about their business. Today those crowds have been packed carefully into stands, multi-level collapsible platforms lining the sides of the streets with heavy duty, magically reinforced walls to protect them. And even they are talking in hushed whispers as they stare at screens hovering above the streets. But then it begins: a high-pitched hum with a deeper rumble following behind seconds later. As soon as they hear it heads snap over to the south, thousands of eyes watching the bend by the old clock tower. The hubbub starts to pick up as ponies whisper among themselves, glancing at each other excitedly but never for long, never risking the chance of missing it.
And when the first car swings around the bend an explosive cheer absolutely rolls over the crowd. In a second, they become a roaring throng of rabid fans, shouting and stomping hooves until a lively rumbling pours through the air. The stands start shaking and it’s almost enough to challenge the roar of the motors as they start down the final stretch. Until they get closer and it becomes apparent that these aren’t just cars, they’re damn monsters shouting loud enough to drown the crowd out instead.