Part 3, Chapter 3

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The season progressed quickly, with unparalleled rivalry unlike anything the circuit had seen in years. Lightning McQueen became a household name in a matter of weeks, claiming his first win soon after the Florida 500. The rookie rocketed to stardom as he annihilated the competition, pushing the rest of the racers to perform at their very best. Only a few of the veterans could hope to keep up with him.

The historical finish of the Dinoco 400 proved that. It wasn't often there was so close a finish that the officials couldn't definitively say who'd earned the top three places. In fact, it'd never happened before. The first two positions? Yeah, that had happened on rare occasion, but this was something to be remembered.

Strip slowly pushed his way toward the stage over in Victory Lane with Tex and Lynda on either side of him, anticipating the official results.

"Look at that, the kid thinks he's won already," Tex pointed out.

Strip turned his attention from his wife at his side, looked to the stage, and exhaled in mild annoyance. McQueen was striking poses and entertaining the press like he hadn't just potentially made the biggest mistake of his career. The kid's flashy stickers were almost as blinding as the camera flashes.

"Kid should've won," Strip muttered. "There ain't no good reason I should've been able to catch up with him."

"You say that like you hope he wins," Tex chuckled.

"Well, of our options, he's not my last pick," Strip said. "I'm gonna go talk to him. If ain't nobody else gonna set him straight, I gotta try. He's got too much talent to waste it on stupidity."

"Alright," Lynda said, amused. "We'll watch from over here. Best of luck!"

"Thanks, dear."

The reporters parted to make way for the legend as he approached the stage. Hesitating briefly as two fed up security guards escorted a couple Miatas away from Lightning's presence, he rolled up onto the ramp to face McQueen.

"Hey there, buddy. You're one gutsy racer," he complimented the sparkling red racecar.

"Oh, hey Mr. the King!" Lightning greeted him.

"You got more talent in one lugnut than a lot of cars has got in their whole body," Strip continued.

"Oh, really – "

"But you're stupid."

"Excuse me?" Lightning's face fell, offended.

"This ain't a one man deal, kid," Strip was as straight with him as he could be. "You need to wise up and get yourself a good crew chief and a good team. Y'ain't gonna win unless you got good folks behind you, and you let them do their job like they should."

Strip went on to give an example of a time he made a mistake and his crew had to make up for his lack of competence back in the day. Before he got too far into the story, he saw the rookie's gaze drift away toward the showy Dinoco exhibit. Strip knew Lightning wanted the Dinoco sponsorship after he retired, but what Lightning didn't know was that Dinoco wouldn't put up with his arrogance if he treated them like he'd treated his Rusteze pit crew.

"The key to a successful career is workin' out a good relationship between crew and racer," Strip summarized. "If you can figure that out, you're just gonna be okay."

Lightning snapped his attention back to his present company and cleared his throat. "Oh, that is spectacular advice, thank you, Mr. the King."

Kid didn't listen to a word I said. Strip thought as the loud speakers came to life around them.

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