Being the fathers of Lightning (Monty) McQueen was this- helping him tie his shoes in the morning because he was Monty, 19, and he had never fucking learnt how to read. It was this- Monty swearing off his drinking habits only for The Hudson Hornet to find a bottle near his bed, "I thought you had stopped," the rookie had said, shaking his head, disapprovingly.
"That's water. We need it to live,"
"Not in my town you don't," and doc, rather dramatically the Sheriff had to admit had thrown it out of the window.
And it was this- Watching the rookie teach Doc every new trick, every little game. It was beaming with pride as Monty won race after race, cup after cup. That, they could say, smiling widely, is our son.
