1/17/23
There he was, leading the way in the race. Chick Hicks was to his right, the King to his left. Matching speeds and energies, but of course, McQueen retaining the lead. The center of attention, even, in this very formation.
But then, the ferocious roar of a wild animal broke loose on the track. The sound of thunderous hooves could be heard rushing through the air. Behind the three racers was none other than Frank, the monstrous bull. The King quickly veered off the track to avoid the rampaging giant. Chick wasn't as lucky, as Frank leaped into the air and firmly landed all four of his hooves on top of the ornery racer's car, smashing it on impact. Frank quickly pushed back off into another jump, this time forcing McQueen to veer out of the way and off the track with a terrified scream. Frank continued his thunderous stampede right over the finish line and onward.
Next, quick as a flash, Frank stood on the stage, the winner's circle to be exact, with a Piston Cup at his hooves and two of Dinoco's trophy girls, one on each side. They were beautiful, perfect girls full of all the right dips and curves dressed in tight glittery leotards colored Dinoco Blue that hugged their curves so nicely. Headpieces sat curved around their heads, with a long, fluffy boa feather sprouting out that was held to the band with a sapphire gem. The two girls leaned in and kissed Frank's cheeks. He fumed, roaring loudly with a snort.
Off to the side, McQueen stood on the pavement surrounded by cows of all sizes. He was firmly crammed in the middle of the herd, uncomfortably squished between the rear ends of two cows. A cow mooed tauntingly in the background. The cow standing just off to the side in front of him leaned forward and gave McQueen a long, slow, slobbery lick right up the entirety of his face, from his chin to the top of his hair. It was quite the sickly feeling, one that send shivers up the racer's spine. It felt so real, so warm yet cold, so...
"No!" McQueen hollered out in alarm just as the alarm clock began to beep, shooting upright in bed with eyes wide as could be. He brought a hand to clutch the fabric of his white fireproof suit right over his heart as he tried to stop his hyperventilation. What an atrocious nightmare that was! And it had felt so real, too. "I gotta get outta here!" He told himself as he continued to sweat with fear. Quickly flipping the covers off of him and swinging his legs right over the edge of the bed in a swift motion, he threw on his clothes then bolted out of his Cozy Cone to run over to Doc's infirmary, but something stopped him.
The second he opened the door to his cone, he saw you stepping out of yours. When you turned around and looked back up after closing the door and locking it tight, your eyes met his. It felt like the world stopped, like time went still. The two of you stared at each other, unable to let your eyes waver. But it wasn't an uncomfortable stare. It was the exact opposite. Sweet, even.
A shy smile rose to your face as you slightly looked away, but eyes still focused on McQueen as you were now looking at him more from the corners of your eyes. Your unexpected shyness made the racer rather shy as well as memories of the night before began to come back to mind. Your kindness, your generosity, how so very cute you had looked in his red jacket... He nervously turned his head to the side as well and averted his attention elsewhere for a moment, though just the same as you, he looked back because he couldn't help but keep his gaze.
You sent him a small wave before turning to rush off nervously. He waved back, although your back was already turned. Staring at your retreating figure, he suddenly snapped out of his trance with a gentle smack of his palm to his forehead. "Get it together, Lightning!" He told himself, remembering what had gotten him so riled up only minutes ago.
McQueen dashed across the street and slammed open the double swinging doors of Doc's infirmary. "Hey, have you seen the Sheriff?" He asked, but all the color drained from his face almost immediately as he took in the sight before him, one so horrific that I'm not even going to elaborate.
Doc turned around in shock before allowing his upset at being rudely interrupted, especially with private medical matters no less, to appear on his face in the form of a scowl and in his voice in the form of a near snarl. "Hey, what are you doing?!"
Sheriff propped himself up enough to look over his shoulder at McQueen, who still stood in the doorway with a mortified expression. The old officer found much humor in the racer's troubled state."Get a good peak, City Boy?" Sheriff moved his hips around a little.
"I, uh, ah..." McQueen began to stutter out. "I just need to get my car from the Sheriff."
"Wait for him at Flo's, now get outta here." Doc growled angrily.
A look of unpleasant disgust appeared on McQueen's face as he finally ripped his eyes away from Sheriff and to the glaring eyes of Doc. "I've been trying to get out of here for three days!" The racer complained as he turned to storm out of the building.
"Hope you enjoyed the show!" Sheriff called out as the doors began to swing shut behind McQueen.
The racer, posture stiff and hunched over with fists clenched at his sides, he began to angrily stomp away in a huff. Nearly tripping on a small can that was left lying on the sidewalk with no regard, he kicked it in frustration. Hard. He had really wound up for that one, almost as if he was kicking a soccer ball right in attempt to score rather than a mere aluminum can.
The can went flying towards the side of Doc's building, and the sounds of objects falling and crashing rang out. McQueen froze in his tracks with a wince, praying nobody, especially Doc, heard. The racer slowly turned around to pinpoint where the can had gotten into and spotted a set of old, rickety doors that were poorly made from a few stray planks of old, withering wood.
McQueen quietly crept into the secluded part at the back of the building. Well, as quietly as he could with how loud the doors creaked open. The room was very dark. Thousands of dust particles could be seen floating stagnant in the air one by one as the ray of sunlight that began to pour into the room from the open doors struck them with its warmth. The room was also a mess. Dozens of boxes and loose papers and books were thrown about, some of them stacked to outrageous heights.
"Whoa ho, Doc." McQueen chuckled to himself as he continued to step further into the room. "Time to clean out the garage, buddy, come on."
It was then that a shimmer caught his eye. The racer turned to a window, one so dusty you couldn't even see out of it, that had a peculiar box sitting in front of it on the windowsill. There, in that box, right before his very eyes, was the very thing he sought after in his life. Something he knew much about, but had never actually seen in person, especially not so tantalizingly close. Sitting in the box was a Piston Cup trophy, a real Piston Cup, in all its dusty glory. Upon further inspection, the racer's eyes slowly trailed over the golden words engraved in the plaque at the bottom of the trophy. "Hudson Hornet, Champion, 1951," it read.
"What...?" McQueen breathed out in awe, but also in confusion, almost as if he was in utter disbelief, which he actually was. "He has a Piston Cup?" McQueen looked around some more before spotting more in another box not far off to the side from the first one he laid eyes on. Except, these were from 1952 and 1953 respectively. "Oh, my gosh. Three Piston Cups?"
McQueen could not believe his eyes. History stood right before him. In the middle of the rundown, forgotten town, it had been right before his eyes the entire time and he hadn't even known it until now! Not just that, but these were the remnants and articles of his longtime idol! As he looked around some more, now in complete awe and fascination, he saw a framed newspaper article. It wasn't even a clipping; it was an entire front page spread. It was a picture of the fabulous Hudson Hornet, many years ago, racing on a dirt track in his race car in its infamous shade of dark blue. The title read, "Third Piston Cup Win! Hudson Hornet Champion For All Time!"
"Sign says stay out." A voice broke out into the thick silence that startled the racer, forcing a gasp from his throat. It was Doc Hudson, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an irritated, grumpy expression on his rough features.
"You... You have three Piston Cups." McQueen stated quietly. "How could you have-"
"I knew you couldn't drive." Doc said, cutting off the racer and wishing to near nothing further. He approached McQueen and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to walk out of the secret garage filled with memorabilia and memories of the golden days. "I didn't know you couldn't read."
"You're the Hudson Hornet!" McQueen smiled excitedly, exclaiming those words aloud without a care in the world. He completely ignored all of Doc's clear signs, refusing to read the room as childish fantasies began rushing through his head.
"Wait over at Flo's, like I told you!" Doc snapped, taking a step of retreat further into his room.
"Of course. I can't believe I didn't see it before!" McQueen was practically talking to himself at this point. "You're The Fabulous Hudson Hornet! You still to hold the record for most wins in single season!" McQueen then clasped his hands together, bouncing a little with the help of his knees as he began to plead and beg, " Oh, we gotta talk. You gotta show me your tricks. Please!"
"I already tried that." Doc snapped yet again, taking another step back.
McQueen continued on. "And you won the championship three times! Look at those trophies!"
"You look!" Doc snapped one last time, this time the anger and authority in his voice being enough to bring McQueen out of fantasy land and back to reality. Doc composed himself slightly, telling the boy with a very stern look, "All I see is a bunch of empty cups." And with that, he fully backed into the room and slammed the wooden doors shut one by one, leaving McQueen locked outside. A frown rose to the racer's face, not just because his pride and ego were shot, but also because he was terribly confused.
How could the grumpy old Doc Hudson be the Hudson Hornet of years ago? How had he ended up in Radiator Springs of all places? And how was he not flaunting his name and his fame for all to see and hear? He was a legend! And yet, he seemed to not care at all! In fact, he seemed to despise it all, so much so he wanted to keep it well hidden under lock and key. But...why? How? It made no sense to McQueen. Surely someone here knew! After all, he was still so excited about the juicy information that had just been revealed to him that he desperately needed to talk about it further. And with that, the racer made haste towards Flo's.
~~~~~~~~
After rushing away from the boy who seemed to always make your heart swell, you had made your way to the police station. However, Sheriff was nowhere to be found. Where he had gone off to without his car that morning, you had no clue, but there was something there that caught your eye. A pair of flashy car keys, with not only the key itself being red but the key ring itself too. A small orange lightning bolt keychain with halftone dots blending from red to orange to yellow was also dangling alongside the car key.
It was then that you had a little idea. Seeing as how Sheriff was nowhere in sight, and knowing McQueen probably wanted to get right to work to get the road finished as soon as physically possible, you knew you had the chance to do yet another kind act to help McQueen out and make things easier for him. Snatching the keys without hesitation, you ran over to Ramone's.
You were surprised when you arrived at Ramone's business. He had worked double time to fix McQueen's race car! Apparently, you weren't the only one who wanted to help out the racer a little for how good of a job he'd done so far. Ramone said it was the least he could do. Well, that and the fact he was excited to work with such a fabulous vehicle. It was the nicest thing he had ever laid his eyes on, and boy was he excited for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
You were excited for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that was being set before you for the taking as well. As you approached McQueen's car, a mix of nervousness and excitement began to bubble in your stomach, rising to the point you could taste it burning in the back of your throat. You carefully slid into the car through the driver side window, taking note of how comfortable and soft and cushiony the seat was when you sat down. You simply sat there for a few moments, just taking it all in. This is what the inside of a real race car looked like!
Fingers trembling, also from both the nervous and excited feelings that were tightening in your chest, you cautiously inserted the car key into the ignition. With a deep breath to try and prepare yourself for what you knew was going to be the best feeling ever in the whole wide world, you turned the keys and started the car. The engine roared to life. It was super loud, but you loved that. The entire car trembled from the sheer power of its engine, but you loved that too. But that was all just the start.
The car still in park, you tapped on the gas gently, and you were so bewitched by how the engine purred, how it got louder and stronger and more intense with such a short and sweet rev. You could feel yourself melting, and you desperately wanted—no, craved—to take this bad boy out for a spin. However, now wasn't the time, and you would surely never do so without getting permission first. Maybe an opportunity could make its way in due time.
For now, you simply cruised at a coasting speed and maneuvered the car from Ramone's to Flo's, which was right across the street. You pulled the car up alongside the first gas pump and, with some sadness thrown in, turned off the car and slid out. You were surprised to suddenly see Sheriff standing outside with everyone else as Flo's, and he was quick to question what you were doing and why you had the racer's car. Although suspicious at first, he eventually let himself accept your reasoning, which was the truth and nothing but. You couldn't help but feel like he still felt a little suspicious when you claimed you wanted to help out McQueen yet again. I mean, it was just yesterday that you had confessed how much you couldn't stand the racer, and now this? On top of moving him into a Cozy Cone later that same day? Anyone would be suspicious of that, you supposed.
It had only been a few minutes as you began filling up the racer's tank when he came rushing over on foot. He looked like he had just seen the biggest miracle possible. "Oh My Gosh!" He exclaimed as he slid to a halt. "Did you know Doc is a famous racer?!"
You froze, nearly dropping the nozzle, but otherwise remained motionless and emotionless as to not draw further attention to the secretive topic you knew Doc wished to bring with him to his grave. You pretend to be nonchalant and uninterested, while the others burst out into laughter.
"Doc? Our Doc?" Sheriff asked, a smirk tugging at his lips though being the only one not laughing amongst everyone else.
"Not Doc Hudson!" Sarge denied the racer's claims.
"No no no no no, it's true! He's a real racing legend. He's The Fabulous Hudson Hornet!" McQueen continued, clearly trying to persuade everyone and get the truth out. You fingers trembled as you forced yourself to remove the nozzle and put it back in the holster on the pump.
You needed an out. You needed to get out. Running over to Ramone's to fetch your own car, which was finally fixed, thank the heavens, you also used the privacy away from everyone else to try and calm your panic. How did the racer know? How did he come to know? Did Doc know that he knew? Was he okay with McQueen blurting out his deepest secrets to the town? What if he didn't, seeing as how the racer wasn't even remotely trying to keep it under wraps?
After letting your panic run its course until your nerves decided to calm and your mind decided to abandon the clouds and fog that had engulfed it for a brief moment, you made yet another decision. Whether Doc had known or not, whether he had given permission or not, McQueen needed to informed of the situation. He needed someone to tell him the truth behind it all, therefore telling him why it needed to remain secret. You figured, what better person then you yourself? Doc's daughter, and one of McQueen's friends. But this talk couldn't happen in town, you just didn't want to risk it. So what if...?
As McQueen continued to try and bargain with the townsfolk, which only ended up with him being laughed at and playfully mocked by them, it all came to cease when the roar of an engine was heard. Everyone turned to look as you slowly cruised out of Ramone's and pulled your car up alongside McQueen's.
When you got out, the engine now fallen silent, you heard McQueen exclaim, "Wait, a race car!? You have a race car?"
"Yeah." You smiled. "You didn't know?"
"I had no idea you had a race car!" He replied in awe, looking dumbfounded. You were confused as to his he hadn't known, but when you thought about it, your car had been being fixed up at Ramone's almost the whole time he had been in town. There really never was an opportunity for him to have seen it, strangely enough. "I mean, no offense," he continued, "it's not the prettiest and it's by no means professional, but it's still clearly a race car!"
You couldn't help but giggle at his comment. By the calm tone of his voice, as well as the small genuine smile that rose to his face the more he spoke, you knew he truly meant no offense just as he claimed. It was sweet.
"Hey, McQueen." You spoke up, redirecting his attention from his car to you. He was surprised, maybe even startled one might say, when you tossed something his way. The racer easily caught it in his hands, but he was surprised to see his keys.
"Hey, hey!" Sheriff shouted out. "What are you doing!?"
"It's okay, Sheriff. You can trust me, right?" You asked him with an innocent smile.
"I trust you, all right. It's him I'm worried about." He pointed accusingly at McQueen, who seemed to cower the slightest bit under the officer's glare.
"Hm..." You hummed to yourself, raising your hand to hold your chin between your thumb and index finger as your eyes scanned the racer's figure in thought. A faint blush rose to his face under your strong gaze. With a sweet smile, you replied, "I trust him."
McQueen was taken aback by your words. He couldn't tell if you meant it, or if you were simply willing to take a risk as if this were a test. Just last night you had told him you wanted to be able to trust him as Mater did, so was this his chance? His chance to prove to you that you could trust him?
"Come on, let's take a drive." You told him, walking over to your car.
"A drive?" He questioned quizzically.
"Yeah, a drive." You chuckled as you turned to face him, your fingers now circled around the base of the open car window. "Don't you big city racers ever just take a drive?"
"Uh, no. No, we don't." He replied as he began to cautiously walk over to his car, not forgetting to take one more glance at Sheriff to make sure he wasn't about to jump at him with cuffs.
The two of you got into your cars, turned on the engines, and began to slowly turn out of Flo's lot. You made a slow right and began to coast down the road. McQueen's car rolled out into the road also, but as he looked out his window to the left, he saw the never-ending road reaching miles out into the skyline, the one that would lead him back to the Interstate. His car came to a slow stop just after he had turned the wheels to the left a little, his car now somewhat facing the opposite direction you had driven.
Your car came to a halt and you leaned your upper body out of the window to look back at him. The townsfolk looked on curiously, and Sheriff looked like he was ready to strike at a moment's notice as he whipped out his pistol, aiming for the tires of McQueen's car.
You looked on patiently. You were taking a risk, yes, but you couldn't help but feel deep inside that McQueen wouldn't do it. That he wouldn't go ripping down the road and away from the town for good. After all, there was nothing stopping him! Sheriff's car was at his station, nobody else was fast enough to chase him down, not even you with your wannabe race car, and he had a tank full of gas on top of it all! He truly could run if he wanted to and you knew he knew that in this moment. But still, you just knew he wouldn't.
"Hey! Lightning!" You called out. "You coming or what?" Confidently gripping your steering wheel, you let your car coast down the road once more. No more looking back, no more waiting. It was now or never.
McQueen stared down the stretch of freedom a little longer. Oh, how he wished he could just forget about fixing up the road and leave altogether. But your trust was on the line. As much as he wanted to chase after freedom, with each passing moment over the last twenty-four hours he had found himself wanting to chase after you more and more. He figured, what was a day more in Radiator Springs if it meant he got to spend time with you? Time with you alone, no less. This truly was his chance. His chance to prove himself to you. His chance to prove he could be trusted. His chance at being with you.
With a playful, eager smirk, McQueen reversed his car and changed directions, speeding up as he began to drive down the road after you.