That afternoon, Dusty was slowly flying around the crop, dusting once again. He was dusting the crops on his own. He wasn't smiling at all, and didn't respond to anyone, not even Leadbottom the old duster.
Braedey and Mary sat nearby the field and watching the crop-duster fly back and forth, the two of them lost in their thoughts. Dusty looked so sad. Braedey wished he could help.
'Maybe I could forfeit my place for Dusty to get into the race?' Braedey thought to himself. He thought it was a good idea, but he did say to Leyland that he would be partaking in the race. 'Man, what am I to do?' He thought to himself with a sigh.
"Do you think Dusty can possibly try something to get into the race?" Mary asked to Braedey.
"I'm not sure. I just don't know." Braedey sighed to himself, slumping down on his four wheels.
~*~*~
The next day, a delivery truck was driving up to Propwash Junction. It hit a pothole in the ride towards the small town. "Ow! Dagnabbit! Let me drive!" Royer yelled from the back of the truck.
Back in town, Mary was having a drink of oil, with Braedey having his wings and rudders being checked out by Dottie. Chug, meanwhile, he was refilling an old firetruck's fuel tank. The old firetruck is Mayday, an old red 1943 Fordson Tender firetruck.
"There you go, topped off and all set, Mayday." Chug said as he took away the nozzle from filling up Mayday's fuel tanks. With that, Mayday nodded and drove off back to the firehouse.
At that moment, the delivery truck pulled up and the rear section opened up to the reveal Royer from the qualifying trials in Nebraska. Chug and Mary could only watch, Braedey pulling up, as Royer rolled out of the van and kept berating the truck.
"Will you stop!" Royer called out angrily. "Unbelievable! Why don't you just go back! I mean, I think you actually missed a pothole! Man, you got to be the worst, I mean the worst delivery truck that has ever delivered a delivery!"
"Can we help you?" Chug asked to Royer.
"Please tell me this is Propwash Junction." Royer pleaded once he finished coughing.
"Sure is." Chug assured.
"Oh, finally. You know, you're not even on the map." Royer told them.
"Tell something I don't know." Mary joked with a shrug.
"Yeah, pretty drive, ain't it?" Chug asked.
"Oh, yeah." Royer replied sarcastically. "Especially if you like looking at dirt and corn." Then he got to his business. "Anyway, I'm looking for a Strut Jetstream."
"Who?" Chug asked.
"Jetstream. Strut Jetstream." Royer said.
"Nope, doesn't ring a bell." Mary knew that Chug was only trying help Dusty. "Do you have a photo?"
"Yeah, I got one right here." Royer said looking to his clipboard. "No, I don't have a photo!" He snapped. "I have documentation that says Strut Jetstream lives in Propwash Junction." He read off the clipboard.
"Oh, whoa, whoa! Whoa, wait a minute!" Chug now interrupted. "Okay! Oh... No, gosh I..."
"Oh, hey, I'm Strut Jetstream." Dusty now pulled up next to Chug and Mary, the two of them looking at the crop-duster.
"Oh, yeah!" Chug remembered. "That's right!" He chuckled. Dusty gave a nervous smile. "I knew I'd remember." Chug pretended. "There he is, strutting on over here."
"But you're mispronouncing it slightly." Dusty said.
"I am?" Royer asked.
"Mmm-hmm." Dusty nodded. "Yeah. It's actually pronounced... 'Dusty Crophopper'."
Royer gave a deadpan expression. "Dusty.... Crophopper." He repeated his name.
"It's Scandinavian." Mary clarified.
"Right, and I'm Egyptian." Royer sarcastically said then sniffed Dusty, and he pulled back fanning the area. "Googly moogly!" He exclaimed. "What is that smell?"
"It's Vita-minamulch." Dusty shamefully replied.
"Vita-mina-what?" Royer said in bewilderment.
Leadbottom came along. "The finest-smellin' compost this side of the Mississippi Original, creamy and chunky style." Leadbottom inhaled. "Oh, yeah. Smell that? It's like daffodils and like Sunday dinner." Royer and the others just stared at him like he was crazy, which he was. "I just love it. I love it." 'I got some minamulch, yeah!' He rolled away. 'I got some minamulch, yeah!'
"Uh, that old airplane needs some help. Y'all know that, right?" Royer asked.
"Yeah." Chug, Mary, and Dusty agreed in unison.
Braedey now rolled up to them. "Hello. What brings you here, sir?" He greeted to Royer.
"Oh, Mr. McQueen, good to see ya." Royer nodded. "Anyway, are any of you familiar with the racin' fuel additive, nitromethane?" He asked.
"Yes, I do." Braedey raised a wheel. "It's a fuel additive that some tuner cars I once knew of used to try and get an edge against one another."
"Oh, yeah! Zip juice!" Chug spoke up in agreement. "Go-go punch! That stuff will blur your vision and slur your speech-"
"It's illegal." Royer pointed out.
"Totally illegal." Chug agreed, trying to cover up his knowledge. "Wouldn't know what it looks like. Yeah, you were sayin'?"
"That substance was found in the tank of the 6-place qualifier, Fonzarelli." Royer informed to them, looking at the clipboard. "Illegal fuel intake is an automatic disqualification."
"I knew there was something suspicious about the smell of his exhaust." Braedey clicked his tongue.
"What do you mean?" Royer asked.
"The smell of his exhaust when he rolled by me after his run. It has some kind of smell like some kind of ice cold coolant or something." Braedey clarified.
"Wait, so you're sayin'..." Dusty stammered in surprise of hearing Fonzarelli was disqualified.
"Fonzarelli is out, and you're in." Royer smiled. "Congratulations."
"You're in?" Chug asked. "Hmm..." Dusty thought. "He's in!" Chug exclaimed as he whistled to everyone. "You're never goin' to believe this." He looked to the townsfolk. "He's in!" Everyone cheered, with Dottie rather surprised. "Dusty's in the race! Dottie, he's in!"
"What? Are you serious?" Dottie asked.
"Whoo! Dusty." Sparky cheered.
"Don't do anything crazy. Fly safe." Dottie advised.
"Man, it's gonna be cool." Chug said. "You're gonna cross oceans thousands of miles wide."
"Yeah." Sparky agreed.
"Freezin' your rudder off one day..." Chug added.
"And burning it off the next!" Sparky included.
"Freakin' hurricanes." Chug said.
"Cyclones!" Sparky said.
"Typhoons!" Chug said.
"Monsoons!" –Sparky
"Tornadoes!" – Chug
"Sandstorms!" -Sparky
"Gale force winds!" –Chug.
"Yeah!" -Sparky
Mary now noticed Dusty looking horrified, Braedey looking concerned. The two of them began to roll away, with Mary gently bumping Dusty.
"Oh, Dusty! I am so happy for you!" Mary cheered. "We must get you and Braedey ready for the race."
~*~*~
In Dusty's hangar, both the crop-duster and Braedey were now looking at the map for the Wings Around The Globe Rally. There was a number of stops. The competing planes fly around the world for around 80 hours, over three continents, two oceans, and dozens of countries, but with only six stops. It goes from New York, U.S.A. to Iceland, next Iceland to Germany, third up being Germany to India, fourth leg is India to Nepal, fifth section being a run of Nepal to Shanghai, the sixth leg of the race Shanghai to Mexico City, and the final leg from Mexico City to New York.
Dusty then sighed as he stared at the route. Braedey could tell that he's going to be really stressed out by doing a race like this. It's much bigger than anything he's ever done before.
"Bad idea." Dusty and Braedey looked to see Skipper standing there with Sparky helping him along. "You'll both end up a smokin' hole on the side of a mountain with your parts spread over the five countries." Skipper said coldly.
Dusty giving a nervous look at Skipper. "What makes you sat that?" Dusty asked.
"You're goin' up against the best racers in the world." Skipper reminded Dusty. Then looked to a collection of air racers up on the wall. "And some of them don't even finish."
"Hey..." Dusty was interrupted.
"You're sloppy on your rolls." Skipper started advising. "Wide on your turns, slow on your straightaways."
"You've been watching me?" Dusty asked.
"Yeah, watching you make a fool out of yourself." Skipper said. "You need to be tighter getting in and out of your knife-edge."
"Okay." Dusty said.
"Any extra control input costs you speed and seconds." Skipper continued.
"So, you think Dusty was overcorrecting?" Braedey now asked.
"Absolutely. Rookie mistake." Skipper acknowledged.
"Are you giving me pointers?" Dusty asked not helping to smile.
"No!" Skipper faces Dusty again. "I'm tellin' you to forget all this racin' malarkey. You just ain't built for it. You're a crop duster! Sided with a racecar that thinks he can fly with his own wings."
"You don't think I don't know?" Dusty raised his voice. "I'm the one who's been flyin' back and forth across the same fields day after day, month after month, for years! I have flown thousands of miles and I've never been anywhere." Dusty then looked to Skipper. "Not like you. You were built to fight, and look what you did! You're a hero." Skipper was not happy, Braedey could tell. This was like Lightning and Doc when they met for the first time. Now, since Doc had passed away, the townsfolk back in Radiator Springs miss him terribly. "I'm just tryin' to prove that maybe, just maybe, I can do more than what I was built for." Dusty then sighed. "You know what? Just forget it. You'll never understand."
Skipper looked at Dusty, almost like he's thinking. "0500, tomorrow." Skipper said as Sparky pushed him away. "Don't be late."
"Wait." Dusty was curious. "0500?"
"Yeah..." Sparky began.
"5:00AM." Sparky and Braedey clarified. A smile appeared on Dusty's face.
"Skipper, will I be required to do the training?" Braedey asked.
"Of course you are." Skipper calls back without looking back. "You and Dusty are in this together."
"Understood." Braedey nodded sharply, his engine revving. "Let's do this."
~*~*~
Five in the morning, Dusty and Braedey were with Skipper. Sparky was humming next to Skipper, who was watching the two fly by. Chug and Mary drive up next to them, all of them outside and watching Braedey and Dusty from afar.
"Sparky, binoculars." Skipper ordered.
Sparky blew on the binoculars then handed them to Skipper, who brought them to his hood, thanks to his folding wing.
"Those are some might clean optics, there." Chug commented. "What do you use? Some kind of shammy?"
"Oh, no, no, it's a special microfibre cloth." Sparky explained.
"Ah." Chug thought. "Microfibre."
"Yeah, lint-free, scratch-free." Sparky explained. "I'll get you some."
"I got an ex-Navy buddy who sells them to me wholesale." Sparky said.
"I helped him set up his web..." Sparky said.
"Sounds a lot like Sarge with his surplus needs." Mary rolled her eyes in amusement.
"Knock it off." Skipper ordered, and both vehicles stood there like soldiers. "We got a lot of work to do."
"I'll hook you up." Sparky whispers to Chug.
"Thanks." Chug said.
"All right, Dusty and Braedey, remember this." Skipper spoke through the headpieces. Dusty's was built in, while Braedey's was in his helmet. "It ain't how fast you fly, it's how you fly fast."
"Roger that." Dusty complied.
"Acknowledged." Braedey added.
"Show me what you both got." Skipper said. "Braedey, you go first."
Braedey nodded and shot ahead of Dusty, a jet wash in his wake from his engines. Braedey picked up the speed quickly, and he shot up higher into the air. He spun as he goes up, shuts off his engines, and began to glide down. As he got closer to Dusty, Braedey did not expect Dusty there, so he quickly went into a nose-dive and skillfully flipped to prevent himself from colliding with one another, and Braedey powered his engines up, pulling up back beside Dusty.
"Phew. Too close." Braedey sighed.
"Good." Skipper said. "How did you learn somethin' like that?" He asked.
"I... I don't know. I guess... I just let myself go, and my instincts just took control." Braedey shrugged with his wheels.
"We'll work on that more, but best you keep control." Skipper advised. "Dusty, you're up, show me what you got."
Rusty took off from Braedey's side. "Watch this!" Dusty flew up and down over trees. "Oh, yeah."
"Great, you can go up and down. What else?" Skipper did not sound impressed. "Show me both of your turns."
Dusty and Braedey did as they were told. "Here we go!" Dusty said as he and Braedey left knife-edged one another, then levelled again.
"You think that was good?" Skipper scoffed. "That stunk! Knife-edge those elm trees." Dusty knife-edged left, Braedey knife-edging right. "Oh, come on. Keep your noses up!"
"Hey, Skip." Sparky spoke. Skipper looked to Sparky and Sparky signalled something up above.
"Oh, that could work." Mary noted, looking up as well.
"You two want speed, right?" Skipper asked to Braedey and Dusty.
"Yeah." Dusty and Braedey answered.
"Serious, bolt-rattling speed?" Skipper asked again.
"Oh, yeah!" Dusty exclaimed.
"What have you found?" Braedey asked.
"Then look up." Skipper advised as both vehicles now both looked up. "Do you both see those clouds?" The clouds looked like the stream that a jet leaves behind. "The highway in the sky. Tailwinds like nothin' you've ever flown."
Braedey looked over to Dusty. He was not happy about going up. "You okay, Dusty?" He asked hesitantly.
"What is the matter with him?" Skipper asked.
"Nothin' is wrong." Dusty reassured quickly.
"Then what are you waitin' for?" Skipper asked. Dusty and Braedey soon began to power upward into the sky, both of them gaining altitude as they began to fly to the clouds. "Come on, power up. Firewall thrust. Max torque, max torque!" Braedey felt free as he got higher and higher. "All right, looking good. Hold V-Y, Dusty. Max rate, now." Dusty, however, was going straight up like a rocket. If he kept that angle of attack for much longer, he was going to stall. "Your nose is too high. Get your nose down." Braedey then saw fear strike Dusty like a bolt of lightning. "You're goin' to stall. Ease off the pitch. Nose down!" Skipper yelled.
"Oh!" Dusty fell back, nearly passing out. Then, before Braedey could say anything, there was a metallic clank, and Braedey felt himself start to tumble.
"Hey, what are you doin'?" Skipper asked Dusty, then Skipper noticed something. He saw Braedey falling out of the sky.
Braedey was struggling to try and get himself upright, but he managed to level himself. He looked back to try and see what's wrong, his visor telling him his right thruster has been damaged, and smoke was coming from the thruster nozzle.
"Somethin's wrong with one of Braedey's jet engines." Sparky said. and both Mary and Chug gasped.
Braedey managed to keep himself under control, despite the lack of power he's now got, his wings and flaps angled to catch the wind so he could glide down slowly and carefully. Dusty and Braedey landed safely on the tarmac, both of them panting. Skipper stood there, while Sparky rushed up to Braedey.
"Let me see the engine." Sparky asked, and Braedey gave a nod, allowing the forklift to take a look at the engine.
"Are you okay?" Mary asked in concern to Braedey.
"I'll be fine. Just a little shaken from the engine loss." Braedey shrugged with his wheels. "Mary, I'll be okay."
"Well?" Skipper asked Sparky after a few moments.
Sparky looked at him with relief on his face as he rolled up. "Looks like just a leaky oil and fuel pipe. Should be a quick fix, and Braedey's back on his wings." He joked.
"Sounds lucky." Braedey sighed, retracting the wing pack and engines. "Good thing I can pack this away for you to do the work easily."
"We will figure something out, Braedey." Skipper gently said, then he looked to Dusty. "What just happened up there?" He demanded.
"I'm, uh, I'm low on fuel." Dusty lied.
"Do I look like I was built yesterday?" Skipper asked angrily.
"No, no." Dusty reassured. "It's a long story."
"I got time." Skipper pushed to the crop-duster.
"Uh..." Dusty was not expecting Skipper to say that. "Okay, well, um, you know, I feel like I was having some problems with my axial compressor so..."
"The Jolly Wrenchers have a motto, 'Volo Pro Veritas'." Skipper stated. "It means 'I fly for truth'. Clearly, you don't." Dusty sighed with disappointment. "Sparky, push me back to the hanger." Skipper ordered, and Sparky did has he was told.
Dusty stammered, then sighed. "I'm afraid of heights." He spoke out finally, everyone stopping suddenly, Skipper applying his brakes. Sparky made Skipper face Dusty.
"What?" Mary asked in surprise.
A plane with acrophobia?" Braedey was shocked by this.
"But you're a plane." Chug said.
"I'm a crop duster." Dusty clarified. "I've never flown over a thousand feet."
"Are you kiddin'?" Skipper scolded. "Scared of heights, and you want to race around the world?"
"Is that.... crazy?" Mary now asked to Braedey.
"Well, with all things considered..." Braedey trailed off.
Sparky drove next to Skipper. "Uh, Skip,nduring the attack of Tujunga Harbour, why even the P-38s had trouble at high altitudes." The former said.
"Really?" Mary and Braedey asked in surprise.
"Well, they didn't have to fly over the Himalayas, did they?" Skipper asked.
"Well, I..." Dusty thought. "I'll still be low to the ground, just high up."
"Ooh, and after the war, those 38s went on to win races." Sparky spoke up again.
"Really?" Chug asked. "Is that true?"
"Yeah, true." Sparky replied. "Like in the Cleveland race of '46."
"For real?" Chug asked.
"Wait, it gets better." Sparky assured. "In '49, the P-38 Sky Ranger averaged 337 miles per hour."
"Wait, 337." Chug was surprised.
"That is impressive." Braedey commented.
"Well, actually 337.4, but they round it in the record books." Sparky said. Mary sighed with a roll of her eyes, and by the looks of it, Skipper was getting tired of this.
"Why would you do that?" Chug asked.
"Some people just have no respect for decimal points." Sparky answered.
"Yeah, I know." Chug replied. "Tell me about it."
"Why couldn't they round it up?" Sparky asked.
"Seriously, he..." Chug began then was interrupted.
"Guys. Let's save this discussion for another time." Mary suggested to the two. "We've got more important things to do."
"Okay." Chug and Sparky acknowledged.
"Thank you." Skipper thanked, now turning to Dusty. "So, you're a flat-hatter." Skipper spoke to Dusty. "We'll work on that. But foe now let's see if we can turn low and sloppy into low and fast."
"Roger that." Dusty said.
~*~*~
A little later, Braedey and Dusty were in Skipper's hangar, as he was giving a crash-course for the two of them. Sparky was showing a presentation board next to him. There was a picture of something with a flag, a dotted line, and a plane. Bellow it said: 'Lesson 1: Shadow Sprint'.
"It'll go like this." Skipper spoke. "The flag marks the start line. Across the cornfield, three silos are waitin' for you. Slalam those with a radial-G pass."
"Wait." Dusty stopped Skipper. "'A radial' what pass?"
"Once you get to the trees, go to your optimal rate of climb to about 500 feet." Skipper continued without answering Dusty. "Roll inverted and extend, trading altitude for air speed and dive toward the finish line."
"Uh, okay." Dusty was confused, but Braedey seemed to get most of that down. The two looked at one another then back to Skipper.
"You string all that together, you might have a chance to beat him." Skipper said.
"Who are we racing?" Dusty asked.
Back out in the field, Braedey and Dusty were once again airborne. Mary was looking for what Skipper was planning for. Braedey's faulty jetpack engine was fixed, and he was back running with both jet turbines operational.
"Here he comes." Skipper announced, seeing a large twin-engine airplane up above in a climb. "He's a twin commuter pushing about 1500 horsepower."
"Uh, he's pretty high up." Dusty realised. I was flying next to him.
"You're not racing him; you're racing his shadow." Skipper clarified, just as the commuter's shadow flew overhead the two. "Beat it to the eater tower."
"Now I get it." Braedey grunted, and both he and Dusty sped up after the shadow.
"Let's do this! Thread the silos!" Skipper said, Braedey and Dusty threaded past the silos, where three bales of hay stuck to the sides were; Braedey was tight with his turns, but Dusty was way off. "Tighter! Lean into your turns more." He spoke to Chug and Sparky in front of him. "Dusty's turns are terrible."
"Yeah." Sparky agreed.
"Let's go, you two. Faster." Skipper ordered, Braedey shooting forward and Dusty giving what he can. "Dusty, you're falling behind. Begin your climb and catch him in the dive." Braedey rolled around until he was upside down, then starts the dive, rolling out of it until he's level, and he got past the line at the same time the shadow made it, but Dusty was still too slow. "Start your dive now. Never mind, you already lost." Dusty groaned at his loss.
~*~*~
Back in Skipper's, Dottie was there, giving some ideas and suggestions to Dusty. "So, we can increase power or we can decrease drag." Dottie said, ripping the picture of Dusty's sprayer off.
Dusty gasped, looking down at his sprayer in embarrassment. "Definitely increase power."
"I would have gone for the drag." Braedey shrugged.
In Dottie's place, she attached him with a few tools to increase the torque inside his engine. "More torque means more speed." Dottie said working on the engine.
~*~*~
Another time we went, Dusty lost again. Chug had a speed gun to calculate the speed. "Lousy." Was Skipper's words when he saw the speed.
Another time. "Come on, let's work that radial-G turn." Skipper ordered. "Do it again. One more time. Again!" The racecar and crop-duster kept doing this, getting tighter and tighter with their radial-G turns, even on a rainy day. "Come on! Push it, Dusty." Dusty was close to the finish, slowly catching up with the shadow. "Better!"
The rest went on for a while. "Remember now, altitude for airspeed." Skipper advised. "Gravity is your ally. The laws of physics govern speed."
Back at the field on a sunny clear day, Braedey and Dusty were both having another run. "All right, Dusty and Braedey." Skipper spoke to them. "Give this all you've got. Use your radial-G. Let gravity work for you." The two of them passed the three silos with ease, even tighter and closer than before. "Lookin' good, you two. That's what I'm talkin' about." The two of them were right on the shadow's tail. "Firewall the throttle! Go! Go! Go!"
"You got it, Duster and Bolt!" Chug exclaimed.
Braedey and Dusty both flew so fast, the tractors in the field tipped over in reaction. "Begin your climb!" Skipper said. "Alright, altitude for airspeed. Catch him in the dive! Dive now!" The two of them both raced the shadow to the finish line. The two both passed the line winning, Dusty's speed clocked at 317.
"Ballistic!" Chug exclaimed.
"He kicked Aston Martins out of there!" Sparky exclaimed.
"Dusterino!" Chug exclaimed happily.
"Great job, Dusty!" Mary cheered. "You too, Braedey!"
"They're ready." Skipper said to himself.
~*~*~
After all of that training, Sparky got a stencil and a can of black spray paint, and sprayed on a piston and cross-wrenches marking on Dusty's sides nearby his engine cowling. Even Braedey got a set of them near his lightning bolts.
"Whoa!" Dusty breathed.
"Oh, that's cool." Chug commented.
"Definitely impressive." Mary nodded in agreement.
"Nice." Braedey commented.
"The piston and cross-wrenches." Dusty spoke. "Your squadron insignia."
"You've both earned it." Skipper said.
"It fits you." Chug complimented. "It fits you, Dusty." Chug sniffled.
"Now, listen." Skipper spoke. "When the race starts and all those planes take off, it'll stir up a bunch of swirlies just like the Wrenches ran into in the Battle of Airway."
"Roger that." Dusty and Braedey confirmed.
"Braedey, you will be fine with the heights and with your speed." Skipper assured. "Best you keep an eye on Dusty in case."
"Acknowledged, Skipper." Braedey nodded.
"Sure wish you were comin' with us, Skip." Dusty said.
"Just radio back when you get to the check points." Skipper said. "I'll be your wingman from here."
"Volo Pro Veritas, right?" Dusty said.
"Volo Pro Veritas." Skipper confirmed.
"Volo Pro Veritas." Braedey nodded firmly, standing firm.
"Kick some tail, buddy." Chug said.
"He better not kick mine." Braedey joked.
"We're all proud of you two." Dottie said.
"Whoo-hoo!" Sparky smiled. "Dustmeister!"
Mary drove up to Braedey, giving him a small peck on his fender for good luck. "Take care of yourself and Dusty while you're out there, okay?" She asked. "I might even go to New York to see you two off."
"I will. Take care of yourself, and if you get the chance, maybe call Mater and McQueen to tell them what's going on, and maybe tune into RSN." Braedey advised.
"I'll do what I can on my end. You just handle the flying." Mary smirked.
"That'll be as hard as racing." Braedey joked.