Time Drives Away Fast
Disclaimer: I do not own Cars (Disney/Pixar) and do not even pretend to. I'm not selling this…pity. But hey, everyone knows that the real money is in biological weapons ;-) All recognizable characters, circumstances, dialogue…etc. are property of the above companies. Everything else comes from the dark and dreary recesses of my warped mind, so ask before you borrow…honestly, these characters are H-A-R-D to handle and will drive you absolutely nuts and wake you up at odd hours of the night if misused.
Warning: Contents may drive you irreversibly crazy…JK ;-) No language or *cough* inappropriate content included. Violence as in car crashes and a little bit of toxic paint, but nothing too graphic I hope. Actions included that real cars have absolutely NO chance of doing (ex. Playing guitar) so humor me a little.
Um…what else? Oh yeah, comments are to me as gas is to cars. Flames will be used to heat my room because it's January, it's really cold, and no one's getting around to mending my window anytime soon. Thanks and enjoy.
Chapter One: Back on the Track
Doc Hudson (aka the Fabulous Hudson Hornet) splashed himself again with his window-washing fluid. Why, oh, why did the prix for the Piston Cup have to be held on the single hottest day of the year? The hot air was making his engine ache and tremble with heat.
"Doc? Doc? DOC?!!"
"Huh? What?" Doc snapped back to reality in an instant. His protégé, Lightning McQueen, greeted him with a soft, yet tired and worried, smile.
"Hey, Doc? The heat getting to you?"
"Hah. Very funny, rookie. I've been in places so hot that you could fry an egg on the sidewalk."
Lightning chuckled and backed away a little bit. "Save the jokes for the race, Doc. You'll need something to laugh at after I beat your record by winning the prix."
"In your dreams, rookie." Doc lightheartedly sneered at the younger car, wiping away the perspiration forming on his windshield with his windshield wipers. Even though Lightning still had the annoying habit of driving him nuts, he admired the younger car, who had matured an awful lot in only a year. Although his boastful, competitive attitude still remained, he was no longer, well, the jerk he'd been when he had first showed up in Radiator Springs. He'd learned how to care about other people, and had so endeared all the townsfolk to him, all of which were anxiously awaiting the race that afternoon.
Doc turned at the sound of a rusty clickety-clank sound coming down the road. He saw Lightning's smile beam at the sight of his good friend, Mater.
"Hey there, Mr. Practing-Like-a-Lunatic-in-97 degree-Weather! You'd best be heading back to the trailer. The missus doesn't want yah overheating 'fore the big race!"
"Hey there, Mater. Don't worry, I was just about to leave." Doc shot him a look that silently screamed LIAR!, and Lightning greeted it with a big DON'T BLOW IT smile. Lightning's engine gave a rumble, and took off, with Doc not too far behind in the dust.
Just at that moment, as though on cue like someone had choreographed it, they showed up. Lightning rolled his eyes and Doc could tell they were both thinking the same thing: Dang paparazzi! If there was one thing Doc hadn't missed about racing, it was the paparazzi. They had always driven him crazy. No privacy…ever! And the hundreds of camera flashes were adding to the unbearable heat, which was already threatening to stifle the older car.
Trying to gulp down the air he was sharing with about 250 different people, Doc looked up through the blinding camera flashes. The noise of all those stinking personal question could have drowned out an earthquake.
"Hey Lightning! How was your honeymoon, huh?"
"Doc Hudson! Is it true that a chronically-occurring phobia of sharp turns has kept you off the track for so long?"
"How do you two feel about Dinaco's new competition?"
"Any comment about Chick Hicks's suspension from racing?"
That last one stung, briefly. Chick Hicks had been suspended from racing until further notice. After what he had done to Dinaco's golden boy, the King, after last year's race, only one little known company had agreed to sponsor him. Outraged, he had become even a more ruthless driver, out for what seemed like personal revenge. The last straw had been opening attacking Dinaco's new rookie in a previous race a few weeks ago.
Pushing through the crowd, trying not to run into anyone, Lightning and Doc muttered, "No comment. No comment," as though that would somehow help.
About to scream from heat exhaustion, Doc Hudson looked up through the crowd. All the managers, families, and teams of the racers were bustling around, offering last minute encouragement and advice. One car, in particular, caught his eye. She was a beautiful, deep-green 1938 Chrysler Royal. Her eyes were down and she was moving slowly, almost heavily. Something about her was haunting, almost…familiar.
Something out of the corner of her left eye caught her attention, and when she raised her head to look at it, her eyes caught his.
His engine skipped a beat.
The look on her face was first one of confusion, and then became one of utter and complete shock. Her paint paled in the sun and her mouth dropped open in an expression somewhere between surprise and terror.
Hudson, he saw her mouth, almost incredulously, as though she had seen a ghost.
Rayna, he mouthed back. A look of recognition sparkled in her eyes, and she cautiously drove toward him. Stuck in the crowd, he edged his way toward her. They got so close that he could almost smell her exhaust fumes, but then a whole new wave of reporters and newscasters showed up and blocked the way between them. Flashing him an understanding look, the female car turned away and rode off into the distance.
He tried to go after her, but he couldn't have done so without seriously crushing someone's hood.
