Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Pixar. All OCs belong to me.
Chapter 1
A loud rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner echoed all around Radiator Springs, promptly followed by loud hippie music.
"Will you turn that disrespectful junk off?" Sarge shouted.
"Respect the classics, man," Fillmore retorted. "It's Hendrix!"
Inside his home behind the Racing Museum, Lightning McQueen slowly woke up. Sarge and Fillmore's daily argument had become his regular alarm clock. Sometimes though, like this morning, he seriously regretted having his house so close to theirs.
Waking up properly, Lightning went over to look at the whiteboard on the wall near the door. It was his training schedule. Normally, Doc was the only one allowed to touch it, but Lightning chuckled when he saw that Mater had added 'Trakta Tipin'!' to his list of activities for that evening. Lightning quickly wiped it off with his tyre. He wouldn't forget, but he didn't want Doc to see it, because then Mater would get into big trouble. Doc was very strict about Lightning's bedtime; especially with his first race of his fifth Piston Cup season just three weeks away.
Doc hadn't quite known how to react when, last season, Lightning had equalled his record of three Piston Cups in a row. His reaction was part annoyance, part pride. Since Lightning was his step-son, he secretly wanted Lightning to keep improving while he still could.
Things had changed quite a bit for Lightning since his mother had married Doc. His mother, Elinor, had enrolled in a nursing course, so she could assist Doc in his clinic. She also helped Flo at the café whenever she needed assistance. Elinor had also been officially pardoned by the judicial system for the murder of Lightning's father, Blaze, and she'd received a substantial compensation payout. Lightning's uncle, Peter Piston, was found guilty of Blaze's murder and, despite his injuries, he was sentenced to life in prison. Aunt Susan had remained faithful to him though, and was still refusing to divorce him.
At Doc and Elinor's insistence, Lightning had enrolled in a college course focusing on sports science. Harv hadn't been terribly impressed by Lightning's decision, but there was little he could do about it. Lightning had struggled a bit at first, trying to juggle his studies with racing, practice and his other various engagements, but Doc, Elinor and Sally had all helped him get through those first few difficult weeks. Now, Lightning had just one year left to complete his degree. He was really looking forward to graduating.
Stiffing a yawn, Lightning looked at what else Doc had written for him to do that day:
6am – 200 laps around Willy's Butte
8am – Breakfast
9am – weightlifting (see me about that)
Noon - Lunch
1pm – General service and oil change
Lightning gulped when he saw that last one. He didn't mind the general servicing. He was used to that. But he hated oil changes. They always left him feeling sick and low for a few days, and he always tried to avoid them or put them off for as long as possible. Doc knew this, and so it was obvious that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
Doc and Elinor had been away for the past six weeks, visiting with Lightning's extended family in New York City. Doc had left Sarge in charge of Lightning's training, but Lightning had given Sarge a very hard time. Lightning was used to Doc and his ways, and he didn't like having to adjust to someone else's methods. Sarge had preferred weights over laps, causing Lightning to rebel and refuse to listen to him. Frustrated, Sarge had enlisted the help of Sherriff, who, together with Sally, had managed to keep Lighting more or less focused. But Doc had forgotten to tell them to keep Lightning's training fun, because Lightning got bored very quickly. In the end, Lightning had been relieved to see Doc and Elinor return the night before, but they hadn't had a chance to speak yet, because Lightning had gone to bed as soon as he saw them arrive - out of sheer guilt for all the late nights he'd had while they'd been away. Doc had obviously come to see him, but seeing that the young race car was already asleep, he'd decided not to wake him, and had instead written on the whiteboard.
Leaving his house, Lightning moved quietly down the road. Knowing just how loud his engine was whenever he revved it, the last thing he wanted to do was to wake everyone up. He was sure his friends wouldn't mind, but since Radiator Springs now had heaps of tourists coming and going, he didn't want to upset anyone, even if they had come just to see him.
Arriving at Willy's Butte, Lightning positioned himself on the start/finish line. He stared down the straight stretch of dirt track in front of him. Breathing in the crisp morning air, he went through his stretches. Then he revved his engine. It sounded glorious!
Doc's just being paranoid, he thought. I certainly don't need an oil change now!
And with that, he floored it and raced away, sending up a huge cloud of dust in his wake.
About an hour later, Lightning sensed that someone was watching him. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
"How am I doing, Doc?" he asked over his radio.
"How'd you know I was watching you?" Doc growled back.
Lightning just chuckled in response, and he accelerated. Doc grunted.
"I've been speaking to Sarge," he said.
Hearing that, Lightning almost lost concentration. He just managed to save himself in time to counter-steer around the sharp corner that had caught him out so many times before.
"Whoa!" he whispered. Then, louder, he said, "Don't scare me like that, Doc!"
"Well, perhaps you wouldn't have reacted that way if you'd followed his instructions. Just stop for a moment. What lap are you on?"
"A hundred and seventeen," Lightning replied, braking abruptly. Once he'd skidded to a stop, Doc drove over to him. He looked cross.
"I go away for six weeks, and I come back to find that you haven't followed a single instruction I left."
"I-," Lightning began, but Doc cut him off.
"It wasn't rocket science! I know Sarge's methods aren't the same as my own, but they were better than nothing! Have you been drinking the specially-formulated oils your mother left for you?"
"Not really," Lightning admitted, kicking a small rock with his tyre.
"Yeah, I'll bet you filled yourself up on sweet oils and heaps of other junk. You know those formulated drinks are designed just for you, to help keep you at your best." Doc started to drive slowly around Lightning, looking at him closely. "I'll bet you had plenty of late nights too."
"How do-."
"It shows," Doc growled.
"Gimme a break, Doc! It's the off-season."
"Is that going to be your excuse when Chick Hicks, Junior or Jimmy wins the first race of the season?"
Lightning gulped. He hadn't thought of that. The next racing season had seemed so far away at the start of the summer.
"You may have won three Piston Cups already, but winning them won't get any easier, believe me!" Doc continued. "If anything, you're going to have to work even harder for them."
"Why?"
"Two reasons. The first one is that you're now a marked race car. All the younger rookies coming through will pull all sorts of nasty tricks on you to get you out of the way; similar to how you raced in your first season."
Lightning cringed. He didn't like remembering his rookie season. He'd been such a jerk back then.
"The second reason is that you're not getting any younger. How old are you now? Twenty-two, right?"
"Twenty-three," Lightning corrected. "I had my birthday while you were away, remember?"
Doc nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I remember. I saw the pictures from the party you had. But you know, most racers are finished by the time they're twenty-five; either because of severe injury or because they're no longer winning. A few of the best ones, like Chick Hicks…"
Lightning scoffed. Doc ignored him.
"…might remain until their early thirties, but even fewer last beyond that, as you well know. What I'm trying to say is, if you want to break all the records, you need to do it now, while you're still young enough to manage it. Now, get back to your laps. We'll talk again after you've had your breakfast."
Lightning accelerated away down the track, much faster than he'd been going before. What Doc had just said was true, whether or not Lightning liked to admit it. Anything could happen to him to end his career prematurely, so he needed to improve each year instead of slacking off. He groaned to himself. He now regretted wasting the summer, but he was determined to work extra hard over the next three weeks to make up for it.
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