AN: Updated version! Caught some typos and spelling errors. SO sorry! *hides face in shame*

"Thank goodness it's the last day of school!" I exclaimed, running out of the high school building to the parking lot. Today was a big day for me, mainly because my dad was taking me with him to look for another car to rebuild. My dad and I both love restoring old cars, and my 1992 Dodge Dakota truck was no exception. I had found it sitting in someone's front yard one summer, rusting away. The owner told me I could try to fix it, warning me that it probably would never run again. I made a deal with the owner- if I could get it to run again, I get to keep the truck. If it doesn't run, the truck would go back to the owner. That was 5 years ago, and I was only 13 at the time.

"Let's go home, shall we?" I asked the old Dodge as I started up the engine. Grinning, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. I listened to the steady hum of the 243-horsepower engine as I guided the bright white vehicle along the back roads. It wasn't very long before I was pulling under the carport of my house.

"Hey kiddo, how was your last day of school?" Dad asked me as he stepped out of the house.

"Pretty boring. All my classes did nothing today. Only noteworthy thing to happen today was the sweet sound of freedom ringing at the end of the day," I grinned at him.

"Ready to go to the car lot?"

"You betcha!" I whooped, jumping into our tan Dodge 3500 dually.

I was walking around the car lot, looking at various cars and trucks while Dad was talking to the owner. I hadn't really found anything worth restoring, and was just simply wandering among the rusted-out vehicles when I stumbled across something you don't see in a car lot everyday.

A red and blue custom-built Peterbilt sat in the sunlight, practically brand new. I thought my jaw had hit the ground as I took in the sight. Walking up to the semi truck, I looked closer. The metal seemed…scarred? Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, I inspected the welds that riddled the metal. Whoever had welded this truck did a really great job, because I saw no fault in any of the welds. I walked around to the front, and instead of a Peterbilt logo like I expected, I saw a boxy-looking face. Where did I see this? This symbol looks familiar… I thought to myself, sifting through my memories. Then it hit me like a load of bricks.

"Holy scrap… I hope it's not who I think it is…" I mumbled to myself as I inspected the engine. Shrugging, I wrote the thought off as delusional. I spotted my dad and the owner walking towards me.

"Excuse me, mister. Do you know what happened to this Peterbilt?" I asked the owner. The owner looked at the truck for a moment, thinking.

"The guy who brought it in said that it was 'possessed' or something like that. It hasn't done anything since it came in." He replied, shrugging. "I think the guy was just paranoid."

"Hmm… How much are you willing to let it go for?"

"Make a offer?"

"Alright. Well, the truck obviously has had major bodywork done. Something really tore it up, so I do not know if the undercarriage is sound. Engine looks to be in good shape, but there's some rusting on it. Fuel and air tanks, brakes- everything else looks pretty good," I listed off, working out some numbers in my head. "So, how about…$60,000?"

"Done," he held out his hand, and I shook it.

"Now… Got anything weird, wacky, or unusual around here?" I asked, grinning. I love anything that is out-of-the-ordinary.

"I sure do. It's in the back of the lot," the man smiled back, leading Dad and I to the back. "This next car is recent- came in three days ago. It was involved in a major race car accident that happened last week."

I nodded my head. I had heard about the wreck. Apparently, one of the drivers lost control of their car, ran into another car and caused a big 10-car pileup. Some of the cars caught on fire, putting several drivers in the hospital.

"However… this car is not like any ordinary racecar I've ever seen."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Instead of a windshield, it has a metal sheet," he pointed to the racecar. The paint was charred, but I could see some stickers and paint still showing through. The car had once been fire engine red. Curious, I walked closer. I rubbed my hand on the roof rail, coating my palm with black soot. Under the black soot was some yellow lettering.

"Dad? Got a rag on ya?" I asked. He tossed me a rag. I caught it with ease. "Thanks."

Using the rag, I rubbed away more of the soot, revealing the rest of the lettering. I stared at it for a moment, not wanting to believe my own eyes.

It spelled out a name- a name that I had seen in a movie before. The name was Lightning McQueen. I must be going crazy… I thought to myself. There's no way Optimus Prime and Lightning McQueen are in my universe. They're characters for crying out loud! Well, I guess I'll just go ahead and take him too.

"Dad?" I looked at Dad with an expression that clearly meant I wanted to talk to him. Dad walked over to where I was currently standing next to the racecar.

"I know I already bought the custom Pete, but I'm pretty sure that this car came from the same universe Doc H. did," Whispering in a low voice so the car lot owner wouldn't overhear us, I told Dad what I was thinking at the moment. He looked at the ground, thinking about what I said. Just then, he notices the yellow lettering on the car. His eyes widens in surprise and slight shock.

"By God… I think you're right," Dad looks at me, stunned. "I'll let you get this one too."

"You-you're serious?" I spluttered.

"Yep. I won't make you work this summer even. Your hands will be full enough already with OP and Light."

"Wait, OP? I already know whom you meant when you said 'Light', but I don't understand what you meant by OP," I looked at Dad, slightly confused.

"OP as in the leader of the Autobots?" Dad smirks at me, eyebrows rising playfully.

"Leader of the Auto… Ohhh," I finally understood what he meant. He was referring to the custom Peterbilt. Shaking my head, I grinned at him as I walked towards the owner. "You goof."

"What are you looking to get out of this one?" I asked, nodding towards the racecar. The owner scratched his head, thinking.

"Well… I have no idea what year and make it is, or its history beyond the wreck. And there's the issue with the windshield. I'll give it to you for free."

"Alright," I answered, surprised by his reply. I held my hand out, and he shook it. The three of us headed to his office to sort out the paperwork and pay for the Peterbilt. After that was done, Dad called a tow truck to haul the semi truck back. Moving the trailer, I pulled around to where Lightning was and backed up the trailer. The loading went smoothly, and before long Dad and I was headed home.

The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky with beautiful colors. I had gotten up early to start working on the latest arrivals. Pausing to look at the sunset, I took a deep breath. A charred hood was leaning against the wall, out of the way. Leaning over, I looked at Lightning's engine, inspecting the damage.

"You poor guy…" I murmured softly, writing down another repair to a long list of repairs I already found. To name a few, he needed new filters, new hoses, and new belts. I had already gone over the Peterbilt, and was shocked at how little needed to be done. A few minutes later, I was finally finished inspecting the engine.

"Now let's see what we have under here…" Lying down on the creeper, I rolled under Lightning.

"Broken drive shaft, bent front axle, no tailpipe… Dude, what the pit did ya run over?" I groaned, rolling out from underneath. Sitting up, I opened up the notepad I was writing the list in. After writing everything down, I stood up. An engine pulled up in front of the open garage.

"Morning Doc," I walked out, wiping my hands on a rag.

"Morning Julia," the cobalt blue 1951 Hudson Hornet replied. "What are ya working on this summer?"

"A custom Peterbilt and a racecar of unknown origins. The racecar was involved in the wreck that happened last week. I just finished going over both of them."

"Ah. How much needs to be done?"

"The Pete needs new fuel lines and filter, engine oil change, and transmission oil checked," I pulled out the notepad, opening to the second list. "However, I'm wondering what the heck happened to the racecar. Dried out hoses, broken engine belt, busted radiator, bent front axle… the list keeps going."

"Ya seem to always pick cars with a lot of problems. Which one are ya going to start with?" Doc Hudson shook his front end in amusement. Two summers ago, I had been looking at cars to restore when I ran across an old Hudson Hornet. On a whim, I bought the car off of the dealer and brought it home. A few weeks later, I was working in the garage on another car when I found out that the Hornet was alive. Boy, was I shocked when I found out he was the Doc Hudson from the movie!

"The racecar. I have a feeling it's going to take a long time to repair it. I'm going to start with the axle and driveshaft so I can get it where it's easier to move around, then tackle the engine," I replied, grinning. "The drive shafts and axles I have in the garage are not rated for racing, so I need to go to the store."

I returned two hours later with the best driveshaft and axle I could find. I'm really lucky that Dad has a job that pays him very well, which allows me to be able to get the top-of-the-line stuff for the cars. Nearly all the cars that I restore end up sold. The only cars I got to keep so far were my little old Dodge and a four-wheeler (I refuse to say that Doc belongs to me because he's a living car, for crying out loud!). As a result, the Dodge still has most of its original parts. The four-wheeler is a whole another story altogether. I replaced the old engine for a motorcycle engine with a supercharger, and swapped out the transmission as well. Whenever I bring my four-wheeler to a party, Dad will point at me and holler "There's the four-wheeler on steroids!"

"Here we go… Let's get this party started," I said to myself, retrieving the tools I needed to remove the old driveshaft and axle.