Smokey wasn't expecting to find the door of his garage open. The lock was scratched and something clattered inside. He frowned to himself and slipped inside. His tire found a stray crowbar and he rolled forward slowly. He was sure that he'd locked up the night before. There had been rumors of a gang draining oil and gas supplies from different gas stations and garages in the county. He felt his timing belt skip. The mechanic wasn't one to be afraid of anything... but it was untelling what was waiting for him in the darkness of the garage.
With the recent oil strikes he couldn't afford to have someone draining the supplies he kept in his personal stock. He made sure his lights were off before he rolled further.
Whooosh!
Smokey spun in a circle as something whizzed past him and into a different shadow.
"What in the name of wheels...?" He whispered under his breath. Ever so carefully he drove forward.
Swish!
"Who's there? If you come out now I won't call the sheriff." Smokey was done with the game of hide and seek.
The sound of clunking filled the air. Smokey cringed. That engine sounded painful. He drove towards the sound.
BANG!
A hubcap rolled out of the shadows and hit Smokey in between the eyes. He blinked and reached for the light-switch on the wall.
There next to Smokey's oil cans sat a young looking car... couldn't be older than a year. Smokey paused... he needed to call his dad.
When the phone rang at 7 in the morning, Ezra Hudson knew something was wrong. He answered the phone to find that Smokey needed him.
His son had found something in the garage, their garage. He smiled thinly as he hit the road. It had been his son's dream even as just a tiny truck to have a garage of his own. So Ezra had bought one and hadn't told his son that one day it would all be his. He let his young son believe that the name Smokey's Garage was just a father indulging his son. He was making Smokey earn it. Ever since the day he could help, he'd show up at the garage to work beside him.
Ezra locked up the house and hurried to see what was troubling his son. He pulled to a halt outside the garage doors. Smokey hadn't opened up for business yet. His engine shuddered, something was definitely wrong.
"Smoke?"
"Dad." His son's voice was calm, but there was a question hidden in it.
He opened the door and drove inside. The older car blinked in confusion as he saw Smokey stalled next to an infant car.
"What in the name of oil spills?"
"Shh... He just fell asleep."
"Where'd you find him?" Ezra rolled forward to take a closer look at the dark blue car. The tires were impossibly tiny and he felt himself choking up. The little thing was dusted with mud and tar, he looked exhausted.
"Caught him trying to get some oil." Smokey's voice was rough.
"Looks like a new model... he's from the Hudson family. Same as us."
"What do we do Pa?"
"Well. We keep an eye on him. Wait to see if someone comes lookin for him."
"He didn't have a name. Can I name him?" Smokey let a small grin escape his grill.
"I don't see why not."
"I'll ask him about Paul. Paul Hudson sounds good... right?"
"Sure does son..." Ezra smiled. "Sure does."