September 6th, 1886.
Hill Valley, California.
Marty leapt out of the DeLorean, just before it plummeted over the edge into Clayton Ravine. Hearing an all-too-familiar voice call his name, he turned just in time to see Doc appear from the treeline. At first glance, it appeared his old friend was glad to see him, but on closer inspection, the scientist was running a little too slowly to be mistaken for joy; why wasn't he happy? He'd just turned up to visit his best friend! Then it hit him - the automobile speeding over the edge, Marty disappearing from his line of sight in the tall grass, Doc's slowed gait. Of course Doc thought he was dead. The teen stood up, and waved at Doc momentarily before running over. The moment he was within arm's distance, Doc swept him into a rib-cracking hug.
"Great Scott! I thought you were done for, Marty!"
Marty tried to laugh it off, but Doc continued his tirade.
"That DeLorean will be crushed as an old sardine can now. Do you like sardines? Well I can tell you right now, I /hate/ them. Don't ever do that to me again... you silly, silly boy," he finished brusquely.
"All right Doc, I won't. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me either."
"Good lad. We'd better get going then, if we actually want to get to Hill Valley before nightfall. Clara will be worried sick."
And with that, they turned and followed the road back towards town.