Chapter 2: Making the Curve
(A/N):
Oh my god… people are reading my fanfic… and now they're gonna to expect certain things of my story… *cue tense and anxiety-inducing music*
No, but in all seriousness, thank you to those who reviewed and followed—and those who just read it (or skimmed it) as well! It means a lot to me!
CarsGeek24: Since the story focuses partly on Cruz, some of the next-gen racers will show up every once in awhile (since they're kind of her racing buddies). So, yes, that'll probably include Ryan Laney, as well as Bubba Wheelhouse and Chase Racelott. I'm a bit nervous about writing them though, since they don't really have much character in the movie, and they're based on real NASCAR drivers. But I'll try my best! Also, Cal will probably make at least one appearance, but I don't think he'll have a big part in the story necessarily.
(I'm gonna respond to reviews here if they include pertinent questions that people might be curious about. Otherwise I'll PM you… I guess… I don't really know the etiquette for responding to reviews here...)
A Few Days Later…
Quiet. During the early traces of dawn, that was what Radiator Springs could be described as: quiet. Sure, the little podunk town used to be almost completely desolate, but with the arrival of a certain legendary red race car, it had transformed into a popular stop along Route 66. Nevertheless, it still had its moments of peace.
The bright, neon lights of the various facilities shone like beacons, indicative of spirited life within the town. Flo's V8 Café stood proudly at the heart with its bright blue lights, evidence of its being a common hangout spot for many a car. There was the single hanging stoplight at the center of the crossroads, its existence a reminder of the location's simplicity and rustic charm. As one made their way down the warmly lit road, they would notice the surprisingly neat state of the pavement. While it was slightly run down from the treads of bustling cars and years of use, it was clear that whoever painted it had put in a lot of effort into getting it done.
A little ways down was one of the most popular points of interest: The Hudson Hornet Racing Museum. It displayed the proud racing history of the town's famous blue racecar whose career was tragically cut short. Its presence, however, did the veteran an honor, and it allowed the citizens of the town to feel as if a part of the old man was always still with them.
Towards the end of the road was the aptly named Cozy Cone Motel, whose sign was always lit for any weary traveler. At the moment, however, the neon's intensity had begun to fade, due to the approaching sunlight.
Somewhere, within the motel lobby, slept two vehicles, nestled together for warmth and comfort. One was none other than the posterboy for their very town: Lightning McQueen. The smaller, lighter blue car next to him was the owner of the motel, and more importantly, his longtime girlfriend, Sally Carrera.
The two slept fairly soundly, although the now blue racecar seemed to fidget and mumble in his sleep, no doubt experiencing another one of his vivid dreams. The Porsche beside him nudged him in an unconscious habit of comforting the vehicle. But besides that, things were quiet. Perfectly quiet.
"Rise and shine, Mr. McQueen!"
Lightning McQueen's eyelids flew open at the abrupt sound, and he jolted violently into the waking world.
"Wha? Huh? What—" He squinted around for the source of the voice in the dimness and found the bright yellow hood of his protégé poking around the corner. "Oh…" McQueen yawned and blinked his eyes sleepily. His girlfriend was roused by the disturbance as well.
"Cruz?" McQueen mumbled. "What are you doing up?"
At his response, Cruz deemed it appropriate to fully enter the room. "You promised we could practice at Willy's Butte today, remember?" she said, wide-awake and ready for action.
"What?" McQueen glanced over at the cone-shaped alarm clock on the bedstand. Its red numbers blurred in his vision from sleep. "At 5 in the morning?" McQueen immediately checked out of the conversation. His eyes began to flutter shut once more. "Maybe… maybe a little later…"
Cruz frowned. "This is nothing. I used to wake up at this time to do laps every day when I was growing up. You get used to it."
McQueen was only half-listening, since he was half-asleep. "Hmm? Yeah… right..."
"Mr. McQueen!..."
"..."
Cruz's engine quietly revved out of the room. It returned a few moments later. There was a brief silence, and then…
Water! Water everywhere! He was drowning, he was sinking, he was—! Lightning spluttered awake. His blurred vision eventually revealed Cruz's smirking form in the darkness. She had brought a hose from outside and clipped it onto her hubcap, allowing her to spray her mentor into consciousness. She raised it for a moment, as if to go for one more round.
McQueen raised a tire with which to shield himself. "Okay, okay! I'm up! I'm up!" He blinked away droplets from his windshield and shook slightly to dry himself. He pouted his lips, muttering to himself unhappily. "Radiator Springs: a quiet place!"
Sally, who had been eagerly watching the entire transaction unfold, giggled at her boyfriend's disgruntled state. It seemed as if the poor ol' boy was always getting splashed in the face.
The crisp, early morning air shook both racecars into a mood of anticipation. The pinkish yellow beginnings of day emerged from behind the dusty hills and plateaus of Carburetor Canyon, dissipating the cool remnants of night. The area was littered with cactuses and desert plants, serving as one of the defining features of the place. And there was, of course, the enormous land form sprouting out from the ground, Willy's Butte. It stood where it always stood, precipitously, while also acting as a landmark for the racers' favorite practice track.
The older racecar, donned in his new Fabulous paint job, was still a bit groggy from having woken up so early. The younger, more peppier one, however, was geared up and ready to race.
"Alright, what should we start with?" Cruz asked, practically bouncing on her treads.
McQueen heaved his tires up and down in a show of indifference. His eyes were still half-closed. "I dunno. Maybe a warm-up lap?"
"Okay!" Cruz revved down into the canyon, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. When her mentor didn't follow, she zoomed back up the side.
"What's up?" she asked.
McQueen waved her off with his tire. "Oh, you can go ahead. I need some time to wake up."
Cruz snorted. "Riiight. I forgot it takes you old-timers a little longer to get warmed up."
McQueen scoffed. "That's not it. I'm just not used to waking up in the middle of the night like a crazy person."
"Don't old people tend to sleep later into the day?"
"Go."
Cruz chuckled and spun off into the canyon once more. Lightning smiled at the young car's enthusiasm, despite himself. He watched her tear up the dirt with a fierce, but joyful expression on her front. Her medium-toned engine rang loud and clear against the canyon walls as she turned the bend and glided across the slanted curve by the butte. Lightning never failed to be impressed by the girl's pure, determined speed. He watched as she made that infamous left on turn three, and a pang of nostalgia coursed through his engine as she turned right to go left. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the first time he had attempted to make the turn. It felt as if it was only yesterday. And yet as he thought of his late mentor, it seemed ages since he last raced with him.
Within a matter of seconds, Cruz was back at the starting line. She shot back up the side of the canyon to rejoin her mentor. She was panting slightly from the effort, and yet she appeared to have more than 500 laps still in her.
"So? How was that? Pretty good, huh?" she asked, grinning from fender to fender.
"Mmm, not bad. Could be better though," McQueen retorted, but he suddenly felt the need to retract his comment when he saw Cruz's crestfallen expression.
"What? But that was, like, my best lap yet…" Cruz lowered her gaze to the dirt, attempting to hide her disappointment, which was quite evident at this point.
McQueen mentally chastised himself. He had forgotten that the young racer still held feelings of insecurity about her abilities. While the big race at Florida had certainly boosted her confidence at bit, it hadn't cured her of her self-esteem issues. It was easy to forget that Cruz, while seemingly self-assured on the surface, still had bouts of self-doubt every once in awhile. For someone like McQueen, these feelings had been virtually non-existent in his own mind. But owing to recent events, they had begun to crop up for the very first time.
"It was good…" McQueen began, deliberating on his words, "...but it could be even better if you did a few things differently."
"Like what?" Cruz looked up hopefully.
"Well, your line's a little off." McQueen drove down the hill and beckoned for her to follow. "Come on, I'll show you." The two moved down to the starting line.
"Okay, now follow behind me and do what I do." McQueen started up his engine, its crisp, clear sound still just as awe-inducing as years before.
"Show-off," Cruz quipped, giving him a small smile.
McQueen smirked back. Despite gaining some modesty over the years, there were still some parts of that arrogant rookie in him that never died.
"Alright, now…" McQueen lowered himself closer to the ground. "...GO!" He sped off, his tires grinding against the dirt. The dust blew into Cruz's face, causing her to cough.
"Hey! No fair!" She groaned and quickly followed suit.
The two racecars made their way into turn one as they normally did, rising up with the curve as they sped around Willy's Butte. They exited out turn two and raced toward turn three. This is where things changed up a bit.
"Okay, now watch!" McQueen moved a little more to the outside than when Cruz usually made the turn. Cruz picked up on this immediately and mimicked his movements. They came out of turn three, and entered turn four, where they pulled the same maneuvers.
They rushed toward the finish line, where McQueen screeched to a stop, allowing himself to drift 180° back around. He rolled over to Cruz, where she waited near the start.
"See what I did there?" he asked her as he approached.
Cruz frowned in thought. "I think so. You made a wider turn."
McQueen nodded his hood. "Yeah, you want to turn in a little later so you'll keep your momentum up. But of course, your turn-in point differs from track to track. The important thing is to pick a line and stick to it."
Cruz took this in. "Yeah, sometimes I have trouble with that. Sticking to a line…" She gazed down at the ground sullenly.
McQueen waved her off with his tire. "Eh, don't worry about it. The trick is to practice. Soon, it'll become second nature to you."
"I guess…" Cruz thought for a moment. "It's just that, it's a little more unpredictable when you're racing with real cars. On a real track, it seems like anything can happen."
McQueen grinned. "Well, what you did on the track a few days ago definitely wasn't something anyone expected."
Cruz gave McQueen a grateful smile. "Oh that? Psh, I kind of came up with it last minute. Wasn't too hard. Definitely thought I was gonna pull it off perfectly. Didn't doubt myself for a second."
McQueen laughed good-naturedly. "Well, I'd pay you big money to do it again, just to see the look on Storm's face." He paused for a moment. "Speaking of Storm, what ever happened to him?"
Cruz's cheerful expression fell in recollection of the troubling encounter. "Oh…"
McQueen's front grew hard, his protective instincts kicking in. "What? Is he still giving you a hard time? 'Cause if he is, I'll give him a talking to, but good."
Cruz couldn't help but smile at the mental image of McQueen sussing out Storm in her defense. "Well, I tried to make amends with him after the race the other day, but he just wouldn't budge."
McQueen narrowed his eyes. "Why? What happened?"
Cruz shook him off. "Nothing. I just told him that I didn't bear a grudge against him, despite what he did, and he just… insulted me…"
McQueen's eyes flashed dangerously. "Did he, now?"
Cruz glanced down at the ground, unaware of her mentor's vengeful pose. "Yeah… It's just that, I hate there being bad blood between me and other people. A little competition isn't too bad every once in awhile, but cars like Storm, seem a little… intense…"
McQueen scoffed. "Uh, yeah, if what he did to you is any indication."
Cruz smiled up at McQueen. "Mr. McQueen, I'm fine. Really. I'm sure I'll get through to him… eventually…"
McQueen shook his hood in disapproval. "If you ask me, you should just stay away from him."
"Kinda hard to do when we race on the same track."
"True, true…"
McQueen turned and gazed off into the desert hills, the sun peeking out from over them. "Well, one thing's for sure, you sure are patient."
Cruz grinned, proud. "Of course I'm patient, Mr. McQueen! I used to be a trainer—remember?"
McQueen chuckled. "Right, of course. And if I recall correctly, a little too patient, sometimes…"
Cruz rolled her eyes. "Oh, ha ha. You know I was just messing with you, right?"
McQueen's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You were?"
Cruz popped up on her wheels. "Oh, would you look at the time? Time for another lap!" And with that, she left McQueen to wonder in the dust once more.
(A/N):
Got you a little Lightning-centric chapter this time around. I think, depending on where the story goes, Lightning might have a bigger part than I originally anticipated. He's just such an essential part of the story, since he is Cruz's mentor after all. If you asked me who the main character is of this fic is, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you. I like to think of it as Cruz's story first, and then Storm's, but honestly, Lightning is such a huge personality, I feel as if he might have his own arc too. Who knows.
On another note, I hope that part with Lightning giving Cruz pointers on her line was accurate. I had to do some research on it, but I still think I screwed it up. Whatever, I knew what I was getting into...
Also, has anyone else noticed how Lightning seems to get sprayed with water in the face a lot. Oh Lightning, how I love making you suffer.
….I hope these Author's Notes aren't annoyingly long… I'm sort of a talkative person when it comes to things I'm interested in… Since nobody tends to listen, I just sort of talk into the void…