The Perfect Date
By Amphitrite
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After discussing the details of asking Doc with the other cars, Lightning excused himself and decided to go see the doctor himself. Not because he wanted to admire him or accidentally rub against his tire or anything, he just wanted to spend time with his friend. Yes, that was right.

When he found the office empty, he decided to check out the garage. Ah, there he was. Lightning parked in the entrance of the garage and just watched Doc for a minute. He was cleaning the place up, organizing yellowed books on shelves, separating the tires and tools, and righting the crooked certificates he had earned over his career that he hadn't hung up in his office.

Lightning's eyes were instantly drawn to the old newspaper clipping framed on the left wall.

"I keep that to remind me to never go back."

He looked from the photograph of the wrecked Fabulous Hudson Hornet to Doc, who might've be aging but definitely still had more than a little talent in him. Lightning smiled and moved toward the newspaper clipping.

"I think this one needs to be taken down," he spoke up, and chuckled in amusement when Doc jumped in surprise. "Sorry, I just came by to see if I could help," he explained. Doc looked at him suspiciously for a moment before nodding towards the broom in the corner.

"This place could definitely use a thorough sweeping," he said gruffly, and then continued organizing the rest of his papers and things. Lightning quickly began to sweep the garage floor, trying to resist being blinded by all the dust that flew up in the air. There was a comfortable silence between the two cars while they worked. Lightning smiled at how much things between them had changed. Doc had gone from being the grumpy, old, resentful car with the secret past who wanted nothing more than to be rid of Lightning to…well, the grumpy, old, famous racecar who seemed to have appointed himself Lightning's crew chief. And Lightning himself had learned more than a few important lessons from Doc and the rest of the town residents, including things like caring about others and that if one goes hard enough left, he'll find himself turning right.

Then there was that funny crush he found himself developing for the car that he had originally despised. There was just something about Doc that made Lightning want to know him better. He wanted to know his favorite color, whether he preferred racing on dirt or asphalt, why he had decided to settle down in Radiator Springs, how his racing career had begun, what the 1950s had been like, and what he really thought of Lightning.

When he finished sweeping the floor, Lightning put the broom back in its place in the corner and looked around the room. His eyes were drawn to the photograph of Doc's wreck again. "Doc," he spoke up.

"What is it?" Doc stopped organizing his papers for a moment, turning to look at Lightning. He followed the younger car's eyes and inhaled sharply when he saw what he was staring at. He had avoided looking at the newspaper clipping after his return from the race, not wanting to deal with the negative emotions associated with that point in his life.

"I really think you should take that one down," Lightning said. Doc considered the idea. Lightning had a point; he was finished with moping about something that had happened five decades ago.

"I suppose you're right. It's about time I stop living in the past, eh, hot shot?"

He rolled over and reached his tires up to take it down. He was about to throw it in the large garbage pile that had accumulated in the garage when Lightning interjected.

"No, don't throw it away. I have a better idea. I'll be right back!"

And with that, the red stock car rushed out of the garage. Doc watched Lightning in bewilderment as he drove up to Flo's and asked one of the twin waitresses something. She nodded and he went into the building. Doc shook his head and set the framed newspaper down, going back to his cleaning.

A moment later, Lightning returned with a clipping from a recent newspaper. Doc watched as he carefully removed the 1954 article from the frame and replaced it with the new one. He then flipped it around and admired his work.

"Perfect," he declared, and hung it up.

Doc rolled up to the frame and stared at the article. The headline read "FABULOUS #51 HUDSON HORNET RETURNS AS MCQUEEN'S CREW CHIEF" and the photograph was a picture of himself and Lightning at the racetrack, both grinning widely and looking proud of themselves. His stickers were clearly visible.

He looked at Lightning, who was grinning. It was contagious. He smiled back. "Thanks, hotrod."

"You're welcome," Lightning replied. "Now this," he motioned to the yellowed 1954 article, "belongs in a museum exhibit that I think we should open here in town, with your Piston Cups and all those other newspaper clippings I know you have."

Doc gave him an incredulous look, but Lightning didn't seem to be kidding. "Boy, it's a nice thought, but there isn't anyone who would want to visit an exhibit featuring me. I'm history. People are always interested in the newest, flashiest thing. Like you. A museum about you would make much more sense," he shrugged.

"You've got to be kidding me, Doc! Did you see all the people at the race! Everyone was so excited to see you! Everyone remembered the Fabulous Hudson Hornet! The media had a field day! You don't hold that record for the most wins in a season for nothing! Racing fans everywhere wish they could have witnessed your racing. Didn't you hear The King? He was so excited to meet you! Racecars all over the place idolize you!" He grinned, slightly abashed. "I know I do."

Doc smiled a little at that. "Thanks, kid. I'll think about it. Maybe it could help attract more visitors to the town, too."

"That's the spirit!" Doc rolled his eyes as Lightning grinned brightly, but smiled to himself when the younger car wasn't looking.
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TBC