Margaret began to doze off on the sofa as the television quietly flickered in front of her. The maroon Mercedes Benz CLA 250 Coupe found herself uninterested in what was playing and repeatedly nodded off until louder noises on the television caught her attention, snapping her brain awake. Annoyed with the pattern, she stretched her tire for the remote to shut the television off, that is, until a breaking news intro flashed on the screen. Margaret was startled to see a photograph of a familiar red race car pop up. She quickly turned up the volume using the remote, and then moved off the sofa and closer to the television.

"-and in breaking news tonight, Piston Cup champion, Lightning McQueen, faced yet another accident when a semi collided with his trailer, sending both McQueen and his driver over the side of a ridge."

The camera shot quickly changed to the female reporter at the scene of the accident. It was pitch black outside, but the almost unrecognizable trailer could be made out in the back as blue and red lights flashed and reflected off its sides.

"McQueen, having barely recovered from his accident on the race track only weeks ago, was on his way home from the St. Vincent's hospital in Los Angeles. The incident occurred only an hour from McQueen's home in Radiator Springs, Arizona. He was quickly life-flighted To Phoenix where his condition is currently unknown. McQueen's driver only sustained minor injuries, while the champion race car took most of the fall. It is believed that they were the only vehicles to be affected. Our thoughts go to McQueen and his driver, and to any other cars that may have been involved. We apologize for interrupting your regularly scheduled program-"

Margaret stared at the television, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.

"M-my Monty… Lightning… he-he's hurt again…" She said out loud to nobody in particular. She quickly flipped to the news channel that had done the breaking news segment, assuming they were covering the whole story.

"Maggie? Who are you talking to?" A deep male voice suddenly questioned from the side of the lavish living room opposite of Margaret. She whipped around to look at her husband sitting in the doorway, who had a puzzled look on his face.

"What's wrong with you?" The charcoal BMW M5 questioned in a condescending manner as he drove over to his wife. His paint glimmered brightly as he moved in front of the television, outlining his smooth, ironclad build. Lightning's body physique strongly resembled that of his father's, more so than his mother's. Her body grew stiff and she backed away as he came closer.

"N-nothing, Franklin, I-I'm fine!" She responded, her voice raising in pitch, making it quite obvious that something was indeed wrong. He cocked an eyelid, not convinced.

"Then, why so tense?" He questioned. Franklin watched as Margaret's gaze quickly darted to the television and back to him. He swiftly drove to where she sat, shoved her away from the television and grabbed the remote to turn it up for himself. As Lightning's story quickly flooded Franklin's thoughts, he began to seethe with rage.

"Oh, I get it, Maggie. You obviously enjoy going behind my back, don't you? Do you enjoy that? Do you like making me angry?" With each question, he moved closer to Margaret, forcing her to move back until she bumped the wall behind her. As she opened her mouth to answer his string of questions, he quickly continued, not letting her get a word in. "How many times do I have to tell you that we do not acknowledge him? He doesn't even deserve the light of day from us, understood?"

"B-but he's our so-"

"He is garbage, Maggie!" Franklin shouted so loudly it caused Margaret to wince. He picked up the remote once again, and angrily whipped it at the wall. Margaret gasped as it shattered into many pieces. "He was a disappointment from the start, and I actually don't understand how you're so dim to have not recognized that by now!"

In that moment, Margaret McQueen decided to do something she hadn't done in years - talk back, even though she knew she would deeply regret it.

"You're wrong." She quietly hissed.

Without hesitation, Franklin picked up his front right tire and struck Margaret across her left cheek. Hard. She knew it was coming as soon as the conversation started, and braced herself out of habit as the blow came. Franklin's hit not only scraped her paint off, but left a measly dent as well. She knew she'd regret talking back.

"Don't you dare pull that attitude with me again." He demanded as he turned to leave the room. "Now, I'm having dinner with Johnson tonight. Don't bother waiting up." She didn't bother with an answer and glared at him as he exited the doorway, her trunk still against the wall. Her breaths were quick and deep.

Franklin McQueen's personality was one of sheer confusion, to say the least. To be a mayor, you have to be good with the people, and he was. To say that the cars of Portland, Oregon loved him would be an understatement. He was also a car of business, and owned a chain of upscale hotels spread across Oregon. His hundreds of employees looked up to him and also treated him with the utmost respect. Franklin McQueen was a brilliant car; however, brilliance is not always a safe thing for a car to have.

When he was at home, Franklin had a temper. A physical temper, to be specific. Both Lightning and his mother knew it all too well. More times than not, Franklin would return home after a fight and beg his wife for forgiveness for his actions. But, his regret was short lived, and the cycle eventually picked back up. For Lightning on the other hand, the elder McQueen had no remorse. From the first time his father ever physically punished him, Lightning found himself counting the days until he graduated from school. At the glorious age of 18, he could leave his childhood home and never return.

Portland, Oregon

1991 - Age 6

"Mama?"

"Yes, Peanut?" she responded, her rear facing her son as she sat at the sink, scrubbing a pan.

"Why does Daddy hate me?" asked the tiny, red car.

Margaret's face twisted out of confusion. "Your father doesn't hate you, he loves you." she responded gently.

"I forgot to bring in the paper, and he hit me a lot." the small car responded, his features sad. His eyes focused down on his hood.

Margaret stopped washing the pan, and turned from the sink to her son. He looked up at her with big eyes. Her mouth dropped into a frown as she saw the small dents and scratches that littered his frame. She took a damp rag in one tire and held his chin with the other, then gently began to wipe a spot of dirt off of his cheek, "Your father is just stressed, Peanut," she assured him, "Work is stressful."

The small car pondered her words, "But Mama, kids at school get in trouble with the principal if they hit each other!" he protested.

"Yes, sweetheart, because hitting is bad. Don't ever hit anyone."

"But Dad-"

"Shhh," she hushed gently, "Go wash up for dinner, Peanut." she said as she turned back to the sink, the corners of her eyes filling with moisture.

Margaret threatened to leave with her son a number of times, but both she and Franklin knew that she wouldn't be able to make it on her own. The Mercedes had not worked since she was in college. Her husband's work made more than enough for them to both get by with ease. If she were to take off with Montgomery, they would have no money and nowhere to live.

After composing herself following the altercation with Franklin, Margaret flipped off the television by pressing a button on the side, due to the remote being in pieces. She ensured that her husband had left the house before quickly entering the study to use the computer. With the click of a few buttons, a travel site appeared on the screen. A list of flights going all over the country covered the monitor. After choosing the flight she desired, Margaret began to dig around her front wheel well, looking for the small wallet that contained her credit card. After finding it and entering her information, she was all set. She cleared the search history before leaving the study to make her own dinner.

Hours later, Franklin McQueen arrived home from his dinner. Margaret knew Johnson was a client, and assumed they had met to talk business.

Margaret sat in bed reading a book when her husband finally rolled in.

"How was dinner?" she asked, but truly didn't care.

"It was fine. Johnson had some ideas for the hotels and we're both rather excited. I can tell you more about it tomorrow." he said as he pulled himself onto the other side of the mattress. He pulled the cover over his backside and took his own novel and reading glasses off of the nightstand to read. The couple sat in silence for a few minutes before Franklin spoke up.

"I'm sorry about tonight, honey," he said, but Margaret didn't look up from her book, "You know I have a bad temper." he chuckled lightly.

"It's fine," she answered, but was disappointed in his apology. "Happens to the best of us." Both cars read in silence for a few minutes before Margaret eventually spoke.

"I'm visiting my sister next week," she said flatly, "She wants me to see her new baby."

Franklin turned slightly and looked at his wife over his reading glasses. "Oh, that's nice," he responded, surprised, "I've wanted to meet the new nephew, myself."

"I would have asked you to come, but I know how busy you're supposed to be next week." she responded quickly.

"Yes, you're right," he admitted with a small sigh, "We'll have to go together another time." he said with the tiniest of smiles. "Long flight?" he questioned.

"Under two hours, Reno's not very far."

"Well, that'll be nice," he said, "Give Sheila and Bill my best." he said sincerely.

Margaret shot a fake smile at him in acknowledgement before reaching to turn off the light on her nightstand. She settled down on the mattress and reflected over the awkward conversation they just had. Although, it would've been much more awkward if she had told Franklin where she was actually going - Phoenix, Arizona.


Knock-knock-knock!

"Come in!" boomed a hefty voice.

Doc Hudson used great force to open the massive door, revealing a beaming Mack, who was having some minor dents pulled. The Hornet figured the truck wouldn't mind someone venturing to the 'large vehicle' wing of the hospital to check in on him, for Lightning was not the only one involved in the incident. Doc would also be lying to himself if he thought he didn't need anyone to talk to about what happened, and who better than the kid's driver?

"Hey there, Mack." Doc said with a small smile as he parked himself in front of the semi.

"Doc! Great to see ya," Mack responded cheerfully, his joyful demeanor refreshing to the Hornet, "How ya doin'?"

"Well, I suppose I've been better but, I'm okay." Doc answered honestly. The white minivan doctor who had just finished Mack's last dent quietly left the room before Doc spoke again, "It's just hard, ya know?"

Mack gave Doc an understanding look and a small nod, "Of course," he licked his lips and thought for a moment, "With something as major as his wreck happening only weeks ago, no one expects this sorta thing to just happen again. I mean, we're all in the same position as we were a month or so ago, wondering what's gonna happen, wondering what the future will bring," he paused for a moment, "It's sorta unfair."

"You're completely right," Doc said quietly, jealous of how easily Mack could find the words to describe what he was feeling, "Anyway, how're you doing?"

"Oh, I'm doin' fine," he said with a warm smile,"Just a concussion and some nasty dents which I think they're just about done fixing."

"That's good, that's good."

"Yeah… I got lucky," Mack admitted, "For once my size worked to my advantage!" he chuckled lightly.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Mack. I would've hated to see you both go down the drain." Doc said, worry in his eyes.

"Lightning hasn't gone down the drain, Doc."

The Hornet ignored his response.

"Can I ask you something?" Doc questioned.

"Anything."

"How are you so… okay… with all of this? You seem so optimistic."

Mack pondered for a moment, "Well, as a professional driver I'm on the road for 'bout 95 percent of the time. I see accidents throughout the day, Lightnin' sees accidents throughout the day. The other five percent of my time I'm at the racetrack. I see accidents there, Lightning sees accidents there, and over time you learn to forget and move on. It's sad and even scary when that kinda thing happens, but it jus' comes with the territory," Mack paused, "In terms of our pal Lightning… I have faith in him because he is one of the strongest - maybe even the strongest car I know. I'll say it 'till the day I die. Sometimes I believe that he can handle anything."

"I guess I just didn't see this kind of thing as often in my day. Racing was a different creature back then, and cars almost never wrecked. That's why mine was such a shock," Doc stared at the tiles on the floor while he reminisced on his racing days,"Everything just seems to move more quickly these days. Much more dangerously."

"It's hard not being able to control any of it." Mack added.

"That's just it!" Doc scuffed his tire on the floor.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Doc, but I think we both know you see that boy as a son, and no one should have to see a son go through this. You just care, and there's nothing wrong with that," Mack reached a tire to give the car a gentle nudge, "Doesn't mean it makes it any easier."

"I just feel so useless. I feel like I could be doing something."

"Ya know, I felt like that too," Mack agreed, causing Doc to raise an eyelid, slightly surprised, "When we were at the bottom of the ridge, I did anything and everything in my power to get down to him. But, when I actually got there, there was nothing I could do. I just sat there and felt sorry for us."

"That must've been scary for you. I couldn't even imagine." As Doc said these words, he saw Mack's features turn into ones of sadness. This was foreign to the Hornet, for he had never seen the semi less than chipper. Doc couldn't even begin to wonder how he would have dealt with that situation, had it been him instead.

"Just be thankful you weren't there." Mack chuckled softly.

"Actually, Mack," Doc moved over to the window in the room to look out, but his body was still facing the truck. The bright morning sunlight felt warm against his hood, "That's partially why I wanted to come down to see you."

"Oh?"

"You see, I wasn't there, and I didn't know what had happened, and I was sorta just freaking out," Doc looked away from the window and made eye contact with Mack, "But that didn't give me the right to blow up on you like I did. And I just wanted to apologize again."

The red semi nodded and smiled in acknowledgment.

"It wasn't even close to your fault, and I deeply regret blaming you."

"Eh, it's alright, Doc. I knew you didn't mean it." The Hornet smiled at Mack's forgiveness. He'd been wanting to get that guilt off his chassis for a while.

"Well, I should probably go check on the kid." Doc said as he made his way to the door.

"Yeah, you tell that old man to quit snoozin'!"

"Hey, if he's old, then that means I'm old!," Doc laughed wholeheartedly, for the first time in a while. He stopped and reversed before exiting the doorway, "And thanks for talking. I think I needed that."

"Anytime, old man."

"Watch it." Doc chuckled as he made his way out of the room to begin his trip to the far side of the hospital.