Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Pixar. All OCs belong to me, and I have nothing whatsoever to do with the V8 Supercars, although I have altered some of the driver's names to make them fit into the Cars world. The altered names also belong to me.

Chapter 10

Despite being tired after his exertion the day before, Lightning was up early the next morning to watch the Piston Cup highlights on TV. He was anxious to know if Jimmy had won or not. Sure enough, he had, with Junior once again coming in second.

Lightning's tank churned as he watched his rival receiving all the media attention after the race. He felt both anxious and jealous. But then, Jimmy said something that infuriated him.

"Jimmy, do you think you'll be able to win the Piston Cup this year?" Kori asked him.

"Easily, now the Lightning's out of the way. Yeah, we could all see that he was getting bored with winning, and so all that was needed was for someone to dangle a carrot in front of him to get him to the other side of the world. By the time he gets back, he won't be able to win again quite so easily, I'll see to that!"

"There's a rumour going around saying that Tex arranged to have Lightning sent to Australia just so you could win the Piston Cup. Is that true?"

"I can't comment on that, I'm sorry."

Lightning nearly threw the remote through the TV screen! Instead, he just switched it off. Inside, he was raging. So, it was true! Tex had deliberately set him up somehow! He felt both hurt and betrayed.

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Lightning said softly.

Dutto entered, slipping Lightning's phone across the floor to him. "I think you'd better take these calls," was all he said before leaving again.

Almost immediately, the song, 'Love is an Open Door' rang out from the phone. Sighing despondently, Lightning answered it. "Hello?"

"Lightning?" It was Harv.

"Yeah."

"Thank goodness! I've been trying to get through to you all evening! Some guy called Dutto kept answering, saying that you weren't available."

"He confiscated my phone because I was worrying about the Piston Cup too much. I'm guessing that's what you were trying to phone me about?"

"Yeah. Seriously, the whole thing's being blown way out of proportion! This is a major PR crisis! Some cars are saying that this is a sign that you're planning to retire by sneaking away quietly. Others are saying that you've secretly moved to Australia."

"And what is Tex saying?"

"Nothing. He refuses to comment."

"I see. Well, then there's only one thing I can do…"

…

A few hours later, Lightning joined the rest of the Triple Eight team inside the pit shed for a post-race debrief. Leyland didn't really have much to criticise, except for Craig's lack of speed. Disheartened by Leyland's criticism, Craig kicked a bit of loose rubber from a tyre with his wheel. Lightning couldn't help but feel sorry for his co-racer. But then, he had an idea.

After Leyland had dismissed everyone, Lightning drove over to him. "Leyland? Can I have a word with you for a moment, please?"

"Sure, Speedster."

Lightning groaned. "Oh, not you as well!"

"If the wheel fits, wear it! What's up? You're not still upset by your result yesterday, are you?"

"No, I'm fine with it now. I'm just not used to not winning, you know? I guess it kinda got to me a bit."

Leyland nodded. "Jamie gets that way too sometimes."

"Yeah. Well, anyway, I've got a bit of a PR issue back home, so I was wondering if I could go back there for a couple of weeks, please?"

Leyland frowned. "Am I allowed to know what the PR issue is?"

Lightning told him. "Harv's doing his best to convince them that I am going to come back to the Piston Cup, but so far it's not working."

"And what do you think going back to the States is going to do?"

"Well, if I race…"

"Absolutely not!"

"But… You let Paul race in between races during the Enduro Cup! He's racing again next weekend, isn't he?"

"It's different with Paul. The races he goes in aren't as stressful. Or dangerous."

"He could still be badly injured or even killed in them! Please, Leyland! I'll go crazy if I don't race again soon! Seriously, a whole month without even being allowed to touch a racetrack will kill me! And those rolling roads are no substitute! Look, it'll be easy. Dr Andrews can remove my speed limiter and change my wheels back; I go home for two weeks, win a couple of races to prove that I'm still in the Piston Cup to win it. Then, I'll come back here and prepare for Bathurst."

Leyland shook his hood. "No, Lightning. It's out of the question."

"Fine! Then I won't help you with Craig." And Lightning started to drive away in a huff.

"Wait! Lightning!"

Lightning braked, but he didn't turn around. Leyland sighed in defeat.

"Can you help Craig go faster?"

Lightning turned back around to face Leyland. "I have a theory, but it'll mean taking Craig back home with me. I think I know what's wrong with him though."

"Now how could you know that? We've had Craig tested by some of the best doctors in the country, and they can't figure out what's wrong with him! What makes you think you do?"

"As I said, it's only a theory, but if it proves to be correct, he needs to come with me to New York to see a specialist friend of mine."

"Now you must tell me your theory."

"Sorry. I'll only tell you if, a: it proves to be correct, and b: you let me race in the Piston Cup."

Leyland sighed again. "You're blackmailing me, aren't you?"

"No. I'm just trying to broker a deal with you. You won't let me go otherwise. And trust me, you don't wanna see me when I'm hyper from not racing!"

"Okay, I'm probably shooting myself in the tyre here, but… Okay. You and Craig may go. And, yes, you may race."

"Thank you!" Lightning gushed enthusiastically. Turning, he crashed straight into a stack of tyres, and they toppled down directly on top of him! "Ow! Oh, great! Can someone get me outta here? Please?"

Leyland just chuckled. "Serves you right, Speedster!"

…

"But, Lightning! I don't understand what's going on?" Craig said as he and Lightning drove towards the Sandown racetrack's gym.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Leyland's letting you come home to America with me to see a specialist. That is, if my theory proves to be correct."

"And what theory is that?"

"I'm just about to find out."

They entered the gym. Fortunately, it was empty.

"Okay, get up on the rolling road," Lightning instructed. "I'll secure your front wheels."

"And what makes you the expert all of a sudden?"

"Do you have a degree in Sport's Science?"

"Ah…no."

"Well, I do, and I've learned a lot. Go on, now."

Craig reluctantly drove onto the rolling road, and Lightning pressed the button to clamp down his front wheels.

"Now what?"

"I want you to drive at your maximum top speed."

"How long for?'

"Until I tell you to stop."

Craig turned on his engine. "I hope this isn't going to be a marathon."

"Ten minutes, tops."

Revving his engine, Craig took off. Within a minute, he'd reached two hundred and fifty kilometres an hour. Lightning watched the digital speedometer on the computer screen in front of him. After about five minutes, Craig finally levelled out at two hundred and ninety-three kilometres an hour.

"Are you totally maxed out?" Lightning asked, shouting about the roar of Craig's engine.

"Yes!" Craig panted. "That's it! I can't go any faster!"

"Okay, you can stop now!"

Craig slowly rolled to a stop. "So? Is your theory correct?"

"I'm not sure," Lightning replied. He hit a button to print out a copy of all the data. "When was your speed limiter installed?"

"Years ago, when I first started racing. It must be over twenty years old by now."

Lightning scoffed. "It's nearly as old as me then! What was your top speed before it was installed?"

"I'm not sure, but it would've had to have been somewhere over three hundred. Maybe about three hundred and twenty?"

"Thanks. If you don't mind, I'll email a copy of this data and your answers to my specialist friend, Dr Spark. If he can't fix you, nobody can."

"So, you think that something's wrong with my speed limiter?"

"I'd say so. Dr Spark will be able to explain it far better than I can."

"But, what do you think is wrong with it?"

"I think it's miss-calibrating. You see, because of its age, its cutting off your top speed at two hundred and ninety-three kilometres an hour, instead of three hundred. But please, don't tell anyone about this. You're my ticket to me spending the next two weeks racing back home! And, I want Leyland to believe I've worked a miracle. Wouldn't you prefer to surprise him by racing faster than Jamie at our next race?"

"Well… Yeah, I guess so."

"It'll serve him right for picking on you so much!"

"True. Okay, I won't tell anyone. And thank you. I think you might be on the right track. No pun intended!"

"That's okay. I'm glad to help. If this works out, we could, hopefully, end up on the podium at Bathurst."

"You really have no idea how hard Bathurst is, do you?"

"Nope! But I'm sure you'll teach me everything you know about it."

"That'll take a lifetime!"

"I haven't got quite that long, sorry. How about the major tips instead?"

"I'll be happy to teach you those."

Smiling, the two race cars left the gym.