Italics indicates *thinking*.

Chapter Fourteen

Past Coming To Haunt Me

"Doc." Prince began the conversation on the drive back.

"Hudson." the car corrected her.

"Hudson," she carried on. "I didn't know you could go so fast."

He could tell by the tone in her voice that the now-chastened Lamborghini never expected to be upstaged by something like him. Then again she had never raced before either. But she also enjoyed his surprise win. Doc couldn't lie; he secretly was gloating that he outpaced her. Okay; even he wasn't immune to periodic boasting; he just didn't publicly display it. One could have argued the unfairness of a vehicle of his sex racing a female since his were physically stronger, or what-have-you. The Piston Cup was The Piston Cup.

There was no "Women's Division", or even "Men's". Since its creation in the 1930s, it was heralded as a unisex sport where ladies were welcome to compete if they chose. While racing had many female enthusiasts, most simply had no interest in actively participating in it. Thus they couldn't brand it sexist due to females' lack of competition. No one could "force" them to compete if most had no desire to be involved. So racing remained largely a male-dominated arena. There were female Piston racers. They were very rare - but they did indeed exist. And at least two females won The Cup in it's history; one in 1975 and another in 1997. It was big news then landing both in the history books with the '97 winner going on to represent Dinoco. She was the one replaced by The King when she retired from the sport.

Doc was no idiot because he was certain she and the 70s winner faced all sorts of discrimination and taunts on the race track simply for daring to compete in a "man's field". And that was not right. Personally he would have loved to have seen the faces of the chauvinistic boys when they blew them in the dust. In a drag race, Prince easily would have terminated him but this wasn't a drag strip. So he couldn't help but secretly beam at his easy victory. In this situation she privately assumed she had him outgunned, simply because of what she was. She was not educated about racing anyway and wouldn't have known the difference between long-distance and short-distance match-ups. One required speed advantage where the other required the ability not to tire out so soon.

"Well, for one thing I have racing tires on," he showed off his tires. She just now noticed them and was awestruck. "and I used to be a race car." he told her.

"Really?" this revelation astonished her. "You mean as in professional race car?"

"You could say that."

"Wow. That explains it Si-Hudson. you certainly never lost it. If you raced like that you must have been quite spectacular." she had started to loosen up around him.

"Well, according to the masses apparently I was. I let the crowd judge me. Even when I didn't win they gave me standing ovations. Flashed their headlights at me and everything."Doc recanted humbly.

x

Everyone had a sob story. Might as well tell his. Doc had been racing since he was around ten or so when "racing" was nothing more than a dare by friends to see who could go the fastest. By 1948 The Piston Cup was officially formed and racing had become a national obsession in its early stages. His school, Trinity Catholic High School in north Detroit had a race car team. Doc was a member of his high school's racing team and he was one of the fastest. His team beat out both other religious and public high schools' race teams for the national title and by the time he was a 17-year-old senior official Piston sponsors had their sights set on him and were pursuing him.

His father would have preferred that he went on to college to pursue a degree but Doc really wanted to race. And his father supported his decision. Hudson was fiercely proud of his son the racer. The boy won his very first Cup in 1951 at age 18 and became the youngest racer ever to win it. To this day he held that record. He was a hell of a racer. Friendly, smart many of the other racers enjoyed being around him and assured he had a bright future ahead of him.

For some reason Hudson wanted to pursue a medical degree "just to have one", not realizing it would come in handy many years later. Doc still managed to pursue college courses in medicine while he raced but he was addicted to racing. He quickly became a crowd favorite. He was known for his amazing power slides - and he was the only car that could do them. He handled turns going as fast as 80 miles per hour when others had to slow down. In fact, it was him that created this turn and did so completely by accident. He thought he was going to flip out in 1952 and in a knee-jerk reaction shifted all four of his wheels right. He instead wound up the lap leader, cleanly cutting in front of everyone else. It earned him his second Cup. Doc practiced the move and perfected it. No one but him mastered it in his time.

The Fabulous Hudson Hornet was also famed for his trademark sneer while racing. He was so focused on winning that he unknowingly sneered during the whole race. If he won he always did spectacular doughnuts in the grass. Even when he didn't win he graciously bowed out and wished his fans and the other racers well. This earned him enormous respect from most of the other racers. Doc was well-loved. Unlike the old McQueen or Chick he was neither arrogant nor mistreated his pit crew. He never forgot how the capacity-packed stands always rose up and cheered loudest for him, even if he was the last to pass the checkered flag.

100,000 race spectators worshipped him. Regardless of who they wanted to win, they never failed to let Hudson know how much they idolized him. He won the most races in a single year ever. 27 in fact. And he still held that record to this day, which he was surprised to learn. Long before Lightning's unexpected visit to Radiator Springs Doc had quit watching car racing decades earlier. He had become so bitter about the sport dumping him that he swore off racing forever. He changed the channel whenever racing came up so by the time he relocated to Radiator Springs in the late seventies he completely lost track of competitors and all. He had shut himself off from the world; that included the sport he once loved.

He had a new identity, a new life. No one in Radiator Springs knew who he used to be. Long gone was his black paint. He sported blue now. That was how he wanted it. And then that young punk 'McQueen', or whatever the fuck his name was had to turn up and stick his nosy radiator in his garage. And found out "Doc"'s secret. Of all the places he had to try to flee the police from he just HAD to do it in Radiator Springs and discover who Doc really was. The minute Doc saw him in court resentment rose in him because the car that nearly killed him was red. Unintentional it may have been but that wasn't had Doc so worked up. It was the fact that that car never apologized to him for it. He had the audacity to tell the press maybe it was his time to hang it up since he obviously couldn't handle the road anymore.

If he let a rookie wreck him off then maybe it was a sign for him to lay low and 'let somebody else win for a change'. Doc couldn't help it if he was good. He couldn't explain why he won 3 Cups in a row; he just DID. Just like that those who controlled the racing world dumped Hudson and went for this conceited loud mouth. Because he was good. He really was. At first Lightning McQueen reminded Doc so much of that bastard. But then he started to grow fond of McQueen and believed it would be a good chance to share some of his racing knowledge with the young rookie. Pass his tricks on. But that didn't go well in the beginning. Incensed at losing to an old clunk, McQueen was hellbent on making that turn and wasn't hearing anything Doc had to say. He spun off in a malicious sneer just like the malicious sneer the 1954 racer threw at Doc as he lay in a crumpled heap on the side of the field.

His wreck occurred when another racer, a red one, accidentally t-boned him. It was accidental, but the brash rookie admitted to Doc in the grass that he wasn't sorry about it. He was sick of Doc hogging the spotlight. He came up to Doc after the crash, it appeared, to offer comfort until help arrived. Instead he told Doc at least he would be out of his way for the season. That crash nearly killed Doc.

"I never intended for you to wreck but I'm not apologizing either. If you die you die. You've hogged the trophy for three years now. One less shadow for me to worry about. At least you're out of my way now, 'HORNET.' For this season anyway."

It truly was an accident but he was so indifferent, just like McQueen, turned up his lip with an annoyed stare and drove off. Everyone there thought the rival was wishing Doc well as he was towed off to the hospital. Hudson had always tried to play fair and square. He believed kindness was the right thing to do. He raced for the love of it. Even when he lost he wore a huge smile because he did something he loved. For him it wasn't about winning, it was about feeling the wind on his body. And he lived for his fans. It was his fans who made him what he was. Unlike many of the others he was gracious, kind and generous with a personality that made everyone outside the sport want to be around him. And in the end it was his kindness that did him in.

The very management that sponsored him looked at him when he recovered and told him. But he recalled Vic being truly bothered when Doc returned. He was happy to see Hudson, but seemed troubled. "I have to talk to you about that Hudson. Cmon' let's go somewhere and talk." Doc was too excited to be "home" to hear what Vic said in that moment, but years later he recalled that warning. Vic was trying to give him a heads up.

"Hudson, we need to talk. Just you and me. Please."

That one exec tried to break it softly when the other one interjected bluntly: "You've been replaced. It's been two years; the show has to go on. We've had some good times with you but you have to face reality. It's time for you to try new things. With your popularity you could do interviews...even become a crew chief. A racing commentator! But we can't chance it with the injuries you got." The first agent, Vic was visibly bothered by the straightforwardness of his partner and shut his eyes. He seemed uncomfortable with the idea of dropping Hudson from the company, but it wasn't his call. He had argued while Hudson probably could no longer race, he could at least represent them in some other fashion such as advertising. The second car continued on. "Your injuries may have healed but they can prevent you from doing well. Could possibly even be agitated by continuing to race. Think about the long term effects here, Hudson. on YOU."

"But I'm fine! The doctors said I'm fully recovered and I can return to racing if I choose to...!" the young Hornet tried to plead his case. According to medical professionals he was as good as new and the likelihood of his past injuries returning to the racetrack were nonexistent - unless he got into another mishap. At 24 he was still very young with a lot left in him. Some cars raced well into their late 40s. Even early 50s. A racer's career was indeed short- lived compared to many professions, but not at his age. Doc's request for a comeback fell on deaf side views.

"Hudson, we're a business. We need cars who can race. And win cups or we don't make a profit. We HAD to find other racers; it's the nature of the business. It's how you stay in business. Sponsoring a car that can't race for two years hurts our bottom line; we had to move on. You did a lot for the sport and for that we're truly grateful. We thank you for your contribution, make no mistake. But face reality, it's time to move on to bigger and better things." They were effectively saying "We don't need you now." Smiley left the room but Vic seemed visibly upset.

"I didn't know how to tell you Hudson." The car shook his head. "You know if it was up to me this never would have happened. Unfortunately I was overruled. The board meeting they had; they decided…..to let you go. I'm so sorry. Really, I am". Vic told him as he made to leave. Doc was left standing there in shock. Vic went outside to collect himself before reentering to see Hudson only to find him gone. Hudson had vanished, literally, into obscurity.

x

Furious, Vic confronted Smiley and the other Piston chairmen gathered in the next room. "This is such bullshit," he started as he barged in. "You guys know this is so wrong! After all he's done for the Cup? The Piston races are what they are, BECAUSE OF HIM!! Just like that we're cutting him loose? What if he's right; what if he can still race? We could at least let him try!"

"Vic...we know you care about the kid. We all do, but racers who don't race cause us to lose money. We lose money, the Piston Cup could vanish. Look none of us took the decision lightly."

"Hogwash." Vic retorted. "It's all about money for you guys. Always has been. I'm not stupid; I know we're a business. But we're supposed to be a business that sets an example on how to treat your employees. Prestige over profit! We could have used the kid as a spokesman at least. It's the least we could do for him! You know what? I QUIT."

He too drove away, never to be seen again.

At least they were kind enough to pay all of his medical bills. Including therapy sessions. But the honeymoon was now over. He should have seen it coming when virtually no one who represented him came to visit him during his recovery. Many of the other racers did visit him on a regular basis. To their credit his bosses came initially, but as time went the visits became more infrequent. Except for Vic. Vic continued to see Doc often during his recovery, but at some point he started to look saddened, like something was on his mind. He did have something on his mind but couldn't tell Doc. But he never let Doc down. As for his other sponsors, well they seldom dropped by. It was at this point when he should have figured it out. As long as he could race he was their man. The minute he couldn't he learned just how expendable he was.

In those days racing was about business, not sportsmanship. Good-natured Dinoco didn't exist back then to emphasize the importance of teamwork. Love of the game over money and image was Dinoco's model, but Dinoco didn't come about until the early 60s. Had Dinoco had been around in the 50s, Doc would have been snapped up in an instant to race for them the moment his sponsors dropped him, and they never would have abandoned him even if he could no longer race for them. Doc took comfort in one thing though; his fans still loved him. They piled cards and flowers by his room. They didn't turn on him but many did wonder if he would return. He just wrecked then dropped out of public view. They never got the real scoop, just fed into the bullshit the media told-he "quit". He had his ex-sponsors to thank for that lie.

He became so despondent that he wanted to die. So one night he waited right until the train approached. To ensure the train would have no time to warn him or slow down when it was about 100 feet away he drove onto the tracks and waited. The year was 1958. He finally got his life together after a stint in the nut house, and drifted for a while including a brief stint in Paris as a medical student once his visa was approved. He came back to America to find the counter culture in full swing and drifted some more to San Francisco in 1968 where he would meet Fillmore and Sarge. Doc finished his medical schooling in California by the late 70s before the three of them happened upon Radiator Springs and chose to settle here.

Doc became the resident doctor, and no one knew of his elusive past. Even Filmore and Sarge didn't know he was the Hudson Hornet; he never told them. Everything was fine for Doc. For many decades. Then came Lightning, a show-off just like THAT son-of-a-bitch that caused his accident. It told the Doc that today's rookies, even some seasoned pros were still like they were in the 50s, crude, determined to win by any means needed. Lightning was rude, very insensitive until he discovered Doc's true identity. The kid suddenly turned into a gnat; he just wouldn't go away. Hounded him about his tricks. Like he didn't try to show him one. Doc was still smarting from McQueen's know-it-all attitude toward him when he tried to teach the kid about left turns, then the fucker mouthed off loudly about him still holding the record for the highest wins.

*Right, just go on and tell everybody within earshot about me.*was all Doc could think as he eyed the little flaming red-painted bastard down. He wished McQueen would just shut up and leave him alone. Then the other townsfolk laughing - that didn't really bother Doc that much. Most of them, like Doc didn't think highly of McQueen either so they laughed it off much to Doc's relief. But the little red race car came to grow on them. And now Doc considered Lightning McQueen to be the son he never had. McQueen had changed and changed Doc in the process.

Prince was silent as she heard his life story being told. She didn't know what to say. He didn't elaborate about what happened on the train tracks and she didn't press him. But she knew the result of that had to have been ugly. It was very clear he was not yet ready to talk about that yet. His story was eerily similar to hers. Now that she knew he was The Hudson Hornet she still was not too familiar with his background as again, she was never a race car fan. She may have heard of him here and there and if she did she didn't remember. Still he surely didn't deserve his spectacular fall from grace. Much like her indeed.

"Hudson I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you were turned on like that."

"Don't be. I'm not. I'm happier now than I ever was racing. I'll just say this: parking on that railroad track had disastrous consequences for me but had I not parked on that track in 1958 I wouldn't be standing here with you. I'd be somewhere else with another lady, but it wouldn't be you." It was a macabre revelation but Prince understood what he meant as she absorbed his words. They pulled up into town. "Does Saturday night sound good for a date?" Doc asked.