AN: It's the early hours of my birthday...as if I didn't already feel old with my attachment to Pixar's Cars, I'm sitting here writing about talking vehicles...
It was a stony silence for most of the trip from Radiator Springs to California. It hadn't been easy for Doc to swallow his pride and address the residents of town that morning. The last thing Sheriff had expected to see as they were all lined up at Flo's at their usual tables, was Doc Hudson enter wearing a pair of aviators and a decidedly flashy looking racing jacket.
The kid had been right.
Within moments of the gruff apology and agreement to attend the race, the good people of Radiator Springs had jumped up and rushed to their perspective shops to gather whatever they thought they may need.
He'd hung back with Flo to finish his coffee, watching through the oversize windows with a look of amusement as Doc and Ramone stood beside the navy blue Hornet. As Doc ran a hand over the door panels Ramone nodded enthusiastically and gestured toward his shop. Michael huffed and finished the last of his coffee before standing. " 'bout time."
So now they were on the road. He'd opted to ride with Doc, not needing to add any more vehicles to their already strange caravan. In the rear view mirror he could see Mater's beaten truck, Ramone's Impala, and Fillmore's van. He could only imagine the animated conversation taking place with everyone cramped into the old Volks Wagon bus.
It had to be better than sitting in this Hornet.
Every comment he made received silence or one word answers. He knew better than to bring up a nearly fifty year old conversation now. Even the look he'd received on trying to tune the radio had been enough to get him to stop.
"How fast-"
"112, but that was Piston Certified then."
"...that means?"
"There's been some modifications since the '50's."
He fell silent once more, surprised he even got that much of an answer. He went back to watching their impromptu parade in the rear view mirror as they all took the ramp to the Los Angeles International Speedway.
Pulling up to one of the security gates, he waited silently and watched as Doc rolled the window down. A young man approached the door, with an obviously skeptical expression as he eyed the line of cars following the newly repainted Hornet.
"Can I help you with something?"
"We need to get back to pit row."
"Um- sir, the race has started and if you don't have a pit pass-"
"If the race has started then that's all the more reason to let us back there. We're 95's crew."
The kid stared slack jawed for a moment before regaining his senses. "You're kidding-"
"Serious as a heart attack, son." Doc glanced ahead and seemed to think of something. He steeled himself, his jaw set briefly before he looked back to the kid at the window. "Joe still around? He even still alive?"
"Joe-...? You mean Joe Moore?"
"Yes. Joe Moore."
"He's...well he's up in the press box-"
Doc leaned out the window. "Get on the phone and tell Mr. Moore that Jesse Hudson needs into pit row."
Sheriff watched the kid run off before glancing behind them where he could see their group all watching impatiently from their respective cars.
"You're gunna get us back there with just your name?"
"Don't know." Doc replied, still staring ahead before glancing toward him once. "Could get us kicked out too."
The kid ran back to the window, panting, and leaned against the frame of the Hornet to catch his breath. He waved a hand to get the attention of the men in the security booth and explained as the gate arm rose slowly. "I apologize, Mr. Hudson. You can all park in the 95 stalls, we'll bring pit passes shortly."
Doc nodded once, shifting into first and smiling widely. The kid's shocked reflection was mirrored in Doc's sunglasses as he thanked him and pulled through the security check point.
The crew piled out of their vehicles and looked about in awe, having never witnessed, or ever been involved in the culture of Piston Cup Racing. Doc's voice took on a different kind of authority than what it did in Radiator Springs. His stride was confident and purposeful as they followed, realizing he was their only buffer with this fast paced lifestyle.
"They're bringing us pit passes." He informed them as they traveled through the tunnel. "Don't get caught without it or they'll throw you out."
Back in the sunlight, he paused to take in the surroundings, looking either direction before spotting the Rust-eze logo. A thrill ran through him at the sounds coming from the track, the smell of new and burnt out tires piled behind the wall and the fuel cans lining the back of each pit. The 95 pit was empty, and he was disappointed that no one had stepped up until he caught site of the lone figure climbing down from the pit box.
"Need a hand?"
Mack looked over his shoulder sharply and let out a sigh of relief. "Wha-? Oh! Boy am I glad to see you guys. I can only do so much."
"Glad to be here. Now." He clapped his hands together and addressed the eager folk of Radiator Springs. "Let's get going-"
He quickly offered direction to everyone in a no nonsense tone. He went over the protocol of where tires were kept with Luigi and Guido, where to get more fuel with Sarge and Fillmore, and gave odd jobs to Mater.
Passing out the pit passes that had just been handed to him, he reminded them that they had to stay behind the wall at all times, and that only a select few could cross that line when Lightning came back for a stop.
Mack was happy to offer over the headset and Doc was silent as he clipped the battery pack to his belt and adjusted the mouth piece, keeping the mic off for the time being. He ignored the whispering he could hear from the surrounding pits as he climbed the ladder to the pit box and took in the track. The familiarity was frightening, the heat of the air rolling in off the pavement, the sun beating down, the smell of oil, sweat and gasoline, the sound of engines as they rounded the corner and drowned out the cheers of the fans as they passed. The thrill of adrenaline hadn't changed. In an instant he was back in it, even after being away so long.
He watched a few laps in silence, taking note of the other drivers just as much as he was the #95, it wasn't hard to pick up on the different styles when there were only three racing and he couldn't help by notice that Lightning was all over the place.
His brows lowered as the #86 cut Lightning off and he felt a twinge of panic when the red stock car fishtailed before regaining control. He vaguely heard Mack, who must have picked up one of the smaller headsets to check on the kid. Doc barely listened to whatever response was coming back before turning his own headset on.
"I didn't come all this way to see you quit."
There was a pause and he could feel the surprise over the channel. "Doc-?"
"I knew you needed a crew chief...but I didn't know it was this bad."
