How To Raise A Racecar

by 0lemons0

Lightning McQueen and Sally Carrera welcome a new stage in their lives: parenthood. But, being new parents, there will be a few bumps in the road.

41. Open Up That Golden Gate

Chapter 40 - "Open Up That Golden Gate"

"Garry," said a smooth voiced Ford Fairlane. She wore the pinstripes of a police officer, which ran down the sides of her body all the way to her tailfins. She fluttered her eyelids - adorned with swooping liner, "I need to go."

She grazed her lips against her glossy white walls and blew her husband a kiss, "Keep an eye on Austin while I'm out."

The distracted 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air, also wearing an officer's pinstripes, rolled his eyes up to the top of his windshield, "It's not like I'd ignore the boy, Brenda," he flicked his newspaper down with a scoff, "He'll be fine."

"I'm only making sure. I haven't worked a night shift since he was built."

"The sooner you let him deal with it, the sooner he'll learn to deal with it," he lifted his newspaper back over his grille and continued reading the same sentence he had already read for the fourth time.

Brenda waited a couple of moments before she narrowed her eyelids and a silence fell over the cars.

Garry turned the page. His mirrors perked up, noticing the crumpling paper seemed louder than usual. Feeling her stare, he dropped the newspaper onto their kitchen table, "What is it, Brenda?"

"Aren't you going cruise over and kiss me?" she asked, "You know I don't like leaving for work without one."

He shooed her with his treads, "Aeh."

"Manufacturer forbid I don'tcome home one of these nights."

"Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing has ever happened to you."

Her impatient wheel tapped.

"Brenda, you're on the state line of being hysterical. All because of Austin."

Hearing his name, the young Ford Police Interceptor's mirrors twitched. He blinked himself out of a twilight in the darkness of his bedroom broken only by a trail of warm light leaking through a crack in the door.

"You're unbelievable, Garry."

Sucking his pacifier, Austin quietly stumbled off his mattress toward the doorway. The closer he got, the more his pacifier bounced with each suckle.

Garry laughed, "Me?"

Brenda's tire-tapping ceased with a stomp.

Just then, the Bel Air angrily pushed the kitchen table forward, standing taller on his suspension, "UNBELIEVABLE is letting my son use a pacifier at his age."

Brenda flinched backward, but kept her composure - as a good officer should, "Your son?"

The pacifier slipped from the corner of Austin's mouth. When it hit the floor, it bounced into the hallway.

Garry nodded, "You're right. My son would have stopped using one a long time ago. MY son wouldn't have been coddled for such an ASININE amount of time."

Brenda clenched her teeth, "I swear-," she turned her chassis away, "-sometimes I want nothing to do with you."

Before their garage door shut, Garry called out to her one last time, "Then I guess you won't be needing that kiss!"

Austin swallowed.

"Heh," the moment his wife left, Garry slid his tongue between his lips and turned to their creme-colored landline, "I won that one."

His son's big eyes followed him as he pressed a button on the floor and waited to hear a dial tone. Garry's rear end raised with anticipation.

It rang and it rang, until finally:

"Hello," said a woman's voice, "Lasseter and Associates - this is Susan Swaybar speaking."

"Susie-sue, you can cut it out. It's me."

"Garry," she chuckled softly, "Hello, my darling."

"Golly, I've missed that sound."

"What sound?" Susan asked.

"Your laugh," it made him relax on his suspension, "Your wonderfully happy laugh."

Austin rolled forward, trying to hear them better.

Her tone muffled into a tease, "But darling, I'm sure you'd enjoy it much better in person."

A shiver ran through Garry's metal - and it showed in his shocks. He stomped a rear tire to hold himself together, "Yes, ma'am…and I'd enjoy much more than that laugh of yours if you were-"

The Bel Air was quickly interrupted by the sound of a door's creaking frame.

He raised an eyelid, "Honey-lamb, you should really lubricate those joints of yours."

"...what are you talking about?"

"Your-d'agh-"

Again, the sound intervened.

"Hold on, Susie," Garry moved away from the phone and his eyes shot down the hallway. They locked onto the lost pacifier.

Austin slapped a wheel over his mouth, holding his breath. He pressed his brake calipers in as hard as he could - careful not to make a sound.

"Garry, are you still there?"

"...I think my son might be awake," he raised his voice in the direction of Austin's room, "When he knows he should be asleep."

Austin stretched his little axle into the hall.

Garry just watched.

His tiny wheel felt around the floor, pawing until it bumped into the plastic. He scooped the pacifier toward his door and swiftly pulled it into his room.

"If this is a bad time, I could always call you back in about a half hour or so," Susan suggested.

"Nonsense," Garry kept his eyes on that boy's door, "He knows better than to poke his hood into my business. He knows if he's awake I'll drive in there and tuck him in myself."

---

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU," Officer Tailgate scolded, snapping Austin out of his daydream. The roar of the pelting rain returned.

"COUNT IT OUT. KEEP IT GOING. ONE. TWO."

The cadets clenched their jaws and fought against their shaking bolts chilled from the raging water. Some tried to ignore their screaming ball joints, braving the steepest hill in the agility course. Others collapsed under the weight of their own metal.

All but one young sedan with his grille caked in mud.

He kept on keepin' on.

But it wasn't enough for his own horsepower anymore. Not for any of the vehicles. Now, their axles clawed, pawed, and gouged like wild animals just to hang on. The sedan's eyes remained forward.

The cadets' voices fell away one by one - replacing their counting calls with heaving breaths and whimpers.

"O-ONE," yelled an SUV, whose treads lost their grip, and forced him to slide down about a yard, "NNnyah!"

"YOU GET BACK UP THERE," Tailgate demanded.

"A-AYE, SIR," the SUV pressed his mass into the dirt, but the sliding became too much to handle. He grunted. He groaned.

But he just couldn't lift himself back up that hill.

"I SAID GET BACK UP THERE."

"S-SIR, I-"

"WHEN IT COMES TIME TO CHANGE YOUR OIL, I'M GONNA KEEP YOUR OIL AND CHANGE THE CAR."

"Nnn-NNN-"

"GET OFF MY HILL."

"ONE," yelled another voice in the pack, "TWO."

Tailgate's stare lifted into awe, "Who-," he turned to find the brave cadet.

Amongst the struggling cars and SUVs weathered one Ford Interceptor who ascended for his life.

"ONE. TWO," he screamed with every haul. The higher he climbed, the louder he became, "ONE-TWO. OOOONE. TWOOO."

"YES," the veteran praised.

Through his efforts, the Ford Interceptor became aware of the wilting SUV ahead of him - with thick, strong fenders to compliment what was supposed to be a suspension to match. Even though his chassis trembled, the SUV held onto first place.

"AUSTIN," Tailgate called.

But the Interceptor ignored him. Austin's senses grew hyper aware of the sound of slipping dirt. He gasped hard and turned his tires inward. Down came the SUV, falling back into Austin's grille.

Both of the vehicles were knocked down a few feet.

"HEY," Tailgate screamed, "WHAT ARE Y-..."

Austin grit his teeth and used the surface area of his inverted wheels to his advantage. He locked his treads into the sticky mud and pushed himself forward. His front axles kept reaching ahead. The SUV's eyes widened, "Wh-?"

He, too, began to move up the hill again, but this time he wasn't doing any of the work. He glanced in his mirrors to find a much tinier, but determined Police Interceptor not only pulling himself, but pushing the SUV up the hill as well.

Tailgate grinned with pride, "SHOW 'EM, BOY. SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE."

"O-ONE. T-...TWO," Austin shifted into a lower gear. He bucked his hood up, knocking the SUV sitting on his hood to the side, whose wheels smeared all the way to the bottom.

But Tailgate was much too distracted to notice. He watched Austin give it one last push.

"ONE," his front tires reached the top of the hill, "TWO," and his rear wheels followed soon after.

One breath.

Two, and then another.

There, at the summit, Austin wheezed. The agility course around him fell away as his oil pressure rose. His ability to hear buckled. The grunting cadets muted, but the ghostly moan of Officer Tailgate still pierced through. Austin trailed toward the sound of his voice.

He could see Tailgate looking up at him from below. He could see his lips were moving, but he couldn't make out the words.

He blinked twice to clear out his eyes, as if he could make out the words from their shapes, but by then a small amount of his hearing returned.

"GET DOWN HERE, BOY."

Austin responded, "H-Hm."

He turned his tires toward the other side of the hill - a straight descent - and he shifted into neutral. He let gravity cruise him all the way down. He didn't have the strength to do much of anything else.

When the youngster finally met with the veteran, Officer Tailgate leaned forward, "Son, that right there was the man I've been waiting to see," the old GMC lifted his wheel and spread the mud around Austin's hood. He finished it off with two pats, "It's time for dinner. Get to the cafeteria."

Austin breathed a sigh of relief. His tank was practically running on fumes. He could feel it turning over from hunger, but he appreciated the softer tone of Tailgate's voice only a bit more than the idea of food. He kicked his clutch in and made his way toward the academy.

"You've earned it," Tailgate continued, "Officer Austin."

Austin's tail lights lit up in ruby halos through the falling rain drops. He didn't face Tailgate again. He just idled in the rain, as it kissed his metal, and nurtured the proud smile upon on his front bumper.

---

Meanwhile, as miles passed in another part of the country, new foliage caught Jane's eye. She was filled to the brim with awe when the fading abundance of cacti fell into a medley of the richest emerald trees sprinkled with an array of wildflowers just below. The Porsche couldn't help herself.

The more distance ticked onto Mack's odometer, the more cars populated around the crew, leaving the boondocks and country life behind their tail lights. Those same trees grew taller, thinner, and further apart - soon between buildings - until they seemed to dance with only a few leaves atop their graceful trunks; and those buildings began to grow even taller than the trees.

"Look at all the palm trees, Mack!" Jane called out, so he could hear.

The big red truck chuckled, "So you noticed."

"Mom and dad told me I'll finally get to see them!"

The travelers trucked on. The buildings multiplied so quickly that Jane swore the wildflowers transformed themselves into concrete and asphalt.

"Mack! The apartments! It's just like the movies!"

"Uh-huh, California is full of them."

"It's so much cooler in person! Those palm trees are even cooler!"

Mack nodded, although he knew she wasn't able to see him, "You see, Jane, palm trees like very warm weather. Not like the kind we have in Radiator Springs," he instructed, "They like a little moisture. That's why they have them in states like the Carolinas or cities like Miami."

"Is this like Miami?" asked Jane.

"Hmm," Mack pouted his bottom lip and thought about it, "Nah. That's comparing lug nuts to bolts."

"They both have beaches and palm trees!" Jane insisted, "And they're both warm and sunny."

"Radiator Springs is warm and sunny, but you can already see how different Los Angeles is compared to home."

"Duuuh. Radiator Springs doesn't have beaches."

"Don't you pretend you don't know what I'm saying," Mack replied, "Put it this way. To some cars, Los Angeles is a paradise in the middle of a desert and Miami is a humid, tropical -err-...hurricane riddled paradise."

Within their convoy, the Firebird's axles tightened. Springwheel furrowed his eyelids and tried to guide his focus back on the traffic ahead. Though, the last time he hit traffic this bad, he crashed into the love of his life.

Hammer noticed the Firebird, but Mack kept talking, "That's why the closer we get to Los Angeles, the more-"

"Alright, National Geographic," Hammer gave him a look, "I think Jane can figure out the rest on her own."

The more they drove, the more the sky closed in on itself until it had no choice but to hide behind the concrete giants.

Jane's lips parted at the incredible sight. She'd never seen buildings too much taller than two Macks stacked on top of each other. She could feel another question coming on, "Whoa...hey, Mack!"

"Yes, Jane?" he asked - for what must have been her twenty-sixth question in the past half hour.

"How many cars do ya think fit in those buildings?"

"Cities are built for loads of cars, Jane," his speed slowed to decline, "In Carburetor County, all of the buildings are built outward for cars. In New York, they're built up, so cars live on top of each other. Here in California, they do a little of both. They build up and out."

Even though Jane was paying attention, she still noticed the truck's speed change. The vibrations from the passing road no longer kept an even rhythm under her wheels.

"Hey! Are we here?"

Question twenty-seven.

"Eh…," Mack sighed, "Sort of."

Jane glanced out her window again, where an even deeper sea of buildings waited patiently in the heart of the city with smoggy canyons looming behind it. As Mack pulled forward only to stop again, a brand new sign came into view.

Welcome to Los Angeles

-The City of Angels-

"We're here! We're here!" Jane cheered.

"Within city limits, yes-," Mack frowned, "-but we have another twenty minutes to go, Little Sta-...Jane."

Her jaw dropped, "There's no way we can still be that far away."

"We're only five miles away from the motel," Mack confirmed, "But this-," he gazed into an infinite line of scarlet lights, "-this is Los Angeles traffic. It's famous."

Jane slipped her phone out from her wheel well and turned on its camera. She pressed her phone up against the window and snapped a few shots of the other cars.

Each, with the same exclusive 'I-want-to-die' stare.

The two-laned highway grew by three lanes after only two miles. Soon, Mack and Hammer were pulling the racers onto a packed five-lane highway.

"Wow!" Jane exclaimed, "I've never seen so many lanes on one road before!" she snapped another photo.

Mack's mirrors twitched at the sound, "What are you doing in there?"

"You said it was famous. I'm taking pictures so I can remember!"

He laughed, "You're not gonna forget this traffic. Believe me."

"Let's see what Hammer's up to," Jane moved her camera to the opposite window. The lens impeccably captured Hammer's expression - which said it all.

His eyelids, fallen halfway across his windshield. His cheeks, puffed out like a chipmunk. She aimed the camera at his sleepy face and took a quick photo.

Before they knew it, they were rolling forward again; only to come to another abrupt stop a few feet ahead.

Mack exhaled a heavy breath, "This is always the worst part. Even when I drive your father here."

At the corner of his windshield, Hammer saw his pal's movement. The jet black Freightliner smirked, "Look who's tryin' to race me to the front of all of this traffic."

Mack raised an eyelid at the hardy voice to his left, "Who, exactly?"

"Like you don't know," Hammer pulled a breath away from the car ahead of him and his air brakes hissed, "I see what you're doing, Macky Boy. You keep rolling up every chance you get so your nose stays past mine."

"Honestly," the Rust-Eze hauler shook his cab, "You gotta be kidding. I'm not doing that."

"You don't think I can beat you," Hammer pressed, "I bet I can make it to our exit before you."

Mack gestured ahead of him with his wheel, "How could you think I'm racing - how is it even possible - when we've barely moved in the last ten minutes?"

"Yeah," Hammer rolled even closer to the car in front of him, "You might not have moved, but I just did," he bounced his eyelids up and down to taunt Mack.

"I hate to break up your road rally, Ham, but tailgating the car ahead of you isn't actually gaining distance."

The car ahead of Hammer interrupted them, "Tell that to the man whose rear end he's riding."

Both of the trucks loomed over that car: a Dinoco blue Firebird with furrowed eyelids.

"Phoenix, c'mon. I thought you were faster than this, buddy," Hammer teased, "Let's gooo. No. Wait. What's that thing you used to say in the eighties-OH! Let's MOTOR!"

"I'm motoringas fast as everyone else," said Springwheel.

"I'll say."

Just then, the squishing sound of rolling tires filled the air again.

"YES," Hammer exclaimed.

When the sedan in front of Mack pulled up, he began to move forward as well.

"NOW is your CHANCE, Springwheel!" Hammer encouraged, "GO!"

The Firebird watched the tail lights of the car in front of him move farther away.

"Defend your reputation!"

A new space between his nose and the car's trunk formed between them.

"Drive like the WIND, Springwheel!"

He glanced at Hammer in his mirrors, "You can't be serious."

Mack pulled ahead even more.

"I'm about to appease your horsepower, Phee Phee."

"Don't."

"Giddyup, Phee Phee!"

"And don't call me 'Phee Phee'!"

"I'll PUSH."

Springwheel smirked, then his body clicked with a soft jerk.

Hammer gasped, "DID YOU JUST PUT YOURSELF IN PARK!?"

The Firebird sucked his teeth, and grumbled with sarcasm, "D'aww, shoot. You know - I'm always doin' that these days. I'm getting old."

Meanwhile, a female car in the lane to their left saw the open space and turned her blinker on.

"HEY, YOU," Hammer called out to her.

Springwheel gestured to the opening with his wheel.

"THAT SPACE IS NOT FOR YOU."

"After you, ma'am."

"Thanks!" said the young lady, turning into their lane.

Hammer let out a long, exaggerated grunt, "Phee Phee….why?"

"Ugh…," Springwheel cringed, "...I can feel your breath."

"If you motored, my breath wouldn't be so close to your trunk."

"If you didn't ride my trunk," Springwheel corrected, "I wouldn't feel your breath so close to my trunk."

"Well, if your TRUNK-," he looked to his right and didn't see Mack's trailer anymore, "Where did-" he squinted his eyes up ahead to find the back of Mack's trailer with over twenty cars behind him already.

The hauler's expression dropped and his eyes shot open wide. Hammer glanced to his right again, to find there was a clear spot for him to pull into. The next car in that lane, however, began to roll forward. With a growl, Hammer turned his cab hard, and pulled right into that spot.

The car slammed on his brakes with a meager screech.

"WATCH IT," he yelled.

"Sorry!" said Hammer, "But you saw the sticker on my trailer which says I make wide right turns, SO-" he looked down, "Wh- SPRINGWHEEL."

While he argued, the Firebird already turned into the lane phoenix-fast, laughing with his tire slapping down on the highway.

"You SUCK."

---

Inside Hammer's trailer, Murphy and Lutum had their eyes glued to the Subaru's little phone screen. A sugar dusted, balled up plastic bag once holding marshmallows held it up for the young cars.

A candy pink, two dimensional animated car with big shiny blue eyes and a large mouth squealed, "Itsuki! Please!"

She held a wilting red rose in her trembling treads facing the grille of another gray car. His face, scrunched into a tightened expression.

"Do you believe I enjoy this, Yuri?" he asked.

"You promised you would stay with me!"

The young Grand National reached his axle between himself and the Subaru. Lutum already had a marshmallow stuffed between his lips. Murphy moved his tire around only to feel an empty bag separating his wheel from the trailer floor.

"Lutum-," he glanced over, "-did we go through another bag of marshmallows?"

Lutum moved the marshmallow to the side of his mouth so he could speak, "I think we diiiiid," he smiled and shuffled around his wheel well, "But MURPHY, I HAVE mooOoOoore."

Suddenly, Lutum tossed a brand new bag of marshmallows in front of him.

"Dude, how many of those can you fit under your fenders and still drive?" Murphy asked, kicking the next empty pack to the end of the trailer, where four other empty bags were thrown.

Lutum shifted his weight on his axles and the strange sound of plastic packages crumpled underneath his chassis. He lowered his voice and looked Murphy in the eye, "Do not question me," then he looked back at his phone.

Taken aback, Murphy shifted his eyes back and forth, "Uh...'kay."

Suddenly Yuri threw herself forward and planted her lips onto Itsuki's.

"Eeee!" Lutum squeaked, "I love when they KISS. It's so CUTE."

Murphy bit the inside of his cheek. He tried to look away from the kiss, but couldn't help himself. He was fixated on their cartoon lips.

Lutum pouted, "I WISH we weren't watching the english-dub though!"

But Murphy continued watching and suddenly the generic pink car took on the shape of a gorgeous Porsche and the gray car's paint saturated into a sleek black - not unlike his own.

The characters struggled with each other, until Itsuki pushed Yuri off of him - putting an end to it.

"Stop it. There's nothing you can say that's going to make me stay. I don't belong here. Don't you understand?"

"You belong with me," Yuri insisted.

Murphy's eyelids furrowed at the storyline. Watching Itsuki shut Yuri out seemed...all too familiar.

"Really? If you believed that, then you'd be coming with me instead of trying to persuade me to stay in this desert."

"Please," Yuri dropped her rose and shrugged her axles, "I don't know what else you want me to DO, Murphy."

Murphy's mirrors twitched, "Wh-..."

"Don't give me that, Jane," Itsuki snarled, "I belong in California. I was built for it. Carburetor County is nothing but my garage."

The Grand National's eyes quickly widened.

"And leave our entire lives?" she shook her hood fast, "I can't do that!"

"Lutum...did you hear that?" Murphy asked.

The crazed Subaru glanced over, "I DID! He's such a JERK."

"Yuri said my name," Murphy gestured to the phone.

"PFFFT," Lutum snickered, "And I SUPPOSE you'll be drawing CREEPY fan art of her next."

Itsuki rolled closer to Yuri, "You need to choose."

"How could you make me do this?"

"It's me or them, Jane."

SHE'S A REBELLL-

A loud, scratchy song snapped Murphy out of it and the characters morphed back into their normal selves again.

SHE'S A SAAAAINT-

SHE IS SALT OF THE EARTH AND SHE'S DANGEROUS-

Murphy exhaled a shaking breath and his axles froze up.

"HEY. Aren't you gonna ANSWER your phone?" Lutum remarked.

That ringtone.

That custom ringtone for only one car - who he hasn't heard from in over a month.

Lutum impatiently tapped his tire a few times, "Your PHONE."

SHE'S A REBEL-

Murphy gasped, "Huh?"

VIGILANTE-

"Your GREEN DAY ringer is interrupting SIGNAL SAGA."

Murphy fidgeted around his wheel well.

"YOU LOOK SCARED," Lutum snickered, "It's JUST one episode, BRO. It's okay. ICANPAUSEIT. "

When Murphy finally felt his phone, he slipped it out and peeked at the name flashing on its screen. Blinking in bold letters with a heart emoji he has yet to change, was a name he'd hoped to never see again.

Gigi

Lutum noticed the heart wasn't next to any name that seemed remotely close to Murphy's girlfriend 'Taylor'.

Murphy lowered his suspension to the floor and reluctantly dropped his tire to the screen, accepting the call.

But he didn't say a word.

"...Murphy," the Hyundai Genesis crackled from the speaker.

Lutum mouthed: What's going on?

"I just want to hear your voice," she continued.

Lutum mouthed again: WHO is that?

Even without actually speaking, Lutum seemed to be loud.

"Zach and I broke up a few nights ago."

Murphy blinked. Hearing those words woke him out of his daze. He stood taller, as if she were right in front of him, "And?"

"...and...I wanted you to know."

"For?"

"I-...I just thought th-...that-," her voice became softer. Her breathing, more audible.

"You thought you'd come rolling back to me."

"-if you gave me another chance."

"Say what you really mean, Gigi," Murphy narrowed his stare, "You want another shot at ruining my life."

"I want you to listento me."

"You better start talkin', girl."

"Zack hated when I tried to lean on him and he hated when I tried to talk to him and have a realconversation with him. He just wanted to talk about...you know what."

"Sounds like he was the perfect guy for you."

"He- no, he wasn't."

"Nah, I think it's perfect. You and Caleb. You two are great."

"You know you were the only one for-...Caleb?"

" 'Cause when I asked you to lean on me, you said I was being clingy," Murphy's voice rose, "When I said I wanted to make our nights special, you told me to SHUT UP and throw you on-"

Lutum's jaw dropped. He scrambled through the marshmallow maze under his wheel wells desperately trying to find headphones.

"CALEB?" Gianna tried to stop him from saying anything worse, "What the HELL are you talking about?"

"You have some nerve. He was my best friend."

"EW. You think I'd date CALEB?"

"Cool it, Gigi. He already told me he's Zach."

Gianna growled, "I have NO IDEA what you're talking about."

"You're a terrible person."

She sighed heavily, "Murphy, look...I miss you."

Murphy took a deep breath and brought his eyes to the trailer wall, "You can go on missin' me then, Gigi, 'cause I'm with someone else now."

The line went silent.

"Someone with kinder eyes who doesn't treat me like I'm just some guy to use whenever she wants."

"..."

"Someone who won't YELL at me the entire time I'm sleeping with her."

A rustling stir came through the speaker as Gianna wiped her grille, "You...slept with her?"

Murphy grinned. He couldn't help but begin to laugh.

"A while ago," he admitted, "Technically, after homecoming."

"WHAT?"

"Right after the dust storm, actually."

"THAT WAS THE SAME DAY WE BROKE UP, MURPHY."

"Yep," Murphy snorted.

"HOW COULD-"

"Goodbyeeee," and Murphy ended the call with a tap.

Headphones finally flailed out of Lutum's wheel well - a few moments too late. He cleared his throat, "That was COLD."

"You don't even know the half of it," Murphy sighed.

"You were MEAN."

Murphy blinked, "You thought that was mean?"

"That girl really MISSES you."

"Oh, please. Gianna is just like every other car who wiggles their chassis into my life long enough to-...-forget it."

"Long enough to what?" Lutum tilted.

"Long story short, when we were together, she got annoyed because we weren't able to go to prom together. It was a stupid school rule issue. Apparently one evening was enough to end over six months of happiness."

"DUH. You just admitted you were cheating on her."

Murphy grit his teeth, "I WAS NOT."

Lutum lowered on his suspension and backed away.

"Look, I'm sorry...you just don't know the whole story. She cheated on me. Like,for real. But I nevercheated on her. Ever. I loved her to bolts."

"Good. I was hoping you were LYING," Lutum admitted.

"I mean, I never slept with another girl like that...but-" Murphy scuffed his wheel on the floor, "-I don't know where you're from, but we get these dust storms where Taylor and I live. My house was closer when we were runnin' from the storm, so that night we slept in the same bed, but that's it."

"MOM used to say MY ROOM was a big dust storm," Lutum blinked, then his eyes fell to his hood. His voice calmed to a normal tone, "You were saying something about cars who get close to you…?"

"Uh," Murphy's wheels turned outward as he shrugged to find the right words to say, "Like Gianna. She goes around with my best friend like it was easy," his voice simmered away, "And then he pulls a knife on me."

Murphy's eyes met with Lutum's again, "I saw that knife and the first thing that went through my mind wasn't about protecting myself. I had to protect Taylor. If he came after me and he hurt me, I wouldn't be there for her."

Lutum gasped hard, "WHO are all of these cars you hang out with?" he cringed, "And WHERE do you and Taylor LIVE?"

"She lives in Carburetor County...where a wanted carnapper has been roaming the backroads and desert for too long now," Murphy could feel his engine sinking, "But now, I'm coming home to Los Angeles. Dad got a new job."

"You need better friends, BRO."

Murphy nodded, "Yeah, well-...you don't understand…"

"How are you going to deal with Taylor living ALLLL the way in Arizona?"

"Good question."

Suddenly Murphy's phone lit up again, but it rang with its default tone.

A random phone number not added into his contacts glowed upon the screen.

Lutum leaned over, "Ohhh I LOVE those phone numbers."

Murphy scrunched up his grille, "Why?"

"Because! It's not PRANK CALLIN'. It's PRANK ANSWERIN'," Lutum nudged him with his tire, "Answer it!"

"Fine," Murphy tapped his phone screen and accepted the call, "Hello?"

"Who is this?" asked a young female.

"You called me," Murphy said.

"Ah, so I did reach Murphy. Only you would answer the phone like a jerk."

Lutum chuckled, "You are REALLY popular with ladies."

"WHO is this?" Murphy asked again.

"It's ALYSSA, moron."

"First of all, rude. Second of all, what the hell do you want? And who gave you my phone number?"

"That's three things, idiot. No wonder Springwheel kept failing you. When you race, you probably don't even know what lap you're on since you can't count. And, Gianne gave me your number."

Murphy grumbled under his breath, "...bitch."

Alyssa laughed, "All I had to tell her was that I needed to ask you for the racing schedule for Jane's family. She's so stupid."

"Well, we agree on something," Murphy confirmed, "Nice talkin' to ya. I'm gonna hang up now."

"And by the way, if you hurt Jane, I'll HURT YOU."

"WH-," Murphy shook his front end, "...HUH? Where is this coming from?"

"Don't play dumb with ME."

"Holy Chrysler," Murphy lowered his voice to a mumble, "...you just had to tell her, Jane…"

"I know you. I know the type of car you are."

"You know me from the two whole times you asked me for homework or something."

"You're a classic jerk."

"OOoo, Murph. You're CLASSIC," Lutum snickered.

Murphy smirked.

"You're all the SAME. So YES. I know you, Murphy Junior. You keep your treads to yourself. Or MY treads will be all over you when you get back to Carburetor County."

"Ease up, Alyssa. I'm not coming back."

"GOOD and don't tell me to 'ease up', exhaust pipe."

"Besides, I'm pretty sure Jane can probably swing a punch harder than you. I've seen her work."

"YEAH," Lutum defended, "And his friend CALEB pulls KNIVES on him. SO THERE."

"Caleb?" Alyssa asked, "He hasn't been seen around here in weeks."

Murphy leaned down to his phone, "...what?"

"Murphy, tell your friend he's gonna pay for my hearing bill if he doesn't stop screaming. Besides, what Jane did to Gianna, she'll have no problem doing to you. You hear me?"

"Unfortunately."

"You better remember that. I'll have no problem doing that to you too. I don't care if you're dating her. I'll knock your headlights back ON."

"You're late to the party. Jane already helped me get them back on."

"You're DUMB."

"...'kay, I'm hanging up now."

Murphy tapped the end call screen and shut his eyes for a moment, then turned to Lutum. When he blinked his eyes back open, Lutum's mouth was extended to the floor of the trailer and his eyelids were raised to the top of his windshield.

"What?" asked Murphy, picking up his phone. He swiftly returned it to his wheel well.

Then he realized.

And his chassis stiffened up.

"YOU SAID YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S NAME IS TAYLOR," Lutum screeched.

Murphy's eyes shifted from left to right, unsure if he should respond.

"YOU MEAN...JANE TAYLOR?"

"Okay," Murphy lifted one of his wheels, "Lutum."

"JANE TAYLOR MCQUEEN?"

"Lutum, seriously. You need to be quiet."

"So back at the campfire, when YOU and JANE weren't there," the Subaru could no longer hold the speed of his thoughts to the speed of his voice, "-youguysweretogetherweren'tyouIcan'tEVEN-"

Murphy zipped forward and hooked his tire underneath Lutum's seafoam chin, "LOO-TOOM."

Though the crazed car's eyes stayed wide open, the Subaru's breathing fell to a slower pace.

"Look at me, man," Murphy demanded.

Lutum nodded three times.

"No. One. Can. Know."

"BUT-"

"LUTUM," Murphy stared into his wild eyes, "Repeat after me. No one. Can. Know."

"NoOneCanKnow."

"Good," Murphy moved his tire away from Lutum's chin and reached underneath his body. He rustled around some plastic, then brought his wheel back, revealing a fresh fluffy marshmallow.

Lutum's gaze locked onto the sugary snack. He went to take it.

"Wait," Murphy pulled it back, "If you are my friend," Murphy instructed, "Which you said you were, you won't tell a soul."

"Yes. NotASoul. NoOneCanKnow."

Then Murphy presented the marshmallow back to him. Instead of taking it with his tire, Lutum leaned forward and grabbed it with his mouth.

Murphy cringed, "Ugh!"

---

Jane couldn't contain her excitement. A sea of palm trees, all lined up in a row outside of her trailer window, passed by to greet the racers. When the palm trees thinned out and unveiled a massive motel, the smile along Jane's bumper fell flat. Her eyes scaled the beige tower; all the way up to what seemed like the sky itself.

"Allllright," Mack pulled into the massive motel's crescent shaped driveway, "We made it to Beverly Hills!"

The Porsche lost count of the hundreds of balconies in perfect symmetry along the face and sides of the tower, "There's no way this is our motel."

"You bet," Mack said with a grin. It didn't phase the old truck, who has driven Lightning McQueen through it all before, "Pretty tall, huh?"

"Pull over already!" Jane begged.

"Okay, okay," Mack put himself in park, then opened his trailer door. It expanded into a ramp.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Jane squeaked, putting herself in gear. The sea breeze, fresh with a hint of salt, brushed against the young lady's grille.

"I can really smell the ocean!" she said, rolling down the ramp.

Mack nodded, "That subtle sour scent in the air is because of the ever shifting tide. When the tide goes out after being in for a few hours, it-"

"Someone keeps changing the channel to National Geographic," said a pestering voice behind them.

Mack laughed, "Here comes the sore loser."

Hammer narrowed his eyes, passing Mack, "Am not," he scoffed, "As if any of us can control red lights."

"Now he's making excuses."

Hammer made his way around, towing his heavy trailer, and made a wide turn back toward Mack and Jane, "Don't let this distract you from the fact that your racing coach is in last place."

"HEY. You gonna let us out or what?" asked a loud voice from inside his trailer.

"Aw dang, Squeaky was so quiet on that last part of the drive I almost thought I left him on the side of the road somewhere."

Hammer unlocked his trailer so the boys could pull the door chain.

After several yanks and jingling, the door finally opened, and empty marshmallow bags floated into the air.

One of them flew over Hammer's roof, "What in the-"

"WE MADE IT!" Lutum cheered, rushing down the ramp, "LET'S GO RACING!"

"Hey, Lutum!" said Jane, waving her wheel.

"HI, TAYLOR-D'-," he froze, "-JANE."

Jane scrunched her eyelids with a bent smile. She knew the Subaru was a little nutty, so she thought nothing of it.

Murphy came rolling down the ramp next with his mouth stretched into a big yawn. He smacked his lips together, "Ugh, my axles are killing me," he complained, "I feel like we've been driving here for months."

"I FEEL LIKE IT'S BEEN A YEAR. AT LEAST," Lutum added.

"If you think your frame is bothering you now, wait until you get to be my age," said Hammer.

Murphy grunted, "The Manufacturer Himself doesn't have enough power to create that amount of time."

"Let alone the ability to make you shut up."

Murphy blew air out of pursed lips, until his eyes rolled over to Jane, when they crept into a small grin. He greeted her with a silent bow.

Jane flashed Murphy a smile, then turned her wheels inward, "For real though, has anyone seen Mister Springwheel? I'm getting a little worried now."

"Ah, don't be worried," Mack assured her, "I'm positive he's probably still stuck in traffic or probably getting his tank filled at a gas station."

"I don't know, Mack," Hammer replied, "I lost him just after we got into the city too and now we're here and he's not."

"He probably thought he knew a faster way to get here," said Jane.

Murphy chuckled, "Wait 'til I get on him for being late."

"LUKE!" Lutum yelled in the distance. The looney Subaru was already circling the other side of the front lawn looking for his other competitor's trailer, "YOOOHOOO."

The motel's frosted glass front doors slid open in a contemporary fashion, revealing an orange and black Chevrolet Impala.

"About time you guys showed up," he said, shaking his hood, but then he stopped himself, "Oh- this looks bad. Made it look like I could beat you in that race tomorrow. All three of you. And the rest of the cars who think they have a chance."

Murphy went to give Luke a piece of his mind, but Jane pushed forward instead.

"You sure do seem sure of yourself," the Porsche smoothed out of her southern drawl.

Mack turned his attention to her, "Jane, don't."

Luke thickened his voice into a similar accent, mocking her. He even raised his pitch to match hers, "And you sure do seem very brave," he sneered, "For a girl whose career I could ruin with a sneeze."

"I hope you don't go sneezing on the track then," Jane warned, "You shut your eyes for a second, I'm taking you down."

Murphy watched her, proudly.

"You would know a thing or two about shutting your eyes for a little while. You, and Hicks Junior."

Murphy cut in, "Watch your trunk, pal."

"No. You watch your girlfriend's. No telling what'll happen if she falls out of line."

Mack and Hammer exchanged a look.

Luke noticed them and continued, "It's not like your trucks don't know."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Hammer rolled forward, "First of all, I am not Murphy's truck and Mack is not Jane's.

Luke nodded, "Right. You're both just rentals."

"And second of all, Murphy is my squeaky wheel and Jane is Mack's driver's daughter. We're family."

The Impala laughed, "Cute. So then, Murphy. Cheating, pulling stunts, and trying to ruin other racers really does run in your family," he sighed, "Anyway, look at the time! I'm going to get ready for a luxurious dinner downtown."

Jane spoke through the sarcasm Murphy painted on her lips, "Good to know you're egotistical enough to take yourself out to dinner."

"I'm not egotistical so much as I am comfortable in knowing my worth," Luke defended, "Something you can't say for yourself. Otherwise I'd invite you out with me," he gestured to Murphy, "It's not like your hillbilly boyfriend knows a single thing about romance. I'm sure all he'd take you out for is to see who can spit farther than than the other. We could have owned this city and became legends one day. What's in your inheritance now? A deteriorating mess of a town and a depressed boyfriend who will leave you when the race is over?"

"HEY," Murphy kicked his clutch in, but Hammer swiftly grabbed one of his rear wheels.

"Down, boy," Hammer muttered.

Luke continued, "And you'll go back to watching paint dry on fences in your little town. Maybe you'll treat yourself to watching some tumbleweeds race. Pretending the one that wins is you."

"I willbe the winner tomorrow," Jane snapped.

"I was wondering if you and Murphy sorted that out already. Who is going to let who win," Luke shook his hood," Anyway, just remember-," he rolled closer to her and looked into her eyes, "You chose the cheater."

---

A gust of wind in another part of the city made the palms bordering Beverly Hills sway, causing a lone Firebird's rpms to rise. He tried to keep his stance relaxed between the rows of lamborghinis, Maseratis, and other sports cars who he couldn't even afford to look at - even though at one point in time, they wouldn't have been able to afford to look at him.

The closer the group got to California, the more Springwheel was forced to remember Miami.

The more he had to remember 1982.

"Dad!" a small girl's voice called from a park adjacent to the street, "Over here!"

He blinked and turned his hood up to the voice.

Could it have been?

Time froze still.

"Em..ily...?"

The tiny forest green Trans Am happily bounced on her suspension, "Where have you been!?"

The bottom of Springwheel's eyelids twitched, "Wh-...Em!?"

She waved her little wheel, "Come here!"

He looked up at the red light, which blinked back to green.

"Come race with me!" Emily revved her engine.

"Emily, d-...DON'T MOVE!" he accelerated hard, "-I'M HERE!"

The wind grew heavier.

So much heavier, a loud crackling rumble tore through the center of the palm trees, and they began to topple over. The sky darkened to navy.

He slammed on his breaks, "Wh-"

The street lights flashed on, then flickered, fighting the power of the storm.

Springwheel's metal cooled to ice, as the sky ripped open and rain soaked him from hood to tread.

"Th-...This isn't real...M-..Murphy! Jane!" he called out.

A crunching snap came from his right and down came a palm tree directly in front of him.

Springwheel yelped and tossed himself backward.

"Daddy, I'm over here!" Emily shouted, "Aren't you going to come race with me?"

Springwheel's pupils shrank to pinholes, "Get. Away. From me."

"Last one to the ocean is a rotten tailpipe!" she steered her tires and zipped away.

"O-Ocean?" Springwheel swerved around the fallen tree and grit his teeth, "STOP."

"I'm gonna win!" she cheered.

Springwheel floored his gas pedal and his wheels spun. The ground underneath their treads began to shake as he drove after her.

"PUMPKIN SPICE!" Springwheel screamed, "DON'T!"

"Huh?" she stopped with a screech. Her eyes widened at the reflection of her own little face glittering inside a giant wave barreling toward her windshield.

"DAD!"

"I'M COMING!"

"DAAAAAD!"

"BABY, DRIVE!"

She reached for his axle as her other wheels scrambled to spin.

Three of Springwheel's tires sped up while his last one reached toward his daughter's terrified eyes, "EMILY, I'M HE-"

Just before their treads could meet, her screams bubbled into nothingness under the water.

"Sir-"

Springwheel's eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He looked around to find himself pulled over by a curb. Cars passed him on his left. His erratic breathing escaped his grille with every pulse of his engine.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"M-mm," Springwheel turned to the voice to find a coffee colored forklift wearing a white apron of lace around her body. One of her metal arms touched his fender.

She blinked her baby blue eyes, lined with heavy black liner, and smiled, "Dude, you look like you've just seen a ghost."

Springwheel caught his breath, "I-...have."

"Alright, ghost buster," she replied, "Come with me."

"I can't I have a class to-," he shook his hood, "I mean, I have students I need to be coaching right now."

"Coaching-like-...a sport?" asked the young forklift. She moved her arm away.

The Firebird nodded, "Yeah. Speaking of, I feel like I've just raced a million laps."

She gasped and her sweet smile spread across her face, "You must be here for that commuter car Piston Cup race!" the forklift gestured to him, "You guys must have been practicing all night then 'cause I don't think I've ever seen a dude fall asleep in front of a red light," her thoughts began to trail off, "I mean, like, cars talk about it and stuff but, like, no one ever does it - you feel me? My grandpa said-"

"Wait, I fell asleep in front of a red light?"

"Eeeyep," she gestured at the corner, "There it is. There's the light."

Springwheel followed her arm.

"Yep. That's the one."

"I get it," he looked back at her, "The drive here was pretty long. Maybe I overestimated my own stamina…," he lowered his voice, "I hope I didn't hurt anyone."

She blew air through her lips, "Pshhh, you'd be the first violent sleeping guy I've ever seen."

"No, I- forget it," Springwheel stood taller on his axles, "I need to go."

"Heck no you're not getting a move on yet," she zipped in front of him and put her arms up in an 'x' formation, "If you do, you're gonna fall asleep again."

"Young lady, I have to meet up with the students. You don't have to worry, because I'll be in a big building with a bunch of nice cozy beds to sleep in. Chances are, if I fall asleep again, I'll land in a bed. Not a curb."

"Not until you have a cup of our coffee first," she said.

"I-uh-...," he blinked, "Okay. Cup of coffee. That would be great right now, to be honest."

"Never say that."

Springwheel raised an eyelid, "Say what?"

"Never, ever, say 'to be honest' to someone."

"Why?" he tilted his body with curiosity.

"Because that means everything you said before that, you were telling a lie."

Springwheel raised his eyelids in amazement.

"Good to know college is working out great for me!" she waved her arm at him, "Now come on! The bakery I work at is right here!"

She turned to a door leading into a small brick shop attached to many other businesses. Pink Cursive Neon above the door read: Engine & Tonic Cupcakes

As he followed her, Springwheel watched their reflections grow larger, then move aside when she pushed the door open. The top of the door hit a tiny golden bell hanging above them, making it jingle.

"Hey, boss lady! I'm back from break!" the forklift called.

The door swung closed and trapped the sweet scent of baked goods around the vehicles.

"You can park at any of the tables," she said, "I'll be right over with a menu."

Springwheel pulled in the smell of baking cakes entwined with brewing coffee beans into his grille. His eyelids lowered, "Mmm."

He rolled up to an empty table by the window just as the forklift placed a menu right in front of him.

"We have a lot of different things here," she began, "But I'm gonna totally suggest you start with about seventeen shots of espresso."

Springwheel laughed, "I agree," he checked out the choices, "Maybe I'll have more than coffee."

"Most cars do."

He brought his treads to the edge of the menu, so he could lift it up at an angle. As his eyes skimmed through the items, he stopped on one in its own box right in the center of the page.

"I'll perform my whole script now," the forklift giggled, "Since we are in the land of wasted talent and broken dreams ah-hahaaa-Ihatethiscity-ahhhh-" she cleared her throat, "My name's Peaberry and I'll be your sweetie. Can I start ya off with somethin' to lick?"

She folded her arm, reached into her apron, and presented a sample sized lollipop.

Springwheel's eyes remained tense on the menu.

Peaberry spoke between the clenched teeth of her fake smile, "This is the part where you laugh," her eyes fell to the menu and took a look at what held his gaze.

"Ooooh, the Pumpkin Spice cupcakes. Used to just be popular in Autumn, but we sell them all year now thanks to every basic car in my school who gets them in the iced coffee version. Pumpkin Spice Cupcake Coffee. They drive around campus like it's a fashion accessory or something."

"I'll take one," Springwheel said rather quickly.

"Just one?" she blinked, "They're kind of small. Just sayin'."

"That's alright."

"Oookay," Peaberry reached down and took the menu from him, "I'll go get your coffee and let the boss lady know what you want. She's gets so happy when cars order those cupcakes."

As she drove away, Springwheel spoke softly, "Thank you..," and he took a gander around the bakery.

A ceiling fan spun above, wafting the sweet air around. It attracted cars, but it also cooled the desserts so they could sell faster. Desserts - everything from tall cakes decorated individually, to pies in every flavor under the sun, to cookies shaped for every season, and cupcakes topped with any design a car could want.

"Alright, Sir!" Peaberry returned with a ceramic mug, "Here's your-"

"Adam."

"Hm?"

"You can call me Adam," he reached his axle over and grabbed a napkin out of a dispenser on the table, "You don't have to call me 'sir'."

"I thought it was a Bioshock reference. Don't ask," Peaberry placed the coffee mug right on the napkin for him, "I made it sort of special for ya."

"How do you mean?"

A swirl of coffee and cream, visible in the transparent ceramic, was smothered with thick whipped cream and topped with orange and brown sprinkles.

"Sip it," Peaberry encouraged, "You'll see."

Springwheel leaned down and brought his lips to the edge. The whipped cream cooled the boiling hot coffee before it could scorch his tongue. He took a long sip and hummed a gentle moan, "Hm…"

"Liiike it?"

"You made it with Pumpkin Spice too," he looked at her, "I love it."

"Boss lady loves it too," Peaberry brought her voice to a whisper, "It's her favorite, but I'm not allowed to tell anybody. She thinks it'll affect sales."

"Order up!" called another woman's voice from the counter, "Ready for you, Peaberry!"

"Oh boy, Adam. There's your cupcake. Be right back."

When Peaberry drove away again, the other woman drove around from behind the counter with a damp white towel settled in her wheel well. She cruised to the table in front of Springwheel and moved her tire such that the towel flopped onto the surface. She began to wipe the table in small circles.

When he caught her movement in the corner of his windshield, Springwheel glanced up from his coffee. The woman's rear - an unmistakable 1980's Ford Tempo in aged forest green paint.

He couldn't help but feel like she looked so familiar.

"Here's your Pumpkin Spice cupcake!" said Peaberry, placing a little white plate with one cupcake nestled into the center. Speckled orange icing topped the cupcake with a sugar candy pumpkin pressed into it, "Let me know if you like it, Adam!"

Albeit distracted, he replied, "Thank you, Peaberry."

The Ford Tempo's towel slipped from her wheel, and slapped onto the tile floor. Her reverse lights blinked on, and she turned her wheels to face the vehicles behind her.

Her bottom lip trembled with flour and splattered icing in assorted colors on her metal.

"If you had any doubts that she bakes every single dessert herself, I'm sure they're gone now," Peaberry laughed, "She gets that reaction a lot when people see her, but she's been wanting to become a pastry chef her whole life. Right, Denise?"

The Ford's front axles became weak. She cautiously drove forward. She couldn't quite drive straight, "...Adam?"

Peaberry raised an eyelid, "Denise, you know him?"

---

The racers pulled into the welcoming doors of the motel with their trucks. Their mirrored silhouettes followed them in the creamy white marble flooring which led to a bocote check-in desk. A silver 2005 Mercedes-Benz C-Class waited on the other side. He glanced up at the group and immediately noticed the Rust-Eze logo on Mack's hat.

"Welcome to the All-Seasons Motel," he said, with an even tone. Jane's mirrors perked up. She's never heard an accent so pure before; so used to the twang of the southwest.

"You must be our racers."

"YEP," Lutum confirmed, "AND YOU'RE THE MOTEL GUY."

The Mercedes flinched back and curled his upper lip, "Hm."

Hammer bumped Lutum's rear, "Behave."

"Luigi would squeal if he heard this place is named after tires," said Jane.

"The other racers have checked into their rooms, so these last two keys are yours," the Mercedes pulled out a box lined with red velvet. It held two steel key cards.

"Excuse me," Hammer pointed at the cards, "You said those are the last two keys? You sure?"

The Benz nodded.

"Just two."

"Yes, sir."

"Exactly how many racers were you expecting?"

The Mercedes glanced at a laminated list on his desk, "The only names that have yet to be crossed off are Murphy Hicks Junior and-," he paused, "Lutum Ruedas."

"HOLA," Lutum waved, "¿QUÉ TAL?"

"You're missing a racer," Hammer protested.

Jane's mirrors lowered. She knew if Springwheel was there, he'd defend her. She stood taller on her suspension and rolled forward, "You forgot me."

"I apologize, but the Racing Sports Network wrote out this list and sent it to us," his eyelids furrowed with concern, "And while I understand this may be frustrating, every room in this motel realistically holds the capacity for two vehicles," he picked up a pen, "Come to think of it, I think I remember another racer being chosen at the last minute. It could very well be that the list was sent before they added you to the roster."

Jane relaxed her axles, feeling silly, "Oh...yeah, that makes sense."

"What was your name?" asked the clerk, "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I added you myself."

"Jane Taylor McQueen."

He repeated her name out loud as he scribbled her name, "Jane...Taylor...McQueen- Oh! We received a care package from Lightning McQueen and his wife. It was sent to the room attached to this key card," he put his pen down and reached over the velvet box. He picked one of the key cards and slid it over to her, "I wondered why it was addressed to a 'Jane' when the only two racers left on the list were these young gentlecars."

"YOU HEAR THAT?" Lutum cheered, "I AM A GENTLECAR."

"R-..Right," the Mercedes passed the other card to Lutum with caution, "You may head to your room."

Lutum revved his engine twice, "I GET TO PLAY WITH THE SMALL SOAPS," and he raced away.

Jane took the last key card from the Mercedes, "How exciting! That package must be the rest of my birthday gifts!"

"Let me be the first to congratulate you, then," he said, "And I hope you have the best of luck."

"AH-Hem," Murphy cleared his throat, "Where's my card?"

Hammer brought his wheel to the top of Murphy's roof, "Look at that, Mack! My old roommate gets to bunk with me again!"

"It's okay, Murphy," Jane presented the Grand National with the key given to her, "It was supposed to be yours anyway. I can stay in Mack's trailer. It's already like a resort in there."

"Don't take my roommate away from me, Jane," Hammer teased, "I need him to pay for half my rent."

Mack sighed, "No…," the Rust-Eze hauler moved his tire over Jane's and guided it to Murphy's. Her wheel still held the key.

Hammer furrowed his eyelids and gave him a look.

"These racers both attend Carburetor County High School," Mack explained, "They can stay in the same room."

Jane's eyes widened and locked onto Murphy's, whose expression mirrored hers.

"Can you be certain of that?" asked the Mercedes. Noticing his racing sponsor, he knew that Mack might know more about the rules than himself, "Would it be breaking any of the Piston Cup regulations or the commands of their crew chiefs?"

"They have the same crew chief," Mack explained, "It would be frowned upon because they can share their strategies. It would look bad, but they were taught by the same car. They would share those strategies room or not."

The Mercedes looked between the two teenagers.

Mack continued, "They're both after the same trophy...but they both intend to win that trophy too. Not just for their school, but for themselves."

"My father's dignity depends on it," Murphy cut in, "Seriously."

"And my town's been waiting for this day since I was built," Jane added, "And some of our school's faculty are counting on me."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Murphy replied.

The Mercedes thought about it. After a moment of silence, he nodded, "..so long as they're okay with it."

Mack shrugged and asked the young cars, "Are you okay with it?"

Hammer raised an eyelid, "Mack, are you okay with it?"

"I'm okay with it. Because I know they're smart."

"That's exactly why you shouldn't be okay with it," Hammer muttered.

"I think it'll be fine," said Jane, moving her eyes away from Murphy and back to their key card.

"Same," Murphy replied.

Hammer chuckled, "A one-word answer to that, huh?"

The young Hicks glared at him.

"Hammer and I are going to check into the race track. We need to confirm where we're gonna place our trailers," Mack shifted, "You two go up and put your things down. Rest."

"And make sure you flip every switch so you know what they do," Hammer added, "There's always one switch in every motel room that doesn't do anything."

"Thanks for that incredibly useless advice," said Murphy.

"No problem."

"See you later, Mack!" Jane tucked the key card in her fender and made her way to the elevator. Murphy followed close behind.

When the teenagers disappeared behind the stainless steel doors, Hammer turned to Mack, "You were wrong before."

Mack raised an eyelid, "Huh?"

"You said Lightning was going to fire you if he found out they were kissing, 'cause that would mean you weren't keeping an eye on them."

"Right," Mack nodded, "So?"

"Now he's going to kill you too."

---

Murphy and Jane exited the elevator into a long hallway with rooms to their left and right. The marble floor continued along the bottom edges of the chestnut doors.

Jane kept ahead of Murphy, whose eyes shifted from room number, to Jane, to room number, and back to Jane.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "Are we gonna ignore that we're gonna be in the same room?"

Jane stopped in front of their door, "It wouldn't be the first time," she slid the key card into the door. A tiny light blinked red.

"Yeah…," he watched her pull the card out and try again, "But when the dust storm happened we weren't together."

The tiny light blinked red again, so she pulled the card out and smirked, "We weren't?" and she pushed the card back into the slot once more.

It took Murphy a moment, but when he realized what she meant he smirked back, "Well I definitely wasn't with Gianna."

Jane pulled the card out again and furrowed her eyelids, "Okay, it's not working."

"No, you're not working," he laughed, "Let me show you how to do it. Your mom's motel should lose the keys and go with these cards," Murphy brought his wheel underneath hers, "You guide it in," he pushed their wheels forward, "And then you wait a second before you slide it out," and he pulled their wheels back.

With a small click, the little light blinked green. Murphy bumped his wheel against the bottom of the door and it opened to a crack.

"Like that," he gestured with his tire, "Ladies first."

"Thanks for showing me how to use a door," Jane said playfully. She slipped the keycard back into her wheel well, "Show off."

"I ain't showing off," Murphy watched her as she drove by. He pressed his tire against her side skirt and let it roll across her curves, "You are."

Jane's eyelids fell and she slowed to a crawl so his wheel could do the same.

The treads in Murphy's wheels felt like the earth rolled underneath him. For wheels that felt so strong, he sure knew how to move them gently. For a moment, she thought she may have had a taste of what Gianna got to experience. Murphy paused just before he met her trunk.

She pressed on her brakes and peeked at him in her mirror, "You stopped."

"Yes...'cause I'm a gentlecar," Murphy grinned, "Now…," he leaned into her hearing and lowered his voice, "Get the hell out of my way."

Jane busted out laughing and she pulled inside. When her eyes caught the room, her laughing ceased into a soft gasp. She brought a wheel over her mouth. Right up ahead, a grand window with its blinds wide open presented an entire view of Los Angeles. Just off to the edge of the coastline, a sparkling ocean with white foam crashed against the shore.

"Is that-," she moved her wheel away from her mouth and rolled deeper into the room, "...the ocean?"

"Mmhm," Murphy nudged their door shut with one of his rear tires.

"It's even bigger than I-," her breath shook, "-whoa."

"My dad used to book rooms like this all the time whenever we came out here," he rolled over a switch, locking the door, "Contrary to Luke'sbelief."

Jane turned to the rest of the room, where beige walls surround them. A crisp white comforter lay atop the bed; so fluffy they couldn't even see the bed frame. The bed stood in front of a cushioned headboard built into the wall.

"Murphy," she breathed, while her eyes continued to gaze.

He pulled up beside her, "Now you see why I want to be out here instead of that hillbilly hell."

"It's incredibly beautiful," she brought her attention back to Murphy, "But home is home."

"Hang on."

"What?"

"Drive forward a little more."

She let off her brakes, as he wished.

Murphy nodded slowly, "A little more."

Jane laughed, "What are you doing?"

"Stop."

She locked her brakes again.

"Perfect," he reversed to see the whole picture. The way the light against Jane's metal made her paint sparkle and compliment the sun rippling on top of the ocean, "Now...it's hauntinglybeautiful."

Her eyes softened, "Aw, Murphy-"

"Was that smooth? Or what?"

Her smile turned into another laugh, "You're annoying."

"And yet, you said yes to me."

Jane leaned to her left, exaggerating the subtle hourglass shape of her body, but as she moved a few round shapes in the corner of her windshield snagged her train of thought.

Against the wall behind Murphy leaned four tires with hot pink ribbon holding them together through jet black rims. A small envelope was taped to one of the tires.

"My gifts!" she exclaimed.

Murphy made a three-point turn and watched her.

Jane drove over for a closer look and noticed the tires were smooth all around with no tread at all, "They got me my own set of actual racing tires!"

"Neat," Murphy smiled, "They're probably better than whatever they're gonna give us on the track," he admired the rims, "And I love that your rims are gonna be even darker than they already are."

She rolled her eyes, "You like anything that's dark."

"The more my girl looks like she's cruising to a funeral, the more I like her."

"Whatever, Dracula," Jane took the envelope and squinted to read what was written on the flap.

"Take us with you wherever you go and you'll always be home."

She took great care in opening the envelope, revealing a golden decal of the radiator monument in Radiator Springs. Within the rocky monument, old western letters read: R/S.

"My town," Jane's rpms rumbled warmly, "I love them so much."

"I'll help you put that sticker on before our race," Murphy offered.

Jane nodded, "I'd like that," she put the envelope down, "I can use it the way my dad uses his stickers."

"There's a weird sentence," Murphy tilted his body.

"He tells cars that the sticker on his right fender is lucky."

Murphy scoffed, "Does he believe it too?"

Jane shrugged, "Well, my dad also talks to himself."

"You don't roll so far from that tree. You were talking to yourself when I took you to your first track."

"That lil' old baby track," Jane shook her hood, "That was to make you laugh."

"Suuure…"

"I have to call them and thank them!"

"You missed one," Murphy pointed at a cardboard box just one third the height of the tires beside them.

Jane's mirror's flicked with curiosity. She rolled over to the box and used her tire to apply just enough pressure for the tape to rip. She moved her treads to the edges and let it open.

"...holy shift," said Murphy.

Jane blinked, trying to make sense of it. She nudged the box over and between the two cars rolled a tiny set of tires all tied together - similar to the method Jane's set was packed. They were mounted onto cerulean hubcaps.

"Murphy…," Jane swallowed, "...I think those tires might be too small for me."

"Jane…," Murphy nudged her fender and pointed toward a note written under the lid of the box, "I think you're right."

She read the note out loud, "Jane...we are so proud of you and your accomplishments and we wish we could have spent your birthday together, but watching you shine and be the star we always knew you were makes us happier than you know. But now, we trust you will show the beauty and wonder of life's ever changing roads to someone who will look up to you for guidance now. Dad knew you'd be great and so did mom, but she had butterflies watching you every mile of the way. But this time, those butterflies between her doors turned out to be-", Jane's eyelids widened and her breath shook, "f-four little wheels!" Jane squeaked, "You're going to have a little brother! Love...Mom & Dad!"

She grinned from blinker to blinker.

"Hey!" Murphy leaned his grille against her fender and let his engine purr, "Congratulations!"

"I can't believe it!" she hooked her axle with his and held his tire close, "I'm so happy!"

Murphy's expression softened, feeling the warmth of her embrace, and looked down at her.

"What a year…," Jane cooed, "I've gotten everything I've ever wanted."

"Almost everything," Murphy said, "You still have a Piston Cup to fight for."

She glanced up at him, "I have my family, I have great friends, and-...I have you. For now...at least."

---

"You know, I always thought about you," admitted the Tempo parked across from a terribly nostalgic Firebird. A Pumpkin Spice cupcake stood between them on the table while steam from his coffee swirled into the air.

Peaberry picked up Denise's towel from the floor and drove around the counter to fetch a brand new one.

"I'd be lying if I said you didn't cross my mind," Springwheel paused, "Especially when I go through pictures of Emily...and see her paint."

"Try the cupcake," Denise said, trying to change the subject, "I want to know what you think."

"Let's split it," he suggested, reaching for a butter knife, "Call it a break from work."

Denise blinked with concern, then began to laugh under her breath.

Springwheel pressed the knife right down the middle of the cupcake with a puzzled expression upon his grille. Both halves fell to the sides of the plate.

"Don't look at me like you don't know why I'm laughing," Denise took his fork, "You talking about taking a break from work."

Springwheel shook his hood and a faint smile formed, "You'd get along just fine with one of my students."

"Oooh, so that's what you've been doing these days," she pierced the fork into her half of the cupcake, "What do you teach?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he waited for her to finish so he could have a taste, "History."

"Stop it," she took her forkfull, then laughed a little harder, "You hate history, Adam!"

Even Springwheel giggled, "I know, I know...but not so much anymore. Now it makes me happy."

"What about it?" she passed the fork back to him.

Springwheel took the fork, then pressed it into his half. He balanced a piece on the tines and took a bite. His eyes rolled back into his windshield, "Mm…to remember."

"And here I was spending the last few decades trying to forget."

The whites of Springwheel's eyes grew into a dim pink when they met Denise's again.

"Adam-"

"Tell me what you've been up to," he said fast, moving his lips to his coffee.

"I've changed a lot," she said, watching him.

He nodded, "I see," he took another bite, "You became the pastry chef you've always wanted to be. This is delicious."

"Thank you," she thought about how much she should say, "...exactly how much do you want to know…?"

"We have a few decades to catch up on."

"I imagine you're pressed for time though," she sighed, "I'll give you the short version."

"..."

"..."

"Sorry-...your voice," Springwheel went to distract himself with more cupcake, "I didn't know how much I've missed it."

"After we lost Em-"

The fork slipped out of Springwheel's treads and he glanced away from her.

"I mean-," Denise corrected herself, "After-...-I lost Emily...and after being in prison for all those years-," suddenly she felt someone staring at her from across the room.

Peaberry snapped herself out of it, "Sorry, I was just counting sprinkles and stuff," then turned and tended to the desserts.

Denise sighed and shook her hood, "She's always been nosey," she continued with a softer tone, "I couldn't find a job after that. No one wants to hire someone trying to turn their life around. No one wants to hire someone who's been to prison. I had nowhere to go. I couldn't afford to eat anymore...let alone drink. So I went through about a year's worth of withdrawals on the streets of Miami," even still, she smiled, "It was a blessing. I've been sober for over ten years now."

Springwheel smiled and looked back at Denise, but his eyes still peered through a shade of pink, "That's really good, Denise."

"I put the only thing I knew how to do to good use. I didn't have a penny to my name to feed myself, but-...but I went down to a soup kitchen and I fed others. When the kitchen closed, I begged them to let me use their equipment overnight. They were hesitant, but after a lot of convincing they started locking the doors behind them when they left. When they would come back the next morning, I already had all the supplies cleaned up."

Springwheel simply listened as Denise told him a true story for once.

"The only things I left behind were some cupcakes and the staff loved them. The homeless cars that drove through thought they struck gold when they tried them."

"I can taste why."

"So they let me bake dozens of them and I sold them on the street. I saved every single cent I made, got on the interstate, and left for Los Angeles. You know how this city makes everyone's dreams come true."

"If they're lucky."

"What can I say? I thought I'd give it a shot," Denise shrugged, "Took me well over a week to drive here from Florida. I even tried calling Emily's name every once in a while just in case-"

"-don't."

"Sorry," Denise continued, "No one would hire me, even still. So I hired myself. Became my own boss. Saved up to buy a small shop, and-," she gestured around them, "Here I am."

Springwheel leaned forward, "I am so proud of you."

She pulled her lips in, then swayed left to right.

Springwheel's expression fell, "There's more, isn't there?"

"Yeah," she nodded, modestly. She took a deep breath, "Look, I met a man. He came into the shop one day and fell in love with my baking. Long story short, we got married about seven years ago."

Springwheel's mirrors sank, "Oh…"

"Just married, though...the courts won't allow me to have children again after Emi - sorry - not that I-...," she paused, "I would never build a child with that man."

His mirrors perked back up in interest, "Why not?"

Denise kept her stare on the Firebird for only a moment, before calling out, "Peaberry!"

"Yes?" she poked her head out from behind the counter, pretending she wasn't already listening to every word her boss was saying.

"Bring me a damp towel, please."

"Be right there!"

"Honestly," Denise sighed, "Even with my husband in the same room, to this day, I picture you driving in through the front door later than you promised you'd be home. I never cherished the fact that you were, at the very least...home."

Springwheel went to answer her, but then she interrupted him.

"And now look at you," she winked, "You're over thirty years late."

Springwheel couldn't help but laugh as he listened to the Denise he fell in love with.

"Here you go," said Peaberry, passing her a fresh cotton towel.

Springwheel's smile held on as Denise brought the towel over her hood and rubbed some of the flour off. The towel wiped away most of it - only missing flour stuck between tiny lines in her paint.

The smile on Springwheel's face didn't last so long.

Denise let her towel slide off her right fender, wiping away some of the icing too. Springwheel's eyes followed the lining of the cotton, until a more obvious depression in her metal snagged his attention. Her left fender was smooth and followed her body's natural form, though her right fender was pushed in and beginning to rust by her wheel well.

Springwheel reversed, "No," and he rolled around the table, picking up the towel again.

Denise turned her front wheels, getting ready to drive away, "Adam, don't make this a big deal."

"Come here."

Denise shut her eyes.

Springwheel pulled up to her. He continued wiping away the icing and flour along her right door, where more slashes followed. Her side skirt, once straight, now missed a piece just before it met her rear tire.

"H-...He keeps a garage over my roof, Adam," she defended.

"What did he DO to you?"

"He helps me buy the ingredients."

The Firebird threw the towel over the remaining pieces of cupcake, "You need to call the police."

"No," Denise said, sternly.

"Are you going to wait until he kills you?"

"Shouldn't you be happy?" her bottom lip trembled, "Because now I know how you felt every day when you were with m-me."

"What?" Springwheel brought a tire underneath her chin, "That guy doesn't know how lucky he is."

Denise's rpms rose, trying to hold back a sea of tears.

"He gets to see you every day the way I used to only wish I could see you."

Her tears flooded over her eyelids, "H-...Here I am…," she adjusted her left wheel, where a small diamond lug nut glistened. She wiggled it until it dropped onto the floor, then pressed it between her treads. She rolled it up into her wheel well, hiding it away, "I wouldn't mind being single again for the next few hours...Phoenix."

The pupils within Springwheel's eyes widened and he pulled closer to her. He flashed his front left wheel too, showing off his lack of a wedding lug nut, "I've been single for the past thirty years, Uptown Girl."

---

When the rest of the cadets finally finished the agility course, they hurried into the facility - one by one - on their way to the cafeteria. As they made their way inside, the cadets formed a perfect line beside the buffet.

Though Austin's gas tank reminded him of his hunger, he studied the room. It was larger than he expected, but somewhat smaller than the cafeteria in Carburetor County High. The cadets even behaved similar to his classmates when food was around, but the small differences were still loud enough to notice.

Instead of the walls being covered in posters for future school events and dusty tattered messages warning students to keep away from drugs, there was one television mounted on every wall - even above the buffet line. Each television displayed a neutral news network to keep the cadets up to date with the outside world.

Austin pulled forward, making his way to the end of the line.

Even if he finished first, he was used to ending up last.

He watched how the other cadets ordered their food. He squinted at the choices, trying to get a head start on the food being served to rehearse his order in his mind. The line inched forward and Austin still couldn't decide what he wanted. In school, he could choose from fried foods or sweets, but if a student wanted to be healthy they could choose fruits or salads.

But in the academy, everything ranged from meat, vegetables, or a peculiar shake stand for drinkable protein. The young Ford cringed. Nothing seemed appetizing. Still, the line inched forward aga-

"Breaking news this afternoon coming from the heart of Carburetor County."

Austin's mirrors perked up at the female reporter's voice. His eyes moved to the television above the buffet, but as the line continued, one SUV's height completely blocked the screen.

"Ugh," Austin groaned under his breath. He leaned left to right with no luck. He checked his mirrors to find more cars piling onto the line behind him. If he drove off, he'd have to wait all the way in the back again.

"Found in a patch of greenery deep within the county desert, the search for a missing teenager has come to an abrupt end."

Food could wait.

Austin stumbled off the line. He zoomed to the other side of the cafeteria where a different television was mounted.

"Missing teenager...?" he said to himself. School had only been out for a little over two weeks. Certainly other students would have noticed a missing car.

"The body of a young red Kia Sorento was found amongst scattered tumbleweeds in a remote clearing. Police stated the teenager's description matches that of recently missing, Caleb Claybuild, of Carburetor County High School."

Austin's RPMs skipped a beat as the blue glow of the news reflected onto his paint.

Across the state in a cheerleader's home, a sunset orange Hyundai Genesis stood speechless. Gianna's eyes glazed over while the news anchor continued to speak and images of Caleb soaked her television with memories.

"Caleb was set to be part of the graduating senior class of this year before his life was tragically cut short due to an apparent gunshot wound."

Alyssa's treads suspended in the middle of scrolling through her phone when she heard Caleb's name coming from the next room.

"Investigators conclude this was indeed a homicide. A dismal ending to what has become the second case of a missing car in recent history for the entirety of the sleepy county."

Meanwhile at Carburetor County High, Miss Fritter, Principal Radner, and Miss Relay gathered around a large table in the teacher's lounge. They idled in front of a wipe-off board scribbled with notes for the next semester's plans, but all paused to listen to the breaking news bulletin trailing through the loudspeakers.

"...and another unfortunate addition to the growing list of our youth never to be reunited with their loved ones."

Back in Radiator Springs, all the townsfolk pulled up to Lizzie's Curio Shop, listening to an old radio nestled on her patio. Sheriff's eyes fell to his hood. He extended his axle and carefully nudged Brenda's tire with his. Though her stare remained on the radio, her wheel leaned against his.

McQueen shook his hood, "How can this keep happening?" he asked, with a helpless expression.

Sally bit her lip and her oil lines fell cold.

The news anchors, the worry, and the waiting...all coming back to her.

McQueen could feel her tension. He glanced down to find Sally gently rocking from left to right on her suspension.

"Sal," he said, turning his wheels toward her, "Are you alright?"

"I'm just taking it all in," she lied.

---

"We should really talk about that," Jane said. She moved her gifts to the side and focused on Murphy, "I know you like California and all, but Carburetor County has been your life forever."

"Not forever," Murphy replied, "A big part? I'm not gonna fight you on that."

"I don't think it makes sense to leave."

Murphy sighed heavily. He surveyed the Porsche emblem on her hood, "Do you remember when you said that road always seemed to bring cars that belong together...together?"

She nodded.

"Have you ever thought about what would happen if you just-...," he brought his eyes to hers, "...-turned around?"

Jane and Murphy froze as a blaring chirp came radiating in unison from their fenders. Their eyes widened and their eyes pulled apart from each other. The teenagers scrambled through their wheel wells. When they finally pulled out their phones, Murphy and Jane checked their screens.

Scrolling in a marquee of text read a breaking news alert:

Caleb Claybuild of Carburetor County High School Found Dead

---

"Let's get going, Denise," said Springwheel, reversing from his table, "There are two cars I need you to meet."

The Ford Tempo's mirrors perked up, "Oh, really?" she pulled beside him, "Hang on, Adam," she waved to her coworker, "Peaberry!"

The forklift pushed a brand new tray of colorful donuts into a glass show box, "Yeah, boss?"

"You can keep an eye on things while I'm gone, right?"

Peaberry nodded, "For sure. As long as you're coming back tomorrow," she smirked.

Denise shook her hood, "You are too much."

She felt a sudden weight pressing against her left tire. She peeked down, where another wheel occupied the once empty space.

"I think you'll like them," Springwheel continued.

"Let's go," said Denise, finally leaning her tire against his.

As the two cars began to drive away, a television's volume increased behind them.

"WAIT! Adam! Look!" Peaberry called out.

Denise spun around and stood tall on her axles, "What is it, Peaberry?"

Springwheel followed, raising an eyelid.

"Carburetor County. That's where Adam and his students are from," Peaberry placed the remote back on the counter.

All the vehicles went silent to listen.

"Police concur that a pattern follows these disappearances" said a newswoman, "The wanted Mustang of Carburetor County is still out there and police have no reason to believe she's done. With Jane Taylor McQueen's entrance into what may be the biggest race of the year tomorrow, we the citizens are left to wonder if this is the murderess' way of announcing her return."

"Jane," Springwheel whispered.

"Hm?" Denise tilted on her suspension.

"We need to leave," Springwheel revved his engine, "RIGHT now."