Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Pixar. All OCs belong to me.

Chapter 1 – Race-day Shenanigans

Sunday, February 16, 2020 - Daytona International Speedway

"Please, don't rain. Please, don't rain…" Lightning McQueen muttered to himself as he followed Doc through the crowded racetrack infield. He knew that if it started raining, the very first race of the year, the Daytona 500, would either be delayed or cancelled altogether. Mentally, he was ready to race right now, so any delays would throw him off, despite his sixteen years of racing experience.

So much had changed for Lightning in the past four years. He had been the principle racer for the Dinoco Racing Team for three years now, with Cal and Cruz racing as his teammates. Tex Dinoco, his boss and team owner, had spent years trying to get Lightning to join the Dinoco Racing Team, and now that he had him, he had no intention of letting him go. Tex had hoped that Lightning's experience would rub off onto Cal and Cruz. So far, his idea was working well and producing satisfactory results for the team, although everyone on the team knew that the three racers had completely different racing strengths and weaknesses, not to mention personalities.

Doc was still Lightning's long-suffering Crew Chief/Spotter and doctor, but Lightning now had Doc's former Crew Chief and doctor, Smokey. on his team. Smokey had taken on the role of pit crew coach and assistant medical officer. Strip Weathers had moved on from being Cal's Crew Chief to becoming a racing official (a role which he took very seriously). Cal and Cruz now had new Crew Chiefs to take care of them, although telemetry results from the three racers was shared amongst the entire team.

One of the biggest changes to Piston Cup racing had come into play at the start of the 2018 season. Due to the domination of the Next-gen racers during the 2016 and 2017 seasons, Piston Cup racing specifications had been updated and standardised, and everything was now strictly monitored. Racers and teams could now face hefty fines and/or disqualification if they failed to meet the new standards. These standards meant that racers with overly powerful engines had to have restrictor plates installed during all races, while lightweight racers like Lightning had to have weights bolted onto their undercarriage. These specifications had helped to even out the field, which resulted in some teams kindly allowing their former racers to return to racing. And so, the 2020 season line-up consisted of a mix of older and Next-gen racers, as well as six rookies.

Lightning followed closely behind Doc as they headed towards a large tent for the compulsory pre-race weigh-in. He had a feeling that he'd be underweight again. Due to his small size and fast metabolism, Lightning had always struggled to put on weight. The fact that he was a 'grazer' (a car who ate small meals all day, except for two or three big meals) didn't help. Not even Flo's best cooking during the off season could make Lightning put on more than a few pounds, despite his large appetite. He always burnt off any accumulated calories during his practice sessions. His refusal to eat for a couple of days while he suffered through a bad cold shortly after Christmas hadn't helped him either.

Being a lightweight racer used to have its advantages when it came to sprinting, but that had all changed for Lightning now. He'd spent most of the 2018 season adapting to wearing racing weights. As a result, his 2018 season had been his worst one yet, with him finishing in twenty-sixth place overall. He'd vastly improved during 2019, finishing the season in seventh place overall at the end of the season. This year, Lightning was determined to win his eighth Piston Cup – a feat which no Piston Cup racer had yet been able to achieve. Although Lightning was honoured to have his name mentioned with the likes of Dale Earnhardt, Richard Petty and, of course, Strip Weathers, he knew he still had enough left within himself to earn at least one more Piston Cup.

An enormous media pack awaited Doc and Lightning by the time they arrived at the weigh-in tent. Since Tex had very strict rules on when the media could enter the Dinoco pit area, Lightning was always heavily hounded by them as soon as he left the safety of the team's restricted area. Reporters and cameracars surged forwards, all asking Lightning questions at once. Lightning plastered his media smile on his face, even though Doc could tell that Lightning didn't really want to talk to the press right then.

"Lightning, do you think you can win your fifth Daytona 500 today?"

"I'm going to give it my best shot, like I always do," Lightning replied diplomatically. Doc smiled slightly with pride when he heard Lightning's answer. He was glad that Lightning's mental maturity was finally catching up with his physical maturity.

Doc gave Lightning's side a gentle nudge with his front right-hand tyre. "Sorry, guys, but Lightning needs to finish getting ready for the race. You may talk to him afterwards."

"Hey, Doctor Hornet!" another reporter called out. "When are you going to do that interview for RSN? You've been promising to do that for years now."

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Doc grumbled. He gave Lightning another gentle push towards the tent.

"Well, well. If it isn't Lightning McQueen," a familiar voice said.

Seeing Jackson Storm emerge from the weigh-in tent along with his Crew Chief, Ray Reverham, Lightning paused and rolled his eyes. "Go away, Jackson. I'm not in the mood to fight with you today."

"That makes a change," Jackson sneered. "I seem to recall you once having a post-race punch-up with Chick Hicks… Anyway, I hope you like dust, because you're gonna be eating mine shortly."

Lightning opened his mouth to respond, but Doc was faster. He promptly pushed Lightning inside the tent.

"Save your breath, kid," Doc said firmly. "You know he's not worth it."

Lightning huffed crossly. He hated not being given a chance to have the final say. "I'd love to give that cocky upstart a punch in the grill."

"That's exactly how I felt the day I met you," Doc retorted.

Lightning opened his mouth to respond, but he quickly thought better of it. Taunting the other racers was one thing; taunting Doc was quite another. He had learned years ago that getting onto Doc's bad side would mean that his next medical check-up would be rather unpleasant. Doc could be nasty whenever he felt it was justified. Besides, Lightning knew that Doc was right. Sixteen years ago, Lightning had been just as bad as Jackson; probably even worse, depending on who you asked.

Doc drove over to the weigh-in official. Using his claw arm, he handed over some paperwork. "Number ninety-five, Lightning McQueen, is ready for his pre-race weigh-in."

The official looked through the paperwork for a moment. He then gestured towards the scales. "You know the procedure, McQueen. Drive up onto the scales, please."

Lightning hesitated. A stern glare from Doc prompted him to obey the official's directions. The scales were just like a medical hydraulic lift, but instead of hydraulics, a ramp enabled cars to simply drive up onto it. The official waited until Lightning was in the right place on the scales before he nodded to his forklift assistant. The assistant placed a fuel nozzle inside Lightning's fuel tank inlet, and he started the pump. It only took two seconds to top up Lightning's fuel tank. Once he saw the fuel starting to overflow, the assistant stopped the pump before he gently removed the fuel nozzle. Once he was certain that Lightning had a full fuel load, the official read Lightning's weight on the computer screen.

"Three-thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds. He's a hundred and fifty pounds underweight, Doctor Hornet."

Doc shrugged his fenders. "We did everything we could to fatten him up a bit during the off-season, but you know what lightweight racers are like."

"Yes…" the official mused. "Their metabolism is just as fast as their top speed." He turned to his assistant. "Go ahead and add the weights."

The assistant drove underneath the scales and Lightning. Lightning grimaced as he felt the assistant bolting the weights to his undercarriage.

"This is so embarrassing… And stop picking on me, Doc. It's not my fault that I can't put on weight."

"Be grateful that you don't have Jackson Storm's problem," the official said. "He's usually borderline on being overweight for racing. At least you can still eat whatever you want to, without having to worry about trying to slim down afterwards."

"True," Lightning replied thoughtfully. He immediately felt better. "Hey, Doc? Can I have another doughnut before the race?"

Before Doc could reply, the forklift drove out from beneath Lightning. "Okay, that's done. I've added seventy-five pounds to each side, so he's balanced."

"How do the weights feel, Lightning?" Doc asked.

"They're fine. I'll let you know if they start bothering me."

The official read Lightning's new weight. "Three-thousand, four hundred pounds. Perfect. Right on the minimum allowed. Okay, Mr McQueen. You may go now. Don't forget to return for your post-race weigh-in."

"He won't," Doc replied. "I'll make sure of it."

"Good luck!" the official called.

Once Lightning and Doc were back outside the weigh-in tent, Lightning glanced up at the overcast sky. "I sure hope it doesn't rain…"

"Don't worry about things you can't control," Doc reminded him as they drove back towards the Dinoco marquee. "If it rains, it rains, and they'll stop the race until it clears. Now, I want you to go back to your trailer and rest. I'll come and get you half an hour before the race is due to start."

Doc drove inside the marquee, while Lightning stopped outside. Rest? Doc should know by now that I can't rest this close to the start of the first race of the year…

"Hey, Light!"

"Argh!" Lightning yelped as he jumped and spun around. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was just his friend, Junior. "Damnit, Junior! You nearly made me jump right out of my body!"

Junior chuckled. "Maybe you should take up high jump when you retire. You're a natural. You just leapt fifty feet in the air!"

Lightning rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here, Junior? I thought you were training rookies in the minor series' now?"

"I am, but I've been asked to start the race today. I'm looking forward to it."

"Sure you are!" Lightning replied sceptically. He gave Junior's fender a friendly tap. "I know you'd rather be out on the track racing against me, though, wouldn't you?"

"Not likely! I still have a dent from the last time you decided to trade paint with me."

"It wasn't my fault you didn't give me enough room."

"You shouldn't have tried to squeeze through a gap that was obviously too small for you," Junior retorted. "At least you were penalised."

The two friends chuckled at the memory. Just then, Tex emerged from the marquee.

"Oh, hello, Junior. Nice to see ya again."

"You too, Tex."

Tex frowned at Lightning. "Shouldn' ya be restin' in your trailer by now?"

"I'm just going," Lightning replied. "I'll catch up with you after the race, Junior."

"For sure!"

Lightning drove over to his trailer, which was parked to the left of Cal's. Cruz's trailer was on the other side of Cal's. He guessed that his teammates were already resting inside their respective trailers. Lightning was glad that Tex only allowed the media into the Dinoco pit area for an hour after races. It meant that they could rest peacefully inside their trailers whenever they needed to.

After he'd lowered the ramp, Lightning reversed inside his trailer. He didn't bother closing the ramp, since he only had an hour to go before Doc would come for him. A cold, winter breeze wafted around Lightning, making him shiver slightly. He watched contently as the grandstands slowly filled up with eager spectators. After a while, Lightning slipped into a light dose.

"Lightning?" Doc called sometime later.

Lightning snapped open his eyes. "I wasn't asleep!"

Doc chuckled. "Sure, you weren't! I'm glad you managed to settle down enough to have a power nap. Come along now. You need to finish getting ready to race. The pit crew are waiting for you in the garage."

Lightning stretched his axles before he drove out of his trailer. The tarmac was slightly damp, indicating that a light shower had passed over the area during his nap. "Are they still going ahead with the race?"

"At this stage, yes," Doc replied. "I'm not happy about it, but there's not much we can do about it. Just don't take any unnecessary risks out there today, okay?"

"Well, that's wishful thinking!"

Doc rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean! Just…be careful out there today, okay?"

"Sure, Doc. Whatever you say."

Ever since Lightning's huge crash at the end of the 2016 season, Doc had become more than a little overprotective of him. Lightning didn't mind, since he knew just how much Doc cared about him, but sometimes his overprotectiveness could be a bit irritating.

Twenty minutes later, Lightning arrived in pit row just as the race announcer was calling out the starting order for the race over the loudspeakers. Lightning had qualified for the race in third place a couple of weeks earlier. He knew he could've taken pole, but Doc had instructed him not to push it. The whole team was happy with a third-place start, even though it meant that Lightning would be starting the race directly behind Jackson, who'd taken pole. Lightning's racing style was known as 'front-running'. He liked to get up with the leaders and then sit with them until the final ten laps, when he'd start his sprint. Most racers weren't front-runners, and that's why Lightning stood out to the fans. They knew he was having a bad day when he wasn't racing in the front breakaway group.

Doc drove up onto his Crew Chief stand, and he put on his headset. "Radio check. Can you hear me, Lightning?"

Doc frowned when he saw that Lightning was staring off into the distance, and not paying any attention to him. Smokey, who had parked alongside the Crew Chief's stand, glanced up at Doc with a knowing wink.

"I'll git his attention for ya, Doc. Hey, Lightnin'! Sally's here!"

"Where?" Lightning asked, jumping and spinning around to look for her. His entire pit crew snickered.

"Turn on ya radio, kid!" Smokey instructed. "Doc's tryin' to git through to ya."

Lightning blushed. His Dinoco Blue livery meant that he could no longer hide his blushes. He promptly turned on his radio, which also activated his black box racing recorder and his racing computer. "Sorry. I was daydreaming. I'm online now, Doc."

"Receiving you loud and clear," Doc replied. "Bryan? Are you receiving me in the garage?"

"Yes, we can hear ya, Doc," Lightning's technical engineer replied. The technical team were parked in front of a wall of computers inside Lightning's pit garage. Their job was to monitor all of Lightning's telemetry throughout the race. If even the slightest thing looked off, like tyre pressures, engine temperature or even Lightning's heart rate or brainwave activity, they would see it and report it to Doc immediately.

"RACERS! START YOUR ENGINES!" the starting official called over the loudspeakers.

Lightning did so, and he joined in with the other racers as they all revved their engines as loudly as they could. Smokey grimaced before he put on his own headset. Back in the day when he'd been Doc's Crew Chief and doctor, racers hadn't had engines that were anywhere near as loud as they were now. It was something he doubted he'd ever get used to.

The pace car headed out onto the track. One by one, the racers followed him. Once Lightning was out on the racetrack for the formation lap, he quickly made his way up to third place. He started weaving around to warm up his tyres and bring them up to pressure.

"Speed. I. Am. Speed…"

"Yeah, keep tellin' ya-self that, kid," Smokey said over the radio.

"For f'***s sake, Smokey!" Doc snapped. "How many times do I have to tell ya to stay off the goldarn radio?"

Lightning chuckled. He loved having Doc and Smokey working together on his pit crew, but sometimes the two older cars would get on each other's nerves. There were times when Smokey would forget that his role nowadays was that of the Pit Crew Coach and not as a Crew Chief/Spotter.

"Go easy on him, Doc," Lightning said. "Remember, the old fart isn't as young as you!"

"Why, you little imp!" Smokey retorted. "I'll…"

"Okay, you two, that's enough banter," Doc ordered. "Kid, you know what to do. Get a good start and hold your position."

"Copy that, Doc!"

"Tyres are now up to pressure, Lightning," Bryan reported over the radio. "You're good to go when Doc gives the order."

"Copy," Lightning replied.

By the time the pace car was ready to peel off, the field of forty-three racers had settled into their starting positions. Lightning saw the pace car's roof lights go out as they approached the pit row entrance.

"The pace car is leaving the track," Doc told Lightning a few seconds later. "Maintain pace… Green flag, green flag, green flag…"

As soon as Lightning saw Jackson accelerating ahead of him, he went too. Knowing the rules, Lightning waited until he'd crossed over the start/finish line before starting his first overtaking manoeuvre. He dropped down towards the inside racing line. Jackson instinctively moved to block him, but Lightning had been prepared for that. Without even pausing, Lightning darted to the outside of the track, placing himself between Jackson and the wall as they headed onto the back straight.

"Bobby's right behind you," Doc told Lightning. "Three wide."

Lightning didn't respond. There was no need for him to do so. However, Jackson wasn't terribly impressed that Lightning had thrown him off the ideal racing line that he liked to follow. He sneered as Lightning drew level with him. Without giving any warning, Jackson drifted to the outside. He intended to trap Lightning against the wall. But Lightning knew that was what Jackson had in mind. He reacted by sprinting through the fast closing gap as quickly as he could, just as Bobby took advantage of the huge gap that Jackson had left on the inside line.

"Hasta la vista, Jackson!" Lightning teased. Behind him, he could hear Jackson scrape the outside wall.

"Ow! Shit! You'll pay for that, f'***ing loser!" Jackson roared.

Lightning drew up alongside Bobby. He rolled his eyes mockingly. "Amateur!"

Bobby sniggered. "That was the oldest trick in the book. Now, let's show Jackson some real racing!"

"Nice move, kid," Doc praised. "Keep it up! Still three-wide behind you."

Lightning and Bobby continued racing side-by-side at the front of the field for a couple of laps. Then, Bobby fell back so that he could drop into Lightning's slipstream. Lightning didn't mind. He'd rather have a friend drafting behind him over a rival. He knew that Bobby would probably try a slingshot manoeuvre on him soon, but that would then give Lightning the chance to draft behind Bobby.

Lightning used to hate the idea of drafting, but the introduction of the Next-gen racers had forced him to submit to learning how to do it correctly and safely. Smokey had spent several months training Lightning to draft behind Doc during practice sessions, and the practice had paid off. While Lightning still wasn't fond of drafting, he could see the advantages in using it.

"Jackson's found a gap," Doc informed him. "He's moved up into third about a length behind Bobby."

"Copy that."

By lap five, the racers at the front of the field had settled down. Twelve cars had broken away from the main pack, and they were all racing in single file. Most were drafting off each other, but some, like Jackson, were a bit too far back to take advantage of that.

Not much was said between Doc and Lightning over the next ten laps. The race order did not change either, most likely because everyone was aware of just how long the race was. Most racers were playing the waiting game and just ticking off the laps.

"How are Cruz and Cal going?" Lightning asked Doc after a long period of radio silence.

"Sixth and tenth respectively," Doc replied. "I've just had a message from Bryan. I want you to do a few fuel-trim laps. That should help us make it to the first pit stop window if there isn't a safety car before then."

"Sure, Doc," Lightning replied. Fuel trimming simply meant that Lightning needed to ease up on the amount of fuel he was using during each lap. It could be achieved in several ways, like using gravity instead of the accelerator when coming down off a turn or by using less aggressive driving techniques. Lightning knew that drafting would also help him save fuel, but he preferred to save that as a last resort if needed.

By lap seventeen, the clouds moving over the racetrack looked ominously dark. Lightning was just about to express his concerns to Doc, when he felt the first few raindrops hitting him.

"Doc, it's starting to rain down the back straight."

"Keep going. I'll let the officials know."

Lightning did as he was told. He knew that Doc would take care of things. He hoped that the officials would suspend the race until the rain cleared, and before someone got hurt.

Towards the end of lap twenty, Lightning saw the lights along the safety catch fence change from green to yellow. He started slowly immediately.

"Yellow flag, yellow flag," Doc told him at the same time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lightning saw Bobby drop to the inside, out of Lightning's slipstream.

"Twenty laps completed," Doc added as Lightning crossed over the start/finish line.

As Lightning slowed down to eighty miles per hour, he was showered by a constant stream of rain. It wasn't heavy, but it was enough to make the track slippery and dangerous. The pace car exited pit row in front of Lightning, slowing him down even more to just forty miles per hour.

"You're to stop in pit row, just behind the start/finish line," Doc instructed.

"Copy that."

Lightning followed the pace car around the track before they turned into pit row. He parked directly behind the pace car when it stopped. Three Dinoco forklifts hurried over to Lightning. Two of them started covering him up with a Dinoco car cover lined with black material, while the third tried to offer him a drink of electrolytes.

"Doc, I don't need the cover!" Lightning protested as he backed away from it.

"I'll be the judge of that," Doc retorted. "Red flag. Race suspended."

Lightning pouted. Car covers, especially darkly lined ones, had a natural sedative effect on cars. Nobody really knew why, but they were used as a standard procedure to help calm overexcited racers and other highly strung vehicles. Lightning hated them though. He liked being able to see what was going on around him.

"Stop moving, McQueen!" one of the forklifts snapped. "It's hard enough dealing with the wind, without you wriggling around as well."

"I don't need the cover!" Lightning snapped. He moved away from it again. Down pit row, many other racers were being covered too.

Doc, watching from his perch, groaned with frustration. "Lightning, if you don't stay still and let them put the cover on you, I'll come over there and clamp your wheels for you!"

Upon hearing that threat, Lightning hesitated long enough to enable the forklifts to throw the cover over him and secure it.

"Hey!" Lightning yelped as everything went dark. "Oh, come on, guys! This isn't fair! Doc, I don't need to settle down. Doc? Doc!"

But Doc had already removed his headset. Sometimes, his ears needed a rest from Lightning's whinging. Doc drove into the pit garage and, after he'd retrieved a can of Dinoco oil from the fridge, he parked behind Bryan. "Let me know when Lightning's pulse and breathing rates return to normal."

"No worries, Doc. You may as well go for a drive. He's pretty wound up about having the cover on, so it'll take him a while to settle down."

"Figures. I'll be in the marquee if you need me."

Ten minutes later, Doc returned to the garage. "How's he now, Bryan?"

"He's been quiet for the past few minutes. Garry (AN: one of the forklifts) managed to get him to drink half a cup of electrolytes, even though he didn't want it at first. I think he's calmed down enough for the cover to be removed."

"Good. The officials are still monitoring the weather. They'll let us know as soon as they make a decision about whether or not the race will continue. I saw the track dryers heading out and the rain has eased, so hopefully we'll be able to resume shortly."

Doc left the garage, and he drove back into the pits. He found the pitties chatting under their shelter.

"You fellows can go and remove Lightning's cover now," Doc said. "He's calmed down now."

"About time," Garry muttered. He and another pitty drove over towards Lightning. Doc followed them. Lightning breathed a sigh of relief when the forklifts removed the cover.

"What's happening now, Doc?" Lightning asked upon seeing him.

"Not much. We're just waiting for the weather to clear. You don't have to stay here in pit row if you don't want to. I'm going back to the garage."

Relieved, Lightning drove back down pit row to where Cruz and Cal were. Cruz still had her car cover on, but Cal was chatting with a reporter. Grinning mischievously, Lightning pounced on top of Cal with his front tyres, giving his teammate a friendly hug.

"Hey, Cal! You telling everyone how you're gonna win?"

Cal grinned sheepishly. "Oh, get off me, Light! You're such a show-off!"

Laughing, Lightning dropped back down on all tyres. The reporter and his camera car focussed their attention on him.

"Lightning, what are your thoughts on the race being red flagged?"

"I'm glad they did it. It was getting too dangerous to race safely. Come on, Cal! Let's go and entertain the crowd."

Cal grimaced. "This is not going to end well…"

Lightning and Cal drove onto the home stretch, where several other racers were already trying to amuse the crowd. Two of them, Todd Marcus and J.D. McPhillar, were pitching a football over the safety fence, so that members of the crowd could throw it back to them. Just as the football came flying back over the fence, Lightning accelerated towards it. He leapt up into the air, catching the football on his hood, before he landed right in front of Todd, who'd been lining up to catch it. The crowd erupted in excited cheers and applause.

"If the Jacksonville Jaguars are even in need of a new quarterback, I think we've just found one!" Darrel Cartrip exclaimed over the loudspeakers. The crowd roared with laughter.

"Hey!" Todd yelped. "Lightning! That was my catch!"

Lightning sniggered. "Now you'll have to catch me if you want it!"

"Oh, you're on! After him!"

Lightning threw himself into reverse. He raced away, carefully balancing the football on his hood. Todd, J.D. and Cal raced after him. It wasn't long before they'd managed to corner Lightning against the outside wall on turn four.

"Now, now, guys…" Lightning began. But before he could say anything else, Todd leapt on top of him, followed very quickly by J.D. and Cal. The crowd roared with laughter at the sight. Seconds later, the football flew out of the mass of race cars, and it went tumbling down the bank towards the infield. Todd and J.D. took off after it.

Cal sheepishly got off Lightning's hood. "Sorry, mate," he apologised as Lightning spat some grit out of his mouth.

"It's fine, Cal. I had that coming."

At that moment, the rain turned from light showers to a downpour. Like a Mexican wave, umbrellas popped up all throughout the grandstands.

"Urgh!" Lightning shuddered. "I hate getting drenched. Let's get back to the pits."

Lightning and Cal cautiously drove down the slippery bank. About halfway down, Cal slipped. He tried to stop himself, but gravity took over and he skidded all the way down to the grassy infield. Seeing that Cal was now covered in mud, Lightning started laughing. He also lost his grip on the slippery tarmac, which resulted in him following Cal down onto the grass.

"I knew I shouldn't have followed you!" Cal spluttered. "Look at me, I'm…"

Cal never got to finish that sentence, because Lightning spun a doughnut on the grass, which sent a spray of mud flying into Cal's face.

"Pugh! Ew! Gross!" Cal spluttered. "You'll pay for that, McQueen!"

Laughing, Lightning started doing a burnout on the muddy grass. The crowd cheered their approval until the race announcer came on over the loudspeakers again.

"Ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention, please?"

Lightning ceased doing his burnout so he could listen too.

"Due to the rain this afternoon, and this evening's forecast, racing officials have decided to postpone the Daytona 500 until four p.m. tomorrow afternoon."

A cry of disappointment arose from the crowd. Lightning drove back over to Cal.

"That sucks! Now we have to wait another day to race!"

Cal just glared at him. His entire front was caked with mud. Clearly, he was not amused.

"Hey, McQueen! Weathers!" an official shouted from pit row. "Get off the grass! Come on! Move it! You two should know better than that!"