A car speeds down a dark highway, running for all he is worth. His engine is screaming, dust flying up from his wheels; dust that he hates, dust that he would have never allowed himself to be covered in a week ago. It's different now, it bothers him, but it is a necessary hardship, one that he has, in the last two days, grown accustomed to. He has changed. His motor howls, he is pushing himself to the limit, he has been for a while. "One shot, thats it, just one shot and i'll be better..." he mutters to himself.
"No, I can't...I said I wouldn't...but I need it..." He continues muttering, no one can hear him, for he is all alone, a silver bullet racing down the highway, running like a demon, running from his own demons. "I can handle it, just one shot, I can keep it under control..." A burst of blue flame from his exhaust; his engine moaning as the nitrous enters his system, giving him a quick boost. He sighs as the power, the energy returns to him, he feels better, he's no longer exhausted, "Yeah, this is what I needed, I can contol it..."he babbles to himself, ripping through the night. Almost as quickly as it began, its over. the Nitrous is out of his system, he feels listless, exhausted, even worse than he did before. the sound of his motor drops as he slows, berating himself as he loses speed "You did it again, Johnny Boy, you did it again. You told yourself you were done with it, you told yourself that you'd leave it alone, but you can't, can you? You can't control it..." Tears run from his eyes, down over his hood, his bumper, finally falling on the road, his engine hitching as he sobs.He can't keep on. His eyes start to blink as he sobs, and his motor, still hitching, sputters once... twice, then dies as he passes out in the middle of the highway, his grief, depression and exhaustion finally overwhelming him.
Later
When he later wakes, he is in the middle of a fenced in lot, the words 'Radiator Springs Impound Yard' visible on the weathered sign hanging from the entry gate. He has only a vague and spotty recollection of being found and towed out of the road and into town. He remembers being asked several questions, but unable to clear the fog from both his vision and his mind, being unable to answer them. He then remembers the hook attaching itself under his bumper, and the feeling of floating, dragging and then darkness. He feels strange, lightheaded, dazed, and as if he is missing somthing important here, but cannot connect the pieces. I need something to clear my mind, he thinks. One shot will be ok, it'll help me to think straight, then no more, then, in the next city, I'll have the tank and the system removed... he tells himself. He starts up his motor and quickly revs it, listening to make sure that he did not damage himself last night. He then trigger a burst and waits for it to hit, waits for his RPMs to spike. He waits again, and again he feels nothing. Don't panic, I had half a tank left, I know I did'nt use it all last night, so don't panic. It's just taking a while to cut throught the haze. He triggers another burst. Oh God, it's not working, Why can't I feel it? Don't panic, think. You're in the middle of an impound yar...IMPOUND YARD! Oh God, the police picked me up last night, I must have passed out in the road and the police found me, and now I'm in an IMPOUND YARD. They found my tank. Oh god, they drained it, How am I gonna function, oh god, how am i gonna get outta this one! "You're awake, Finally, took you long enough." A 1949 Mercury Police Cruiser had rolled up to the gate while he was thinking. "Good, That means we can go see the Judge." the Cruiser intoned. "See the Judge? What for?" John replied. The Cruiser laughed, "Did all that Nitrous fry your brain? In Carburator County it's a felony to posess Nitro, and also a felony to drive under the influence of Nitro." "Great, just great, can this get any better?"
"Take some advice, DeLorean boy, DON'T be a smart mouth to the judge, he might not look favorably upon it.