After returning from their first training session on Willie's Butte, Lightning called Smokey and the Thomasville Legends about helping to train Little Hudson. And when Cruz returned from the after-season celebrations at Dinoco, she quickly joined the team.

At the back of the Racing Museum, Smokey set up his projector. "Old Hud would let the other cars do the work for him. It was tricky, even for him, but he got it,"

Little Hudson watched in awe at the footage of the Fabulous Hudson Hornet tailgating a rival.

Junior smiled. "Drafting is the bread and butter of racing,"

Cruz added, "I learnt from that and used it against Jackson Storm in my first race,"

Louise Nash chuckled. "That's a race I'm never going to forget, honey. How did you manage to replicate Hud's wall flip?"

Cruz shrugged. "I just had to do something,"

River grinned and nodded. "Improvising on the fly was what we did. We created the sport up as we went,"

Junior sighed. "Some of that was lost when the dirt tracks were dropped,"

Smokey nodded. "You know," he glanced to Lightning. "Before that tiebreaker race, I almost lost hope in the Piston Cup,"

Both McQueen boys and Cruz stared at the old pickup. Lightning blinked and answered first, "Really?"

Lou chuckled. "Boy, now that was a red-letter day for racing,"

River nodded. "The four of us were gathered in the Cotter Pin, along with everyone in Thomasville, to watch it. Smokey said it was just showboating,"

Lou added, "I called it two-hundred laps of eye candy," she then gave Lightning a sultry look. "You and the King were easy on the eyes. Still are," she gave a wink.

Junior snorted and gave Lou a fake disgusted glance. "I thought you were into older men. You're old enough to be,"

"A girl can still look," Lou quipped, interrupting Junior. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about that now. None of the new kids like Storm and company gets my crank revving,"

River rolled his eyes. "Getting back to what I was saying, I asked Smokey how else the tie would be broken. A three-way tie never happened before, nor since,"

Smokey nodded. "Then the cameras showed Hud as your crew chief. The whole joint went silent. I was shocked; the last thing Hud said to me before leaving town was that he'd never go back to the racing world,"

Junior nodded. "We didn't even think Old Hud was still alive. Once the shock ended, the whole Cotton Pin was filled with hooting and hollering,"

River Scott then finished, "Seeing you drift into first place and then giving up the win to help King," he gave Lightning a light bump. "That's what the Piston Cup is all about,"

Junior sighed. "None of the Next-Gens seems as into it. We were a bunch of good old guys and gals having some friendly competition, not these prima donnas only in it for money and fame,"

Lightning nodded. "Yeah, one Chick Hicks was bad enough," this made other racers chuckle.

Little Hudson yawned, making Lightning look at him. "Uh oh, looks like our future racer needs a power nap,"

Smokey nodded. "Take him to bed. The rest of us will be in the Cones should you need us,"

After Lightning put Little Hudson to bed, he sat at his desk in the racing headquarters and thought about the last Piston Cup season.

Disappointingly, Cruz hadn't won; she came in fourth place overall. Jackson Storm didn't win either on the other wheel, coming second. 'This just doesn't feel right,' Lightning thought to himself. 'Everything beyond our team seems soulless.'

When Storm entered the race, anything became more distant, the racers more self-centred, standardised, clinical, and regulated.

Back in Doc's racing days, the Piston Cup, while a professional sport, was a bunch of friends having a friendly and mischievous competition. Junior, River, Lou, and Smokey all played off each other. The whole sport started because they were being naughty and running moonshine. There was always some roguish enjoyment. The pranks and joking about Lightning, Bobby and Cal were all in that spirit. Even Chick Hicks, ruthless and arrogant as he was, could make some great banter.

It hadn't gone away; Cruz and some of the Next-Gen racers made playful jabs as much as Lightning and his buddies did. But that was few a far between.

For example, the racing colours on the contestants were a lot more subdued, and it became harder to tell one from another. Gone were the goofy liveries like Candyman Greg's gingerbread brown and candy cane paint job, all to please the Tach-O-Mint owner's four-year-old niece.

Yes, there was always a dark side to the sport. Doc getting brushed aside after his rebuild sprung to mind. And it could be dangerous. Chick's foul play was a primary example. He caused significant skids and pileups to gain the advantage, the most egregious being when he bumped Strip in the final tiebreaker lap and made the King crash. All because he didn't want to cross the line in the King's shadow for one last time.

Despite this, minor crashes and confrontations were crowd pleasers. The Next-Gen racers didn't go for bumps or clashes; it almost seemed like they were concerned about their paint.

Overall, there used a lot of love in the Piston Cup. Yet, and the wave of Next-Gen caused Lightning's friends and colleagues to drop out, much of that spirit got lost. The Next-Gen racers came out of nowhere and didn't get the training from the old guard. None could say they got what Lightning learned from Doc, Cal from Strip or what Dale Earnhardt Jr got from his father. Hence why Sterling needed to hire Cruz as a trainer.

Regardless, Cruz was the only racer in the line-up who wanted to keep the traditions of Doc and the Legends going, but she was one hidden in a crowd.

McQueen glanced up at the picture of Doc Hudson on the chief plinth. "Is this the kind of racing world I want Little Hud to be part of? What would you make of it all, Doc?"

The phone started beeping, and Lightning pressed the answer button. "Hello?"

"Is that the world's greatest racing machine?"

"Harv?" Lightning asked. "Hey! Long-time no talk, man,"

"I know, mate. Things have been hectic on my end, sorting out the contract shuffling. You wouldn't believe how fastidious the Dinoco lawyers are! The upshot is I'm no longer your agent,"

"Gee, sorry to hear that, Harv,"

"Don't worry about me, my star client; I've made a killing from the contract. I mean, ten per cent from the winnings of a seven-time champion; I'm swimming in cash, mate. Anyway, I've some racing gossip you should know about,"

"Really? What is it?"

"Well, a lot of fans aren't too happy with the Next-Gen bunch,"

"Yeah, I thought the Piston Cup had lost some charms before you phoned. I haven't really been paying attention to the spectators, but it looked to me like the stadiums were only two-thirds full at most,"

"Exactly! And the number of viewers has been decreasing since your crash. The most popular spectator sport in the world and the spectator are dropping like ninepins! Well, mate, I just got told through my contacts that Mr Streamline, you know, CEO and Chairman, and all that, he's been thinking about letting you and your racing mates back into the competition,"

Lightning scowled. "And what good would that do? We'd be absolutely creamed by Jackson and the other Next-Gens,"

"Ah, here's the best part, mate," Harv replied. "There could be new regulations and standards to even the field. Like overpowered engine get limited, so no two hundred and fourteen spirits from Storm, and that's even if he manages to get in next time,"

"What do you mean?"

"Weight restrictions, racers over a maximum weight will be barred, as will one who can't meet the minimum,"

"Wait, Harv," Lightning interrupted. "I'm on the lighter side of automotive engineering,"

"Nothing I can do there, superstar. That's for the race officials to figure out. Nothing's set in stone yet, though. I just thought you'd like to know. Anyway, I got to go, take care, catch you some time," and the phone shut off and snapped back into its alcove.

Lightning sighed. 'Typical, Harv. Never even congratulated Sally and me about the wedding,' he rolled his lips about as he mused. 'Still, if what he says is true. I could be racing in the next season,' the racer bit his lip. 'Better make sure, though,'

McQueen brought up Strip's number for a video call.

The King appeared onscreen. "Hey, buddy,"

"Hey, Strip. Listen, my agent, we'll ex-agent, Harv just called, and he said some changes were being considered that'd let some of my generations back in,"

Stirp raised an eyebrow. "How did that slippery jaguar get the word about that?"

"Is it true or not?"

"I only got the memo from Mr Streamline a couple hours ago. Haven't had time to tell Cal. Nothing's been set just yet, but we are thinking about it,"

"Okay," Lightning replied. "It's just I was talking with Doc's old friends from Thomasville; we were giving Little Hud some racing history lessons,"

"How is the little Locomobile?"

"He's doing great. I taught him how to drift around the Butte the other day,"

Strip smirked and nodded. "Nice to see the old techniques still being taught,"

"Yeah," Lightning sighed. "And that's kind of the problem," and he explained his thoughts before Harv called.

Strip nodded. "I get you, Lightning. I thought similarly. None of these new boys is as gusty as you. Cruz, like you, has more talent in one lug nut than all the other guys on the track combined,"

"And unlike me," Lightning replied. "Cruz knew about working in a team,"

"She had people to rely on," Strip said. "I did some digging about you, Lightning. Fasttrack, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Lightning sighed.

Strip nodded. "Depend on how things go, you might get your eighth Piston Cup,"

"Is that something I really want?" Lightning asked aloud. "The Piston Cup now isn't what it was,"

"And what it is now," Strip countered. "Is failing. If the Next-Gen racers don't shape up and change their game to please the crowd, they'll be out. I'm using my role as an official to enforce fair play and good conduct. They can brag about being advanced and all that. They'd just be like Chick boasting about his default win. It's not what they are that matters. It's who they are. And right now, they ain't the kind of characters this sport needs,"

"Well," Lightning replied. "Some of them could be. That's certainly what I want Hudson to be,"

"Hudson?" Strip asked. "You want him to race?"

"He wants to race," Lightning replied firmly. "He wants to show what a steam car can do,"

Strip blinked. "I'll have to see if a steam car can participate in the sport. Can I get a copy of his medical records? I need to see if there's anything in rules that Little Hud would break,"

"I'll have Doctor Lane send them over to you tomorrow. I think checking if a steam car would be allowed in the first place would be a good start,"

"You're right; I'll catch you later, McQueen,"

"Bye then, Mr the King," Lightning replied, shutting the call off.

"Hello, world," Bob Cutlass announced. "And welcome to the Piston Cup. I'm Bob Cutlass, and with me as ever is Darrell Cartrip,"

"Thanks, Bob," Darrell replied. "And man, oh man, is this season going to be interesting,"

"That's right, Darrell. This year sees the institution of new requirements for racers' specifications. With us explain is RSN's statistician, Natalie Certain, over to you, Nat,"

The camera car panned to Natalie at her desk. "Thank you, Bob. This year, owing to pressures from spectators and influential sponsors, the main Piston Cup Series has greatly curtailed the advancements of the Next-Gen racers. All competitors must have restrictor plates if they are capable of far exceeding two-hundred miles an hour,"

Darrell commented, "So that takes Jackson Storm's ace out of the picture,"

"Quite so, Darrell. Other guidelines introduced now bring the Next-Gen contestants of the past two years in line with their predecessors,"

"And on that subject," Bob transitioned. "We can now confirm several formally retired racers are back on the field. Most notably, Bobby Swift, Cal Weather, Dale Earnhardt Jr, and Lightning McQueen,"

Darrell took up the commentary, "Does McQueen have a chance of winning an unheard-of eighth Piston Cup? Nat?"

Miss Certain smirked. "It's possible. But alongside these old favourites are McQueen's greatest rival, Jackson Storm, and protegee, Cruz Ramirez. My number crunching says it's going to be a three-way battle between these three,"

Darrell laughed. "If that's right, how poetic will it be. Lightning's first championship became a three-way between him, the King, and Hicks. History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme,"

"And now," Bob said. "We can take you to the pit where our on-the-track reporter, Shannon Spokes, is with McQueen and Cruz. Over to you, Shannon,"

The vision mixer changed to the pitlane and the camera on Shannon. "Thanks, Bob," her camera zoomed out to show Lightning in his classic red Rust-Eze colours and Cruz in her Dinoco gold and blue. "McQueen, Ramirez, what will it be like competing against each other?"

Lightning shrugged. "It'll be like our training laps on Willie's Butte back in Radiator Springs. Or if the viewers can imagine that Cruz will be joining the fun alongside Bobby and Cal,"

Cruz nodded. "Yeah, Lightning here might give me some real competition,"

"Only might?" Lightning countered.

"Yes," said a voice from Lightning's side. "I think an old timer like you needs to know who to really watch,"

Lightning sighed. "Hello, Storm,"

Jackson Storm rolled into the shot. "What's the matter? Struck a nerve, did I?"

"Oh, you always try," Cruz countered.

Shannon coughed. "So, Jackson Storm, what's your tack on the new regulations,"

"It doesn't matter," Jackson replied. "I can still hold the best line and accelerate like no one else."

Lightning rolled his eyes. "Yet, Cruz beat you two years ago, and last year you lost. They're more to racing than just high-tech and statistics," he grinned. "You call me a crafty veteran. Who knows, Cruz and I might have a few tricks up our cubbyholes,"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Just how many more can you hide? I've been looking up what the Hudson Hornet did, and we've got ways to counter it,"

Cruz scowled. "Anything you can pull, Storm, we'll find a way around it,"

"Keep telling yourself that, Custom Girl. You've got your place on the track. I'll admit,"

Cruz huffed. "Yeah, you think I should be in dead last,"

"No," Storm replied. "You can race; I don't even know why old timers like McQueen and Junior are back?"

"We're here for the fans, Storms,"

"So am I,"

"Yeah, but you don't see them as real cars. Just things shouting your name to boost your ego. And those numbers have been dropping,"

"They're watching from home, a lot easier,"

Cruz looked at Shannon. "Question, Shannon. What's been the view count for Storm's races compared to Lightning's?"

Shannon bit her lip and glanced between Storm and McQueen. "I'm not allowed to disclose that information," she looked at Jackson and backed up.

Lightning smirked and looked at Storm. "I think you know the answer," a serious looked returned on Lightning's face. "This is a spectator sport. But if no one's watching, what's the point?"

"There's always going to be someone watching,"

"Yeah?" Cruz countered. "But for who?"

Jackson scowled and rolled away.

Shannon watched him go before returning to McQueen. "Are you worried that Storm is going to retaliate at some point during this season?"

Lightning shocked his head. "We know about Storm's tricks," he grinned. "And let's just say, old boys and I have got ways of handling him,"

During the races, Smokey stood atop the Rust-Eze Crew Chief stand. Cal and Cruz were handled by different chiefs; for Cal, Roger Wheeler returned, and for Cruz, Lightning had convinced Chuck, the third crew chief he fired in 2006, to return. The Hummer H3 stood between Roger and Smokey.

The Radiator Springs team, out of loyalty to Lightning, opted to crew for him.

Little Hudson stood with Sally watching his father at work.

As soon as Lightning saw Jackson accelerating ahead of him, he went too. Knowing the rules, Lightning waited until he crossed the line before starting his first overtaking manoeuvre. He dropped down towards the inside racing line. Jackson instinctively moved to block him, but Lightning knew what to do. Without even pausing, Lightning darted to the outside line, placing himself between Jackson and the wall as they headed onto the back straight.

"Bobby's right behind you," Smokey called. "Three wides."

Lightning didn't respond; he didn't need to. Jackson sneered as Lightning drew level with him. Without warning, Jackson drifted outside and intended to trap Lightning against the wall. But Lightning reacted by sprinting through the fast-closing gap as quickly as he could, just as Bobby took advantage of Jackson's massive opening on the inside line.

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

"Ow! Chrysler! You'll pay for that!" 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," Smokey 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 into Lightning's slipstream. Lightning didn't mind; he'd rather have a friend drafting behind him over a rival. He knew Bobby would probably try a slingshot manoeuvre on him soon, but it would give Lightning a chance to Bobby's slipstream.

Lightning used to hate the idea of drafting. Still, the introduction of the Next-Gen racers forced him to submit to learning how to do it correctly and safely. Following Lightning's acceptance into the season, Smokey spent several months training Lightning to draft behind Cruz during practice sessions, and the practice paid off. While Lightning wasn't fond of drafting, he could see its advantages.

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

"Copy that."

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

Smokey and Lightning exchanged little over the next ten laps. The race order did not change either, most likely because everyone knew 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 after a long period of radio silence.

"Sixth and tenth, respectively," Smokey replied. "I've just had a message from Bryan, and 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 thing," Lightning replied. Fuel trimming simply meant Lightning needed to ease up on the amount of fuel he used during each lap. It could be achieved in several ways, like using gravity instead of the accelerator when coming down off a turn or using less aggressive driving techniques. Lightning knew drafting would also help him save fuel, but he preferred to keep it as a last resort if needed.

Done in the pits, Hudson yawned. "Don't get me wrong, it's fun to watch. But nothing like in Dad or Doc's racing day has happened,"

Smokey nodded. "These Next-Gen racers don't have the guts,"

"Hey," said a voice. "Hudson McQueen?"

Hudson turned around and saw a couple of security officials standing nearby. They had clipboards attached to them, and both used gears, rods, and pulleys to control a pen using their front wheels.

"Um, yes?"

One official narrowed his eyes. "We've been told a steam car is in the pits, and we came to ensure everything was safe."

Hudson blinked. "I'm not making trouble. I'm just standing here, watching Dad race,"

The other official shook her head. "We're fine with you just standing there looking like any other car. But it's the potential dangers steam-power does that worries us,"

"Dangers?" Hudson asked.

Sally turned towards the officials. "Hudson isn't dangerous,"

"That's for us to determine, Mrs McQueen," the first replied; he checked his clipboard. "Steam boilers are pressure vessels. What's his maximum psi?"

A throat cleared, and the official turned.

Doctor Lane rolled up, passed them, and ran around Hudson. "As the boy's doctor, it should be me you consult, not Master McQueen," she gave over her medical license. "Doctor Lucky Lane. I specialise in external combustion,"

"Very well, Doctor," the first official said, passing the license to his colleague and making a note. "What's this steam car's maximum psi?"

"Hudson McQueen," Lucky began with a scowl. "Has been cold water tested to seven-thousand pounds per square inch."

Little Hudson shivered. "It was chilly,"

"At present," Lucky continued. "Master Hudson is producing just over a tenth of that, and I expect he will never exceed above two thousand,"

The first official scribbled-down notes. "And if the steam car were to run out of water? From our understanding, if a steam boiler runs dry, the heat would melt the firebox crown causing it to fail and releasing flames and hot gases."

Lane huffed. "Then it shall please you to know that Master Hudson has no steam boiler. Instead, he uses a monotube flash steam generator, including a control unit, to cut his fire off at a specified temperature. To cut off his fire, he can simply switch his sparkplug, draft boosters, and fuel pumps off."

One of the security guards made more notes. "And what temperature is his fire at?"

"Three thousand degrees Fahrenheit," Lucky stated. "Which is less than what most internal combustion engines can reach. And before you say anything, his fire chamber is made from space shuttle material. It has an inside coat able to withstand six thousand degrees. If anything, I'm the more dangerous steamer,"

The security officials glanced at each other and nodded. "Then we can't allow either of you in the pit area until we've established its safe,"

Lucky huffed. "And how long shall that take?"

The senior official checked her notes. "Not until the race season is over,"

Little Hudson deflated.

Sally rolled up. "It's okay, Huddy. I'll take you to the café," as they moved off, Lucky joined them. "And on race official orders, I'm getting off the loony express,"

After a while, Lightning found himself behind Jackson, so he decided to draft the Next-Gen high-performance racer. He locked his eyes onto the rear-mounted camera lens above Jackson's rear bumper. Smokey had trained him to find a point on the car he was drafting off and keep that point at just the proper distance so that he wouldn't get too close or too far behind the other car's slipstream. It was not an easy thing to do, especially during a race. As Smokey said, even Doc struggled at times.

Jackson's wheels locked in a brief second, making Lightning brake, and lose position. McQueen tried again, and Storm's brakes came on again. "Smokey! Storm's brake checking me!"

"You're clear on the outside," Smokey replied, subtly allowing Lightning to overtake Jackson.

Lightning immediately pulled out to the middle of the racetrack. If Jackson decided to try and block him, he drifted onto the high outside racing line. Bobby moved out of turn two as Lightning came down to stop him. But Lightning could deal with that.

"Good," Smokey said. "Now I want you to sit behind Bobby, wherever you're comfortable. Jackson dropped back to sixth on the inside. Two wides."

Lightning sat comfortably drafting behind Bobby for the next fifteen laps, and he'd drift to the inside or the outside just to keep Bobby on his rims.

When Lightning came into the pits, he noticed something. "Where's Sally and Hudson?"

Smokey explained the situation. Lightning scowled. "When the race is finished have Mac take the three of them back to Radiator Springs," as Guido finished changing his tyres, McQueen narrowed his eyes. "And you know what," he glanced at the gang. "Guys, I want you to return home and keep Hud company. I can rely on the Dinoco crews,"

Guido started rambling.

"I know, Guido," Lightning replied. "My pitstops will be slower. But now that Storm's being held at bay by the regulations, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that Hud has had his dream of watching his dad racing live from the scene ruined. I don't want him mopping in a nearly empty town with only Sally, Doctor Lucky, Lizzie, Red, and Sheriff to keep him company. I do trust them to look after Hud, Sally and Lucky especially, but he needs all the help he can get,"

Flo nodded. "We understand, McQueen,"

"Going alone is a tough call to make, solider," Sarge added. "You'll be the only Radiator Springs citizen here,"

"Yeah, bud," Mater cautioned. "You'd really do the whole season with your best friends?"

"I'd rather Hud be happy,"

Just then, Cal Weathers rolled past. "What's the hold-up, McQueen? Are you having a crash wash now?"

Lightning smirked. "Oh, I'll give you a car wash when I come and clean your clock!" He sped off after his generation friend.

Roger Wheeler chuckled. "Now that's what you call a great comeback," he stirred and listened. "Yeah, Tex," he replied. "The steamers are out of the pits. Sounds like it affected McQueen a bit. No, he's not pulling out. I just think it could be a source of trouble in the future, and I don't think his little pot will be the one making the fuss,"

In the stadium café, Little Hudson stirred his soda oilcan with the straw. He occasionally glanced at the TV screen to see how the race went.

Sally watched him with downturned lips. "I'm sorry, Huddy,"

"Wasn't your fault, Mom," Hudson replied. "Those security cars just didn't like that I'm a steamer,"

"You can't be sure; they were just being cautious,"

"No," Doctor Lane said as she rolled up with her oilcan. "Master Hudson is correct, Mrs McQueen. I explained the boy was safe to be around; he was probably the safety steam car ever created. Even after I gave substantial reassurances, they refused to acquiesce. If they want an unsafe automobile, I should have told them about the nuclear option!"

Sally raised an eyelid. "Nuclear option?"

"Ford almighty," Lucky began. "There's been at least six steam cars who wanted to replace their burners with nuclear reactors. Never did, thank the manufacturer, but my point stands. There could be far worse out there than a conventional steam car. Hudson might be advanced, but he has the same basic design as me or a Sentinel truck,"

"And what would they have against a steam car?"

"What any other narrow-minded gas-guzzler would have against a steam car," Lucky retorted. "We're old technology, relics of the past; we don't fit into the society built around the internal combustion engine. The pettiest excuse flung towards me was a lack of exciting engine noise. They think our time is over, and we should go away,"

Sally grumbled. "These are the same vehicles that refuse to acknowledge the issues gasoline and diesel have. Those who dismissed Axelrod before Mater ousted him as a phoney and criminal mastermind. Miles might have been using the ideas of green energy and biofuel as a front for his scheme, but the message was still important. People did listen to it, and sadly it's been discredited thanks to Axelrod's actions,"

"Exactly," Lucky replied. She then leaned in. "Between you and me, in today's climate of rising fuel prices and scramble for environment-friendly engines and fuel, steam power could get a comeback,"

"But don't you and Hud us gas for your burners?"

"Yes," Lucky admitted. "But we could easily change to work on other flammable liquids. I'm only speculating. Personally, I think hydrogen fuel cells shall be the ultimate winner. The only thing stopping it is the lack of infrastructure,"

"Yeah," Sally said. "I like Tex Dinoco; he's probably the fairest and most gentlemanly sponsor the Piston Cup currently has. But I doubt an oil tycoon like him wants to drastically change his company. If he did, that would shake things up and get the ball rolling,"

Hudson spoke, "But what happens when petrol cars can't get petrol? Flo would go out of business, and Radiator Springs would be done for,"

Doctor Lane shrugged. "We could find alternatives. Some types of diesel vehicles work on old vegetable oil and white spirit. Mr Fillmore's organic fuel might take off,"

Sally blinked. "I'm not sure Fillmore would want to become a fuel baron. He wouldn't want to become the thing he hates,"

"Fillmore would suddenly change," Hudson replied. "And we'd be there to keep him on the straight and narrow. Sarge certainly would,"

Sally chuckled. "That's true," she bumped Hudson lightly. "I don't know why those officials think you're bad,"

Lucky answered, "Because they focused on what Master Hudson is, not who he is,"

Hudson frowned. "Then I'll show the world who I am. And who I'll be is a role model for steam cars,"