It wasn't nearly as silent a ride coming back from California, but then again, Sheriff was riding in the Impala this time.

The atmosphere in the Hornet was less tense as well, if only somewhat. Lightning drummed his hands on the ceiling above his position in the passenger seat, which earned him an incredulous look from Doc.

He was already wondering if he'd made the right decision.

The reactions of his eclectic family the evening before came back to him. Sally's hurt anger, Sheriff's look of reproach upon hearing he'd called the press, and Mater's soft I didn't get to say goodbye to 'im...

He'd been struck suddenly with thoughts of Thomasville at Mater's words. They'd never said goodbye either. He hadn't given them the chance.

So now he had some twenty-something punk playing with the radio of the one possession in life he really cared about.

Lightning rattled on and on over the ideas and plans he had for setting up in Radiator Springs, because, come on, they'd driven that far for one race, right? They obviously all cared about him even if they'd only really known him for a week.

"If I get my headquarters set up there, business will come rolling in again and it'll be like it was in its hay day!

Well not exactly, there were a lot of differences, some very specific differences, but Doc allowed him to continue.

Lightning thought back to the race only hours earlier and his brows lowered in realization. He sat up somewhat from where he'd been leaning against the passenger door.

"Hold on..."

"What?"

"When you all showed up-"

Doc leaned forward ever so slightly, as if it would spur the kid onward to finish a thought.

"You said you knew I needed a crew chief."

Instead of replying, Doc reached for the pack of cigarettes on the dash. This was going to be a long drive.

The corner of Lightning's mouth turned up. "You knew I needed a crew chief!"

"Everyone knew you needed a crew chief."

"You're not everyone." Lightning argued. "You're The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, that disappeared off the face of the earth and wanted nothing to do with Piston Cup anymore."

When there was no reply, he continued. "You knew who I was."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Lightning just stared at him a moment before looking out the front windshield. "Huh..."

Doc fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Couldn't they go back to silence? He'd take the constant change of radio stations over this.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm not even gracing that question with an answer."

"No, seriously. If you'd just said-"

"And what? Have you laugh in my face like you did at the Butte?" He challenged, finally looking away from the road.

"I wouldn't have..."

"You keep thinking that Hot Rod. Without the name, I was just another simpleton who didn't know what he was talking about."

Finally, silence.

He hadn't told Lightning who he was because of this exact reason, he knew somehow he was going to get dragged back in to it. He'd dug his heels in and done everything possible to keep that from happening.

Look how well that succeeded.

"So-" Lightning started hesitantly. "Was this race like...a one time thing then-?"

"I dunno."

He already knew it wasn't, even after decades away from the sport, it had only taken that walk through the tunnel to make him feel at home again.

Over the next half hour, Lightning hesitantly brought up the headquarters once more, and suggested maybe even a small museum.

"I mean, I had kind of been planning on coming back after the race anyway, but it wasn't until the press showed up and Sally-"

"I called the press." He admitted.

"-and I were upset-..." Lightning trailed off and looked toward his new not-crew chief in faint surprise that quickly turned to hurt.

"You called them?" He asked in a tone nearly identical to Sally's the night before.

"I called them." No more brushing things under the rug, not if the kid was sticking around for the foreseeable future.

He'd started following Piston Cup again in the early '60's, once the worst of the sting had faded and he was no longer as embittered to everyone and anyone involved. He'd kept up with Lou, Scott and Moon, had hoped to maybe hear something concerning his older brother but at the same time had been afraid to.

He'd seen rotations of racers debut on the track and retire, hear his own name thrown out once in a while, but it always felt like they were talking about someone else. He was Doc Hudson, Jesse Hudson was a kid that Piston had left behind.

That wasn't his life anymore. It hadn't been for a long time.

So when he'd entered the court room, expecting to throw out some community service (and he'd been ready to lay it on thick after having to walk that morning.) There was no way he was going to drive the Hornet over that mess of pavement that would've ripped up the undercarriage of the car.

The sheepish and hesitant grin on McQueen's face when he'd stopped short in surprise had only dug him a deeper hole. He'd heard the conversation beforehand and had known the kid wasn't the least bit sorry.

The arrogant rookie had reminded him of some very self entitled driver's he'd known in his own racing days. Looking back over the past week, he might have been a little too harsh.

Lightning stared out the front windshield, and the silence that followed was more pained than tense.

"I was too quick to judge you." Doc finally continued after a few moments, looking in the mirrors as they merged lanes on the highway.

Lightning looked away from the window and back toward him.

"I'd written you off." Kind of like the way he'd been written off some fifty years ago. "I should've paid more attention to what you were doing for the town."

What he'd been doing for its people...

"Well..." Lightning started. "We could always just chalk it up as a bad practice run-" He was surprised by the sudden grin on Doc's face. "First impressions aren't always accurate."

"True." Doc agreed.

Lightning smirked and held his hand out from where he was still slouched in the passenger seat. "Lightning McQueen. Nice to meet you."

Doc glanced at him once before reaching across the steering wheel. "Jesse Hudson."

"So what's this hunk of junk worth?" Lightning asked sarcastically.

"You better hope second impressions aren't accurate either."