Jessica wasn't at an age anymore that she had to hound her parents to take her where she wanted to go. At the ripe old age of twenty, and a few hundred miles under her belt, she tended to just grab the keys on her way out the door with a quick kiss to either parent's cheek.

"Keep it under eighty."

"Your father's being stingy today, I was going to say a hundred." Sally commented as she'd leaned over the counter to kiss her daughter goodbye.

She was barely leaving town, she probably wouldn't break thirty-five.

"You'll need to be back before ten." Lightning watched her pause and turn around in the doorway, he'd never figure out how she had learned Doc's deadpan stare. "We're leaving at five tomorrow."

"I know. 'm only going to the Butte. You can stand outside and yell for me if I'm not back by then." She grinned and waved as she closed the door behind her.

The sun was low in the sky as late afternoon lengthened into evening and Jess took a moment to stare across the landscape surrounding the Butte before reaching into the back seat. It had been unusually chilly for the region that month, and she zippered up the Piston logo hoodie she'd purchased in Watkins Glen International some four years ago. She was not made for the weather in New York. She'd never expected to need it at home.

Grabbing her old beaten duffel, she closed the car door and picked her way down the bank's edge.

"My first official race is tomorrow..." She sat with her back to a flat faced section of the rock monolith that gave the track it's name. "I'm actually really nervous, but I don't want Dad to know. I can tell he's practically in panic mode already. Mom's taking this better than he is, and she's the one that used to panic at the Junior Racing tournaments."

She undid the draw string of the old military style bag and fished around blindly until finding what she was looking for. She placed the set of diecast cars in a row, some of them so beaten and worn that their color was no longer discernible. Their miniature tires sunk in to the soft dirt at her feet. She hoped no one else felt the need to visit the Butte, she'd look awfully silly playing with a bunch of old toy cars.

She wasn't playing, she was just lining them up. You know, for old time's sake.

"Tomorrow's the real deal..." She looked up and shielded her eyes against an evening sun so red she was reminded of that old maritime phrase.

Red sky in morning, sailor take warning-

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight." She looked out toward the turn. "That could apply to driver's right?"

"Sure it can, let's just agree that it can." She bit her lip and continued. "I'm not even sure why I'm nervous, I've subbed before, it's not like I've never been out there."

The sponsor had never depended solely on her before, though, and she'd never had nearly as much say in decision making on the track as she would now. Lightning McQueen's daughter was now an official Piston Cup driver, not just some cute kid that hung around Pit Row wearing her dad's baseball cap or sat with him in the pit box.

She wished she hadn't forgotten her phone, a call to Cruz would be nice right about now.

She settled for staring at the row of Hotwheels cars instead.

"It's just go karts on steroids, right."

She picked up the baby blue Plymouth Superbird and nodded her head as if she were talking to the car. "Right."

After a moment she turned the car over in her hands a few times and randomly remembered her own comment to her father some fourteen years ago.

I like that thingy on the back.

"When did I ever not like cars..." Her brows lowered and she set the superbird down to pick up another.

"This is the most mundane, one sided conversation ever, I apologize..."

She shifted and rested her shoulder against the flat stone. As she made her way down the line of cars she described each fear and hope for the season and future seasons.

"Cruz understood Dad wanting to be my crew chief, I think she even mentioned it before he got around to it. She hasn't been driving as much lately either. I think she's going to move back to training. I could be wrong though."

She shut up quickly and sat up at the sound of a vehicle on the ridge before she scooped up the cars when it finally appeared. With a huff she leaned back again but kept the toys near her side and out of sight. Tourists would have to butt in wouldn't they...

At least she wasn't quite a celebrity yet, and just looked like a local kid lazing about at the dirt track.

Maybe they would see there was someone there and leave their visit for another time.

She wrinkled her nose when she saw them taking selfies.

A cold chill ran through her and she leaned her shoulder in to the stone again, using it as a wind break as she looked back down at the cars to her left, protected between herself and the rock face. Picking up all of the Hotwheels Certified Piston Models out of the collection, she held them in an open palm. The Plymouth Superbird, Rust-eze Stock Car, Hudson Hornet, Cruz's Dinoco Stock Car, and Jr's Earnhardt Inc. Stock Car all had made it through the years without coming to much harm. She'd taken good care of that set at least. Her focus was drawn away from the cars and toward the few people as they'd wandered down to the track.

So much for a private conversation to calm pre-race jitters.

She carefully returned the cars to the over sized green canvas bag but thought better of it and reached back in search of one in particular. There were two versions, but the one she had with her was the Hornet without its white lettering. She reached up beside her and set it on top of the plaque her father had put in place so many years ago.

"I wish you were here to see tomorrow."

She pushed herself up and dusted herself off before taking the sleeve of her hoodie and clearing the dirt and sand from the protected engraving in the carved rock she'd been sitting beside. It had been pretty windy lately.

Jess stared in silence a moment before shouldering the duffel bag. She was halfway to the car when she noticed the tourists again. She spun on her heel and walked back, snatching the Hotwheels model from where she'd left it. They could get their own from the museum's gift shop.

Her father had given her that and she didn't know which of them would be more upset to find out some tourist had walked off with it.

Pretty soon she'd be able to add her own stock car to the collection.