"What do you think you're doing."

"What does it look like." Lightning glanced between the two cars parked on the dirt track and back toward Jackson.

"You're still not touching my car."

"We had this argument yesterday."

"That was yesterday."

Smokey glanced up toward the sky from where he was leaning against the railing and summoned the patience needed to deal with the kids in front of him. It had been a long time since he'd stood there, in that exact spot even, and coached a driver that was dumb enough to talk back at times.

He wasn't even listening to their bickering but spoke up suddenly and wasn't surprised when they fell silent.

"Kid's got a point you know."

Lightning frowned and his head whipped in Smokey's direction. "Sorry?"

"What do you drive on the track?" It was his turn to play the uninterested teacher, picking at a knot in the wooden rail in front of him with his old pocket knife. He brushed the wood shavings away and glanced up when Lightning didn't answer right away.

"Well, the Rust-eze-..."

"Then that's what you train in. No point in learning a different car if you're not going to use it."

Jackson only offered a smug grin in Lightning's direction before going to get in his car.

"Hey, kid."

Lightning hesitated but finally sighed and approached the railing Smokey was leaned against. He appreciated the help, he did, but they were past the halfway mark of the week. He didn't have a lot of time.

Smokey only glanced at him before looking back toward the #2.0, he knew they couldn't be heard but lowered his voice anyway. "You have got to stop letting him get to you."

"What? I'm not-" Lightning's protest died at the look he was being given. It must have been a Hudson thing, because the 'who do you think you're fooling' look was only intimidating when they were giving it.

"You remember what I said about the rookie Hud dealt with."

"In '53?"

He hummed in affirmation before speaking. "Kid was wound up for weeks over this new driver, because he was gunning for him, and only him. The minute he took a step back and concentrated on his own driving, and went back to worrying about himself-" He poked Lightning in the chest to emphasize his point. "-he left that rookie in the dust."

"Things won't ever go back to the way they were. You'll never be as fast as him." He didn't fail to notice how Lightning's expression fell at that. Instinctively, he reached out and tapped the kid's temple. "But you can be smarter."

Lightning was silent a moment before finally looking up at him and nodding once.

"Now go get in the car, we got work to do."

He watched as Lightning climbed in to the stock car and adjusted his ball cap as both cars started out for a warm up lap.

"Boy, have we got work to do..."

Jackson wished he had popcorn, because McQueen's whining was the best soap opera drama he'd seen in a while. After an entire day of doing every single thing they'd been told to do, they were camped out watching old race reels. Jackson was splitting his time between watching the footage and watching McQueen's belly aching over how he never had to draft before.

Smokey's reply had left him looking between the two almost gleefully, teeth clamped together as a laugh fought it's way up and caught in the back of his throat.

Ok, maybe he was exaggerating McQueen's 'whining', because he wasn't really, it was just too entertaining to see the older driver look at his former crew chief's...crew chief? (Were they called crew chiefs in the fifties? He had no idea.) With a look of exasperated despondency.

If he were completely honest, which he liked to believe he usually was, to a fault even, was that his thinking was that Smokey was probably the only person who could help McQueen at this point. The man who'd taught McQueen's own crew chief/trainer was most likely the only person on the face of the planet, currently, that he'd listen to.

Because McQueen hadn't exactly been listening to him, that was for sure. That was ok, though, he'd never really expected him to.

It was getting too late in the evening to continue, and when Lightning asked why they couldn't just fire up the spotlights on the track, Smokey's expression became unreadable.

"They don't work anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I need to be?" He'd asked a little more forcefully than necessary.

"I just want to check, where would I-"

Jackson had pushed himself up from the lawn chair when Smokey regarded them silently, his jaw set briefly before he turned toward the grandstand. He passed a hand over the back of his neck. "Why not go check. Stranger things have happened..."

Lightning stared up at the set of keys hanging, covered with decades of dirt that made them look almost fake. "How do I get up there?"

Smokey stood a few feet back with his arms crossed, eyeing the key ring with a look Lightning couldn't quite interpret.

McQueen attempted to scale the chain link but was forced to drop back to the ground. It wasn't really relevant to what he was doing but he suddenly wanted to ask what he'd been wondering about all day.

"This place bring back memories?"

"More than you know."

They made a ridiculous sight, Lightning and Smokey conversing even as Jackson attempted to get a running start toward the fence.

"With all the other fences falling apart you'd think we could just push it over."

"You would think." Smokey muttered.

"What if we-"

"No."

Lightning's brows lowered in confusion, but he supposed that Smokey must have known what he was going to suggest.

A few more failed attempts from either of the boys and Smokey excused himself, thinking that maybe there were old bolt cutters somewhere they could get access to. When he returned he stopped and huffed, standing just inside the entrance and shaking his head when Lightning held the keys up with a smirk. It was like looking in to the past.

Unfortunately, though, the evening didn't last long. While there were spotlights that still worked, to everyone's great surprise, there were still commitments Smokey had the next morning and he was forced to duck out before it got too late. Lightning knew they could just pick up the next day but was still left staring out at the track once Smokey had finally left.

Jackson had gone back to the trailer, which had found itself parked at the track once more, and had started reading one of the books he'd downloaded the night before. Before he knew it, it was after one in the morning and he was a quarter of the way through. He set the phone down and stretched before realizing McQueen hadn't ever returned to the trailer. He hadn't had he?

Storm zipped his hoodie up and left the living space. He was startled to see the spotlights still lit over the dirt track and McQueen's figure in just about the same place he'd seen him last. He was ready to make some sarcastic remark but held back, and he was glad he did. McQueen's outburst startled him and he stayed where he was near the headlight on the passenger side of the big rig.

Lightning hadn't felt this low since leaving Radiator Springs, he'd been staring out over the red dirt for hours before finally having enough.

"What did you see?" He shouted suddenly as he kicked the rotted post before him in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Tears welled in his eyes before he had the chance to even think of stopping them. "What was so special about me!"

Maybe it was time to call it quits. Maybe it was time to go home.

Realizing McQueen was about to return to the trailer, Jackson made a hasty retreat as silently as possible and flopped onto the fold out couch he'd been occupying the whole trip. He nearly bust his kneecap in the dark trying to make sure he was there before Lightning opened the door and held his breath against the pain even as he heard the little door open and closed his eyes.

Lightning allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the trailer and wandered past the dinette and where Jackson lay sleeping as he made his way to the back of the trailer.

The phone on the dinette lit up with a notification and he glanced at it, thinking it was his for a moment before realizing it was Jackson's. The automated question from the reading app surprised him, though, and left him stalled in his tracks for a moment.

Would you like to bookmark the last page you read in, DRIVEN TO WIN: How Dirt Track Racers Shaped Piston Cup?

AN: Feels. Some of you have mentioned it but I have to join in.