Author pow:
Hello everyone. Before we start I'd like you to acknowledge following points to avoid any misunderstandings:
1. I don't own Cars franchise, nor any other franchise used in this story. My ownership is limited to the Fic itself in range specified by FFN rules.
2. This Fic has no upload frequency, I write this for fun.
3. Grammar and spelling won't be perfect, but I'll try not to make it atrocious for you.
4. Characters in the fic are not humanized.
5. If you want to make rewrite/adaptation/anything related to this story, go for it! The more content around the merrier.
With this out of the way, enjoy the read!
Narrator pow:
"... Dang it." A stock car with a bland chrome body deflecting pale moonlight cursed, slowly coming to a stop in a middle of a free parking space under what seemed to be a wide American pub. "I'm nowhere to be kept in..."
"Oy, Kevin!" Tough, joyous tone called out from behind.
"He?" Kevin groan in questioning manner, making two 90-degree turns to see who was behind him. "Chuck?!"
"Long time no see, bud." Another stock car, this time with brown paintjob and bold yellow letters displaying 'Axol Barn' on the engine cover. "Where have you been?"
"Traveling for no reason." Kevin sighed. "Since Dino took over for me there isn't exacly much I want to do, especially stay with family reminding me I didn't win a single Piston Cup while on track..."
"Oh well, on contrary I opened up a pub here." Chuck responded, pointing his left-front tire forward. "We serve toughest oil on this side of a Missisipi. Wanna join for a night and chat to light up the mood?"
"I guess I have nothing better... Wait." Kevin nodded, before a realisation struck him. "Wait, which side of Missisipi are we on?"
"The one closer to Truckland." Chuck retored in joking manner. "Right on the other side Rusty has his farm and gives me corn for local brew if you look for a friendly visit. Friendship is a wonderful thing."
"Yeah, we were all a good bunch off the track." Kevin smiled, before driving off the way to the left. "Either way, how about we get in?"
"Hmph, we better." Chuck sniffed as the two slowly drive forward towards double wooden doors that were illuminated with strong yellow light from the inside.
"I could've sworn they had a teamwork, but..." One random voice from the inside broke outside for them to hear as they got up to the doors.
"Yeah, forgot to warn that Piston Cup is numero uno for discussions in here." Chuck said with slight remorse.
"Meh, I'll manage." Kevin shrugged his sides before coming in first, gently pushing the doors inside and getting a clear grasp at all that was inside.
Round tables with lots of space, main serving table wide as four pit stop stations, separate wall for trucks and a whole lot of photos with Chuck from his younger years. Of course, with a main centerpiece being the clutch he worn out during one of his victories in Piston Cup. All of that under a view of three large lights in the ceeling and makeshuft christmas tree lights acting as LED floor lighting. Kind of silly interior buy one that definitely was supported by locals and everyday pit-stoppers: Travelers like him.
"Oh, Kevin's here?!" One buick from the right asked, looking over the table as the others turned in to see former racer waltz in at like two miles an hour. Because hey, who would drive faster inside such a place?
"What's up chap?" Green Nissan Parejo asked from the side, taking a break from corn-labeled oil can.
"All good, relatively." Kevin, responded, moving forward to let Chuck come in too.
"LET ME RACE COACH! I CAN STILL RACE!" An omnious choir set out all over, shaking tables and giving Kevin a brief feeling of spinning on a straight which was followed by a spam of ringing and bumping metal as the place raised a collective toast.
"Ahahahahaha! Helllooo everyone!" Chuck laughed, waving fires and scoring bumps with cars all around him while Kevin proceeded forward to the bar.
"What' ya need, Sir?" Pittie from behind the bar asked.
"... Local special, ninety-five ocatne." Kevin ordered after brief look over the lower side od the bar with menu.
"Gotcha."
"Say, how about we sit down there and talk life?" Chuck asked him, coming from the right and pointing towards the biggest table at the end-right corner labeled 'Special Guests' via a hanged sign up before it.
"Shucks, I guess." Kevin nodded as the two drove forward to the place.
"... Wanna start?" Chuck asked again as the two stopped right in front of the wooden ring and looked forward at the picture of Chuck back in a Mood Springs livery and race trophy for one of his won races. "... Anything?"
"Nah, not in a mood." Kevin responded, looking down onto the wooden table. "Sorry pal."
"Meh, don't mention it." Chuck patted him on the side with the tire. "Not everyone got lucky with this stuff after replacements."
"Yeah, Next-Gen sweeped us hard." Chuck nodded. "At least with Dud and Dino there was no beef. We got out between the seasons as contracts expired and chiefs calculated extebdibg them isn't good for points, but these lads? Business screwed over them and gave two bumps for goodbye."
"Two?" Kevin asked, suddenly curious.
"One on the bumper with paying for the one-side contract termination and one in the windshield for doing it mid-season. Like, hell man." Chuck said, visibly frustrated in a toned manner. "Whole lot of young newbies with carriers on top level barely beginning got ended just like that. Some of them barely entered their second season..."
"Damn." Kevin nodded, nailed in the feelings with the news.
"At least us old gens got mostly set after carrers and felt either accomplished or justly replaced... Well, except you. Family planned you to be a racing legend. No offense." Chuck continued, easily getting himself into personal territory.
"None taken. You're not too far from the truth." Kevin sighed after the sentence. "Then again, I gotta find a new calling in life quickly."
"Duly noted." Chuck agreed as two corn drinks were served on their table. "Thanks Charles."
"All for you, Boss." Pittie responded before turning around and driving away.
"Phew, always somethin'." Kevin said out loud while Chuck began to drink his own tin.
Bip, bip*
"Huh?"
"Who's calling?"
"Huh?" Chuck gasped, stopping his pull on the corn to look sideways at Kevin who just recieved a call.
"Hey Kevin, it's me, W.B.R." Called spoke up with a note of rush in voice. "Where are you?"
"Missisipi River, almost at the shore." Kevin responded. "What happened?"
"Just catching up. I'm looking for a place where my Physics Associate Degree can hold up. Have something by a chance?"
"I dunno, the best I know of is Chuck's pub." Kevin answered with troubled face, giving Chuck a 'Not my fault, sorry' stare and sour face.
"Oh well, maybe he wants expertise on how to improve his brewerage with Physics?"
"Whatever, I'll take it." Chuck said loud enough for the called to hear. "You showed weird brilliance of unorthodox approach on track many times, you can do it again."
"Thanks Chuck! I'll be here in two days tops!"
Click*
"Off he goes, speedy as always." Pub owner snickered under the hood while Kevin just looked down, and then up. "... You good there? You didn't even touch the drink." He asked after realising the situation.
"Chuck..." Kevin spoke slowly, almost as if he had a Prophethic vision right before the eyes. "I just heard the words about unorthodox approach... And it got me thinking..."
"... Hmmm-mhm." Chuck nodded, slurping his own drink with unsure look as other visitor looked at them. Now actually curious about the two.
"... Lets make our own racing team."
"PFFFTTT!"
"What?!" A random shout came from the back as the attention of everyone became unquestionable as under a magic spell.
"Dude! How are we gonna get the money for it?" Chuck asked with raised tone, not even caring he spilled his drink all over the table.
"We have a lot of our gens barely a full year after their contracts got terminated." Kevin began, turning around for everyone to see him clearly. "And you know, terminated contracts left them with a lot of money..."
"And they will just ride for us free?" Chuck asked, unamused but still asborbed.
"I never said that." Kevin defended himself. "Besides, I only plan it as a one-season last hurrah for us. They want to race the whole season clearly, not get bounced off mid-season by their pressured team sponsor and call it an end of career." He paused for a short while, driving a bit forward towards the center-right section of the pub. "They won't demand much, and I think we have enough stuff on our own to have sponsorships, supplies and crews as needed."
"... And my pub is gonna be the main sponsor?" Chuck asked cautiously.
"Only if you want." Kevin responded, lightly tilting backwards so he could hear him better. "After all, it's just a crazy idea from a crazy race car..."
"Did somebody said RACE?!" Exstatic voice made him shake in the wheels as the doors swinged wide open to reveal solid black stock car riding in with the modest grille to match.
"Dirk?" Chuck asked suprised. "What are you doing here?"
"Tryin' to enjoy Missisipi air?" Newcomer responded with unamused face.
"Fair enough."
"And yes, you heard right." Kevin followed up. "I want to give us one true season of true racing, as we deserve."
"Well... Kevi, Buddy..." Dirkson nodded, driving forward with newly-gained smug "I think I have just a troupee for you."
"But you also gotta dump fuel onto it from your own tankers, D." Kevin calmed him enthusiasm. "Operating a team makes lots of costs.
"You think we don't know?" Dirkson asked with a smug. "Buddy, we were all in this sport for years, decades. We all know all the needs just fine."
"You do?" Chuck asked from the end of a room.
"We all do." New voice joined as three more black stock cars drove inside.
"... Do my eyes decieve me?" Kevin asked out loud, shocked just as much as the rest of the bar. "Brick? Floyd? Darren? What you three were doing here?"
"Traveling around the world with buddies from track. Nothin' much." Floyd smirked, then making a suggestive glare. "We're all up for joining, if we get at least one sponsor..."
"... Chuck." Kevin spoke, turning around as everyone began to look at the owner.
"... Yeah?" He gulped, pressure by being cornered not only by old friends and customers, but even his pitties as one was behind him swiping the table with a handkerchief (Wheelkerchief? I dunno on this pun).
"Wanna join us?" Kevin asked. "Come on, only one season and then we can part our ways."
"... Suuureee... I call Rusty tomorrow and see if he wants to jump in."
"YAAAAAAAAAAY!" The hall erupted with calls of joy, basically becoming a barfest for a brief moment. "They're back on the track lads!"
"Sweet." Darren nodded. "Anyways, mind if we drink together? Been some time since we saw you two."
"Drinkin' in, pal!" Kevin waved his right-front tiee for them to come in. "We gotta enjoy the free time while we can!"
Team name: Axol Barn
Line-up: (Driver),(Crew Chief),(Back-up)
Team 1: Kevin Shiftgear,
Team 2: Brick Yardley, Winford Bradford Rutherford,
Team 3: Dirkson D'Agostino, Floyd Mulvhill,
Team 4: Darren Leadfoot, Chuck Armstrong,
Team Owner: Chuck Armstrong
R n' D department: Floyd Mulvhill, Winford Bradford Rutherford
Fuel Supply: Rusty Cornfuel (Cornfuel's Farm)
Sponsors: Axol Barn (Main, large logos on sides behind front wheels), Cornfuel's Farm (Technical, large logo on sides before rear wheels)
Paintjob: Gray with brown lining, purple decals and white numbers. Sponsors' logos keep their own paint schemes
"So far so good." Floyd commented, pulling himself closer to the table.
"I swear! I finished the race eight and they still fired me. I just started to race goooo-o-o-oood..." Dirkson cried, rolling in the background with drink-supported emotional breakdown.
"It went further than we expected." Kevin added.
"You don't say." Brick rolled his eyes with annoyance.
"I still don't get driving four at the same time." Chuck commented. "Like, I get that nobody drove more than one since Century break, but why all four at once?"
"Everyone wants to get a shot pal." Kevin explained. "The marked of prematyrely replaced cars is just too wide. Plus, we need to rev up our operations."
"Fair." Brick nodded.
"And again, we gotta pull in our team as many racers with upfront payed release fees as we can."
"Sure thing." Floyd nodded. "Then again, you still need a crew chief and everyone needs pitties and back-up drivers."
"Exacly." Kevin acknowledged before turning to Brick. "Have you make some calls in a meantime?"
"Several, actually." Brick responded, taking a break for another sip. "Tommy Highbanks and Todd Marcus wanna be on your race line-up."
"That makes second driver places for some of us checked." Kevin smiled, taking up the pen from a side and making two quick writes on the handkerchief.
"But here comes the best one." Ex-Vitoline racer continued.
"Shoot." Floyd encouraged him with high nod.
"I have part manufacturer open to sponsor us on the get go."
"Really?" Kevin asked with joyous tone.
"Who?" Chuck added.
"Lemon-Aid Workshops."
"..."
"..."
"... What is that?" Dirkson asked, now after his worse episode as he joined the group back in.
"A start-up company focused on manufacturing parts for lemon cars." Rather rowdy Ford Galaxy with olive-green paintjob responded, joining them on the side with a chug of BP. "I know because my Grandpa bought some shares for them to start."
"Lemon cars? That's a screw hole." Floyd added with casual tone. "Guys' been misdriven like no other."
"Yeah, remember Allinol fiasco?" Brick added with sour face. "Imagine I was watching McQueen Racing in this mess."
"You did?!" Dirkson shouted in panic.
"Yeah." Brick responded, making the older mate roll to the right side and freeze in shock.
"Brick, I need you to do something." Kevin continued the conversation in serious tone.
"Go on."
"Call these guys back and get in details."
"Sure thing." Brick nodded, driving away from the table and driving along it's curve to the rest of the room. "Floyd, come with me. I'm in need of part expertise."
"You got it, Walls!" Older ex-racer laughed while making a backward turn so he could pass before joining him on a drive outside.
"What now?" Chuck asked unconvinced.
"Depends on the results." Kevin responded. "We still need two back-up drivers and one crew chief for me."
"Actually, I can join." Fold Galaxy spoke up.
"You can?" Chuck asked cautiously.
"Yeah! I was driving with spare tires to racing facilities for years now and got to spectate junior Racing via employee pass." Civilian continued with unrelenting confidence. "I know exacly when a tire change is to be made."
"Good enough. Flowing in gas is a standard at any pit stop." Kevin nodded. "You're in, bud."
"Thanks Boss!" Ford nodded, making a salute with left-front tire. "Also, my name is Schlad Truckree."
"Truckee? You're Texan?" Chuck asked suprised.
"Half." Schlad continued. "I'm first non-truck in my family for generations. And the family name has 'r' before the 'ee'"
"That's a way to call a family." Kevin nodded before making another note on. "Anyways, we assume Rusty won't show up tonight?" He asked turning back to Chuck.
"Dumb-rear built himself new house right in front of Route Ninety." Chuck laughed weakly. "He'll try to sleep throu the traffic you made me here."
"Really?" Kevin asked, before turning around to notice just how much cars showed up. "Oh..."
"See? Pubs aren't places to make Piston Cup teams anymore. We are not in early tweny' Century'."
"Come on, tough guy. It's good for business." Schlad tried to calm him down.
"Well, too bad! I'm almost out of drinks to serve."
"Boss that ain't true." One pitty remarked from the side while carrying an engien-sized barrel to the order desk.
"Shh!" Chuck tried to hiss him down.
"Heheh." Kevin chuckled. "You're gonna hire some more people after that." He paused, seeing someone whip out a camera and make few photos with a flash on. "Marketing revenue will make sure that you keep the money up."
"I know, I know. Thank you." Chuck waved him off. "Now then, how about we go to sleep now? I have enough rooms at the back and people slowly start to move on towards other towns nearby."
"Yeah, that sounds... Aaalright." Kevin yawned while nodding. "Schlad. Please make sure Brick and Floyd also get the sleep."
"On it Boss." Ford Galaxy agreed, turning around and leaving the pub.
"Man. We are in for a ride." Chuck nodded as the two grabbed their can and began to slowly drive away to the left side of the room.
"Don't worry. It's the last one if you don't wanna more." Kevin responded with comforting tone. "After all, it's one-season thing as we agreed."
"Yeah..."
"... Sooo... Where are the rooms, exacly?"
"Right there." Chuck answered, pointing to the side at the seemingly endless corridoor with doors left and right. "Secred to the się od my pub isn't width from the interstate. It's his depth via lenght inside of it."
"Oh."
"Your room number is fifty-five. Good night." Chuck added, giving him a solid door keys out of nowhere before driving back into the serving bar via side doors for employees. "Okay bros! Finished the servings and we close for tonight. One-time bonus is gonna be delivered tomorrow."
"Thanks Boss!"
"Heh. He sure knows something." Kevin smiled before driving away towards the rooms, looking left and right in search of a number.
"But now, I gotta go sleep. Tomorrow is gonna bring a lot more than this little night..."