Cars 2 (2 page)

L
ightning and Mater drove to Doc Hudson's former garage. The town had converted it into a racing museum in Doc's honor. Lightning placed his trophy—the first-ever Hudson Hornet Memorial Piston Cup—in the case alongside Doc's and his own Piston Cups.

“I know Doc said these things were just old cups…but to have someone else win it just didn't feel right, you know?” Lightning said quietly.

Mater nodded. “Doc would've been mighty proud of you,” he said. “That's for sure.”

The private moment ended as the two friends took off to join the rest of the Radiator Springs citizens.

“Boy, I'll tell you what, pal,” Lightning said to Mater as they drove along together. “It's been a long day. All I want to do is—”

“Stay up all night and party?” Mater asked excitedly as they moved toward his salvage yard.

“No.…” Lightning hesitated.

Mater grinned. “Go tractor-tipping, then stay up all night long?”

“No, Mater. I want to go out for a quiet dinner,” Lightning said.

“That sounds like fun, too!” Mater agreed. “Exactly what I was thinking!”

Lightning paused. “I meant with Sally, Mater,” he managed to say.

“That's a great idea!” Mater's grin got even wider. “You, me, and Miss Sally going out for supper! Where we gonna eat? Hey, I know—how about that new restaurant at the water park down on the interstate—Kersploosh Mountain?”

Lightning was hoping he wouldn't hurt Mater's feelings, but he really wanted to spend special time alone with Sally. “I was kind of thinking it would be a romantic dinner.”

“Well, dadgum. You can't get more romantic than Kersploosh Mountain. I hear tell they got slides where two cars can ride down together!” Mater said as they reached the salvage yard.

And with that, Mater got ready to connect the battery to his big surprise. It was a “Welcome Home” display he had made especially for Lightning. He was so excited that he could hardly contain himself.

“Mater,” Lightning blurted out. “I meant it would be just me and Sally.”

Mater stopped short. His smile dropped just a bit. Trying to hide his disappointment—and his light-up sign—he looked down at his tires.

“Oh.”

“It's just for tonight,” Lightning said gently.

“Uh, okay,” Mater said, glancing at his big sign in disappointment. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Lightning revved his engine. “I'm going to go tell Sally.”

“Right now?” Mater could hardly keep his lower lip from quivering.

“Yeah. Oh, wait! You wanted to show me something.”

“Oh, no. It was nothing. It can wait.” Mater faked a grin for his buddy. “You go on and have fun!”

Lightning sped away.

Alone now, Mater let out a big sigh. He had worked for days to create Lightning's surprise. He couldn't help himself. He turned, attached some jumper cables to a battery, and watched his contraption come to life.

A car horn played a celebratory song as an elaborate sign rose from behind a pile of tires. The sign read WELCOME HOME, BEST FRIEND!

As a final touch, two panels dropped and revealed two oilcans—one labeled with Lightning's name and the other with Mater's name. Mater's disappointment disappeared in a flash. Those old oilcans gave him an idea!

Later in the evening, Lightning and Sally left the glow of Radiator Springs' soft neon lights and drove up the moonlit mountain to the Wheel Well Motel's newly decorated restaurant.

They had just settled down and were enjoying the view from their table when their waiter appeared. Lightning looked up and did a double take. It was Mater. He was dressed in a waiter's uniform!

“Good evening,” Mater announced carefully. (He had received some quick training to ensure that he served Lightning and Sally their dinner just right.) “My name is Mater. I'll be your waiter this evening.” Then he chuckled. “Mater the waiter. That's pretty funny right there.”

“Mater, do you work here?” Lightning asked.

“Yeah,” Mater answered, grinning widely at the couple. “What'd you think? I was pretending to be your waiter just to hang out with you?”

Lightning and Sally exchanged a look. They knew Mater just wanted to be near his best friend.

“Uh, this wasn't my idea,” Lightning whispered to Sally.

But Sally just smiled. She knew how much Lightning meant to Mater. She decided to play along. “Okay, then, what are the specials tonight, Mater the waiter?”

Mater looked at Sally blankly. “The specials? Oh. Well, our transmission consommé is sublime.”

Sally was stunned—and delighted—by Mater's presentation. Lightning was impressed.

“Ooh, I think I saw Miss Sally's eyes light up there,” Lightning commented. “What else you got?”

Mater grinned. “There's coolant gas-pacho. That's served cold. And it's drizzled with power-steering fluid.” Mater went on and on until he couldn't think of any other dishes. “I'll let you two lovebirds mull that over while I get your drinks.”

Lightning grinned. He had to hand it to Mater: the tow truck had done well.

“I'll have my usual,” he told Mater.

“That sounds good. I'll have his usual, too,” Sally said. She liked seeing Lightning and Mater together. Their friendship was important to both of them.

Mater blinked. Clearly, he would have to figure out what that “usual” was! He turned and drove away to find out.

“I really missed that guy,” Lightning said to Sally. “Never a dull moment.”

I
nside the restaurant, Fillmore and Sarge were watching television as Guido served the cars some fuel and oil.

“Guido,” Mater said in a hushed voice, “what's Lightning's usual?”

Guido replied—in Italian—that he had no idea.

“Perfect!” Mater agreed. “Give me two of them!”

As Mater waited for Guido to pour some oil into two glasses, his attention strayed to the television.
The Mel Dorado Show
was on. Mel's guest tonight was legendary oil baron Sir Miles Axlerod.

“He shocked the world when he sold his oil fortune, converted himself from a gas guzzler into an electric car, and devoted his life to finding a renewable, cleanburning fuel!” Mel announced over the TV.

“Once ‘big oil,' always ‘big oil,' man,” Fillmore commented. He preferred his own organic blend.

“And to show the world what his new superfuel, Allinol, can do,” Mel told his viewing audience, “he's created a racing competition like no other, inviting the greatest champions from around the globe to battle in the first-ever World Grand Prix!”

Axlerod nodded modestly.

“Why Allinol? Why now?” Mel asked.

“Have you filled up your tank recently? It costs a fortune,” Sir Miles replied. “Pollution is getting worse. The world is sick of ‘big oil.'” Impassioned, Axlerod went on, “Alternative fuel is the future! And Allinol is the cleanest, safest, cheapest alternative fuel ever made.” Mel nodded approvingly as Axlerod continued. “Trust me, Mel. After seeing Allinol in action at the World Grand Prix, nobody will ever go back to gasoline again.”

Mel asked Miles why Lightning McQueen hadn't been invited to be in the race.

“We did ask,” Axlerod replied. “But apparently he's taking some time off to rest.”

At that moment, the Italian racing legend Francesco Bernoulli jumped into the conversation.

“Lightning McQueen would not have a chance against Francesco!” Francesco boasted.

Mater's jaw dropped. He could not believe that this Italian racer was insulting Lightning on TV! Mater put down his tray and headed for the phone.

Lightning and Sally were still waiting for their drinks when Lightning thought he heard Mater's voice on the TV in the background. Lightning didn't know it yet, but Mater was Mel's next caller.

“That I-talian fella you got on there can't talk that way about Lightning McQueen!” Mater shouted over the phone. His voice was broadcast loudly over the television set. “He's the bestest race car in the whole wide world.”

Francesco smugly replied, “If he is, as you say, ‘the bestest race car,' then why must he rest?”

A crowd was forming at the bar now. Everyone listened as Mater said, “'Cause he knows what's important! Every now and then he just prefers to slow down and enjoy life.”

“You heard it,” Francesco announced, gloating. “Lightning McQueen prefers to be slow. This is not news to Francesco. When I want to go to sleep, I watch one of his races. After two laps, I am out cold.”

The Radiator Springs crowd began to boo. Sally and Lightning moved from their table to see what the commotion was about.

“Lightning McQueen is afraid of Francesco!” Francesco said, smiling. “This is understandable.”

“Francesco Bernoulli,” Sally said, admiring the Italian race car. “No wonder there's a crowd.”

“How do you know his name? And don't say it like that:
Francessssco,
” Lightning said, pouting. “It's three syllables, not ten!”

“What?” Sally said, still staring at the TV screen. “He's nice to look at—open-wheeled and all.”

But Mater wasn't done with Francesco yet. “Lightning could drive circles around you!”

“Mel, can we move on?” The arrogant Francesco rudely interrupted Mater. “Francesco needs a caller who can provide a little more intellectual stimulation. Like a dump truck.”

Now, that upset Lightning. The national racing champion headed to the phone.

“This is Lightning McQueen,” Lightning said over the phone. “Look, I don't appreciate my best friend being insulted.”

“Lightning, that was your best friend?” Francesco laughed. “This is the difference between you and Francesco. Francesco knows he is superior to others. He does not need to surround himself with bumpkins to prove it.”

“Those are strong words from such a fragile car!” Lightning countered.

The conversation got more and more heated until Sir Miles Axlerod interrupted.

“This sounds like something that needs to be settled on the course,” Sir Miles said. “What do you say, Lightning? I've got room for one more racer.”

Lightning paused. He had let his pit crew go on vacation. He couldn't race without them! Suddenly, he looked around the room. He had a pit crew right there: Fillmore, Sarge, Luigi, and Guido.

“Yeah,” Lightning announced to Axlerod and all the TV viewers around the world. “I'm in!”

Lightning turned to Sally. “I know,” he apologized. “But we won't be long, and—”

“Don't worry about me.” Sally stopped him gently. “But you're bringing Mater, right?” Then she added, “Just let him sit in the pits, give him a headset—thrill of a lifetime for him.” She knew how much this would mean to Mater—and Lightning would need a good friend to support him in this big competition.

Lightning paused. Mater rolled over to them, bringing their drinks.

“How'd you like to come see the world with me?” Lightning asked Mater.

“Oh, yeah. They owe me a lot of vacation time,” Mater replied, then let out a shriek of joy. “I'm in!” he shouted.

L
ightning's new pit crew worked day and night to get him ready for the race. Ramone even gave him a new paint job with some special airbrushing. The finishing touch was a set of blinding new headlights. The World Grand Prix would not be run on traditional racetracks. The cars would race through city streets and countryside in Tokyo, Japan; Porto Corsa, Italy; and London, England. Lightning would need lights to race.

Of course, Guido and Luigi gave him new tires and packed several extra sets.

It wasn't long before Mater, Lightning, and his Radiator Springs pit crew rolled onto an airplane. They were on their way to Japan. Tokyo was the first leg of the three-part World Grand Prix race.

Mater enjoyed the free snacks and videos on the plane, but they were nothing compared to the bright and colorful lights of Tokyo. As they left the Tokyo airport, Mater was amazed by the city. He wanted to see and do everything.

As soon as they arrived in the heart of the city, Team Lightning McQueen went to see kabuki theater and sumo wrestling. Mater even joined in the fun by wearing kabuki face paint.

Later, they attended an official prerace party hosted by Sir Miles Axlerod. Lightning McQueen rolled up on the red carpet as the media cars crowded around for pictures. Mater had never seen anything like it in his life.

The party was held in an ultramodern museum with a huge indoor waterfall. All the car-racing greats were there, including Francesco.

“Mater, I'm so glad you got me into this thing,” Lightning said as he spotted some of his racing friends.

“Me too, buddy!” Mater's eyes grew wide as he looked around at the fancy party. “Hey, what's that?” Mater started to drive away.

“No! Mater!” Lightning shouted too late. He was hoping desperately to keep his friend by his side. The rusty tow truck was not used to life outside Radiator Springs. He was bound to get into some sort of trouble.

But one of Lightning's racing pals pulled him into a conversation as Mater wandered off. A minute later, as they were talking, Lightning realized that a number of partygoers were looking at Mater and giggling.

“Who brought that guy?” Jeff Gorvette, another American race car, asked Lightning.

Mater was looking at a very serious car raking a rock garden with absolute precision, an old Japanese tradition. But Mater thought he was trying to rake leaves!

“Hey!” Mater shouted. “You done good! You got all the leaves!”

Lightning quickly rolled up to Mater and pulled him aside.

“Listen,” Lightning whispered. “This isn't Radiator Springs.” But Mater didn't seem to understand that he was embarrassing himself and Lightning! “I'm saying things are different over here,” Lightning added. “Just help me out here, Mater.”

Mater lit up like a bulb. “You need help? Shoot! Why didn't you say so? That's what a tow truck does.”

They were suddenly distracted by the sound of laughter across the room. Francesco Bernoulli was shamelessly flirting with some of the ladies.

“Hey, looky there,” Mater said, glancing over at Francesco. “It's Mr. San Francisco!”

“Mater, wait!” Lightning said, but Mater drove off.

“Look at me!” Mater exclaimed. “I'm helping already!”

Lightning quickly followed Mater, hoping to bring him back. But it was too late. Mater had reached Francesco and begun the introductions.

“Hey, Mr. San Francisco,” Mater said, addressing Francesco, “I'd like you to meet—”

“Lightning McQueen!” Francesco replied, looking Lightning up and down.
“Buona sera!”

“Excuse me,” Mater said, interrupting Francesco. “Can I get a picture with you? Miss Sally's gonna flip when she sees this. She's Lightning McQueen's girlfriend. She's a big fan of yours.”

Francesco shrugged. “She has good taste.”

Lightning tried to smile. “Mater's prone to exaggeration. I wouldn't say she's a
big
fan.”

“You're right.” Mater nodded. “She's a
huge
fan.”

“Francesco is familiar with this reaction to Francesco.” The Italian race car smiled, then added, “I dedicate my win tomorrow to Miss Sally.”

“Oh, sorry,” Lightning replied. “I already dedicated my win tomorrow to her. So if we both do it, it's not really that special.” Then, noticing Mater driving off toward more trouble, he added, “See you at the race!”

Francesco smiled. “Yes, you will see Francesco. But not like this,” he said, gesturing smugly to his handsome face. Francesco turned and showed Lightning his rear bumper. It had a license plate that read CIAO, LIGHTNING MCQUEEN!

“That's cute,” Lightning said. “You had one of those made up for all the racers?”

“No,” Francesco said simply.

Lightning tried to shrug off his bad feeling as he rolled away. Francesco was making this race personal!

Meanwhile, as Sir Miles Axlerod told the media about the wonders of his new fuel, Allinol, a bank of cameras recorded every word. Several of the cameras displayed the letters WGP—just like the camera Professor Z had unwrapped on the oil derrick.

And, unobserved, Finn McMissile was checking them all out.