Dream Girl (Lightning McQueen X Self insert)

The Race

After setting our cars to the racing location, Luigi and Guido talk to McQueen.

"Pit stop?"

"It's a one lap race, there's no need for a pit stop.
Me not need-o no pit- stop- o."

"That's one lame attempt at speaking Italian."

He would speak his defense rebuttal, but he's trying to get through to them currently.

Eventually, McQueen gets through to them, and
every racer gets into their cars.

I missed my car.
I didn't need to drive it much around here, and I didn't want to waste mileage; but maybe this little bit won't hurt.

"Good luck comrades!" I jokingly voice aloud, scoffing.
I speak my word before getting into my car, tossing my seatbelt on.

"Ready..."

"Set..."

"Partire!"

Doc sends me the signal to continue, so McQueen doesn't get suspicious.

I race off, neck to neck with the blonde racer.

The turn's coming up.

I remember one summer, I think it was the summer I turned 14.
I was stressed with highschool, and in said highschool I was tinkering with students cars and engines, for a good price at that.

I was a well known mechanic at my highschool;
and that very summer Doc let me touch his old dirt racing car.

"It's a beauty Doc."

"I want to gift it to you. To repair, at least. Fix it up for me, will ya? That's your summer project this year."

"Thanks for trusting me with this. It means a lot."

I ran up to hug him.

"Thank you so much." I bury my face in his neck.
Sighing, he put his hand to my back.

"You're welcome. Just get the job done." He jokes.

"Of course." I nod at his vague yet blunt statement.

That summer, when I finished repairing the car, he gave me my first lesson on drifting.

"Turn right to go left."

"Huh?"

"It's a traction tip. So you can get enough room to get the tires to breathe and turn."

"Drifting, I think it's a style they often use for street racing." I state.

"You know your stuff, that's why you're my kid." He chuckles, before gesturing me to watch.

"I'll show an example, consider yourself lucky. Don't race for anybody."

"I know gramps, it means a lot."

He begins to race the dirt track, then drifts swiftly along the corner.

It was beautiful.
The thrill of feeling the ground shake under me, from something that wasn't that special.
Scratch that;
Most people didn't find it special, or important.
I did.
"Ah, I see what he means."
That was one fateful day.

The racing thrill lives through me as I look over to Doc once more.
Ever since those fateful days,
That's what'll help me live on.

Doc signals me the plan.

And I race off next to McQueen.

"Good luck beating me." We're neck to neck, and as we continue racing I see him slipping slightly, then the turn comes.

"Left turn..." I murmur to myself.

And...
he's tossed into the cacti.

Ouch, did he get cut?

Nevermind that-
"Suck it!" I flip him off and continue driving.

"OW- HEY!" He yells, annoyed, hurt, and defeated.

That's what he gets for not upholding his end of the promise to fix up the road.

You give someone an inch, they'll make it a mile.

"Looks like you'll be paving the road." Doc comes up behind me, yelling down to McQueen.

"Mater, get him." 

"Yessir!" 

It's guys like McQueen that annoy me; the average LA guy. Dreams of some big sponsor, a bunch of girls, and only works for money, fame, and status. As cliche and generic as it sounds-

Grandpa told me all about those kinds of guys, and I know from personal experience.

"Can't believe I dated one of them." I almost choke in my own disgust as I drive away from the scene in which McQueen crashed.

"I swear I'm getting you back!" He yells to me as he steps out of his car in the cacti.