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Four months had passed since Lightning's devastating crash. He had survived and was recovering at home in Radiator Springs. But in all that time, he hadn't raced so much as a lap. Some music played through a tinny radio speaker inside Doc's garage.
"Welcome back to Piston Cup Talk Round the Clock , where we do nothing but talk racing," said the radio show's host, Mike Joyride. "So let's get to it. Starting, of course, with Lightning McQueen. The season start is just two weeks away, and there's still no official announcement. But with Number 95 coming off his worst year on record—don't shoot the messenger here, folks—I think it's safe to assume that Lightning McQueen's racing days are over. Meanwhile, Jackson Storm is looking even faster than—"
Lightning clicked the radio off, took a deep breath, and let out a big, long sigh. It was clear he wasn't himself and that he wasn't doing well. He eyed the dusty old film projector in the corner of the garage and rolled over to it. He flipped a switch and it came to life, flickering and flashing old racing footage against the wall.
The commentator's voice shouted above the sound of the old, roaring engines: "As they enter the final lap, the number 6 and number 12 cars are still fighting it out for the lead. But wait! Here he comes! It's the Fabulous Hudson Hornet knocking on their door! What's he got up his sleeve today?"
Lightning couldn't help smiling at the sight of Doc racing on the track.
"And there it is!" the announcer continued. "With one incredible move, he's past them! The Hornet takes a decisive lead! He's left the pack behind! His crew chief, Smokey, is loving it! It's unbelievable!" Then panic crept into the announcer's voice. "Oh, no! He's in trouble! The Hudson Hornet has lost control!"
Lightning watched as Doc spun out. It was painful to see Doc spin, roll, and finally crash. The emergency personnel rushed onto the track as the commentator continued: "What should have been a scene of jubilation has turned tragic here today, folks, as we await news on the Hudson Hornet's condition. After such a devastating crash, we can only hope that this race today wasn't his last."
Lightning stopped the film. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Doc years before, in the exact spot where he was currently parked.
"You think I quit?" asked Doc, frustrated.
"They quit on me. When I finally got put together, I went back, expecting a big welcome. You know what they said? 'You're history.' Moved right on to the next rookie standing in line." Doc took a breath. "There was a lot left in me I never got a chance to show 'em."
"Hey, Stickers," said Sally, rolling into the garage. Hearing his old nickname shook him out of his memory.
"Hey, Sal," he said quietly.
"So ... how ya feeling?" she asked, looking concerned. It was also clear that she had an agenda.
"Yeah. Great. Really, really great," Lightning replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Thinking about Doc again?"
"Yeah," said Lightning, looking down at the floor. "You know, they told him when he was done. He didn't decide." He sighed heavily before continuing. "I don't want what happened to Doc to happen to me."
"But that hasn't happened," she replied.
"No. But I can't go out on the track and do the same old thing. It won't work."
"Then change it up," said Sally. "Try something new."
Lightning wasn't convinced. "I don't know, Sally. I—"
"Don't fear failure," she interrupted. "Be afraid of not having the chance. You have the chance. Doc didn't." She paused for a moment to let her words sink in. "And you can either take it, or you can do what you've been doing—sitting in here for months ..." She looked around the garage as she continued, the playful tone back in her voice. "And by the way, I love what you've done with the place. I mean, the monster-movie lighting. The, uh, musky air freshener. And don't let anyone tell you you're not working that primer—because, wow, I've never found you more attractive. And now that I've been in here for a couple minutes ... the stench ... I'm getting kind of used to it—"
"Okay, okay, Sal," Lightning said. "I get it."
"I miss you, Lightning. We all do."
"Try something new. Huh." Lightning repeated, mulling over Sally's words.
Just then, Mater burst in. "Hey, did it work, Miss Sally?" he asked. "Did you set him straight with your lawyerly powers of persuasion?"
Sally looked at Lightning, waiting for him to answer.
"Is he ready to start trainin'?" Mater asked, looking at Lightning, too.
"Well, Stinky—eh, Stickers?" she asked, a smile in her voice.
"Yes, Mater, I am," said Lightning with a chuckle. He was grateful to have such good friends.
"Whooooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" yelped Mater.
"I decide when I'm done," he said to Sally.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Okay, but I got an idea, and I'm gonna need to talk to Rusty and Dusty, all right?" said Lightning.
"I'll get 'em on the horn!" said Mater, rushing off. "Get it?On the horn!" He laughed out loud as he honked his horn, driving the joke home even harder. He suddenly stopped laughing and scrunched up his nose. "Oops, hold on, I gotta sneeze." He moved his chassis and grill around and sighed. "Dadgum, I lost it! Hey, I'll see ya at Flo's." He left, but was only gone a second when they heard a loud "Ah-choo!" and then "I found it!"
Lightning and Sally looked at each other and burst out laughing. Lightning felt great. He was ready to start racing again.