Struck by lightning, p.1
Struck by Lightning, page 1
Materials and characters from the movie Cars and Cars 3.
Copyright © 2017 Disney Enterprises, Inc. and Pixar. All rights reserved.
Disney/Pixar elements © Disney/Pixar; rights in underlying vehicles are the property of the following third parties, as applicable: Hudson Hornet is a trademark of FCA US LLC.; Jeep® and the Jeep® grille design are registered trademarks of FCA US LLC.; FIAT is a trademark of FCA Group Marketing S.p.A.; Mack is a registered trademark of Mack Trucks, Inc.; Carrera and Porsche are trademarks of Porsche; Sarge’s rank insignia design used with the approval of the U.S. Army; and Volkswagen trademarks, design patents and copyrights are used with the approval of the owner, Volkswagen AG.
Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.
ISBN 978-1-368-00043-7
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Preview of Storm Chasing
“I am speed. I put the ‘ace’ in ‘pace’. I am too fast for the fast lane.”
“Uh, what are you saying there, boss?” Mack asked, rolling up alongside his soon-to-be passenger.
Lightning McQueen smiled, his eyes closed. “I am a finely tuned instrument of speed, Mack. I am gassed up, revved up, and fired up. Let’s do this!”
“Whoa! You may want to take it easy, there,” Mack said. “We haven’t even left Radiator Springs yet. We’ve got three days of driving before we get to the speedway.”
“I know, I know,” Lightning said, opening his eyes. It’s just that I’ve been training extra hard for this race, and now I’m ready!”
Mack chuckled. “Well, be careful you don’t burn out before we even leave town.”
“Don’t worry, Mack. I have enough energy to race a few hundred laps right now!”
“Look at you two,” Sally called from down the street. She was heading their way to wish them both luck. “All washed, buffed, and sparkling.”
“You’ve got to look the part, Sal,” Lightning said, revving his engine.
“Sounds like he’s ready to rumble,” Sally said to Mack.
“He already has his sights set on the checkered flag,” Mack said.
Sally laughed. “He always does. Just make sure you pace yourself, there, Stickers.”
“Oh, Sal,” Lightning said, smiling at her nickname for him. “You know I always do.”
“You’re leavin’ already?” Mater said, pulling to a stop next to Lightning. “Darn it, these things just sneak up on me. I meant to do something, like make a big sign, organize a parade, or sing a song.”
“Thanks, buddy. Wishing me good luck is all you need to do,” Lightning replied. “No need to put yourself out.”
“Oh, good, ‘cause I don’t really like singin’ in public,” Mater whispered.
“It’s always too quiet around here for Mater when you’re gone,” Sally said.
“We all feel a little out of sorts when you leave town,” said Mater.
Lightning smiled at his friends. “I wish you could all go, but this one’s an extra-long haul, and just getting there will be a grind.”
Luigi and Guido zoomed to a stop in front of Lightning.
“We are bringing the whitewalls,” Luigi said. “Yes, yes…you only want the Lightyears, but Luigi never is unprepared. We bring the Fettuccine Alfredos.” He motioned to Guido, who was balancing a tower of Lightyear Radials and Luigi’s signature whitewalls.
“Okay, Luigi, whatever you say,” Lightning said. “Guido, go ahead and load up those tires. We’ll be heading out in a few minutes.”
“Scusi! Scusi!” Guido said as he made his way toward Mack’s trailer.
“Hey, buddy,” Mater said, “maybe you can say howdy to all of us back home when you’re interviewed in the winner’s circle.”
“Well, those TV reporters don’t always have time for personal messages,” Lightning said.
“Okay—then how about a secret signal?” Mater asked.
“Like what kind of signal?” Lightning asked.
“Maybe you could cross your eyes like so,” Mater said, and he demonstrated. “Or roll your tongue up like this.” Mater showed him. “That way we’d know you was thinkin’ of us.”
“Okay, Mater—I’ll come up with something,” Lightning said, laughing. He looked around at the cars who had gathered to see him off. “You guys are the best. But relax, everyone. I’ll be back in less than a week. And when I return—”
He was interrupted by an electronic chirping coming from Mack’s trailer. The phone was ringing. Lightning rolled up to the display screen and read the name.
“It’s my agent,” Lightning announced. “He’s probably calling to tell me to get on the road.”
The speaker on the phone clicked, and now everyone could hear the call.
“Hey, Harv, what’s up?” said Lightning.
“Hey, Lightning. Listen, there’s no good way to put this, so I’ll just cut to the chase: I’ve got good news and bad news for you. Which do you want first?”
“Oh,” Lightning said, scrunching up his mouth as he considered his options. “Give me the good news first.”
Harv paused. “The good news is there isn’t going to be a race on Saturday.”
“WHAT! NO!” Lightning cried. “C’mon! Seriously? But, Harv—then what’s the bad news?”
Harv cleared his throat. “Uh…the bad news is there is no good news.”
“NO RACE?” Lightning wailed. “C’mon, say it ain’t so, Harv! I’m all revved up and ready to roll!”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Harv’s voice crackled over the speaker. “A big category two storm is heading right toward the area of the speedway. The organizers just called. The race has been delayed by at least a week, but it might be cancelled altogether.”
All eyes were on Lightning now. He drooped, visibly disappointed.
“Maybe the storm will change direction,” Lightning said. “Mack’s trailer is all packed. I’m tuned up and ready to rumble. Let’s head out anyway. We can always turn back if things don’t change.”
Harv hesitated and blew out a breath. “Uh, no. It already started raining there, Lightning. I checked. Sorry, but it’s true what they say: You can’t fight Mother Nature.”
“This is a drag,” Lightning said, sagging even lower.
Luigi sighed. “What bad luck! Guido had hoped to break a record for pit stops.” He turned to his forklift friend. “Guido, unload the tires. We stay home.”
“Okay!” said Guido.
“Hey, that reminds me,” said Harv on the phone. “Luigi, I have some friends visiting from Italy. They’re driving by Radiator Springs later today, and I told them to stop by your shop for a set of new tires.”
“Oh, grazie! They will get first-class treatment at Casa Della Tires!” said Luigi. “Your friends, what do they look like?”
“They’re Ferraris,” Harv said.
“Did you say…Ferrari? In Radiator Springs? Coming to Casa Della Tires? TODAY? Quick, Guido, we must prepare!” And with that, Luigi and Guido sped off.
“Well, I guess we’re staying home,” said Lightning.
Sarge suddenly arrived with Fillmore. “No point in crying over spilled oil. A few of us are going camping for a couple of days. Why don’t you join us?”
“Yeah, man,” Fillmore said, rolling up next to Sarge. “Nothing like getting back to nature to recharge your batteries.”
“Gosh, I don’t know, guys,” Lightning said. “I never thought of myself as a camping kind of car.”
“C’mon, buddy,” Mater said. “This is your chance to become a part of our annual camping trip.”
“Annual?” Lightning asked. “Why haven’t I ever heard of this annual camping trip before?”
“Oh,” Mater said bashfully, “I guess this would be the first annual.”
“I don’t know…” Lightning said again, starting to back away.
Harv jumped into the conversation. “As your agent, I advise you to go. We won’t know for a week if the race can be rescheduled. I think you could use some R and R.”
“What does that mean?” Lightning grumbled.
“That stands for ‘rest and relaxation,’” said Sarge. “Nothing sounds better to a soldier than a little R and R.”
“I always thought ‘R and R’ stood for ‘radiators and rims,’ said Mater.
Mack smiled. “Whatever you think is best, Lightning,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with my pals at the truck stop for a few days.”
“The thought of you camping is something I simply can’t picture.” Sally giggled. “A finely tuned instrument of speed cooling his jets in the great outdoors….I think it’s just what you need.”
“Okay, okay, you talked me into it. I’ll go,” Lightning said. “Waiting around here for a whole week for news will drive me crazy
“Nature, here we come!” Mater hooted, beeping his horn. “We’re goin’ camping!”
Sarge, Fillmore, and Lightning met up at Radiator Springs city limits to head off on their big adventure. They were waiting for Mater.
“Wow, Sarge, you sure know how to prepare for a trip,” Lightning said, marveling at the tightly packed trailer Sarge was pulling behind him. It contained all kinds of camping gear: tents, ropes, pots, and even firewood.
“There’s no telling what we’ll need, so I’ve brought a full battle rattle,” Sarge said. “Not my first time outside the wire.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” Lightning said.
“Just feel the energy,” Fillmore said. “Open yourself up to some quality time with Mother Earth. The trees. The rocks. The fresh air. Can you feel the life energy flowing through you?”
“Uh, no,” Lightning mumbled. “I thought we would have left by now, Sarge.”
“Mater has not yet reported,” Sarge said, looking back at the town. “Wait. Check that. Here he comes.”
They all watched as Mater zoomed up and screeched to a stop in front of them. He was breathing hard.
“Howdy, campers!” he exclaimed.
“You’re late, Mater,” Sarge said.
“Oh, well, I had to say goodbye,” Mater said.
“I thought you already said your goodbyes,” Fillmore said.
Mater smiled. “I couldn’t recall exactly who I said goodbye to, so I just said goodbye to everybody in Radiator Springs all over again. I sure do hate goodbyes.”
“Really? Seems like you can’t get enough of them,” Fillmore said.
“All right, campers, let’s move out,” Sarge said. “Remember, let’s maintain the integrity of the caravan.”
“Maintain the intensity of a care van?” Mater asked. “What’s that mean?”
Lightning was so excited that they were finally leaving, he wasn’t listening. “I’ll scout ahead!” he exclaimed, and fired off like he had been shot out of a cannon. In seconds, he was no more than a red blip on the horizon.
“Would ya look at him go,” said Mater. “He’s faster than a yellow light in front of a police station.”
“I was suggesting that we all stick together,” Sarge said to Mater. “Maintain an orderly formation.”
“Too late for that now,” Fillmore said.
“Fall out!” Sarge barked, rolling off after Lightning.
Fillmore and Mater fell in behind Sarge.
An hour went by before they saw Lightning again. The red race car came roaring back toward them on the other side of the interstate. He exited, turned around, catapulted down the on-ramp, then roared up alongside his three friends.
“Where have you been, buddy?” Mater asked. “Did you already go camping?”
“Oh, sorry, guys,” replied Lightning. “I’ve just got lots of pent-up energy. But I can at least confirm that the coast is clear.”
Sarge couldn’t help chuckling. “I guess I should expect as much, traveling with a professional race car.”
Seeing that his friends weren’t upset, Lightning shot ahead again. “C’mon, slowpokes!”
“He’s going to get a speeding ticket,” Fillmore said.
In minutes, they found Lightning waiting for them in front of a roadside shop. They saw a sign pointing toward the campgrounds.
“Wow,” Fillmore said, taking in the wildflowers, dried herbs, and folk art displayed at the front of the store. “Let’s not forget to stop and smell the roses.”
The others waited while Fillmore browsed. Eventually, he emerged from the shop with something called a dream-catcher, which now hung from his side mirror.
“It makes you look…younger,” said Mater. “And it’s, uh…very slimming.”
Soon they rolled off the pavement and onto a bumpy dirt road that led through the woods.
Within seconds, it became obvious that Lightning’s tight suspension and low-to-the-ground frame were not ideal for the uneven terrain.
But Mater was having no problem with the rocks and bumps. “Ha! Who’s the slowpoke now?” Mater hooted, driving circles around his jittery friend, kicking up dust.
Lightning coughed. “This is ridiculous! I just changed my air filter!”
“You’re not worried about a few bumps and a little dust, are you?” Sarge called back.
Lightning winced and groaned over each rock and rut in the road. “A few bumps, Sarge? I just bit my tongue back there!” He was clearly out of his element.
Fillmore pulled up alongside him. “You’ve gotta slow your roll a bit. We’re in no hurry. Camping is all about chilling out. You can’t rush relaxation. You need to ease into it.”
“Oh, right,” Lightning said. “It’s just that…I’m no all-terrain vehicle.”
“We all have our strengths,” Fillmore said. “And weaknesses.”
“Fellas, I have a special treat for y’all,” Mater called. He pulled off the road and posed in front of a small wooden sign that read PINECONE FLATS. “Have you ever rolled over pinecones? It’s the most satisfying crunch ever, and it just feels so darn good.”
They looked out over the grassy field, which they could see was littered with large pinecones that had fallen from the surrounding trees towering over them.
“I don’t know, Mater,” Lightning said. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you should do with specialized racing tires. I don’t want to get a flat.”
“A flat? HA!” Mater exclaimed. “Yer not afraid of some little pinecones, are ya?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Lightning. “I’m just saying that it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Fillmore rolled up and gazed at a pinecone. “I think it sounds groovy. Kind of like a natural remedy for stress.”
“This was not part of our plan,” Sarge said. “The diversion is not in line with our mission’s objective for the day. And what if someone pops a tire, like Lightning suggested?”
Mater rolled his eyes and laughed. “Well, you scaredy-cars can just feast your eyes on what you’re missing.”
Mater cruised onto the field, and soon the pinecones were exploding under his tires with a puff of dust and a satisfying CRUNCH!
As Mater increased his speed, the sound of crunching pinecones nearly drowned out his cries of delight. “Whoooo-wheeeee!”
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
“That just looks too good,” Fillmore said, his eyes wide with excitement. “Time to embrace the unknown.” He rolled onto the field and began driving in big, crunchy circles.
Lightning glanced at Sarge and grinned. “Well,” he said, “what’s the worst that can happen, right?”
And with a roar of his engine, Lightning McQueen was soon driving figure eights through the grass, pinecones exploding under his tires with amazing popping noises that echoed off the wall of trees.
“Sarge, c’mon!” the three wailed at their reluctant friend when they passed him.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Sarge finally said.
He tentatively rolled out onto the field. He stopped at the first crunch and shot his eyes around, as if he expected something bad to happen. But within seconds, he and his trailer were making big circles in the field. The thunderous CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! sounds filled the air like a pinecone symphony.
For ten whole minutes, the foursome spun around the field and managed to locate every single dried-up pinecone. Once they had determined there were none left, they made their way back to the road, laughing and panting from the exertion.
“Whew,” Mater said. “How’s that for relaxing?”
Fillmore wore a silly smile. “I haven’t laughed that hard since I passed my last smog test.”
“I’ve got to admit—that was almost as good as a three-second pit stop,” said Lightning.
“I’ve never felt such a satisfying pop,” Sarge said, and his travel buddies hooted in victory at having finally won over the reluctant pinecone-crusher.
“Dadgum!” Mater shouted. “Well, in that case, let’s go find some more pinecones. WHOOOOOOOO—”
“Negative!” Sarge said, cutting him off. “It’s time to get back on course.”
The happy friends headed off to the campgrounds.
As evening approached, they found their campsite. It was breathtaking. Soft grass, moss-covered trees, and the trickling sound of a nearby creek—it was everything a camper could ask for.
