Chapter 13: Radiator Springs

My first view of Radiator Springs it brought tears to my eyes. It was just, exactly, perfectly everything and only what it was supposed to be. A magical time machine back to a slower, gentler era where people had the time to sit back and get acquainted with each other. A neon, art deco meets the fifties, kind of place I didn't think could even exist anymore, at least not in its original form. And it hadn't. Not until this town had been resurrected from the walking dead.

It was exactly the way I'd pictured it, which is exactly the way the movie had shown it. How could that be, I wondered? Unless, somehow, the reality of one place can leak into the imagination of another? If true, that would explain A Lot!

In fact, there was only one obvious difference. In the middle of the block on the main street was a brand spanking new town museum. And in the middle of its front window were three recently polished Piston Cups from fifty years ago. And next to them, a Rookie of the Year award from last year.

As much as I wanted to stop and go inside to see the rest of their exhibits right now, Sally had different plans.

"It's been a long day, and you're going to be quite the sensation here."

That much was evident from the looks and honks we were already getting. It was more than just Sally being welcomed back by all her friends.

"I recommend a good night's rest before you meet this town head on."

That made sense. And it would also give Sally time to lay some necessary groundwork.

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"Let me take you up to my other place," she said, quickly accelerating past all the attention and out of town again.

Up in the exceptionally beautiful nearby mountains I spent a cozy night at the Wagon Wheel, in a room adapted for me as best it could be.

I thought it was great, although Sally apologized several times for the rough adaptations she'd made. I'm sure it was much better than the garage I'd put her up in for weeks.

And only after we arrived and I had safely disembarked did she tell me, "That song, Beep Beep by The Playmates..."

I remembered the song, and recalled how she'd skipped it on her player when it had started to play again earlier today.

"Yeah?"

"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard. The first time you played it back on your world I would have laughed my lug nuts off if I could have. I didn't dare play it again while we were out on the Interstate or I would have lost it for sure. I know too many Cadillacs that are exactly like that."

I had to agree with her on that point — all parts of it. A good sense of humor is the sexiest thing you can find in a new friend.

The next morning she drove me back down the hill to meet the town.

Now you might want to ask, just what kind of reception would I get in a town like this?

Well I have to tell you that it was absolutely fantastic! And I can only describe it to you by analogy.

Picture what it would have been like if Sally had arrived into my reality exactly as she is here. A living, breathing, talking, sexy, fast, intelligent, beautiful female car. Think of the attention and offers that would have dogged us every moment of the day and night. That's what I was to the inhabitants here. The biggest thing since Lighting McQueen had hit this burg.

Every car wanted to talk to me. I couldn't take three steps without someone offering me a ride. I was afraid that crashes would be inevitable among those trying to see who could get to me first.

Cars hung on my every word. Everyone wanted to know what it's like back where I came from. Were cars really the way Sally had already described them to her friends? Had Sally been like that? There was nothing I could say or do wrong.

Interstate trucks pulled off the highway just to offer some of the food cargos they were carrying. Why were they even transporting them? "It's our job," they always said, as if the question itself was simply foolish.

Tourist cars wanted their pictures taken with me sitting on their hoods, or inside them. And always more questions. I soon realized exactly what I was here.

I was the mythical storyteller from the dark ages. The man who'd traveled the globe — or at least further than the next village — at a time when most people knew nothing more of the world than what they could walk to and back again before the sun set. And once I realized that, I started telling stories.

I went to the drive-in during the day when it was empty otherwise because that's the only place big for where everyone to park.

Once there, I told the story over and over again after request after request about what it was like driving back here over The Zansasi Highway. That tale never grew old. And I told about the little towns that Sally and I had visited together in my world that struggled to survive the same way Radiator Springs had struggled here. Then I branched out.