“It’s Finn McMissile!” Professor Z shouted to his thugs, ordering them to chase down the spy.
Gremlins, Pacers, and other shoddy cars swarmed onto the catwalk closest to Finn. But Finn was faster and more agile. He shot out his cables, latching on to the crane standing tall above the deck. Nimbly, he swung out and drove straight up the crane’s arm, away from the chase. The agent used every trick he could think of to escape. First he released some oil, causing his pursuers to spin out behind him; then he knocked over a stack of oil drums, blocking their path. But when Finn reached the helipad on the top deck of the oil derrick, there was nowhere left to go. The enemy cars surrounded him, their tinny engines whining like a swarm of mosquitoes.
Finn slammed into reverse…and flung himself off the side of the oil derrick. He hit the water hundreds of feet below.
Gremlins and Pacers raced to stare down into the turbulent ocean. In a burst of splashing water, Finn surfaced and transformed into a sleek hydrofoil. He sped away from the oil derrick.
“He’s getting away!” Acer the Pacer shouted.
“Not for long,” a combat ship replied as he released two missiles. The cars on the derrick watched as the missiles exploded. Finn’s motionless silhouette drifted under the surface of the ocean. Shortly afterward, all four of his tires floated to the surface. Professor Z smiled and called off the chase. It had been a wonderful night. Both Finn McMissile and Leland Turbo had been eliminated.
“Now no one can stop us,” Professor Z told his grinning crew.
But he was wrong: Finn McMissile had transformed into submarine mode and purposely released his tires. As his enemies on the oil derrick turned away, Finn was speeding underwater to return to agency headquarters.
At the crack of dawn on the following day, halfway around the world, a rusty, dented tow truck named Mater had his eyes fixed on Route 66, smack in the middle of the U.S.A. Lightning McQueen was returning to Radiator Springs fresh from winning the Hudson Hornet Memorial Piston Cup race. Mater couldn’t wait to see him.
Things had improved mightily since racing champion Lightning McQueen had made Radiator Springs his permanent home. Tourists visited regularly, and the whole dusty town had taken on a shine like a new coat of chrome. And no one enjoyed the reflected glory of Lightning McQueen’s success more than his buddy Mater.
“I’m gonna stay right here in this spot until my best friend, Lightning McQueen, comes home,” Mater said, bleary-eyed and exhausted.
Lightning’s girlfriend, Sally, was worried. She and Mater were the only two cars in town who were awake.
“Mater,” Sally said with a weary sigh, “you’ve been sitting here for seven days.”
“That’s ’cause I got a special surprise for him, Miss Sally,” Mater replied. “To celebrate his fourth Piston Cup win. And I want to show it to him first thing.”
“Okay,” Sally said, driving off. “At least move around a little. Your gaskets are gonna dry up. You’re gonna leak oil.”
“I never leak oil!” Mater called after her.
But Mater had a bigger problem: he simply could not stay awake any longer.
Later that day, as Mater snored and snored, Lightning McQueen finally arrived home. All of Lightning’s friends were gathered around, eager to see him. Sally nuzzled next to him. And, of course, there was Ramone, the owner of the body shop, and Flo, his wife, who ran the newly refurbished Wheel Well restaurant. Sarge and Fillmore were there, too. Sarge owned the surplus supplies store right next to Fillmore’s, where the green-and-white van made and sold his own organic fuel. Lizzie, the old black car who owned the curio shop, was settled right next to Red, the fire truck.
Poor Mater had waited the longest for Lightning to return, and now he was missing the homecoming!
“He looks so peaceful,” Lightning said. “I don’t want to wake him up.”
“Okay, move aside!” It was Mack, the big rig who drove Lightning to and from his races. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
The big rig blasted his horn, startling Mater so wide awake that the poor tow truck raced around town backward at top speed—he couldn’t stop!
Finally, Mater drove right over a cliff! “I’m okay!” he shouted as all his friends raced to his rescue. He had already tossed his hook over a ledge and was climbing back into view.
“Mater?” Lightning shouted, worried about his pal.
“I’m all right,” Mater said.
But Lightning was concerned. “Wow, you just got yourself a nasty dent there, buddy.”
“That might be my best dent yet!” Mater said proudly. He grinned at Lightning. Mater’s dents were a sign of friendship and of his many adventures with Lightning. He had gotten dents while tractor-tipping with Lightning, while pulling the race car out of ditches, and even while showing off his backward driving. He’d kept every dent he’d ever gotten as a way to remember good times with his best friend.