Guido zipped off some Lemon tires with his air gun as Flo blinded them with her high beams. In seconds, Guido had another stack of lug nuts next to him.
Ramone spray-painted their windshields so the Lemons couldn’t see. Finn, who’d lost all his weapons to the combat ship’s magnet, used his karate skills to take out Lemons three and four at a time. Soon the streets were littered with cheap cars.
“Retreat!” a Gremlin hollered.
As the few remaining Lemons scattered, Guido rushed to Mater’s side. He tried every wrench in his tool case, but not a single one of them could take the bolts off the bomb.
Cross-eyed, Mater took a good look at the bolts. Then it all became clear.
“I get it! I get it!” he cried. “I know what needs to be done!”
“Then do it!” Lightning urged his friend.
“No! I can’t!” Mater answered. Then he whispered to Lightning: “Nobody takes me seriously. I know that now. This ain’t Radiator Springs.”
“Yes, it is,” Lightning replied firmly. He continued, “You’re yourself in Radiator Springs. Be yourself here! If folks aren’t taking you seriously, then they need to change. Not you! I know that, because I didn’t take you seriously before, and I was wrong. Now, you can do this! You’re the bomb!”
Mater beamed. “Thanks, buddy.”
“No, you’re the actual bomb! Now let’s go!” Lightning shouted.
Mater latched his hook on to Lightning, and they took off at top speed.
“Computer,” Mater said, zooming down a side street. “I need the thing you did before to get me away from Lightning.”
“Request acknowledged,” the computer responded. Lightning was more than a little surprised to hear Mater talking to a computer. He was even more surprised when the rocket thrusters kicked in.
Lightning and Mater, still hooked together, were catapulted toward a wall. Mater screamed to the computer, “Now I need you to do the chute—the second kind, not the first!”
“Ahhhh!” Lightning yelled. He closed his eyes and heard a swooshing sound. Then he felt air beneath his tires. Lightning didn’t understand, but Mater’s chute had popped open. The two best friends from Radiator Springs were airborne over London!
Mater steered the chute toward Buckingham Palace. The Queen of England stood on a balcony, surrounded by an audience of dignitaries, including Sir Miles Axlerod. They were gathering to celebrate the completion of the World Grand Prix.
“Who’s winning the race?” the Queen was asking one of her attendants, when Mater and Lightning suddenly dropped from the sky.
“Look out below!” Mater shouted.
“Back up! Back up!” the royal guards yelled. “Stand back!”
The Queen smiled. “Lightning McQueen!” she said brightly, recognizing the international racer.
“It’s okay!” Lightning tried to tell the crowd. “Mater has something to say. Go, Mater!”
Mater felt everyone’s gaze turn to him. “Okay!” he said, trying to gather his thoughts. “Someone’s been sabotaging the racers and hurting the cars, and I know who! Oh, wait! Your Majesty!”
Mater realized he had forgotten to bow. As he leaned over, everyone saw the ticking time bomb!
“He’s got a bomb!” the guards yelled, jumping into action. “Get down now!”
“Hold your fire!” It was Finn McMissile. The agent had tracked Mater to the palace, along with Agent Shiftwell. “You could hit the bomb!”
Finn and Holley raced toward Mater. Finn dove and rolled quickly to place himself between Mater and the Queen. He trusted Mater, but he had to protect the Queen!
“Mater,” Finn said calmly, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but stand down now!”
Lightning nudged his friend. “Mater, just cut to the chase!”
“Okay!” Mater cried. Then he turned toward Sir Miles Axlerod. “It’s him.”
“What?” Axlerod exclaimed. “Me? You’ve got to be crazy!”
Mater continued: “I figured it out when I realized y’all attached this ticking time bomb with Whitworth bolts—the same bolts that hold together this crummy old engine from the photograph. And then I remembered what they say about old British engines: If there ain’t no oil under them, there ain’t no oil in them.”
Axlerod was beside himself. The bomb was ticking. “What is he talking about?” he exclaimed.
Mater looked Sir Miles Axlerod straight in the eyes. “It was you leaking oil at the party in Japan. You just blamed it on me.”
“Electric cars don’t use oil, you—you twit!” Axlerod stammered.