1 - Disney Cars

Hank unhitched the cable. "Go on. Get out of here."

"No?"

"Let me tell you something, son," Hank said, finally rolling forward. He attached his rusty tow cable to McQueen’s hitch with a gentle click . "I used to race. Back in the ‘50s. Hudson Hornet days. I never won a single trophy. But one night, a young fella blew a tire on this very road. It was pouring rain. Could’ve left him. Didn't. Towed him sixty miles to the nearest garage. Missed my own race. Lost my chance at a sponsor." He sighed. "But that young fella? He grew up to design the very asphalt you’re about to race on tomorrow in California." disney cars 1

"Fine," McQueen grumbled. "Tow me. But make it fast. I have a sponsor dinner."

McQueen looked at his fuel gauge. It was hovering on 'E'. He’d been so angry, he hadn't noticed. Hank unhitched the cable

"I said it's about the principle." Hank’s single eye (his left headlight) softened. "You raced tonight. The big race. The Dinoco 400."

He had stormed out of Mack’s trailer an hour ago, furious. "I don't need a big rig! I’m a race car!" he had shouted, peeling off down an exit ramp near the state line. Now, surrounded by tall, whispering pines and the buzz of cicadas, he felt a rare, cold knot of fear in his engine block. He attached his rusty tow cable to McQueen’s

McQueen felt a strange warmth in his radiator that had nothing to do with temperature. "The others don't see it that way. Chick Hicks… the reporters…"

Out of the shadows rolled a rusty, faded blue 1957 GMC pickup truck. He had one working headlight, a dented fender covered in baling wire, and a tow hook that looked older than the mountains behind him. His name was Hank.