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Freeriding	By : DodgeSuperBee Category: +1 through F > Cars Views: 1717 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Cars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
Summer had faded into autumn when Mater and Doreen arrived at Doc’s clinic for another appointment. Doreen had been pleasantly surprised to find that pregnancy turned out to be fairly easy on her, other than the ever-present exhaustion.
Mater pressed a tire against Doreen’s slightly bowed side, feeling his children revving their motors loudly in response. “Them are racecar engines fer sure,” he said, and Doc set down his stethoscope, aware that two trucks would not have been able to produce car offspring.
“Oh, so their father is…?” his voice trailed off gently.
“Tommy Joe,” said Doreen, blushing.
“But I’m their daddy at heart,” insisted Mater, “an’ I already love ‘em just the same as if they were mine. I’m gonna help feed ‘em and bathe ‘em and I’m takin’ ‘em dirt-racin’ once they’re big enough, an’ I don’t really care what the townsfolk are gonna say when they see us two trucks with a buncha little cars followin’ after us.” He continued on with his paternal fantasies the entire time the Hudson ran the ultrasound.
“Not a bad attitude,” admitted Doc. “According to this, you’re expecting two G-body racecars and a little pickup. All sons.” He swung the screen around to the beaming parents, who witnessed their unborn children bumping against each other in utero. “Three is about average for a first-time birth.”
“Aww, they’re so active,” said Doreen, feeling the wind nearly get knocked from her as a baby shoved forward. “Hi, little ones.” Mater could say nothing. He simply stared in awe at the tiny vehicles moving on the screen before him, not wanting to tear his eyes away.
* * *
“This is Wade when he started school, and here’s his first class picture…” Rachel’s love for her son was evident in the way she spoke, and she held the album of photographs as proudly as if she were showing off a display case of trophies. She nestled against Curtis on the sleeping mat in his bedroom, enjoying a little private time until Wade returned from his job. The pickup smiled down at the photos, each carefully mounted on the black pages. They depicted mundane events such as birthday parties, school days and family gatherings, but he was touched to see them if doing so meant he could get even the briefest glimpse of the life he’d missed out on this far. On the table before them sat the little empty box to the engagement ring that Curtis had stubbornly saved all those years, even when he’d been tempted to pawn it for much-needed cash. The ring itself rested beautifully around Rachel’s antenna.
He’d had quite a month after the mud drag season ended. On his first night back at the Strip Joint, Harrison had demanded to know why Tommy Joe had won the race even after he’d paid to make sure that couldn’t happen. “I gave some random kid a few bucks to slit his tires,” he’d said, “he looked like he could use the money.” Curtis wasn’t sure if Harrison had healed yet from the fight that comment had spurred, or if he was still sore from losing. He would make up with his old crony eventually, but his efforts were currently focused on catching up on lost time with Wade. The young man was proving to be a competent runner on the dirt track, although they spent more time talking than racing on the course. Curtis rose up higher on his tires to set the album on the table, and winced in pain.
“Careful,” warned Rachel, her voice revealing concern. “You’re barely back from the doctor’s. Just let me baby you for a while.” He sank back down, cursing softly at the pain shooting through his undercarriage, but silently thanked Chrissi and Wade for talking him into meeting Rachel again. He’d never imagined that the Jaguar had kept in touch with her friend and that Rachel had moved just over the county line.
“You did a fine job raising him,” praised Curtis, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help. By the grace of the Manufacturer, I hope I can make it up to you the next time around, and Wade would be one helluva good older brother for a kid to have.” He worked one tire halfway under her frame, hardly believing he had been given a second chance to rekindle what they’d had together years ago.
Rachel’s eyes misted over, but she laughed gently and pushed his tire back when she felt his caress moving across her curves. It took all she had not to let him continue. “There’ll be time enough for that when you heal,” she promised, motioning to the bandage on his underside, “but if Tommy Joe was really willing to fork over his championship winnings so you could have that reversed, the least we can do is follow doctor’s orders.”
“I know,” agreed Curtis reluctantly, “we ought to leave ourselves with the best chance of being able to have more kids. This isn’t easy having to wait, though.” Then he grinned rakishly. “That doc never said we can’t make out.”
“No, he didn’t,” said Rachel enthusiastically, as their grilles met in a warm kiss that left her wobbly on her tires.
* * *
The winter, which arrived with an uncharacteristic coldness, was not an easy one for Tow Mater. Huddled between the sheets of corrugated metal he’d nailed to his shack as a windbreak, he watched Doreen sleep, her sides bulging considerably with their children from under the folds of her quilt. It was at times like these, late at night, that his doubts got the better of him.
I couldn’t make her a mama an’ even though I love them kids, I bet they’re gonna like my cousin more’n me, he thought. It’s a shame that I kin’t even keep ‘em warm enough an’ they ain’t even born yet. Why the heck did I ever think I could provide anythin’ else for ‘em if I kin’t even do this much? Doreen shivered next to him, and Mater woke her.
“C’mon, I kin’t let ya stay out in this kinda weather,” he insisted. Moments later, the padlock to one of the abandoned shops on Main Street fell victim to a well-placed blow from his tow hook and he ushered Doreen inside. “It’s too damn cold out there an’ I don’t care if Sheriff does arrest us fer breakin’ an’ enterin’ tonight.” He added miserably, “at least the jail’d be warm.” The store was not heated but they were out of the biting wind.
“Mater, ya done everythin’ ya kin an’ I love ya fer it. Quit doubtin’ yerself, okay?” reassured his wife. As she fell back into an exhausted sleep, the tow truck noticed the inexpensive wingnut he had hastily slipped on her antenna as a wedding ring three decades before. Though it had since rusted to match the rest of her frame, she claimed she had never taken it off, even as they’d been separated by hundreds of miles. An’ she never gave up on me then, either, Mater consoled himself, vowing to forget about his worries the best he could. In their indoor shelter they slept more soundly, and as the nights went on, Sheriff came to realize that they were using the building but he chose not to interfere.
* * *
April 2007
“Owww…” Doreen leaned against Mater, trying to make herself more comfortable against the increasing contractions. They had been seizing her underbody for the better part of the day but hadn’t taken on any pattern until after nightfall. In the last few hours they’d come on stronger and practically on top of each other, giving her little time to rest. She exhaled slowly as the discomfort eased off.
“Doc’s on his way,” promised the tow truck, looking toward the gates of the junkyard. His occupation involved helping stranded, frightened and often injured vehicles, and he hated the helpless feeling that came from watching his wife low on her shocks, groaning with each labor pain. He rolled back suddenly as she yelped. “Doreen, ya musta sprung a leak,” he exclaimed, looking at a growing pool of water between her rear tires.
His lover rolled her eyes despite the onslaught of pain. “My waters broke, ya goofball. I’m pretty far along into this.” Just then Doc arrived breathlessly, ready to help deliver a birthing of trucks for the first time in decades. The Hornet took one glance at the El Camino, her frame nearly scraping the ground.
“You’re already bearing down,” he declared, rolling around to her rear wheels.
“No, I’m just imitating a lowrider,” she replied, a hint of a snarl in her voice. She was still not entirely comfortable with the Hudson’s presence, especially at the current moment when she felt vulnerable. Doc ignored her remark and tilted a mirror toward her undercarriage, then curtly told her to save her energy for the birth.
* * *
Mater felt as though he were emerging from a steamy carwash and that all around him was nothing but haze. His newborn stock car sons stood to either side of him, their boxy frames still damp and their roofs only reaching the tops of his hubcaps. They were silent and shivering under the blankets Doc had swaddled tightly around each boy after he’d been delivered, as much to prevent them from driving off as for warmth. Both infants stared at their mother with large, serious eyes, as if sensing that their brother was about to enter the world. It had been a long time, and the Hornet had one of Doreen’s rear wheels up on a ramp while he was prodding her belly with a tire, rather harshly from Mater’s point of view and Doreen’s strained expression. The El Camino uttered some choice words and Mater caught sight of her stomach visibly shifting.
“He finally turned,” Doc firmly stated the obvious to Doreen, who had long since ceded some degree of control to him, “sorry that was rough, but you can’t birth a pickup tailgate first. Be ready…”
* * *
“Yahooo!” Mater howled, circling his impound lot backwards like a child who had indulged in too much sugar. “My boys are born! I got three sons!” He paused near Doreen, who was trying to nurse the pickup, who he had named Buddy, and Comet, one of the racecars. Cyclone, irritated at having to wait for his meal, bumped against his brother’s tailgate, trying to push him out of the way so he could reach his mother’s front axle. Tommy Joe arrived, blinking to stay alert after having been awakened in the early hours of the morning by a call from his cousin.
“Hey, congratulations. Ya’ll have some adorable kids,” he said, “though I gotta say they got their good looks from me.” The teasing went over Mater’s cab, so he addressed Doreen again. “I keep forgetting ya trucks kin have so many young’uns, but ya mean ya kin only feed two of ‘em at once?”
“Ya had yer tire under me long enough that night that ya oughtta know,” smirked Doreen, glad that Mater had gone back to his boisterous celebration.
Tommy Joe looked embarrassed, then grew serious again. “I’m glad I could be here, though. I wasn’t always around for all my kids. Would you believe it I just found out I have a twenty-seven-year-old son? He’s a great fellow but do I ever wish I’d found out sooner. His mama thought I’d be angry at her an’ she never told me earlier. So this,” he rubbed Cyclone’s roof with a tire, “is a real blessin’.”
* * *
Several weeks later…
“Ya’ll turned out to be a decent mother,” praised Tommy Joe as the El Camino lowered herself to the ground to allow the infant vehicles in her bed to escape onto his lawn.
“Yeah, but sometimes I get the feelin’ Mater thinks of me as just that,” sighed Doreen. “He even calls me ‘Mama’ in front of ‘em.” She watched her giggling offspring wrestle in the grass, tearing tread marks across the browned lawn. “Sheez, it’s just one thing after another with me, ain’t it? I shouldn’t complain ‘cause I finally have the kids we wanted so much.”
Chrissi was quick to speak up. “Then it’s your job to set him straight again and remind him you two are lovers as well as parents.” She stroked Comet’s cab with the thin treads of her luxury tire and the tiny racer purred. He looked unmistakably like his father, her fiance. Thoughts of her own children at this age flooded her memory, and she briefly fantasized about having more children with Tommy Joe before reminding herself she was most likely done with that stage of her life.
“It’s been what, at least two weeks? You’re obviously ready, so don’t waste time complaining. When you’ve got them in bed tonight, seduce the hell out of him,” she continued, “he’ll quickly remember what you and he had together before the babies came along.”
Doreen grinned. “For once I have no problems takin’ yer advice, Chrissi. Yer right, I s’pose I am whinin’ when I could be doin’ somethin’ about this, an’ I sure as hell am ready for him again.” She called her children to join her, then paused and looked back at Chrissi, who was leaning blissfully against Tommy Joe, staring up into his eyes.
“Oh, an’ thanks for tellin’ Mater whatever ya did, Tommy Joe, an’ Chrissi, yer real lucky to have a lover like him,” she added, winking.
“Come see me again when ya’ll want to make them big brothers,” returned Tommy Joe, and Chrissi slugged him with a tire before he chased her lustfully into their house, overjoyed at having her back again.
* * *
Three weeks later…
“Good afternoon,” greeted Doc, ushering Doreen into his clinic. Out of habit, she hastened to the lift and he chuckled softly. “I take it you trust me more now that you’ve had your children?”
“After the way ya helped bring our little ones into the world, I got a lotta respect fer ya,” admitted Doreen. Doc just squinted at her underside in response, then pulled over the ultrasound machine.
“But not enough respect to follow my advice,” he said with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “I know I must have said to wait at least six weeks before…” His voice trailed off as he studied the screen before him.
“Okay, so we jumped the gun, but I don’t even wanna know how ya figured that out.” The El Camino stiffened at the realization of what he meant. “Ya don’t mean…kin ya tell how many there are?”
“There’s six this time and they’re still tiny, but they all look like trucks to me.”
“Well, of course they are!” she exploded gleefully. “Ya don’t really think I went back to Tommy Joe fer more, did ya? It’s that damned Mater’s fault, they’re all his and I can’t wait to tell him!” Doc breathed a sigh of relief. He’d had girls break down in tears right on the lift when he’d delivered news of another pregnancy so soon after they’d given birth, but Doreen was so thrilled he was anxious she might leap off in her eagerness to share the news with her husband.
“You’ll have to take care of yourself,” he warned as he dropped the hydraulic lift, “before you know it you’ll have three toddlers and six infants depending on you and Mater for their every need.”
“Don’t worry, I will, though this’ll probably all sink in later and then I’ll realize what I got myself into.” Doreen thanked him and hurried home to her children, leaving the Hornet alone in his office. He hummed a little to himself as he straightened his medical supplies and decided he wouldn’t close the large overhead door she’d left open in her haste. It was a sunny, beautiful spring day and he once again had a bustling town with a growing population to care for.
The sounds of a gathering at Flo’s down the street were too enticing to ignore, and Doc had no appointments for a while, so he decided to join the lunch crowd. The stately Hornet gentleman prepared to close his office, but as an afterthought he tucked a small vial of smelling salts into his bag, should he receive a call.
For Mater, he thought, a smile spreading across his grille, just in case he needs them.

THE END.
- 10
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Freeriding