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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.

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Tow Mater dodged a barrel and plunged into a dip in the racetrack at the Rustbucket Arena, wallowing through the mud pit that was the last obstacle before the finish line ahead. The tow truck momentarily bogged down as he sank up to his doors, and he turned a spattered rearview mirror to catch sight of his nearest competitor. The others were closing in on him, and he used all the strength in his engine to pull himself from the mess and sail past the grandstand, wild cheers erupting from the crowd as he was announced the winner of the night’s last mud drag.
“Way to go!” yelled Lightning from high up in the stands, happy that his best friend was finally experiencing the exhilaration of winning. Sure, Mater took a lot of pride in being part of his pit crew, but it wasn’t quite the same as having the spotlight to himself for once.
I did it! Tow Mater realized triumphantly, turning and sliding to a halt by the grandstand once Tommy Joe and his fellow racers had finished. He had been working on the sidelines at the track since his youth, but this was his first victory since he’d worked up the nerve to actually compete a little over a year ago. His desire to race had been met with derision by those who didn’t believe a tow truck could hold his own against lighter vehicles, and admittedly he had not placed yet in the traditional dirt races and demolition derby. Everything had changed when his cousin Tommy Joe had urged him to try the mud drags, and Mater had soon found his true calling.
The gates opened and he was mobbed by the Pit Girls, who shoved against each other in a struggle to be the first to congratulate him. As the young spectators pressed against him, their bumpers threatening to make contact with his own, he looked over to the sidelines, where Doreen stood. She caught his questioning gaze and smiled gamely, wiping her antenna over her eyes in a gesture that clearly gave him permission to enjoy himself and made it clear she’d look the other way if he were to receive any overly affectionate congratulations. His prizes were delivered – several cases of engine products and a new set of heavy, treaded tires that were better than the ones he used now for the mud drags – and as the photographer began shooting, the girls fell all over him.
Mater felt a little strange knowing that his wife was watching, but she was a former Pit Girl herself and understood, though not from the receiving end as he found himself now. Besides, as he melted in a flurry of kisses, guilt was among the least of what he was feeling. He gleefully basked in the attention, especially when Sally made her way to the track and gave him a peck on the bumper.
“Aw, Miss Sally,” he said, blushing. The Porsche had been his closest companion in Radiator Springs until Lightning had shown up, but now she and the racecar were lovers, while McQueen had become Mater’s best friend.
“If yer done, Sally, ya know I want some of this fer myself.” Doreen said, grinning shamelessly and locking her lips to Mater’s. She turned to give the tow truck more space while the other girls giggled. “Have yer fun, ladies, but he’s goin’ home with me tonight,” she warned, and Mater chuckled.
“Doreen, what did I tell ya ‘bout throwin’ yerself at racers now that yer a married woman? Ya are so gonna git it.” The girls were beside themselves with laughter now. Figuring she’d make herself useful, the pickup let the young race fans have Mater to themselves while she collected his prizes in her bed. The tires and fuel additives were welcome enough, but he had also won a few hundred dollars and that would help pay some bills until his junkyard enterprise became more profitable.
Dizzy by the time the last of the girls broke away and his friends departed, Mater turned to Tommy Joe. “Can’t say that wasn’t fun! Now I still gotta shut this place down fer the night, ‘less ya wanna practice fer next week.” He looked up into the stands, which were nearly empty.
“If ya’ll can still race after that,” snickered the racecar, “then yer on.” He made his way over to the pits, where he kept a locker. Chrissi was waiting for him in the dugout, not a speck of grime marring her dark paint. The Jaguar was quite particular about her appearance and had kept a considerable distance during the mud drags. There was such a visual contrast between the elegant sportscar and her rusted companion that many were incredulous they’d not only been a couple for years, but had raised three children together.
“Great race, lover!” she said, eager to congratulate him properly. “Why don’t you make a quick run through the carwash so I can –“
“That would be so hot, but I’m going to run some practice laps with Mater and Doreen,” explained Tommy Joe, “ya’ll wanna join us?” He smiled widely, knowing the Jaguar would be repulsed by the very thought of sullying her new luxury tires.
“I’ll watch from here, thanks.” She sniffed at the sight of the mud dripping off his frame, but he knew she’d change her tune dramatically, as she always did, when he was clean and they made their way home tonight. He hated to wait.
“Damn, I’d love to throw ya’ll ‘gainst the lockers right now and have some fun, but you’d have a conniption ‘bout the dirt so we best wait ‘til we’re home.” He winked as he left, leaving her thinking about his plans for later.
When he’d returned to the track, he came upon Mater, who was beckoning Doreen over to his side. She picked her way across the swampy ground, carefully lifting each tire. Tommy Joe guessed she was less anxious about getting dirty than stuck, for she had borrowed a set of tires from the pit and wasn’t used to the deep treads. Mater snagged her with his tow hook, pulling her over the surface of the track until she was tight against his side.
“Yer a filthy mess,” she laughed, as she pressed against his mud-covered frame. Tow Mater chuckled, but didn’t let go.
“Yer the one who ain’t nearly grubby enough. I think ya’ve been hangin’ out with Prissy Chrissi too much.” His voice practically dripped with mischief, and Doreen knew she’d been tricked when he tightened his grip on her bumper and leaned closer to taunt, “Told ya yer gonna git it.”
“Hey, Tommy Joe!” the tow truck addressed his cousin, “Doreen here just done told me that she wants to see how well ya kin peel out in the mud. How’s about showin’ her since yer right in front of us?” His cousin only hesitated for a moment before he realized what Mater wanted him to do.
The pickup gave up struggling to escape once the racecar revved his engine. “Fine, Tommy Joe, lemme have it,” she said, and then, moving as close to Mater as she could, she joked, “we’re both gonna git it, ya goofball.” The racecar spun his tires in earnest, sending an arc of mud over the two of them before he launched himself off. Drenched, Doreen shook some of the sludgy mess onto Mater. “I think I got the worst of that,” she admitted.
“Babe, ya never looked better,” said Mater, surprising her with a sensuous kiss.
He’s totally into this, Doreen realized, as her lover groped her with slippery tires. Not in front of your cousin, fercryinoutloud! They were still embracing when Tommy Joe slid to a halt, sending a second wave against them.
“Glad to be of service, ya freaks,” said the racer with a laugh, as the couple broke away and slung mud at each other playfully. As he watched the El Camino pull herself from where Mater had her pinned against the ground, he thought to himself that Doreen was certainly nothing like Chrissi, whom he’d always regarded as his ideal mate, but he had to admit she was fun. It was ludicrous to imagine his girlfriend tearing through the mud or wrestling with him. Then again, he thought, growing distracted, there were so many things that Chrissi did do with him, and to him, that he probably shouldn’t complain.
“Ya’ll let me know when yer done wrasslin’ in the mud so we can race in it, ‘kay?” he asked.
* * *
Chrissi sipped some bottled water while she watched the three grimy vehicles start their practice laps, then made her way through the tunnel behind the dugout. Once in the locker room, she stretched on her tires, unable to resist briefly admiring her reflection in the dusty mirror hanging on the wall. She smiled, silently congratulating herself on maintaining her good looks that few male cars could resist. While it was often difficult to ascertain a car’s true age, she took pride in garnering better tips at the Strip Joint than many of the girls who were young enough to be her daughters.
“Nice,” agreed a voice behind her. Startled, she turned to face Curtis, a pickup who had emerged from the overhead sprinklers that served as a carwash. Smiling only a few feet away from her while his eyes roved brazenly over her frame, he flicked some suds off a fender. “You’re Tommy Joe’s girl, aren’t you?”
“Not just his girl,” she explained, giving her standard answer, “but we’re together, yes.” She frowned a little. “I thought you left with the others.” Curtis was a fellow competitor of her lover’s as well as a frequent patron of the Strip Joint. He was a vicious demolition derby entrant who would just as happily send his opponents to the hospital or an early retirement from the sport as merely knock them out of the way to secure a win. A decade ago, he had struck Tommy Joe on the forbidden left side, where there was more risk of damage to internal organs, and had sent him over a guardrail and to the sidelines for the rest of the season. She’d hated Curtis then, but over the years her attitude had softened and she questioned whether he had really meant to ruin the season for Tommy Joe or had just been overzealous for victory. Besides, she couldn’t help but notice that he was a very attractive truck, and in surprisingly good shape considering the damage he’d dealt out to others. Chrissi’s engine purred as he approached her.
“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but you two are an unusual couple,” Curtis said, now so close that a droplet of water fell off his bumper and splashed on her hood. They both looked down at it, then their eyes met. She felt herself weakening at his intense gaze.
“Do you mean we’re a strange couple because Tommy’s rusty and I’m an exotic cruiser,” she murmured, “or because we’re both okay with...” His tire caressed her fender. “…Loving anyone we find ourselves attracted to?”
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Freeriding