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The racetrack was loud, with the squeal and burn of concrete burning away the rubber of his tires drumming in his audials, his frame catching good light as he passed the third place car, Hotrod, and started overcoming the last obstacle, Chromia.
The last few laps were coming up and now that he's left a mess in the back with frames crashing and even one spinning out, sorry Ironhide, he had managed to swing himself up to second place.
Outside the rapid whirl of mechanical beings straining themselves to finish the track, the loud cheer of both Cybertronians and humans was a great motivator for the racers to do their best.
While no human racers were actually manually driving each Cybertronian, something Jazz may or may not have been a little sad about, this whole race was to celebrate the Autobots and humans good relations and to help build good rapport. The tickets for the event were rare and hard to come by, but much of the public did still manage to get in, with the event also being televised to those around the world.
He had offhandedly mentioned something to Optimus when they had, undercover, drove past a race track not in use and had then gone off on tangents about how events like that brought humans together and were effective in building relations when Optimus asked, indulging him looking back on it.
Jazz admittedly didn't expect Optimus to seek him out later, asking more about it while they sat on his berth. Once Optimus set his mind to things, there was little to stop him and had been quick to make arrangements and so a little suggestion turned into him participating, knocking Bumblebee sideways, laughing at the playful curses and reckonings the yellow mech spat his way, nudging Hound into Mirage's bumper also earning him some shouts as he took care to get back at his friends.
He's gonna have some mechs hunting him down after these last couple laps, but it was worth it.
He paused, rapidly turning into his pit stop, letting the human crew do their thing and replace his tires and refuel his energon lines, before he was off again, returning to his position in second. Best not to risk it and let Hotrod gain bragging rights against him. Primus knows he never let it go last time.
While Hotrod was hot on his heels, desperate to catch Jazz as the last lap was called, he still couldn't overtake him and Jazz gave him a friendly swivel as he kept his place, finishing close behind Chromia.
The cheers were even more boisterous as they finished, flags waving as the other racers finished in their respectful places and congratulations were all spread as Chromia spun for the cameras, revving her engine hard in victory.
The rest was a blur as Bumblebee finished and tackled him, playfully promising revenge while Mirage sulked and Hound huffed. They had wrestled before the rewards ceremony, a tradition on various human sports where the winner stood on the tallest platform, with second and third stood beside and on lower ones, cameras flashing.
He was grinning, dragged through a whirlwind of congratulations, wincing at Ironhide's "friendly" whack on his roof at his back. His engines were still running hot, the excitement and fun on being surrounded by friends giving him heaps of energy.
They continued like this for awhile, Jazz laughing brightly when Optimus pulled him into a fierce hug and wincing when Prowl waltzed up and surprised him by congratulating him even if it was a bit sulky.
Early in the race, he had contented himself beside Prowler, more focused on him and racing Prowl himself until Bee had caused a minor pileup and while Jazz had deftly avoided it by a nanosecond, Prowl was caught right in the middle, effectively causing the mech to drop to 20th place while Jazz then decided to put more effort and pull ahead.
That may or may not be the reason he himself caused Bee and the others some trouble later on but that's neither here nor there.
Still, Prowl was in good spirits and they all were eventually corralled into the large building where once was a car showcase, but had been cleared out for Cybertronians to have space.
This was also part of the event Jazz had suggested after Optimus set things up, where instead of human cars, the humans could see the racers themselves in car or root mode for posing and photos.
Jazz talked with some reporters, posed with humans, kneeling who wanted photos to brag to their friends, and even met some kind older folk, but he paused when a small family began to approach, the mother nudging her kid forward towards him, something small, just barely bigger than her own small hands. He dwarfed her, well, and all the other humans, by a lot, but he crouched and smiled brightly, encouraging her forward.
She grinned back, glancing at her family before running over. Thankfully his sensitive audials were able to pick up her tiny, shy voice.
"You were so cool out there! Zigzagging and knocking them all out the park! Moma said you'd be here, and you are! I. . .um, have a gift."
Embarrassed, she pushed the little bundled thing out to find and he narrowed his optics in, trying to see what it was. It was hard to see, so he gingerly placed a servo out, careful her tiny hand wasn't caught in any of the groves catching her own soft palms. She handed it over and he examined the tiny object.
It was. . .small. Very small. But it was soft and squishy, not in the way humans were, but closer to human blankets that he's had experiences with before. The little thing had a rounded head and. . .oh. *Oh.* It was him.
It was a tiny little plush version of him. The visor was similar to his own, and it had cute little blush circles like the exaggerated human blushes he's seen in artworks and such, and he had his signature grin embroidered into a wide grin on the plushie. The little body had tiny details similar to his frame, with little blue circles for headlights and bands of color separating his chassis from his arms and legs.
It was a miniature version of himself and it was *cute*. He took a few photo captures and smiled. It was a perfect thing to send to Prowler.
He went to hand the little plushie back and was surprised when the girl shook her head no, jumping up and down with her arms resting on his outstretched servo.
"Moma made me my own! That's yours! So you won't be alone and scared!"
Being Spec Ops, he wasn't exactly unused to either but to have a child say that to him, well. It was very endearing. She cared for him and it made his spark swell a bit. Humans were used to looking at them with fear and anxiety, being so fragile compared to them. Having this sweet kid show him otherwise was, well, pretty much the best outcome he expected of this event, actually.
The kid smiled brightly, and he made a show of gently tucking it into a small compartment on his arm which normally had datachips and drives for easy information storage, but would fit this lil guy perfectly. A safe place to keep it on him always.
After that, he made sure she and her family got all the photos they wanted. He even got to transform into his car mode and let the little girl pretend she was driving him. Others were with the whole family, everyone beaming as reporters and others caught the moments on film as well.
After they got all the photos they wanted, he was laughing as Hotrod was put into the girl's sights, and she went to get photos with him next. Poor mech was startled, already being pulled multiple different ways by different families, while trying to keep a brave face as reports also filmed him. Poor mech was overrun and Jazz was eager to see the chaos unfold until a familiar field brushed his.
He turned, grinning at Prowler as the mech came up beside him, a small amused smile on his faceplates as the shared a knowing, almost pitying look towards Hotrod and the girl now climbing into his front seat, pretending to steer him like she had with Jazz.
"It appeared like she gave you something. You seemed really happy as well. What was it?"
Jazz beamed, bouncing a little as he excitedly opened his arm compartment. Photos were well and good and all, but. . .
He put the plushie carefully into his hands, before turning a bit to beam at Prowl, mimicking plushie Jazz's wide grin with his own, plushie Jazz pushed up to his cheek plates to show the comparison.
The pouty face he got back was worth the entire event in of itself.