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Monty McQueen fell in love with racing when he was five years old. At the time he was being fostered by an older man (easily one of his better homes) who loved the sport. The man used to collect racing memorabilia and would watch every single race he could on TV.
Even as an adult Monty can still remember sitting next to the old man one Saturday afternoon and watching the colorful cars speed around the track. They moved so fast that they seemed like they were flying and that nothing would be able to touch them.
He sat there, awe struck, as he watched before he turned to the old man and pointed to the screen. “I want to do that!”
After that Monty learned everything about racing that he could, sitting in front of the TV for hours on end watching races and listening to interviews. The man had even given Monty a book ‘Piston Cup Legends from 1949 to 1989’ ; it went through every single Piston Cup winner (and a few honorable mentions) up until that point.
Monty wasn’t very good at reading yet so his foster father would help him practice out of the book and he quickly became obsessed. Even after he left that home Monty continued to find ways to participate in his favorite sport.
Like most racing fans he quickly gained favorite racer, Strip Weather, but The King wasn’t his all time favorite racer, just the one that was currently active on the track.
No, that title belonged to The Hudson Hornet. Monty had quickly memorized the man’s section in his book, the pages worn and dog eared from how many times he read them.
On Monty’s first -conscious- night in Radiator Springs Doc had taken him to the local diner; there were only a few people there but they were all eager to introduce themselves to him. A lot of them asked him questions too, the typical ones that adults always asked kids.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Monty had perked up, always eager to talk about his favorite topic. “I want to be the first rookie to ever win the Piston Cup!”
The adults looked at each other, a bit confused. “What’s the Piston Cup?”
He quickly pulled out his book, holding it up to them to see “it’s a race! You know, with cars?”
As it turned out Radiator Springs didn’t really follow racing, the only two who did were the guys who ran the tire store. But they only watched Italian races, which didn’t count in his mind. The adults had all smiled at him indulgently, Monty recognised their expressions. They didn’t think he could actually do it, but that was okay. At least they hadn’t-
“You know racing’s pretty dangerous kid,” Doc said with a frown.
Monty hugged his book to his chest, wilting a little. “I know, but I can do it!”
The man had a strange look on his face, one that Monty couldn’t read. He didn’t say anything else and soon the subject changed.
—---------
Monty really liked Radiator Springs. He had lived in a lot of places but Radiator Springs was his favorite. How could it not be? Everyone was just so nice!
Mrs. Flo always gave him yummy food to eat and Ramone was really funny and even asked Monty to help him pick out a new color for his car. Guido and Luigi were hard to understand sometimes but they told him all about Italian racing, even if Monty still thought the Piston Cup was better.
He even got a new best friend, an older boy named Mater. He had invited Monty to play a couple days after he arrived and showed him all sorts of cool things around town. Monty had never had a best friend before but he already knew that Mater was The Best.
He was going to miss everyone when he left.
Last night he had overheard Doc and the Sheriff talking while they thought he was asleep (he heard them through the air vents) and while he couldn’t hear everything they said he was able to make out enough words to figure out that a social worker would be coming today. Monty knew that by the end of the day he would be gone, on his way back to California and his next home.
He hoped there would be enough time to say goodbye.
“Monty?” He looked up from his book, to see Doc standing in front of him.
“Yes?”
“I’m heading into town for a meeting” Doc said “will you be okay here?”
Monty felt a bad feeling in his stomach. Was the social worker already here? He nodded quietly, the man leaving soon after.
Monty liked Doc. Sure, he was grumpy but he was nice. He was way better than his past homes, he always made sure Monty had enough to eat and didn’t leave him alone for long periods of time. Doc also didn’t hit him or yell at him, even when Monty was being difficult.
Overall Doc hadn’t given him many rules, just the kind that Monty would expect. The only one that stuck out to him was to not go in the garage, Doc said there were a lot of tools and stuff in there that he could get hurt on. That rule made sense so he hadn’t thought much about it.
However, Monty was a very curious little boy and wasn’t very good at stifling that curiosity. And with Monty leaving today he decided that it couldn’t hurt to take a peak at the garage. If he stayed in the doorway then he wasn’t, technically, going inside and therefore he wasn’t breaking Doc’s rule.
Getting up from the couch Monty grabbed his book and headed outside, the garage was its own separate building behind the house so that’s where he headed. He tested the side door to find it unlocked and slowly eased it open.
The garage was dark, and dirty. There were bolts and nails and screws and stuff all over the place. Monty could see the shape of a car hidden under a cloth cover in the center and a stack of dusty boxes in the corner. Monty could see why Doc didn’t want him in here, it looked like something out of that scary movie one of the boys in the group home once watched.
The only light in the room came from outside and the open door. Monty started to close the door when something caught the corner of his eye. Reopening the door Monty leaned as far into the room as he could while still keeping his feet outside, gripping the doorframe with one hand to keep himself from toppling over.
Peering into the room Monty found what had caught his attention, there was something metal on a counter that looked kind of goldish but he couldn’t figure out much more than that. Frowning Monty looked around to check if anyone was nearby, once the coast was clear he hesitantly stepped over the threshold and into the garage.
Monty froze, as if Doc would appear out of thin air but when nothing happened he allowed himself to breathe again before quickly scurrying over to the counter. Sitting amongst the tools and mechanical parts were three gold cups which were holding more stuff.
The cups all looked identical, they stood on a tall stem with a pair of wings sticking out of the sides near the top. Monty stared at them before slowly looking down to the identical cup on the cover of his book. The Piston Cup.
His eyes moved down to the base of each cup where a little plaque rested, each having a different date, 1969, 1970, and 1971. The names on each of the trophies were too dirty to see but it didn’t matter, Monty already knew who had won the Piston Cup those three years.
The Hudson Hornet.
Monty turned to look at the covered car, carefully making his way across the garage to it. He pulled off the dusty cloth cover to see a familiar navy blue car. With shaking hands Monty flipped through his book to the pages on his favorite racer, he compared the photo of the famous car to the one in front of him. The paint was a bit different but Monty was positive that they were the same car.
Did that mean-
“What are you doing?!”
Monty screamed in shock, he spun around towards the voice and lost his balance. He stumbled backward, tripping over something, a pair of hands grabbed him before he could make contact with the ground. The hands picked him up and set him down in a more-clear area of the garage.
Looking up Monty saw Doc’s face staring down at him, he shrunk a little at his expression. “Didn’t I tell you not to come in here?” Doc demanded.
“I- I’m sorry” he stammered, looking down to try and avoid his gaze.
Doc’s face softened “are you hurt?” Monty shook his head “are you sure? If you’re hurt I need to know, don’t lie to me just because you’re worried about getting in trouble.”
“I’m okay,” he whispered, “promise.”
“What are you doing in here?” Doc asked again, his voice more gentle. “I told you it wasn’t safe.”
“I was just going to look” his head popped up, voice insistent “I wasn’t going to actually come inside! Promise! But then… then…”
“Then what?”
Monty quietly pointed up at the trophies, Doc turned his head to follow his finger. “You have three Piston Cups.” He said “why…. Why do you have three Piston Cups?”
“Kid…”
“You’re the Hudson Hornet” Monty said, not a single doubt in his voice “aren’t you?”
The man sighed softly “should’ve known you would figure it out.”
“I don’t understand,” Monty said “why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“It’s nothing against you” Doc said “no one knows.”
“Why?!” He asked “you, you were the greatest racer ever! You won three Piston Cups in a row! You held the record for most wins in one season! Why would you hide it? Why would you quit?”
“I didn’t” Doc said, his voice firm but not unkind. “They quit me.”
“What?”
Doc stood and pulled a frame off the wall, handing it to him. Monty looked down at it, inside was a newspaper article. The picture was in black and white, showing a wrecked car with smoke pouring out of it. The headline read ‘Crash! Hudson Hornet Out For The Season’.
“They quit on me.” He said, picking up his cane “when I was finally cleared to race again do you know what they said? ‘You're history’. Moved right on to the next rookie standing in line.” He sighed sadly “there was a lot left in me but I never got a chance to show 'em.” He tapped the frame in Monty’s hands “I keep that to remind me never to go back.”
Monty stared down at the article and Doc sighed “kid, I know you’re really determined to race but you gotta understand. This sport is dangerous and it gets people killed.”
“Why do you care?”
“What?”
“Why do you care?” He repeated, blinking back tears “you go and say all this stuff but now you’re gonna send me away!”
“Monty, I’m not-”
“Yes you are!” He yelled “I know the social worker is coming today and you’re getting rid of me just like everyone else.”
In a fit of anger he threw the frame as hard as he could, the glass shattering. He then turned and ran, ignoring the yells that followed. Maybe if they couldn’t find him then he wouldn’t have to leave.
Unfortunately Monty wasn’t very good at hiding so he ended up in the cafe, the town folks stared at him. “Monty?” Flo asked “what’s wrong honey?”
Monty didn’t answer, instead running to the first person he saw, slamming into their legs and held on. The firefighter stumbled but quickly regained himself. Red bent down to give him a hesitant hug, looking at the rest of the patrons with clear concern in his eyes as the child began to sob.
—-----------
Paul Hudson sighed softly. After Monty ran off he had rushed off to go find the kid only for the Sheriff to pull him aside and assure him the boy was safe in the cafe while also suggesting he give Monty some time.
He then headed back home and cleaned up the broken frame, a tad annoyed he would have to get a new one. While in the garage he noticed Monty’s racing book, abandoned on the floor.
Doc found himself flicking through it. While Monty was more than happy to show off pages when the town folk asked he rarely let it leave his person. The boy was fiercely protective over it, like he was worried someone would destroy it if he let them touch it.
Paul found himself staring at the two most-worn pages, the pages on him. It was quite clear that Monty read this section the most, the ink faded and the paper thin. He sighed and shut it softly. Ever since his crash he tried to avoid anything to do with racing and it worked out well for almost two decades.
Then Monty showed up.
He didn’t blame the boy, he was only a child. But Monty talked near non-stop about racing and he wasn’t just a fan, he wanted to do it. He wanted to be a racer, to be ‘the first rookie to win a Piston Cup’. He reminded Paul a bit of himself when he was younger.
At the same time Monty was a very different person, when he wasn’t talking about racing he could be quiet and shy. Not because that’s who he was as a person, but rather it seemed like he was trying to avoid being noticed.
Doc headed to the cafe, it’s been long enough and he needed to talk to the boy.
Entering the cafe Paul was vaguely away of the residents staring at him but his focus was on Monty. The kid was sitting in a booth, curled into Red’s side with dry tear tracks on his face. When he approached Monty stared up at him with wide eyes.
Paul carefully knelt down to be eye level with him, ignoring the way his bad leg protested. He held out the worn paperback “I wanted to give this back to you.”
Monty took it, holding it tightly “thank you” he said softly. “I’m sorry for getting upset.”
“It’s okay” he assured “I’m not mad.” Monty sniffed “what’s wrong?”
There was a long pause. “I don’t want to leave,” he admitted quietly, “I like it here.”
“Monty” he said “you don’t have to leave, not if you don’t have to.”
“Yes I do” Monty said miserably “the social worker is going to make me.”
“I met with the social worker” Doc said “and do you know what I told them?” Monty shook his head and he took a deep breath, he had been hoping to do this in private and not half of the town present. “I told them that I would really like it if you could stay with me, long term.”
“What?” Someone cried, he ignored them.
“And they said yes.” He continued “but only if you want-”
He was cut off by Monty throwing himself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly. Doc hugged him back and the boy started crying again.
“It’s going to be okay kid” he reassured “you’re going to be okay.”