- Lightning, how do you keep your focus
racing against Bobby and Cal?
- I mean, I think the key is we respect each other.
These guys are real class acts.
(foam splats)
- [Purple Car] Congratulations, cupcake!
- (puffs) They are gonna to pay.
(rock music) (car engines revving)
- Go, go, Dinoco!
- Great win today, Cal.
- Thank you, Shannon.
It was a great boost and I was.
Hey, hey!
(laughing)
Guido!
- Pit stop.
- Ha, ha, laugh it up.
Real funny. (cheering)
(tire wheezing)
- I decide when I'm done.
- I was hoping you'd say that.
Okay, but I got an idea.
And I'm gonna need to talk to Rusty and Dusty, all right?
- Oh, I'll get 'em on the horn.
(chuckles) Get it, on the horn? (honking)
(laughing)
- Oops, hold on, gotta sneeze.
(groaning)
Dad gum, I lost it.
Hey, I'll see you at Flo's.
(sneezing) (clanking)
I found it!
Hey, watch your step. (chain rattling)
(energetic music)
- Wow.
- It's an electronic suit.
With it, we'll be able to track your speed
and your vital signs.
- Does it have a phone?
- (laughs) Don't be crazy.
Race cars don't have phones.
- You're driving a little tense again, Ronald.
- No, no, no, I'm cool, I'm cool.
- Do your exercise.
(engine revving)
- I am a fluffy cloud!
I am a fluffy cloud!
I am a fluffy cloud! (sighing)
- [Cruz] There you go!
- You're a cloud. (laughing)
- Shut up, Kurt.
- Here come the bugs, Kurt.
You ready? (puffing)
- Hey, I kept my eyes open this time.
- Gotta see that truck.
- Good morning, Mr. McQueen, looking good.
(groaning)
- Why?
- This'll get oil to places it hasn't been in a long time.
(metal sliding)
- Is that a drip pan?
- Just in case.
- How old you think I am?
- Visualize yourself driving fast on a steep hill.
I'll be back in a few.
- Visualize?
Wait, wait, Cruz!
A few what?
I just want to go on the simulator.
- How's it hanging,
drip pan?
- [Announcer] All cars in the test bay simulator.
(yawning)
- How was your nap, Mr. McQueen?
- It was kind of refreshing actually.
Oh, okay, what are you?
Hey!
- You've been driving on tires a long time.
Have you ever stopped to get to know them?
- I'm sorry, what?
- Tires are individuals.
You should give each a name.
- Name them?
(chuckles) I won't be doing that.
- Mine are named Maria, Juanita, Ronaldo,
and Debbie Richardson.
- What? - Long story.
- May I have my tires back
so I can go on the simulator please?
- Name them!
- Ah, Lefty, Righty, Backy, Backy Junior, okay?
- Does this make you mad?
- Yes, it does!
- Use that!
(salsa music) And merge and yield, and merge and yield.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Now you got some tire damage.
Speed bump, speed bump.
Now clean up your messy garage.
Bug in your windshield.
- Thank you, Cruz, I'm done.
- And merge.
Mr. McQueen, where are you going?
(dramatic music)
(screaming)
- [Simulator] You have jumped a barrier.
(screaming)
- [McQueen] Sorry.
- [Simulator] You have maimed two vehicles.
You have destroyed a drinking fountain.
(screaming)
You have disabled an ambulance.
You are on fire.
Danger, danger.
You are going the wrong way.
- Look out, look out!
Turn it off, turn it off!
Get these things off of me! (screaming)
(tires squealing)
(metal clanking)
- [Simulator] You have crashed.
You have crashed.
- Are you all right?
- [Simulator] You have crashed.
- I have crashed. (crackling)
- Hey, what was my speed?
- I don't know.
I can only track you on the treadmill.
- No treadmills!
- Oh, what about Hamilton?
- [Hamilton] Hamilton here.
- Who's Hamilton?
- My electronic personal assistant.
You know, like on your phone.
You do have a phone, don't you?
- Race cars don't have phones, Cruz.
On sand, you gotta ease into your start
so your tires can grab, okay?
- Okay.
- You do work with race cars, don't you?
- Yeah, but never outside.
- All right, let's go again.
- Go!
(orchestral music begins)
- [Hamilton] 54 miles per hour.
- There you go.
- [Hamilton] 75 miles per hour.
Out of range.
Out of range,
- Sorry!
Got stuck! - Go again!
- And, go!
- Sorry.
- [Luigi] Go!
(crying)
- [Luigi] Go!
- [Cruz] The beach ate me.
- All right, Cruz, pick a line on the compacted sand.
You gotta have traction or you're gonna spin out.
Let's do this thing.
- On your mark, get set, go!
(energetic orchestral music begins)
- [Hamilton] 122 miles per hour.
134 miles.
Out of range, out of range.
Out of range.
- Now what?
- I didn't wanna hit a crab!
- You gotta be kidding me.
- What?
It was cute!
(McQueen groaning) ♪ First you find a can ♪
♪ From the rusty man, bump, bump ♪
♪ Weathered in the dark ♪
♪ Make it in a park, bump, bump ♪
♪ That's the way it's done ♪
♪ It's a lot of fun, bump, bump ♪
♪ Left him out of funk ♪
♪ Make him sculpt it out of junk ♪
(laughs)
(beeping)
- (gasps) What that?
(rattling)
There we go, somebody's interrupting genius.
(gasps) Well, hey there, buddy!
- Mater.
- You know, I was just thinking of you
and here you are lookin' right at me.
You see me okay?
Hang on a second there.
Hold on, let me see here.
That better?
- Looking you straight in the eye there, pal.
(engine revving) (dramatic music)
- All right, all right.
Bring it back.
(panting)
Lesson one, you're old, accept it.
- I told him that.
- [Smokey] He's probably losing his hearing.
- He said you're old and--
- I heard him.
(plucky music)
- [Smokey] You wanna beat Storm,
you need someone to stand in for him,
like a sparring party.
- I'm not so sure.
Not a racer, (laughs) just a trainer.
- Go ahead and gun it.
(engine revving)
- Whoa, yeah!
- With no muffler, you even sound like Storm.
- Oh, you're going down, McQueen!
Get that arthritis-riddled keister onto the track
so I can put you into the old folks' home against your will!
How was that?
- That'll work.
- Worked for me. - I'm good.
- Yep, that'll do.
- Did you hear what she said?
- [McQueen] Cruz, what are you doing?
- [Smokey] Come on, pick it up.
You gotta go faster.
- Okay, call her Frances Beltline and tell her
the school bus of death is after her.
- What?
No. - Trust me.
- Uh, Frances Beltline?
The school bus of death is after ya.
- What?
Oh, uh huh, right. (engine revs)
- Okay, that was different.
Cruz, you're looking too tight now.
Come on, loosen up.
- Tell her she's a fluffy cloud.
- What?
No. - Smokey, tell her.
- Cruz, you are a
fluffy cloud?
- Oh right.
Too tight.
I'm a fluffy cloud, I'm a fluffy cloud.
(nervously yelling)
- Anticipate your turns.
Cruz, get your head in the race.
- No, no, wait, wait, wait.
Tell her she's on a beach
and all the little crabbies have gone night-night.
- No, I ain't saying that.
You tell her.
(dramatic music)
- And how far back is she now?
- [Pit Chief] Look behind you.
- What?
- Good evening, Storm!
- Wait, how did you?
- Just back here drafting on your butt,
nothing to be concerned about.
- Like two June bugs on a summer night.
(laughing)
(tires squealing)
- (laughs) Hey, Hamilton.
- [Hamilton] (beeping) Hamilton here.
- Call out our speed.
- [Hamilton] 208 miles per hour, 207 miles per hour.
- Would you stop that?
You're taking me off my line!
- Last lap!
- Come on, Cruz!
(dramatic music intensifies)
- Uh oh, my GPS is saying I have slow traffic in my way.
- No, no, no, you are not winning this.
- Ah, you're angry.
- I am not angry!
- You know, you can use that anger to push through.
- I said I'm not angry!
(uplifting music)