Author's Note- So...this years flu shot totally missed...which I know because I was stuck in bed with pneumonia for a couple of days and have been trying to catch up with work ever since. As a result of both of those factors, I haven't been keeping up with writing and posting. Hopefully, though all of that gunk is behind me and I can get back to my normal posting. Which of course brings us to today's story. It is not my favorite post, but even if it only gets a couple of you looking up tanks driving on ice on youtube posting it will be worth it.

On Thin Ice

It would be close to a year before Lightning would be called to participate in an exhibition race. While he had been keeping incredibly busy during that time (he was Cruz's crew chief and coach after all, and he was also giving pointers to the rest of the vehicles training for Rusteeze/Dinoco team, as well as, constantly being asked to make charity appearances), but busy wasn't the same thing as being happy. Doc might have been perfectly fulfilled by stepping into the role of mentor. Lightning's urge to race wasn't as easily sated.

His need for speed became a particular problem in November…after the Cruz had swept the Piston Cup and the stock car races were on hiatus. Lightning usually lived for this four-month reprieve from the track. Right now, he was dealing with an itch in his Lightyears that could only be satisfied by speed. Unfortunately, that was a problem that could not be solved in his current state of domestic bliss…sitting in the Cozy Cone main office…watching Sally prep her taxes…

"Go hang out with Matter or get a few laps at the butte, just get out of my cones for awhile." Sally said with an exasperated eye roll, but she gave McQueen a peck on the bumper as he rolled out…which let the racer know that he may be driving his girlfriend a little bit bonkers, there was still no doubt where her loyalty laid.

Sally was still tires deep in tax forms when he got back from rough housing and possibly knocking down an abandon shed, though McQueen would completely deny it if asked, with Mater. The Porsche just gave him 'the look' which didn't stop him from rolling right over to her and giving a teasing bump with his fender. Sally melted for a moment, giving him a kiss in return, but then putting her tire down. Still, she nudged a letter towards him as she shooed him back out the door.

Bored, McQueen decided to take the letter and head to Doc's Garage, which was unofficially considered to be his space. Safely enclosed inside his little sanctuary, McQueen took a good look at the note. It was from Tex…which was unusual. Normally his boss had no problem letting Lightning know what he wanted either by phone or in person. Confused the racer gingerly teased the letter open and discovered a set of plane tickets and a message informing him, that his next race was in five weeks.

Reading the details, McQueen couldn't help but be interested, he had heard about this type of racing, but he had never actually seen it being done, let alone meant someone who did it. Tex had truly handed Lightning a new challenge. Already feeling his boredom slipping away, McQueen made a beeline for the Cozy Cone. Taxes or no, Sally was going to want to know about this.

The day after Christmas, McQueen made the drive to LA to catch his flight north. Boarding the plane, he couldn't help but chuckle at just how spot on Tex had been. When McQueen had first realized that there was only one set of tickets in the letter, the racer had been a bit surprised. He had asked had asked the boss about it on their next phone call, the older car had just chuckled and said that if another one of Lightning's team wanted to make the trip, he would book a second ticket.

After asking around Radiator Springs, it became pretty clear that not even Mater was interested in flying up to Alaska for a race, especially one that would take place in the dead of winter on a frozen lake. For a few long day's McQueen had been convinced that he would have to run this race completely solo. But then Sarge had pulled some favors and apparently gotten McQueen pit and training crew.

Now all the racer had to do was get up to the far north and start practicing. Getting through security was a breeze (being a celebrity was good for something at least) and the airport lounge wasn't half bad either. McQueen spent his downtime reviewing his notes about ice racing. Before he knew it he was ushered to his place in the first class cabin and he was off on his newest adventure.

"Sir, can I get you something to drink?" One of the flight attendants approached him once he had gotten settled.

"Some coffee would be great." McQueen said, flashing his signature style. He wasn't planning on sleeping on the flight when he could spend the time studying racing info instead.

Lightning ended up falling asleep shortly after takeoff and only woke when the flight attendant nudge him to let him know that they were coming in for a landing. Peeking out the window, the racer instantly understood why none of his friends wanted to join him on the trip. Everything was covered with a thick blanket of snow, and the sun sat weakly on the horizon.

After landing, Lightning skipped the baggage claim. He had been told that he would be fitted with new tires up here, so he really hadn't had anything to pack. He asked for directions before he headed out into the cold, and managed to make it to the front gates of Fort Greely without too many embarrassing moments. Sadly he made up for that the moment he reached the base.

"Hello." Lightning stammered out as soon as he figured out how to activate the intercom button next to the road.

"Good afternoon Sir, please state your name on purpose on to enter the base." A tinny voice replied.

"McQueen, Lightning McQueen, and I guess that I am here to learn how to ice race."

"Who is your contact on base Mr. McQueen." The voice was polite, but clearly unimpressed.

"Um, I was told that someone named Ronson was here. He is a friend of one of my friends…" Lightning's words trailed off lamely.

"Please wait." The vehicle on the other side of the radio com said with clipped efficiency.

For a few long moments McQueen worried that he was going to get forgotten at the front gate of a military base. The sun was rapidly setting and it was starting to get uncomfortably cold. The racer was trying to think up a back-up plan, if this didn't work he was sure that he could arrange for hotel back in Fairbanks and he could sort everything else in the morning.

Then the gate in front of him creaked open. When Sarge had said that he had some friends who could help McQueen train for his most recent challenge, Lightning had expected said friends to be a bit…well smaller. Like a jeep maybe or maybe even a duce and a half. What ended up meeting him at the gates of Fort Greely was an honest to goodness Sherman Tank with two generals stars painted on the side. It was a very good thing that the tank spoke first because Lightning was frozen in surprised.

"Let's get you inside before you freeze to the pavement." The Tank rumbled, clearly amused by the uncomfortable looking racer in front of him. "It will be interesting to see if you have what it takes to be an ice road racer."

McQueen didn't hit the ice the first day. Instead, the Tank, who had introduced himself as General Ronson, brought him to the base clinic where they practically changed all of his fluids. The talkative tug with chief master sergeant's stripes explained that normal oil had a bad habit of turning to Jell-O in the negative temperatures that Fairbanks experienced on a regular basis, so McQueen would only be consuming Arctic Grade synthetic oil for the rest of the trip. His anti-freeze to water mixture was also increased, and an oil pan heater was added to his engine, as well as a heater blanket for his battery. Finally, his window washer fluids were topped off, because apparently no car this far north was comfortable driving with low window washer fluid.

The arctic sun had long set by the time the mechanic was done with him, and the overhaul left Lightning feeling pretty groggy. While the tug offered to bring him the base recreation center to blow off some steam, the racer decided that he rather head back to his quarters. He ended up spending the evening getting a little overdue, virtual cuddle time with Sally.

The sun still hadn't come up when the Ronson banged on the Racer's door the following morning, but McQueen had finally figured out that the lack of sunlight was normal for this latitude. Switching on his headlights, Lightning followed the tank into the dark…and accelerated a little bit too quickly coming out of the door which caused him to spin out into a snow bank. He was able to extract himself, but then he had to catch up with the tank that was still rumbling down the road. The racer pushed the gas a little bit to catch up, only to find himself sliding sloppily across the road.

"I don't know if I can do this." McQueen admitted his personal doubts when he finally caught up with the tank…two miles down the road.

"What makes you say that?" The Tank replied, clearly amused by the situation.

"If I can't handle myself on normal roads that are iced over, how in the world I am going to manage to succeed at racing on the ice." Lightning shot back in an exasperated huff.

Ronson gave a deep rumbling laugh, and then with a smile towed McQueen to a spot over looking what appeared to be an open field. After a few moments, the racer noticed an oval carved into the white and a series of orange traffic cones set out in various patterns. It looked like some of the ice tracks that McQueen had been studying, but it was set up on a much larger scale. Lightning assumed that was because it was a practice track. The larger amount of space would allow for maneuvering flexibility. Then he heard a loud rumble coming up the road, and his perspective shifted significantly.

Instead of normal-sized vehicles, a line of M1 Abrams tanks lead by two heavily built Humvees maneuvered themselves to a parking area just outside of the rink. With a barked order, one of the tanks entered the ice track and revved his engines. Then McQueen saw something that he didn't think was possible. He saw a 60-ton vehicle drifting.

For the next two hours, Lightning didn't even realize how cold he was, as he watched the tanks practice driving at high speeds across the ice. They pulled sharp turns, and slid through figure eights, and before McQueen's brain could fully process what he was seeing the practice was already over. With a bit of sadness the racer watched as the line of tanks started up all of their engines and headed back to base, chasing the afternoon sunset. Only once they were out of sight did the tank beside him speak.

"So, if my boys can ice race." General Ronson's thundering engine practically purred. "Don't you think that you could manage it as well?"

McQueen grinned back. He was so ready to try.

The following day, after McQueen went to classroom portion the winter driving school with the tanks; which could basically be summed up 'on ice, breaks are not your friend.' Then Piston Cup Champion had his first attempt at driving on a groomed ice track. For this adventure, he was given two instructors. It turned out that he got the two instructors who had been working the track yesterday. In addition to the humvee instructors Rick and Harvey, Dixie-a young Namer armored personal carrier- would also be working on getting her snow tires.

"Okay, you lot." Harvey practically growled and McQueen instantly wondered if he had gotten over his head, that wasn't stop the drill sergeant from plowing forward. "I don't care what you think that you about driving, cause I promise you that it doesn't apply here. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" Dixie thundered. Everyone on the field then stared at McQueen for a few long seconds before the race car figured out what he was supposed to be doing.

"Um…yes…" Lightning managed to stammer out.

"Work on that." Rick said practically in McQueen's grill. The race car jumped. He had been so focused on Harvey that he hadn't realized that the other humvee had snuck up on him. Already Lightning could tell that this training was going to push him to his limits.

"Yes, sir." McQueen stammered out when he noticed that everyone was staring at him again.

"There may be hope for you Civie." Harvey voice was level but held an edge of sarcasm which only served to make the racer more nervous, but it appeared that he was ready to move on from McQueen's initial preach of etiquette. "The first rule of driving on ice is the importance of control. You stay in control by limiting the rate that you accelerate. You will now practice this by lapping the track, and you will do this without using your brakes. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" Both Dixie and McQueen called out in unison.

"Good." Harvey bobbed slightly with approval. "Corporal you clearly have the weight advantage on this exercise. I want you on the track first. Once the Corporal is on the far side of the track we will be putting you," the humvee looked down his hood at McQueen, "on the ice. Corporal, you will not pass the Civie on the track. Civie you will not pass the Corporal. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" The pair of training vehicles replied.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it." The Humvee scooted over allowing the heavy Namer to slip onto the track. Less than two minutes later, McQueen was also motioned onto the track.

Driving on an ice track was a strange experience. No matter how much he tried to dig his tires into the surface, they never took hold. Instead, the racer had to focus on gliding on top of the surface. With a Humvee on his flank coaching his every maneuver, McQueen finally stated to understand how to maneuver on this particular type of roadway. Gradually, the racer became more comfortable on the track, and he became more liberal with the gas.

Too late he realized that he was going too fast…he was going to get up in front of Dixie. He needed to slow down. On instinct, McQueen slammed on his breaks, and the world instantly was thrown into a spin. Before anyone could react to the racer's situation he was buried up to his front axle in a snow bank.

A moment later, there was the sharp pain of a toe hook being clipped roughly under his back bumper. One sharp tug and he was face to face with Rick.

"McQueen what did I say about using your breaks!" The Humvee barked.

Lightning really wanted to shout something back…but luckily for the racer his mouth was currently full of snow.

Over the next four days, if McQueen wasn't sleeping or eating he was hitting the track with either Rick or Harvey. The Humvees pushed him hard. Whenever the racer mastered a skill, it seemed like they would hand him another three to practice. They ran him through sprints on standard racing tires, and when they trusted him not to use his breaks they brought him the mechanics hut and had him switch tires.

The moment that his studded tires touched the base's icy road, McQueen noticed the difference. He was finally getting traction. When Harvey lead him to a frozen river to try on his new set up, the racer gingerly tried to accelerate…only to find that his tires dug into the ice in the same way his dirt Lightyears would dug into to the track back home in Radiator Springs.

Finally relaxing, McQueen focused on the rhythm of his engine. He leaned on the gas, and soared across the ice, kicking up a spray of frozen crystals in his wake.

Before Lightning knew it, the day of the race had begun. For the first time in a week, he hadn't been woken by a Humvee at 4 am. He should have taken the opportunity to sleep in, but McQueen was too wired for that. And honestly, he really needed to call Sally and catch up. The intensity of the training schedule had meant that he had neglected calling her.

By the time General Ronson swung by the barracks to pick him up, he had spoken with Sally, Matter, Sarge, Cruz, Smokey, and even Red (though that particular conversation had been incredibly one-sided). He had also left a voicemail update with Tex's secretary and the racer was starting to get antsy. He had almost ready to call Sally back up when the knock had happened at the door.

"Think you are ready now?" The tank rumbled.

"Am I ever!" McQueen grinned back.

"Good to hear." The old soldier smiled. "Wouldn't want to let Sarge think that I had lost my skill as a trainer, but before we can let you show off your new abilities we need to get you kitted out like a proper ice racer."

With that Lightning was brought to the mechanic's bay for the final touches. The biggest change was a set of overpowered headlights. The visibility can get awfully difficult on the track, especially during the studded-tire races. All racers are required to have high power lights to increase their visibility in an attempt to reduce the number of accidents. Once the forklifts had had their way with him, he rolled out of the building ready to race and he was greeted by a pair of familiar Humvees.

"You didn't think that the General would send you out to battle unsupported, did you?" Rick grinned.

The race day was ridiculously cold, but after engine modifications that McQueen had been given and the amount of time he had spent driving on ice the frigid air didn't take his breath away anymore. That didn't stop his breath from catching a bit when he saw the size of the crowd that had come to see him pound the ice; it was almost as big as the crowds at the smaller paved track venues that he had raced at. Given the ad hock nature of the venue, Lightning was surprised that they managed to fit everyone into the park.

"Is ice racing this popular?" Lightning leaned over to Harvey and asked.

"No." The Humvee chuckled. "Yes, ice racing is a very popular sport but it normally doesn't draw this many vehicles to watch it. These folks came out to see you."

As McQueen glanced around, he realized the truth in the military vehicles words. Everyone was jostling a bit to get a good look at him and many of the vehicles were sporting Lightning Vs Ice temporary bumper stickers. All the bumper stickers were embossed with the Dinoco logo, so it was clear that Tex's public relations team had out done themselves buying the business social currency.

"I didn't realize that I was such a draw." McQueen finally managed to mutter under his breath.

"You are a bit of a legend," Rick explained, "and legends from the lower 48 don't make it up her to Alaska all that often, so it is a special treat for them to see you race in person. Honestly, it was a good thing that you have been staying on base because I highly doubt that you would be able to get a hotel room in Fairbanks. They are all sold out."

"Well," McQueen grinned, "I guess that I better give them a good show then."

Lightning wasn't allowed to race right away. He was stuck taking a bunch of pictures for the media (the racer suspected that they wanted to get pictures before he risked getting his paint scratched up during that actual race), listening to local politicians talk about how honored their community was to be hosting this competition, and waving at the fans. As the vehicles around him kept talking McQueen's tires kept getting more and more itchy for the track.

Then in a whirlwind, it was time. He was lined up on the starting line with a number of the local ice racing champions. A pistol's crack shattered the quiet and McQueen took off.

McQueen did okay in the in the standard tire competition, but in the studded tire competition, McQueen totally shredded the track. He had been warned about what it would be like to have ice particles from the race leaders being thrown into his face, but the racer never actually experience that. His experience on rain-soaked dirt tracks had given him an advantage and he never gave up his lead.

Lightning would end up spending an extra five weeks in Alaska, most of which he spent visiting schools and community centers. He felt a little bit guilty about not being there to help Cruz get ready for the beginning of the season, but the Dinoco racer had insisted that he was exactly where he should be. She could find a dozen of cars to coach her, and this would probably be the only chance that the kids from these Arctic Villages would ever get to rub tires with Piston Cup Champion.

McQueen wasn't so sure. Once he had gotten the taste of ice racing, he kind of wanted to come back next season and give it another whack.

End Note: Made it to the end of the second story, now on to the factoid about Ice Racing. If you haven't seen ice racing that sadly you probably never will. It is considered a dying sport because relatively warm winters in North America have made it unsafe to drive at high speeds on the lakes and rivers that traditionally hosted these races. Luckily you can still see some of the videos on youtube, my favorite of which involves drifting tanks. Well, that is all for today, I hope that you join me in the next story where McQueen attempts to speed across turf.