A/N: Hi! The second chapter now. :D The more interesting bits aren't in yet, I guess. :/ Thanks for the support though! The alerts, faves, and reviews. It would really help, critique and comments.

The usual disclaimer goes here!

Radiator Springs was in ruins. The Leaning Tower of Tires turned into the tire archipelago called Indonesia, the neon on Ramone's House of Body Art and Flo's V8 Café started showing typos, and Red's flowers either drowned or ran off with the rainwater. The Cozy Cones were still upright, but there was a high chance that the furniture weren't.

A cloud of depression followed the three cars as they see their home in shambles yet again. It has been a day or so since they started repairs, having waited for the rain to subside. Not that it was too bad. Like what Doc said before, "If Hotrod paved this road in two days, we'll get Radiator Springs up and running again in no time."

"Hey, Ramone," Doc called into the store.

The impala, still stained in a mismatch of different colors from repainting the place, called back, "Dude," he greeted, "need a new paint job?"

Doc gave a hearty chuckle, "Maybe after cleaning up," he replied. "Don't you have that drier for those rushed paint jobs?"

"Well, you're in luck Doc, I just got it working," the lowrider smiled. His shop was slowly but steadily getting ready to flip that sign from "close" to "open."

The hornet lifted a fender to call Mater in, "I need to get something dried off." The tow truck went in on reverse, revealing its cargo.

"Bring 'em in, dude," Ramone called. It was almost like his shop was open again. The critter was curled up into a ball, still shivering in its damp clothes. "What's that? It's so… small," the impala commented. Mater looked through his side mirrors and gently tapped the hook on the girl's shoulder. She got his signal and held on to it as she was fished out from the carriage.

"Doc's says she's a hoo-men. We found 'er in the big box thang that got washed 'n here 'n the flood," Mater happily provided the answers. Ramone raised an eyebrow, but nodded anyway.

Tuesday stumbled as soon as her feet met the ground. Her back was a bit stiff and her feet were a bit like jelly. I guess I wasn't moving for quite some time… She took ginger steps at first, making sure she wouldn't fall.

"Over here," called the impala. Tuesday found herself standing right in front of something similar to those electric hand dryers in public toilets—except that was five times the size and the vent was facing her.

Ramone glanced at her. Her eyes were big at the sight of the dryer, brows knotted together in confusion, and lips twisted to one side in question. "Just relax, dude. It's gonna be alright," he reassured, driving forward to switch the machine on.

The dryer whirred to life, blowing warm air in a non-gentle way. Tuesday was too preoccupied shielding her eyes from the gush of air, she started to lose her footing. As soon as she was about to stumble backwards, her hip met a solid surface. It was the car…what was his name? –Oh! Ramone.

"Careful. Just rest on Ramone 'til you're nice and dry," the lowrider said with a smile.

The look on the girl's face was surprised, at first, then it softened to a smile similar to Ramone's. Maybe things weren't looking too bad for her, and maybe there was nothing to be scared of after all.

Well, maybe.

Tuesday rested her hip, and occasionally her hand, and sometimes the rest of her weight on Ramone while she would bend down or turn around to dry her hair and the cold damp clothes that clung to her skin.

"It feels nice to be dry again," Tuesday commented as ruffled her chestnut hair—glad that the strands didn't stick to each other anymore, "Thanks Mister Ramone."

"No problemo. Just don't call me Mister. Don't hesitate to drop by Ramone's House of Body Art if you need a new paintjob alright?," the Impala just had put the ad in there.

A small chuckle escaped Tuesday's lips, "Do you think I can have a paintjob?"

The lowrider wanted to say "Of course, why not? You never know till you try," but Doc had beat him to it, saying, "Yes, thank you Ramone. We'll be going over to Flo's for some oil. You should get your morning quart if you haven't already."

Ramone smirked, "Yeah I got my oil already. The first quart Flo serves every morning."

Tuesday was hoisted up back up into the tow truck as they drove to somewhere she heard was called "Flo's." Being all dry, less cold, and more at ease with the idea of talking automobiles, she decided to talk to her—do I call it my chauffeur?

She turned around to face the vehicle's side mirrors to get a view of his face, "Umm, Mater?"

"Yup, that's m'name!" The tow truck replied in a jolly tone.

"Where are we going?"

"Flo's!" he replied as if it was the most obvious thing to Tuesday.

She pursed her lips, confused, "Who is this Flo you guys keep talking about? Wasn't that Ramone?"

"Oh riiight. Yer just new," Mater showed her a buck-toothy grin through his mirrors and said how Flo has the best oil in Route 66, or the entire galaxy even. He spoke of a tower of leaning tires, bumper stickers, cozy cones, organic fuel (he whispered that sometimes they weren't too safe), red flowers, an impound lot, dirt tracks…

There seemed to be a lot to comprehend in this little town, however small and disconnected to civilization it might seem to Tuesday. Well, after getting dried off by talking cars who actually seemed rather nice and gentle, she was starting to doubt herself is she was dreaming. Even lucid dreaming doesn't get this real, or so she's heard. But there was totally nothing real about talking cars. And she is being 'towed' by a rusty one at the moment.

A 50's style diner started coming into view, a bunch of oversized orange cones in the background. "Flo's V8 Diner," Tuesday managed to make out, as the neon lights were off. There were a few more cars there. Some lounging about, others cleaning up.

"Stickers!" a female voice called. The red racecar zoomed off at a totally different speed from their drive earlier on. Tuesday followed the splash of red in her line of sight, and it lead to a pearly blur car. Porche? Tim was a big fan of cars, and he had posters all over his room. She could guess the brands sometimes, if she tried hard enough. The one called 95 nuzzled the Porche.

Ooh. Couple.

"Where were you all morning? I didn't think your rounds with Mater took so long," She nuzzled back. "I started getting worried because Luigi said he didn't see you."

"Luigi thought you were going to help with the tires," a yellow…Fiat? said, in an almost accusing Italian accent. It was followed by a string of unintelligible words from a smaller blue forklift.

The 95 car turned to the complaining duo, "Aww, come on guys. I'll help you later—"

"Guido just said that he finished collecting the tires," the one who calls himself Luigi translated with a deadpan.

It was quite amusing really, all these cars…

A snazzy showcar emerged from the café, all chrome lips and sea green tailfins. Man, Tuesday was impressed. Such beauty! White walled wheels… The art student inside her just want to sketch that car out. "Anything I can get you boys? The twins are out sick," her mid-western accent just made Tuesday a fan.

"Good morning, Flo," Doc greeted.

Ooh. So thaaat was Flo.

"The usual from Mater and I," the hornet paused, and reversed to get a better look at Mater's shipment, "How about you?"

At that very moment, it was like Severus Snape took off her invisibility cloak. All eyes were on her, and she didn't quite know how to react.

"Whatever you're having," her usual calm and slow dialogue was reduced to a squeak.

Doc turned to Flo, shrugged a fender, knowing the showcar heard what the girl said.

"What do you have there, hun?" Flo curiously drove towards Mater, trying to get a better look at the creature that sat in its back carriage.

"Doc's says she's a hoo-men. We found 'er in the big box thang that got washed 'n here 'n the flood," Mater repeated what he explained to Ramone earlier.

It was like his explanation was ignored by Flo altogether, because she didn't question it. Her green eyes met Tuesday's brown ones.

"My, my, it's a pretty little thing you got there, Mater," her voice was low and smooth.

Tuesday giggled slightly at the comment, "Not as pretty as you though," she replied.

"Mhhm," Flo hummed, very happy at the compliment. "And she's darling too. Momma loves this baby." She went back inside the café as the three settled themselves down on a table. Soon, Flo came out with three glasses with straws. "Here's for Doc, Mater," Flo served each of them, "and here's for our new darling—" her dialogue was cut short, waiting for the girl to fill in the blanks.

"Tuesday," she happily replied.

"Here you go, hun. It's on the house for a pretty little missy like you," Tuesday took the glass from the showcar. A bit suspicious, Tuesday used the straw to stir her drink. Oil? Was it what they call their drinks or is it really motor oil? "Go on, don't be shy," Flo encouraged.

Looking over her shoulder to Doc and Mater, and looking over at the other cars… drinking this "oil" was absolutely normal. She stared right back into her cup, and her reflection showed great apprehension, but there wasn't really a choice now, was there?

Her fingers gingerly brought the straw to her lips, and she sipped slowly. In fact, as slow as she could. Once the oil reached the tip of her tongue, her eyes grew wide, and she placed the cup on the table.

Motor oil.

"Uhh, Miss Flo…" Tuesday wanted to apologize and tell her that it wasn't that the oil was bad or anything, but it's just that people don't drink the same things cars do. She was planning this long-winded apology in her head, but she guessed that her act of setting the cup on the table spoke louder than anything else. "I can't drink oil."

"Then what do you drink, hun?" Flo asked, concerned. She was more worried about how the girl would survive than the oil on the table.

"Uhh… Water would be fine," Tuesday replied.

Flo's face immediately lit up, "Oh we've got a lot of that." Tuesday watched as the showcar went to take an empty cup from the café, "over here, Red!" she called. A fire truck responded. He lowered his hose and filled the cup with water.

"Here," Flo handed Tuesday the glass of water with her tire, "better?"

Tuesday took a sip, and then a gulp. Cool refreshing water. She hasn't had any since, well, she passed out. "A lot better," she smiled at Flo, "Thank you."

"Do you survive just by drink water?" Doc asked, rather worried for the girl, a mismatch in this world she was brought to.

As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. Rather loudly, too.

"Oh that don't sound very good there Miss Tuesday," Mater said.

"Err...I need to eat, too."

Hey guys. It won't be long before I march into the exam all for my year-end tests. This will probably be my last update, and I'll hope to get back on track updating this baby. Please do forgive any typos if any are spotted. I'm having a fever as I'm typing this out. Please do point them out so I could edit. :)

Reviews are much appreciated!

And yes, I haven't even mentioned Fillmore in the story yet. Aaaah.