HOME | DD

Description
The sleeping bus fidgeted, his eyes moving beneath closed lids and his face screwing up in the closest thing to annoyance the hippie ever displayed.  After much squirming and face making, Fillmore, who had previously been asleep in a giant bean bag bed, finally relented to the sun shining against his eyes and cracked them open to greet the day.

With a loud yawn, he stretched and half-rolled half-stumbled from his bed, with some regret realizing that he had slept too late to play his usual Hendrix record at dawn.

Oh well, Sarge must have certainly enjoyed it at any rate.

The bus eyed an unopened can of organic fuel on the opposite side of the room and rolled slowly to it, stopping short with a slight mumble as he drove into a few empty cans that he had left on the floor the night before.  He gently pushed them aside with a small, worn tire, where they clattered against a large glass instrument he had been using the night before, which had, incidentally, been the cause of his craving for three cans of fuel in a row.  The bus vaguely remembered crashing in the bed, listening, full and blissful, to Axis: Bold as Love on his record player, and falling asleep to the gentle melody of One Rainy Wish.

"Misty blue and lilac too..." he sang, voice off key and hoarse, as he cracked open the fresh can of fuel and took a few long gulps before lazily setting it aside.

He looked around the room, which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a few weeks, or perhaps months, and for a moment he seemed to forget what he was doing.  Then it dawned on him that today was the day he was going to go camping, and he smiled, coasting to the record player and re-starting the Hendrix record which was already placed there.  He cranked up the volume and started to sing loudly along with Up from the Skies as he began to clean up the mess, hiding any items Sheriff may not approve of and arranging the empty fuel cans for cleaning and re-use later.

He realized it must be a bit later than he thought it was, because surely Sarge would be yelling at him to stop his racket were he not already up and about elsewhere.  Poking his round face through the beaded doorway of his dome, he stood squinting in the sunlight for a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to take in the position of said sun (the hippie didn't believe in letting time control his life, therefore he didn't own any clocks).  He was surprised to find it was past noon, and even the sluggish bus knew he would have to hurry if he were to set out at a decent enough hour to arrive at the campsite before darkness fell.

He had left everything that he had purchased from Sarge in the old wooden trailer; all that was left to do was pack enough fuel, and perhaps a few indulgences.  The bus was used to spending days out of doors, and the bare minimum was all he needed (or wanted) to enjoy a trip to the wilderness.  He rolled slowly to the trailer, which he had left outside in his back yard, when a flash of yellow caught his eye.

He turned slowly to face the burst of colour, and a smile spread across his face.  A small group of desert marigolds were growing amoung the hardy weeds and cacti that called Fillmore's yard their home.  Mindful that he wasn't crushing any other flower tenants, he made his way to the bright yellow flowers that seemed to glow amid the otherwise drab vegetation (though Fillmore thought every plant was equally lovely).

He settled down on his undercarriage in front of the flowers and looked at them closely from beneath heavily lids.

"How did you sneak in here?" he wondered aloud.  Fillmore knew every plant that grew on his property, and he wondered how this one had managed to grow without him noticing.  Though the bus was often unaware of his surroundings as far as other vehicles were concerned, more often than not seemingly staring with a vacant expression into the distance, he tended to notice small things that others would not.  That the bright little flowers had managed to grow to full height without drawing his attention was unusual indeed.

The dry soil, smooth rocks, and gentle afternoon breeze soon had the already sleepy bus drifting off, and he started to doze in the grass, forgetting the task of packing and content to act like a very large flower himself for the time being.

It was just then that that Sarge drove by, headed not from but back to his hut. He paused in the road when he noticed the bright, sticker covered back end of Fillmore facing the road from his garden.  The bus had his tires tucked close to his sides, undercarriage resting on the ground, and he didn't appear to be moving.

Sarge took a quick look around, and then cautiously picked his way over to  him.  He cleared his throat quietly, but the hippie didn't stir.  Fearing the worst, he reached out a tire to gently poke the motionless bus.  His expression quickly changed from one of worry to an eye-rolling scowl as the sleeping Fillmore stirred and rubbed catlike against his outstretched tire without waking, mumbling something incoherent but unmistakably pleased as he dreamed.

Sarge quickly withdrew his tire as if he had been burned and backed out of the yard.  As he reached the road, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the bus continued to slumber.  He briefly considered returning to his side and bellowing at him to wake up.  He had never seen Fillmore frightened or particularly upset and the idea seemed rather appealing at the moment.  In the end, though, even the cranky veteran wasn't quite willing to sink that low, and he turned and headed back into his hut.

---------

Out in the desert, just next to Sarge's boot camp, a Jeep and a green Hummer were rolling amoung the hills and rocks, the Hummer lagging slightly behind, the navy Jeep often stopping to offer advice or help the skittish Hummer to overcome an obstacle.

Tyler had decided to come out and enjoy some off-roading that didn't involve the boot camp or the obstacle course.  The natural formations around Radiator Springs made it the ideal place for a Jeep to play, and she had been enjoying the heat, the dirt, and the endless room to roam when she had noticed a speck of green in the distance.

It seemed T.J. had had a similar idea - either that or he had followed her.  Tyler never bothered to ask.  She had quickly offered to bring him along and teach him a few things without the stress of having Sarge looming over them, and it seemed he caught on a lot faster with some gentleness.

Tyler was surprised to find that she was taking a liking to the Hummer.  She hadn't recalled the last time she had had a friend, other than casual acquaintances or competitors on off-roading trips.  It seemed the small town happened to do that for everyone who visited.  It wasn't often that the Jeep had any patience at all for vehicles who were slow to learn or easily frightened, and she normally looked down on Hummers, finding them slow and far too big and clumsy to do and serious off roading.

T.J., however, was far more skilled than he looked, and she stopped atop a large rise to watch him weave amoung the boulders, flourishing now that his nerves weren't impeding him.  He drove up the hill to meet her, panting.

"How was that?" he said, and Tyler couldn't help but shake her hood at his worried expression.

"It was great.  You're learning really fast, I'm impressed.  Now stop being so shy around me.  I'm not the sergeant, as much as I look like him."

T.J. chuckled.

"You do not."

Tyler shrugged her frame.

"You know, I meant to ask you:  why did you join the boot camp, anyway?  I mean, you really don't seem to like it.  You're great off road, I can see that now, but I just, well, I don't think the boot camp atmosphere is really that great for you.  It seems to be slowing you down more than anything."

T.J. frowned.

"Well, my dad was in the military.  And so was his dad.  And, uh, so was his dad.  My family line goes back to the Willys Jeeps of World War Two, like Sarge."  The Hummer was playing idly in the dirt with a tire, eyes downcast.  "I guess it's kind of expected for me to get some training and join the military, too.  Dad sent me out here."

Tyler simply couldn't imagine T.J. joining the military.  She had often seen the gentle giant swerve to miss a patch of vegetation, or tip tire over a bug, much to Sarge's disgust.  How would he ever be able to survive a real boot camp, much less combat?  She stamped her tire angrily, sending up a cloud of dust and startling the Hummer.

"And do you want to join the military?"

T.J. stammered for a moment, clearly unsure of what answer was expected of him.

"Just be honest," Tyler said, more quietly this time.

"Well... no.  I kind of wanted to write my own songs and maybe record some CDs.  But, don't let that get around, okay?  If Sarge found out, or if dad found out..."

Tyler smiled sadly and placed a tire reassuringly on T.J.'s side.

"I won't tell anyone, promise.  But maybe you should tell someone, or at least stop hiding it.  If you recorded a CD I would definitely buy it.  I could be your security guard and protect you from all the women that would be begging to see the famous T.J."

T.J. blushed and laughed.

"Well, maybe -- "

"Oh, isn't this adorable!"

T.J. jumped and Tyler turned sharply to face the source of the sarcastic comment.  Jane pushed her way between the two of them, the big Hummer towering even over T.J..  She gave Tyler the usual shove, and T.J. made a small noise of protest.  She turned to him with a smirk.

"You got a problem?"

"Jane, don't," Tyler said, but neither Hummer seemed to hear her.

"M-maybe I do!" T.J. said, and Tyler winced, expecting the worst.  Jane blinked in surprise.

"Oh yeah?"

"Y-yeah!  You're always pushing Tyler around, and it's pretty obvious you're just jealous..."

Jane fell silent for a moment, then, to Tyler and T.J.'s surprise, shrugged her frame and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

There was a pause for a moment, and then T.J., clearly uncomfortable now that Jane was there, looked to Tyler apologetically.

"I'm going to go back to the boot camp and see if I can do the obstacle course on my own.  Thanks for all your help."

"Bye, T.J.."

Tyler watched T.J. depart, and made sure he was well out of sight before suddenly rising on her back tires and shoving Jane with both of her front tires, putting all her weight against the Hummer and sending her skidding a few feet, two dark tire prints showing clearly on her yellow frame.  Before she could respond, Tyler was face to face with her, voice raised.

"What the heck is your problem, huh?!  Pushing me around all the time as if you expect me to let you get away with it, treating T.J. like that!  Do you get your jollies picking on vehicles who can't fight back or what?"

The Jeep gave her another rough shove, and Jane was surprised by her strength.  The heavily scarred vehicle stood bristling before her, clearly prepared for Jane to retaliate, but the big SUV only stood with a stunned expression.  She slowly righted her tires, which had splayed to her sides in an effort to keep herself standing straight against the Jeep's blows.

"I was just having a bit of fun," she mumbled.

"It's not fun for the rest of us."

Jane 's eyes flickered up to Tyler's, then back down to her hood, and the two young women were silent for a while in what each of them understood to be a wordless apology.  Tyler broke the silence.

"So what are you doing out here?"

"Probably the same thing you were doing.  Just getting in some exercise away from you-know-who."

Tyler chuckled, and Jane spoke again.

"Looks like you are T.J. are awfully close."

Tyler smiled softly.

"Yeah, he could definitely use someone to help him out, and I've certainly got the spare time."

"So are you two...?"

Tyler looked at the Hummer quizzically for a moment, then snorted and broke into laughter.

"What, me and him?  Dating, you mean?  Nooo, no no.  He's sweet, but he's not my type."

Jane snorted.

"So what is your type, then?"

Tyler shifted awkwardly.

"I dunno..."

The big Hummer chuckled deeply, though her tone was quite different from her usual sarcastic jeering.

"So we've got tonight and all tomorrow off," she blurted quite suddenly, and the nervousness in her voice surprised Tyler.  "I heard that there's a great camping spot a few hours from here and I thought I would go there for the night and spend the day there tomorrow.  Someone told me they have some great trails and it's miles away from roads and towns... would be great for someone who was experienced in off-roading."

"That does sound like fun."

"Yeah, only, uh, I don't really know anyone around here who would be into that, and uh, well, neither do you, so maybe we could go together."

It was Tyler's turn to laugh loudly, and Jane scowled.  Tyler shook her hood.

"You sure changed your tune all of a sudden!"

Jane blushed furiously.

"I've been planning on asking you since last night!  What the heck is so funny?"

"Oh, relax.  You just surprised me is all.  Sure I'll come with you.  T.J. is great, but I doubt camping would be up his alley and it would be nice to get out of this little town for a while."

"Great.  I've got everything of mine packed, so you won't need supplies.  We'll just have to bring extra fuel for you."

The two turned and started to head back to town, not following the dirt road, but rather rolling along a line of hills, each trying to outdo the other in their desert trekking abilities even as they chatted like old friends.

---------

Sarge was headed in the opposite direction, taking the path that headed in the direction of the boot camp.  Sunday was his usual day to re-arrange the tires on the obstacle course, add new challenges and adjust old ones, lest the SUVs get too used to the setup.  A deep, female voice reached him on the slight breeze, and he looked around, but there was no one in sight.

"...seems like he's getting more confident in his skills without Sarge..."

Upon hearing his name, the old Jeep turned, trying to determine the direction of the voice.

"Huh, that doesn't surprise me," said another voice, and he realized it was Jane and Tyler speaking from behind the small hills that skirted the path.  They were large enough to block the vehicles from each other's view, but not nearly large enough to block their voices.  Sarge frowned and turned, following them in the other direction and listening to their conversation.

"Well, that's his job, you know.  And I don't think he knows any other way," said the first voice, who Sarge assumed to be Tyler.  Laughter that could only belong to Jane followed.

"Can't teach an old Jeep new tricks, I guess, and he sure is old."

Tyler said something Sarge couldn't make out, and Jane spoke again, her voice loud and clear as usual.

"He's not just commanding, he's a bully!"

"You're one to talk!"

"Alright, alright, I know.  But seriously.  He asks us all to do things he could never do.  He's so old and out-dated I doubt he could even run his own coarse.  It's really kinda pathetic.  Have you ever seen him doing the obstacle course?"

"Well, no..."

"Me neither, and I've been here a lot longer than you have."

Sarge had heard enough.  He stopped following them and stood, letting their voices fade into the distance.  He was silent for a long while, staring down at the dusty track and his own shadow that was lengthening as the sun sank lower toward the horizon.  He suddenly turned and started to head back in the direction he had originally been traveling with a determined look on his face.

Upon arriving at the obstacle course, he had entirely forgotten the original reason why he had come out here.  He drove to the start of the course, balancing precariously at the top of the steep, muddy hill that ended in the river, then rose to meet another hill; the same place Tyler had shown her fear of the water.  He easily rolled down the hill, over the river, and back up the next hill, neither stopping nor stumbling the entire way.  Once he reached the top of the second hill, he took a deep breath and smiled.

"It's not so hard," he said aloud, before rolling down the hill, which now brought him to far drier and dustier terrain.  Before him was a curving path that was dug into the sand, leaving it a few feet below ground level.  It twisted around hill and boulder, sometimes dipping into ditches and trenches, and all the while followed by a trail of barbed wire on either side.  Here and there the wire would twist over the top of the path where it delved into a ditch, and any poor turns would leave the top the vehicle doing the coarse covered in scratches.

Sarge normally ordered his class to take this path at a high speed - to do it slowly took away the challenge of taking the turns properly and avoiding the barbed wire.  What most of them didn't know was that forty miles an hour was his top speed, and even thirty miles an hour took a lot of effort.  It had been a fair speed for he and the other Jeeps trekking through mud and snow in combat, when endurance was key and speed mattered little, but times had changed and Sarge was loathe to admit to himself that Jane had been right about him being out of date.

But that didn't mean he couldn't finish the course.  He revved his engine and headed down the path at a considerable speed, teeth gritted in concentration as he made it to the first turn without incident.  Turning and locking his heavily treaded wheels, he coasted along the curve, kicking up a cloud of dust that nearly blinded him - but he knew his course well enough to do it with his eyes closed, even if he had only been giving orders from afar for the most part.

Several more turns going at such a high speed had his engine racing and his hood hot.  The final, and most difficult turn loomed before him, and he locked his wheels as usual for the curve, only to find his frame tilting dangerously as he lost momentum.  His side scraped painfully against the rocky wall that bordered the path that was now dug deeply into the ground, and he vaguely registered the barbed wire tearing at his canvas top as he managed to pull himself back to regular speed and prevent himself from tipping.

The path then ended, and he came to a skidding halt, breathing heavily as his axles shook.

"Pull yourself together, soldier," he muttered, before standing up straight and moving on to the next obstacle.  The highest hill for miles now loomed before him, sandy and uneven on the side facing him, steep and dotted with boulders and rocks on the opposite side.  His engine growling loudly as he started up the side, sand cascading behind him as his tires struggled to find a grip.  The Jeep neither relented nor lost an inch in his upward climb, and pulled himself to the top with a triumphant "Hah!", struggling to catch his breath.

He paused only a moment before sliding down the other side, twisting as he drove to avoid losing control, though keeping his grip was much easier now that there were rocks and dirt under his tires instead of fine sand.  He smiled as he drew closer to the bottom, expertly avoiding all obstacles and keeping his speed steady now that he was getting used to things.

He started to reduce his speed and gently braked as the ground rushed up to meet him.  A sudden sharp pain shot through his front axle as one of his wheels twisted painfully downward and to the side, and he lost all control, nearly pitching over as his wheel snagged for a moment in a steep hole that neither he nor his class had ever noticed before.  His left front wheel went completely slack, and he tried desperately to gain traction with only three wheels, but it was useless.

He would have skidded to the bottom and rolled were it not for the boulder that jutted ahead of him, and he shut his eyes tightly as he anticipated the inevitable collision.  The breath was knocked out of him and bursts of light danced before his eyes as he hit side of the boulder with an echoing metallic thud.  Sarge remained motionless as he waited for his tank to settle and his vision to return, his whole body aching from the collision and his hood burning.

When the dust settled and his vision became clear again, he tentatively straighted himself out.  His side throbbed and he was forced to take the weight off of his injured wheel, but there was no outstanding damage done to anything but his pride.  He carefully made his way to level ground and lowered his wheel to the ground, gasping quietly at the sharp pain that coursed through his axle.  At least it wasn't broken.

Grimacing, he started forward at a snail's pace, turning away from the course and making the long trek back to town.

---------

Doc was having a leisurely drink at Flo's, away from the chatting crowd and off to the side, only half under the awning.  He had just spent a long day in his office, and while he had only seen one patient that day who just ended up needing a new fan belt, he had been up to his mirror in paperwork and was taking a well deserved break.  Finishing off his drink, he nodded to one of the twins (he still couldn't tell them apart and didn't particularly care to get to know them) he pulled out into the road.

The sound of an engine that was unmistakably Sarge's, though more stressed than usual, caught his attention, and he turned to face the noise.  The Hornet's face fell when he spotted him, and he quickly drove to meet him.  Sarge stopped and tipped his hood respectfully.

"What in the world happened to you?" Doc said, taking in the long scrape on the Jeep's side and the way he was holding one of his tires slightly above the ground.

Sarge shrugged his frame.

"There was a hole in my obstacle course.  I snagged a tire in it."

"You should come into the clinic, Sarge," Doc said, though he knew the Jeep would refuse.

"I'm fine.  I'll be fine in the morning."

"It'll hurt more in the morning, you know that as well as I do.  I'm not asking you.  Just let me have a look at it and I'll give you some painkillers."

"It doesn't hurt."

Doc smirked and reached out a tire, gently patting the Jeep's injured side.  Sarge leaned away and winced in pain.

"Alright, alright.  Ten minutes.  I've got things to do."

Doc led the way back to the clinic.  A few of the townsfolk looked up at them as they passed, but Sarge pointedly ignored their concerned gazes.  Doc held the swinging door for the Jeep as they arrived, receiving a scowl for his gesture.  He rolled to a halt and awaited Doc's inevitable prodding.

The Hornet rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a cloth, which he wet and then brought to Sarge's side, gently cleaning the dirt and loosened paint from the scrape.  He knew he didn't have to tell the veteran how to properly care for a wound and would probably insult him if he gave him instructions, so he washed in silence.

Setting the cloth aside, he looked down at the Jeep's slightly raised tire.

"So you twisted your axle?"

Sarge grunted.

"It's possible you might have a slight fracture.  You're going to have to -- "

"No!"

"I just need to get a quick -- "

"Absolutely not!"

"This can take ten minutes or an hour.  Either way, you're getting on that lift.  I've seen more undercarriages than you could count and yours is no different."

Grumbling, Sarge drove to the lift and got on.  Doc raised it before he could change his mind and peered upward at his front axle, Sarge visibly squirming with embarrassment.  Doc lowered the lift and the Jeep quickly drove off.

"Well, looks like you just twisted it.  But you should take a break for a few days.  You've seemed stressed enough as it is, lately.   Maybe you should leave off tending to the boot camp until Monday and give your grass a chance to grow - I don't want to see you pushing that mower."

Sarge was scowling as if Doc was suggesting the unthinkable, but knew better than to argue.  The car handed him a bottle, which he tucked under his wheel well.

"Don't take more than three a day, but they should dull the pain if it gets to be bothersome.  Take it easy, Sarge."

The Jeep relented somewhat.

"Thank you, Doc," he said, though he didn't sound entirely sincere, before departing.

---------

Fillmore slowly opened his eyes and stretched his axles.  The first thing he noticed that that the bright yellow marigolds were slowly shutting, and that the sun was starting to sink, painting the sky a lovely magenta.  He bus smiled peacefully and turned, when he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be arriving at the camp site by now.

"Oh man, heavy," he mumbled sleepily as he drove inside to retrieve enough fuel for the journey.  He hurried back out, pushing a number of cans in front of him, and started to fit them into the trailer, thankful that he was otherwise packed.

"Hippie!"

Fillmore turned to face the unmistakable source of the voice, which was of course Sarge, parked in the road.  The bus vaguely wondered why he was towing a trailer.

"Hey Sarge," he said, waving a tire and then hitching himself up to his own trailer, which was considerably more worn.  "I don't mean to be rude, but uh, I gotta get going.  I'm like, completely late and I wanna be able to spend the night out in the woods."

Sarge, who had realized that two days with no boot camp, no lawn mowing, and no Fillmore would be completely unbearable, smiled somewhat.

"Can we take the slow road?"

"Oh hey, I always take the. . . what, we?"

"Doctor's orders."

Fillmore grinned from headlight to headlight.

"Sweet, dude.  Hey, you won't regret it.  I'm telling you man, there's nothing more relaxing than camping.  And I could use someone who doesn't take a whole day to pack.  You sure got ready fast."

"Years of experience."

Fillmore chuckled, and then both started down the road.

Description
The sleeping bus fidgeted, his eyes moving beneath closed lids and his face screwing up in the closest thing to annoyance the hippie ever displayed.  After much squirming and face making, Fillmore, who had previously been asleep in a giant bean bag bed, finally relented to the sun shining against his eyes and cracked them open to greet the day.

With a loud yawn, he stretched and half-rolled half-stumbled from his bed, with some regret realizing that he had slept too late to play his usual Hendrix record at dawn.

Oh well, Sarge must have certainly enjoyed it at any rate.

The bus eyed an unopened can of organic fuel on the opposite side of the room and rolled slowly to it, stopping short with a slight mumble as he drove into a few empty cans that he had left on the floor the night before.  He gently pushed them aside with a small, worn tire, where they clattered against a large glass instrument he had been using the night before, which had, incidentally, been the cause of his craving for three cans of fuel in a row.  The bus vaguely remembered crashing in the bed, listening, full and blissful, to Axis: Bold as Love on his record player, and falling asleep to the gentle melody of One Rainy Wish.

"Misty blue and lilac too..." he sang, voice off key and hoarse, as he cracked open the fresh can of fuel and took a few long gulps before lazily setting it aside.

He looked around the room, which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a few weeks, or perhaps months, and for a moment he seemed to forget what he was doing.  Then it dawned on him that today was the day he was going to go camping, and he smiled, coasting to the record player and re-starting the Hendrix record which was already placed there.  He cranked up the volume and started to sing loudly along with Up from the Skies as he began to clean up the mess, hiding any items Sheriff may not approve of and arranging the empty fuel cans for cleaning and re-use later.

He realized it must be a bit later than he thought it was, because surely Sarge would be yelling at him to stop his racket were he not already up and about elsewhere.  Poking his round face through the beaded doorway of his dome, he stood squinting in the sunlight for a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to take in the position of said sun (the hippie didn't believe in letting time control his life, therefore he didn't own any clocks).  He was surprised to find it was past noon, and even the sluggish bus knew he would have to hurry if he were to set out at a decent enough hour to arrive at the campsite before darkness fell.

He had left everything that he had purchased from Sarge in the old wooden trailer; all that was left to do was pack enough fuel, and perhaps a few indulgences.  The bus was used to spending days out of doors, and the bare minimum was all he needed (or wanted) to enjoy a trip to the wilderness.  He rolled slowly to the trailer, which he had left outside in his back yard, when a flash of yellow caught his eye.

He turned slowly to face the burst of colour, and a smile spread across his face.  A small group of desert marigolds were growing amoung the hardy weeds and cacti that called Fillmore's yard their home.  Mindful that he wasn't crushing any other flower tenants, he made his way to the bright yellow flowers that seemed to glow amid the otherwise drab vegetation (though Fillmore thought every plant was equally lovely).

He settled down on his undercarriage in front of the flowers and looked at them closely from beneath heavily lids.

"How did you sneak in here?" he wondered aloud.  Fillmore knew every plant that grew on his property, and he wondered how this one had managed to grow without him noticing.  Though the bus was often unaware of his surroundings as far as other vehicles were concerned, more often than not seemingly staring with a vacant expression into the distance, he tended to notice small things that others would not.  That the bright little flowers had managed to grow to full height without drawing his attention was unusual indeed.

The dry soil, smooth rocks, and gentle afternoon breeze soon had the already sleepy bus drifting off, and he started to doze in the grass, forgetting the task of packing and content to act like a very large flower himself for the time being.

It was just then that that Sarge drove by, headed not from but back to his hut. He paused in the road when he noticed the bright, sticker covered back end of Fillmore facing the road from his garden.  The bus had his tires tucked close to his sides, undercarriage resting on the ground, and he didn't appear to be moving.

Sarge took a quick look around, and then cautiously picked his way over to  him.  He cleared his throat quietly, but the hippie didn't stir.  Fearing the worst, he reached out a tire to gently poke the motionless bus.  His expression quickly changed from one of worry to an eye-rolling scowl as the sleeping Fillmore stirred and rubbed catlike against his outstretched tire without waking, mumbling something incoherent but unmistakably pleased as he dreamed.

Sarge quickly withdrew his tire as if he had been burned and backed out of the yard.  As he reached the road, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the bus continued to slumber.  He briefly considered returning to his side and bellowing at him to wake up.  He had never seen Fillmore frightened or particularly upset and the idea seemed rather appealing at the moment.  In the end, though, even the cranky veteran wasn't quite willing to sink that low, and he turned and headed back into his hut.

---------

Out in the desert, just next to Sarge's boot camp, a Jeep and a green Hummer were rolling amoung the hills and rocks, the Hummer lagging slightly behind, the navy Jeep often stopping to offer advice or help the skittish Hummer to overcome an obstacle.

Tyler had decided to come out and enjoy some off-roading that didn't involve the boot camp or the obstacle course.  The natural formations around Radiator Springs made it the ideal place for a Jeep to play, and she had been enjoying the heat, the dirt, and the endless room to roam when she had noticed a speck of green in the distance.

It seemed T.J. had had a similar idea - either that or he had followed her.  Tyler never bothered to ask.  She had quickly offered to bring him along and teach him a few things without the stress of having Sarge looming over them, and it seemed he caught on a lot faster with some gentleness.

Tyler was surprised to find that she was taking a liking to the Hummer.  She hadn't recalled the last time she had had a friend, other than casual acquaintances or competitors on off-roading trips.  It seemed the small town happened to do that for everyone who visited.  It wasn't often that the Jeep had any patience at all for vehicles who were slow to learn or easily frightened, and she normally looked down on Hummers, finding them slow and far too big and clumsy to do and serious off roading.

T.J., however, was far more skilled than he looked, and she stopped atop a large rise to watch him weave amoung the boulders, flourishing now that his nerves weren't impeding him.  He drove up the hill to meet her, panting.

"How was that?" he said, and Tyler couldn't help but shake her hood at his worried expression.

"It was great.  You're learning really fast, I'm impressed.  Now stop being so shy around me.  I'm not the sergeant, as much as I look like him."

T.J. chuckled.

"You do not."

Tyler shrugged her frame.

"You know, I meant to ask you:  why did you join the boot camp, anyway?  I mean, you really don't seem to like it.  You're great off road, I can see that now, but I just, well, I don't think the boot camp atmosphere is really that great for you.  It seems to be slowing you down more than anything."

T.J. frowned.

"Well, my dad was in the military.  And so was his dad.  And, uh, so was his dad.  My family line goes back to the Willys Jeeps of World War Two, like Sarge."  The Hummer was playing idly in the dirt with a tire, eyes downcast.  "I guess it's kind of expected for me to get some training and join the military, too.  Dad sent me out here."

Tyler simply couldn't imagine T.J. joining the military.  She had often seen the gentle giant swerve to miss a patch of vegetation, or tip tire over a bug, much to Sarge's disgust.  How would he ever be able to survive a real boot camp, much less combat?  She stamped her tire angrily, sending up a cloud of dust and startling the Hummer.

"And do you want to join the military?"

T.J. stammered for a moment, clearly unsure of what answer was expected of him.

"Just be honest," Tyler said, more quietly this time.

"Well... no.  I kind of wanted to write my own songs and maybe record some CDs.  But, don't let that get around, okay?  If Sarge found out, or if dad found out..."

Tyler smiled sadly and placed a tire reassuringly on T.J.'s side.

"I won't tell anyone, promise.  But maybe you should tell someone, or at least stop hiding it.  If you recorded a CD I would definitely buy it.  I could be your security guard and protect you from all the women that would be begging to see the famous T.J."

T.J. blushed and laughed.

"Well, maybe -- "

"Oh, isn't this adorable!"

T.J. jumped and Tyler turned sharply to face the source of the sarcastic comment.  Jane pushed her way between the two of them, the big Hummer towering even over T.J..  She gave Tyler the usual shove, and T.J. made a small noise of protest.  She turned to him with a smirk.

"You got a problem?"

"Jane, don't," Tyler said, but neither Hummer seemed to hear her.

"M-maybe I do!" T.J. said, and Tyler winced, expecting the worst.  Jane blinked in surprise.

"Oh yeah?"

"Y-yeah!  You're always pushing Tyler around, and it's pretty obvious you're just jealous..."

Jane fell silent for a moment, then, to Tyler and T.J.'s surprise, shrugged her frame and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

There was a pause for a moment, and then T.J., clearly uncomfortable now that Jane was there, looked to Tyler apologetically.

"I'm going to go back to the boot camp and see if I can do the obstacle course on my own.  Thanks for all your help."

"Bye, T.J.."

Tyler watched T.J. depart, and made sure he was well out of sight before suddenly rising on her back tires and shoving Jane with both of her front tires, putting all her weight against the Hummer and sending her skidding a few feet, two dark tire prints showing clearly on her yellow frame.  Before she could respond, Tyler was face to face with her, voice raised.

"What the heck is your problem, huh?!  Pushing me around all the time as if you expect me to let you get away with it, treating T.J. like that!  Do you get your jollies picking on vehicles who can't fight back or what?"

The Jeep gave her another rough shove, and Jane was surprised by her strength.  The heavily scarred vehicle stood bristling before her, clearly prepared for Jane to retaliate, but the big SUV only stood with a stunned expression.  She slowly righted her tires, which had splayed to her sides in an effort to keep herself standing straight against the Jeep's blows.

"I was just having a bit of fun," she mumbled.

"It's not fun for the rest of us."

Jane 's eyes flickered up to Tyler's, then back down to her hood, and the two young women were silent for a while in what each of them understood to be a wordless apology.  Tyler broke the silence.

"So what are you doing out here?"

"Probably the same thing you were doing.  Just getting in some exercise away from you-know-who."

Tyler chuckled, and Jane spoke again.

"Looks like you are T.J. are awfully close."

Tyler smiled softly.

"Yeah, he could definitely use someone to help him out, and I've certainly got the spare time."

"So are you two...?"

Tyler looked at the Hummer quizzically for a moment, then snorted and broke into laughter.

"What, me and him?  Dating, you mean?  Nooo, no no.  He's sweet, but he's not my type."

Jane snorted.

"So what is your type, then?"

Tyler shifted awkwardly.

"I dunno..."

The big Hummer chuckled deeply, though her tone was quite different from her usual sarcastic jeering.

"So we've got tonight and all tomorrow off," she blurted quite suddenly, and the nervousness in her voice surprised Tyler.  "I heard that there's a great camping spot a few hours from here and I thought I would go there for the night and spend the day there tomorrow.  Someone told me they have some great trails and it's miles away from roads and towns... would be great for someone who was experienced in off-roading."

"That does sound like fun."

"Yeah, only, uh, I don't really know anyone around here who would be into that, and uh, well, neither do you, so maybe we could go together."

It was Tyler's turn to laugh loudly, and Jane scowled.  Tyler shook her hood.

"You sure changed your tune all of a sudden!"

Jane blushed furiously.

"I've been planning on asking you since last night!  What the heck is so funny?"

"Oh, relax.  You just surprised me is all.  Sure I'll come with you.  T.J. is great, but I doubt camping would be up his alley and it would be nice to get out of this little town for a while."

"Great.  I've got everything of mine packed, so you won't need supplies.  We'll just have to bring extra fuel for you."

The two turned and started to head back to town, not following the dirt road, but rather rolling along a line of hills, each trying to outdo the other in their desert trekking abilities even as they chatted like old friends.

---------

Sarge was headed in the opposite direction, taking the path that headed in the direction of the boot camp.  Sunday was his usual day to re-arrange the tires on the obstacle course, add new challenges and adjust old ones, lest the SUVs get too used to the setup.  A deep, female voice reached him on the slight breeze, and he looked around, but there was no one in sight.

"...seems like he's getting more confident in his skills without Sarge..."

Upon hearing his name, the old Jeep turned, trying to determine the direction of the voice.

"Huh, that doesn't surprise me," said another voice, and he realized it was Jane and Tyler speaking from behind the small hills that skirted the path.  They were large enough to block the vehicles from each other's view, but not nearly large enough to block their voices.  Sarge frowned and turned, following them in the other direction and listening to their conversation.

"Well, that's his job, you know.  And I don't think he knows any other way," said the first voice, who Sarge assumed to be Tyler.  Laughter that could only belong to Jane followed.

"Can't teach an old Jeep new tricks, I guess, and he sure is old."

Tyler said something Sarge couldn't make out, and Jane spoke again, her voice loud and clear as usual.

"He's not just commanding, he's a bully!"

"You're one to talk!"

"Alright, alright, I know.  But seriously.  He asks us all to do things he could never do.  He's so old and out-dated I doubt he could even run his own coarse.  It's really kinda pathetic.  Have you ever seen him doing the obstacle course?"

"Well, no..."

"Me neither, and I've been here a lot longer than you have."

Sarge had heard enough.  He stopped following them and stood, letting their voices fade into the distance.  He was silent for a long while, staring down at the dusty track and his own shadow that was lengthening as the sun sank lower toward the horizon.  He suddenly turned and started to head back in the direction he had originally been traveling with a determined look on his face.

Upon arriving at the obstacle course, he had entirely forgotten the original reason why he had come out here.  He drove to the start of the course, balancing precariously at the top of the steep, muddy hill that ended in the river, then rose to meet another hill; the same place Tyler had shown her fear of the water.  He easily rolled down the hill, over the river, and back up the next hill, neither stopping nor stumbling the entire way.  Once he reached the top of the second hill, he took a deep breath and smiled.

"It's not so hard," he said aloud, before rolling down the hill, which now brought him to far drier and dustier terrain.  Before him was a curving path that was dug into the sand, leaving it a few feet below ground level.  It twisted around hill and boulder, sometimes dipping into ditches and trenches, and all the while followed by a trail of barbed wire on either side.  Here and there the wire would twist over the top of the path where it delved into a ditch, and any poor turns would leave the top the vehicle doing the coarse covered in scratches.

Sarge normally ordered his class to take this path at a high speed - to do it slowly took away the challenge of taking the turns properly and avoiding the barbed wire.  What most of them didn't know was that forty miles an hour was his top speed, and even thirty miles an hour took a lot of effort.  It had been a fair speed for he and the other Jeeps trekking through mud and snow in combat, when endurance was key and speed mattered little, but times had changed and Sarge was loathe to admit to himself that Jane had been right about him being out of date.

But that didn't mean he couldn't finish the course.  He revved his engine and headed down the path at a considerable speed, teeth gritted in concentration as he made it to the first turn without incident.  Turning and locking his heavily treaded wheels, he coasted along the curve, kicking up a cloud of dust that nearly blinded him - but he knew his course well enough to do it with his eyes closed, even if he had only been giving orders from afar for the most part.

Several more turns going at such a high speed had his engine racing and his hood hot.  The final, and most difficult turn loomed before him, and he locked his wheels as usual for the curve, only to find his frame tilting dangerously as he lost momentum.  His side scraped painfully against the rocky wall that bordered the path that was now dug deeply into the ground, and he vaguely registered the barbed wire tearing at his canvas top as he managed to pull himself back to regular speed and prevent himself from tipping.

The path then ended, and he came to a skidding halt, breathing heavily as his axles shook.

"Pull yourself together, soldier," he muttered, before standing up straight and moving on to the next obstacle.  The highest hill for miles now loomed before him, sandy and uneven on the side facing him, steep and dotted with boulders and rocks on the opposite side.  His engine growling loudly as he started up the side, sand cascading behind him as his tires struggled to find a grip.  The Jeep neither relented nor lost an inch in his upward climb, and pulled himself to the top with a triumphant "Hah!", struggling to catch his breath.

He paused only a moment before sliding down the other side, twisting as he drove to avoid losing control, though keeping his grip was much easier now that there were rocks and dirt under his tires instead of fine sand.  He smiled as he drew closer to the bottom, expertly avoiding all obstacles and keeping his speed steady now that he was getting used to things.

He started to reduce his speed and gently braked as the ground rushed up to meet him.  A sudden sharp pain shot through his front axle as one of his wheels twisted painfully downward and to the side, and he lost all control, nearly pitching over as his wheel snagged for a moment in a steep hole that neither he nor his class had ever noticed before.  His left front wheel went completely slack, and he tried desperately to gain traction with only three wheels, but it was useless.

He would have skidded to the bottom and rolled were it not for the boulder that jutted ahead of him, and he shut his eyes tightly as he anticipated the inevitable collision.  The breath was knocked out of him and bursts of light danced before his eyes as he hit side of the boulder with an echoing metallic thud.  Sarge remained motionless as he waited for his tank to settle and his vision to return, his whole body aching from the collision and his hood burning.

When the dust settled and his vision became clear again, he tentatively straighted himself out.  His side throbbed and he was forced to take the weight off of his injured wheel, but there was no outstanding damage done to anything but his pride.  He carefully made his way to level ground and lowered his wheel to the ground, gasping quietly at the sharp pain that coursed through his axle.  At least it wasn't broken.

Grimacing, he started forward at a snail's pace, turning away from the course and making the long trek back to town.

---------

Doc was having a leisurely drink at Flo's, away from the chatting crowd and off to the side, only half under the awning.  He had just spent a long day in his office, and while he had only seen one patient that day who just ended up needing a new fan belt, he had been up to his mirror in paperwork and was taking a well deserved break.  Finishing off his drink, he nodded to one of the twins (he still couldn't tell them apart and didn't particularly care to get to know them) he pulled out into the road.

The sound of an engine that was unmistakably Sarge's, though more stressed than usual, caught his attention, and he turned to face the noise.  The Hornet's face fell when he spotted him, and he quickly drove to meet him.  Sarge stopped and tipped his hood respectfully.

"What in the world happened to you?" Doc said, taking in the long scrape on the Jeep's side and the way he was holding one of his tires slightly above the ground.

Sarge shrugged his frame.

"There was a hole in my obstacle course.  I snagged a tire in it."

"You should come into the clinic, Sarge," Doc said, though he knew the Jeep would refuse.

"I'm fine.  I'll be fine in the morning."

"It'll hurt more in the morning, you know that as well as I do.  I'm not asking you.  Just let me have a look at it and I'll give you some painkillers."

"It doesn't hurt."

Doc smirked and reached out a tire, gently patting the Jeep's injured side.  Sarge leaned away and winced in pain.

"Alright, alright.  Ten minutes.  I've got things to do."

Doc led the way back to the clinic.  A few of the townsfolk looked up at them as they passed, but Sarge pointedly ignored their concerned gazes.  Doc held the swinging door for the Jeep as they arrived, receiving a scowl for his gesture.  He rolled to a halt and awaited Doc's inevitable prodding.

The Hornet rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a cloth, which he wet and then brought to Sarge's side, gently cleaning the dirt and loosened paint from the scrape.  He knew he didn't have to tell the veteran how to properly care for a wound and would probably insult him if he gave him instructions, so he washed in silence.

Setting the cloth aside, he looked down at the Jeep's slightly raised tire.

"So you twisted your axle?"

Sarge grunted.

"It's possible you might have a slight fracture.  You're going to have to -- "

"No!"

"I just need to get a quick -- "

"Absolutely not!"

"This can take ten minutes or an hour.  Either way, you're getting on that lift.  I've seen more undercarriages than you could count and yours is no different."

Grumbling, Sarge drove to the lift and got on.  Doc raised it before he could change his mind and peered upward at his front axle, Sarge visibly squirming with embarrassment.  Doc lowered the lift and the Jeep quickly drove off.

"Well, looks like you just twisted it.  But you should take a break for a few days.  You've seemed stressed enough as it is, lately.   Maybe you should leave off tending to the boot camp until Monday and give your grass a chance to grow - I don't want to see you pushing that mower."

Sarge was scowling as if Doc was suggesting the unthinkable, but knew better than to argue.  The car handed him a bottle, which he tucked under his wheel well.

"Don't take more than three a day, but they should dull the pain if it gets to be bothersome.  Take it easy, Sarge."

The Jeep relented somewhat.

"Thank you, Doc," he said, though he didn't sound entirely sincere, before departing.

---------

Fillmore slowly opened his eyes and stretched his axles.  The first thing he noticed that that the bright yellow marigolds were slowly shutting, and that the sun was starting to sink, painting the sky a lovely magenta.  He bus smiled peacefully and turned, when he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be arriving at the camp site by now.

"Oh man, heavy," he mumbled sleepily as he drove inside to retrieve enough fuel for the journey.  He hurried back out, pushing a number of cans in front of him, and started to fit them into the trailer, thankful that he was otherwise packed.

"Hippie!"

Fillmore turned to face the unmistakable source of the voice, which was of course Sarge, parked in the road.  The bus vaguely wondered why he was towing a trailer.

"Hey Sarge," he said, waving a tire and then hitching himself up to his own trailer, which was considerably more worn.  "I don't mean to be rude, but uh, I gotta get going.  I'm like, completely late and I wanna be able to spend the night out in the woods."

Sarge, who had realized that two days with no boot camp, no lawn mowing, and no Fillmore would be completely unbearable, smiled somewhat.

"Can we take the slow road?"

"Oh hey, I always take the. . . what, we?"

"Doctor's orders."

Fillmore grinned from headlight to headlight.

"Sweet, dude.  Hey, you won't regret it.  I'm telling you man, there's nothing more relaxing than camping.  And I could use someone who doesn't take a whole day to pack.  You sure got ready fast."

"Years of experience."

Fillmore chuckled, and then both started down the road.