Lightning: Well, life's a beach. And then you drive. [Pauses; Luigi and Guido snicker.] Heh, thank you. Cruz: This is beautiful! I can see why Mr. Sterling said you wanted to train out here. As soon as this thing is booted up, we'll get you on the treadmill and I'll track your speed. Lightning: What?! No!! The whole idea is gettin’ my tires dirty! Real racing! I’m not drivin’ on that when I got the sand, and the whole Earth! [The treadmill finishes booting up] Cruz: [crushed] Oh, okay... [Starts packing it away real slowly] Lightning: Luigi, let’s do this. Luigi: Welcome racers, to Fireball Beach! Historical for today's great test of speed! Our finish line will be the abandoned pier in the distance! Lightning: [under his breath] All right...quicker than quick... [closes eyes] ...faster than fast. I... am... speed... Cruz: That is great self-motivation! Did you come up with that? Lightning: Yeah, I did! Luigi: On your mark, get set... GO! [Lightning zooms forward and finishes at the pier] Lightning: Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! There you go! Felt good! [drives back to Cruz] Hey, what was my speed? Cruz: I don't know. I can only track you on the treadmill. Lightning: No treadmills! Cruz: Oh. What about Hamilton? Hamilton: Hamilton here. Lightning: Who's "Hamilton"? Cruz: My electronic personal assistant. Y'know, like on your phone. [chuckles; pause] You do have a phone, don't you? Lightning: Race cars don't have phones, Cruz. Cruz: Hamilton, track Mr. McQueen's Speed and report it. Hamilton: Tracking. Cruz: I’ll stay as close as I can. Your suit will transmit your speeds to Hamilton. Lightning: Fine, whatever! Let’s do this. [Back at the start] Quicker that quick, faster than fast, I am speed! C’mon, Luigi! Luigi: On your mark, get-a set... and go! [Lightning speeds off] Hamilton: 46 miles per hour. 53 miles... Out of range. Out of range. Out of range. [Lightning skids to a stop; Cruz is still at the start.] Cruz: Huh. That’s odd, I didn’t go! [Tries to drive but can't] [Back at the start] Lightning: On sand, you gotta ease into your start, so your tires can grab, okay? Cruz: Okay! Lightning: You do work for race cars, don’t you? Cruz: Yeah, but never outside. Lightning: A'right, let’s go again! Luigi: Go! [Both take off.] Hamilton: 54 miles per hour. Lightning: There you go! Hamilton: 75 miles per hour. Out of ranger. Out of range. Out of range. Lightning: Huh? [skids to a stop] Cruz: [having crashed into a bank of sand] Sorry! Got stuck! Lightning: Go again! Luigi: And go! Cruz: [having skidded into the water; a waves hits her] Sorry. Luigi: Go. Cruz: [slides out of control] Ohhhhhhhh...! Luigi: [completely irritated] Go.... Cruz: [sinks into the sand until only her eyes are visible] The beach ate me. [Now it is cloudy] Lightning: All right, Cruz, pick a line on the compacted sand. Ya gotta have traction or you’re gonna spin out! [flexes his tire] Let’s do this thing! Luigi: [getting bored] On your mark, get set, go. [Both takes off] Hamilton: 122 miles per hour. 134 miles... Out of range. Out of range. Out of range. Lightning: [stops once again] NOW WHAT?! [Cruz suddenly came to a stop] Cruz: I don’t wanna hit a crab! Lightning: You gotta be kidding me... Cruz: What? It was cute! Lightning: Ugh! [Now it’s sunset] All right, one last chance to try this before it gets dark! Now you’re gonna take off slow to let your tires grab. Cruz: Yes. Lightning: And pick a straight line on the hard sand so you don’t spit out! Cruz: Uh-huh! Lightning: And alllllll of the crabbies have gone night-night! Cruz: Mr. McQueen... Lightning: Alright, let’s go again! Luigi: [completely irritated] And go... [They take off for the final time; Cruz manages to stay behind him all the way.] Hamilton: 150 miles per hour. 175 miles per hour. 196 miles per hour. [They reach the abandoned pier together.] Lightning: Woohoohoo!! All right! Finally! You made it! Congratulations, how’d I do? Cruz: You topped out at 198.

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