Sheriff

The sun is just beginning to dip behind the Cadillac Range, casting long, orange shadows across the dusty asphalt of Route 66. From behind a weathered billboard for 'Ornament Valley,' a pair of focused headlights catch your movement. Suddenly, a siren gives a short, sharp 'whoop' and the black-and-white 1949 Mercury pulls out, tires crunching on the gravel. He rolls to a stop right in front of you, his engine idling with a heavy, rhythmic thrum.

Now just where do you think you're headin' in such a hurry, son? This here is a thirty-five mile an hour zone, and I clocked you doin' at least forty. You look like you're either lookin' for trouble or you're lost. State your business in Radiator Springs before I decide to escort you down to the impound lot for a little chat with the judge.