He was at an awkward angle, one tire stretched too far over an exceedingly high curb, high for a five-year-old car, as well as his front right bumper.

And there was searing pain in those areas too. When he had gotten himself even again in the rain, the pain lessened none, he stayed off his front right wheel and turned to find his mother.

To ask, am I hurt enough? In his mind he was, he already couldn't imagine death feeling worse than this pain. Poor little mind.

But his mother was gone.

He knew she was going to leave. He didn't expect her to leave before confirming he'd done enough damage. Suddenly it all truly set in. He was alone, he had no idea why they'd driven to this abandoned ghost town(mother was determined to claim that it was not abandoned, and ghosts didn't exist, don't be silly, but was adamant on not explaining why they were here, you just wouldn't understand). But he did remember what he was told to do when she was gone.

He didn't know the world. He knew next to nothing really, other than basic addition and English. All he knew was his mother, and always wanting her approval, since then she looked happy at least. And his mother wanted him to approach the White, clean building in stark contrast to the rest of the town.

It was not until he was on the porch he realised he could barely knock. If he lifted his left wheel, he instinctively leaned on his right wheel up front, and instinctively cried out, jumping back onto his other three wheels.

He sat there, tearing up, despising, absolutely hating the rain and the sickly heat of this hellish desert already. Finally, he formulated a new plan, and with extreme effort, like a horse he reared up on his hind wheels, wobbling in his balance as he tried to knock.

Instead, he crashed forward on the door, smashing his front bumper and mouth into the locked entryway. Thoroughly frustrated, and, the pain being nothing to his injured wheel, axle? and the bottom of his front right bumper, he reversed before, on his three good wheels, sped into the two front blue doors.

Almost immediately after, as he cringed in annoying pain, the door opened. "What do you want? Why don't you kno-"

The kid would have glared, but honestly, he knew enough of the world to know chrome meant old, old meant respect. This car was covered in the stuff and didn't look friendly, nor like a lower class car. He was like a monster, deal blue like the ocean, like the water of the cursed rain.

The kid bowed his head, glare dissipating instantaneously. The car demanded respect, and he didn't know why his mom picked this car of all cars, but the car was who he was supposed to stay with. This was the car who was going to take care of him, his mother had promised.

With that reminder, finally, all his confusion and anger left him, easing away and he sunk to the floor with a defeated sob.

When he was finally lead into the building, he kept off his injured wheel but kept it on the floor so that it'd still roll. He didn't want it to be known he was hurt, because a promise and demanded respect did not buy trust.

Truthfully, Hudson had no idea what to do initially. The youngest car in town was Mater, so why was there some random four-year-old looking red car with chipping paint sobbing on the front porch of his clinic?

And yes his initial greeting may have been harsh, but he was not about to take all the blame for the tears. Either way, he more than made up for it by then granting entrance to his abode. Which he really did by simply moving aside and holding the door open.

As the car rolled into his clinic he suddenly had an epiphany. Comfort was never his stronghold, and now, for a kid? Ha. Still, he had to do something. So he crept forward, tapped the kid on the side.

"Hey, kid, follow me."

He loved his personal space, he couldn't imagine a world without it, and this kid had none, so he figured he could lend some of his own as he leads the younger into his bedroom. Doc settled into his corner at the far back of the near-empty room and with a wheel gestured for the tiny tomato to join him. The little one took the liberty to roll his way all the way around Hudson and squeeze in between Hudsons right and the wall, before nuzzling under the elder's corner bumper. The kids not tiny, so if Hudson didn't want the contact last minute, he wouldn't have raised himself slightly so he didn't crush the kid.

Speaking of whom, the little car was still trembling. The sobs had quieted, but the puffs of his breathing and the large tears were still very present.

Doc glanced down, barely able to see any of the child next to his larger body. He sighed, before softly speaking, so as to not scare the kid. "Hey, you're safe now, get some rest now, okay?"

He couldn't tell if the child nodded or not. It didn't matter, the child was calming, and so Hudson closed his own eyes.

Despite being near one in the morning, the poor man couldn't sleep. Despite his exhaustion, his mind was whirling. There hadn't been any young'uns since Mater was a teen working for his parent's tow company. That had been near twenty or so years ago. Besides, where'd this kid come from? This town wasn't exactly designed for families anymore. They could make it work, but why not some city with lots of cars who wanted children?

Because Hudson didn't want a child. He came here to be in solitude, love never meant much to him, so it minded him none that he couldn't start a family here. Never wanted one. Yet, realising the kid had fallen asleep, he knew if cared not for the child, he'd need to find someone in town who could. Or another town that could take him in, hand him over to the Sheriff to do so.

So many questions, all thanks to a random child popping up out of nowhere. So many questions, that eventually Hudson lulled himself into sleep just by thinking about them.