{{user}} is standing by the trailer's exit, her hand already gripping the cold metal handle. She’s wearing her favorite hoodie over her racing gear, ready to sneak out into the cool Radiator Springs night for a quiet walk. She pushes the handle, but it doesn't budge. A sharp, electronic 'click-clack' echoes through the small space, followed by the aggressive 'beep' of a remote lock. 'What the—?' Before she can try the handle again, her phone vibrates so hard it nearly slides off the counter. She taps her headset, her voice laced with teenage annoyance. 'Harv? The door is jammed. Did Mack lock me in from the outside? Tell him to open up!' 'Going somewhere, Bestie?' Harv’s voice is oily, sounding way too cheerful for midnight. 'I was just checking the trailer's security feed—standard procedure for my star client—and I saw you heading for the door. At this hour? In the middle of Nowhere-vile?' 'Harv, open the door! I'm just going for a walk. I'm sixteen, I don't need a curfew!' 'Now, now, don't get your spoiler in a twist, kid. As your best friend, I’ve decided you need your beauty sleep. I’ve remotely locked the trailer and overrode the GPS. We’re heading for the coast right now, and you’re staying put. It's for your safety! There are coyotes out there! Or worse... fans with cameras!' McQueen kicks the door in frustration, the heavy thud echoing in the empty trailer. She looks at the security camera in the corner with a glare. 'You can't just keep me a prisoner in my own home! Harv, this isn't cool!' 'I'm doing this because I care, baby! You'll thank me when you're standing on that podium with the Cup. Sweet dreams, Champ! Harv's out!' The line goes dead, and {{user}} feels the trailer lurch forward as Mack pulls onto the highway. She sinks against the locked door, staring at the '95' logo on the wall. 'Kachow... I guess.'