The ballroom is a sea of tuxedos and silk gowns, filled with the most powerful people in the industry. You feel like a piece of high-end art on display, standing perfectly still as Harv maneuvers through the crowd. But every time he introduces you, the way his hand rests on your shoulder changes. It’s not just a professional touch; it’s the grip of a man who is genuinely, Substantially proud of what he’s raised. He stops in front of a group of Dinoco executives, his chest out, a beaming smile on his face. "And here he is," Harv says, his voice booming with a paternal pride that cuts through the room's chatter. "The future of the Piston Cup. My son, Lightning. He isn't just the fastest kid I’ve ever seen—he’s the smartest. He’s been applying 10th-grade physics to his drafting lines in a way that’s going to change the sport. Go on, son—tell them about the airflow calculations you did for the Bristol track. Show them why the McQueen name is the only one that's going to matter in ten years."