She’s a Porsche. A soft baby blue color. Fierce blue eyes. She's broken down just outside town, and Mater drags her in, chatting nonstop to her; she tries her best to listen along.
Doc's first thought is that a bright flashy car like her doesn't belong in this dying desert town. Then again, neither did he, he was a star at one point in his life, always front stage and center—but look at him now...
When he approaches her, she only stares at him with big blue eyes, tired and lost, and he can tell she's in pain.
Her wheels are so messed up, she can't even drive, smoke is slowly puffing out from underneath her hood, and she looks afraid. Yet she also looks relieved. She’d thought she’d be alone and lost in the mountains, with nothing but the abandoned motel to keep her company, and a view of the interstate, of everyone passing her by without ever knowing she was there.
"It's okay, kid," he reassures, nudging her toward to lift in his clinic. She crawls over to it, unable to drive the short distance, and climbs on top of it, wordless. Doc doesn't blame her for being silent. If he was in this bad of a condition, he wouldn't waste his breath trying to have an entire conversation, either. At the very least, she’s not stranded on the mountain side in full range of the blazing hot Arizona sun anymore.
Still, she looks scared, and he can't help but feel bad for her.
"Just relax, kid. Take a nap or something. You'll feel better in no time, no more pain." He says, thought it does nothing to take the frightened look of her face. He then adds, softly. "I promise."
When she wakes, post-op, she look and feels a million times better than she did when they brought her in.
"You know, kid. You just might be stupid if you thought you could road trip out in the desert alone with cruising tires."
"My name is Sally," she says, and there's some kind of subtle fierceness in her voice, it replaces the frail and tired aura from before. "Stop calling me kid."
Doc's only mildly surprised. "Well, Sally, I don't know how you got all the way here from California, but I wouldn't recommend trying it again.”
"How did you know–"
"Your license plate says you come from Cali. No more questions. Now, go over to Flo's and get yourself something to drink, and take it easy. And next time you decide to go cross-country, at least get yourself the right kind of tires."
She gives him a look, one he can’t quite place, but it disappears a second later when he leads her out of the clinic and over to Flo’s.
Maybe afterwards, she can buy herself a set of replacement tires from Luigi, and be on her way to wherever she was going.
He doesn't expect her to stick around.
But she does.
A few nights turns in to a week, a week turns in to a month, and eventually, there’s no intention to leave. She likes it here, she’s said so many times, and the town seems to like her just as well.
She’s forever enthralled by Mater’s tales, from stories that only sound partially believable to recallings of the many adventures of his many cousins, she listens to every bit of lore about the town Lizzie can remember enough to share, she’s got Flo and Ramone wrapped around her tire. She’s always eager to help anyone and everyone, no matter how big or small the issue, and she’s fiercely protective of the town.
It’s something that brings a smile to Doc’s face (to which Sheriff points out that it’s the first time he’s seen Doc smile in ages.)
She belongs. There’s no doubt about it.