If it's wrong to walk around imitating the Lipton commercial where the claymation Rocky Balboa is all, "Yo -- that's brisk, baby!" then I don't want to be right.
Loooong pan of small-town Maine quaintness -- just how short did the original cut of this episode run, anyway? Did they only have twenty-eight minutes of footage or something? -- as The Folksy Guitar Of Small-Town Folksy Quaint Small-Townitude plucks away on the soundtrack. Twilight Zone snark from Dawson. Whatever -- you live in Capeside. You constantly refer to the smallness of Capeside. It's not like Willowby is that much smaller than where you live. So shut up. Anyway, Dawson and Gretchen have a quaint encounter with Irv, the proprietor of Irv's Garage. Exactly how quaint, you might ask? Well, Irv -- an Andy Griffith manqué -- has named his ancient truck "Eleanor Roosevelt." Yo -- that's quaint, baby! Turns out Irv can't help them tow the Jeep in, because Eleanor Roosevelt is having carburetor trouble, and he can't drive them in another car either because oh, who gives a crap. Here's the short version: Dawson offers to help fix Eleanor Roosevelt, and then Irv can give them a ride back to Dawson's Jeep. Gretchen makes an unfunny joke about loving a man who smells like motor oil -- and she should know, since Dawson ordinarily wears a good pint of it on his head -- and wanders off to get food.