Godcam and the captions -- which would be an excellent band name -- identify Rome, Georgia and remind us that the deadline is 6:02 PM. Then we swoop south to Gainesville, where Alex's truck seems to be all tuckered out. Alex messes with the engine while Corinna cranks it. Nothing. Corinna gets out and whines that they're never going to make it in time. Alex apparently lost the coin-toss before the show, so he has to play straight man this week by saying, "I thought you said getting there fast wasn't enough?" Corinna sniffs, "Yes, but getting there at all is helpful!" Alex tells her to go figure out the clue, and Corinna says that there's an address on the ticket. She snarks, "I figured it out! Go to this address." Alex tells her to get back in the truck, and she asks if he wants her to try starting the engine again. "No," he says.
Winston and Sean drive past, and Winston gloats at Alex's car troubles. Sean wearily complains about the Impala's roadworthiness and offers to arrange for a better car to be waiting for them at the checkpoint. Winston sneers at using "daddy's money," and then he lectures Sean about the Impala's history. Sean sums it up: "This car had multiple criminal owners." Winston argues, "This car is royalty, holmes. It belonged to kings and princes." As a Mustang closes in on them, Winston adds that he doesn't want anything from their father. Sean asks, "That why you were robbing our house?" Okay, so Sean won the coin-toss in the Impala. Winston corrects him: "That wasn't robbery; it was burglary." The Mustang moves to pass, and Winston glances over at the driver, a hot babe. Sean asks whether Winston was in jail for burglary, and the babe smirks at Winston, then accelerates. Winston tells Sean, "No, man. Speeding," and he starts chasing the babe. Their cars flit through traffic like flirtatious dragonflies, if dragonflies weighted thousands of pounds and moved at a hundred miles per hour, which is hard to imagine, I admit. Maybe I should have thought that simile through before I started typing.
John sits up in the back seat, and Violet asks how he's doing. John says that he's better, then he looks at the dash and gasps that they're at eighty-five miles per hour. Violet sighs, "Every time I try to push this thing to ninety, it shakes worse than you do when I talk about birth control." After some bickering, John decides they have to speed, but he orders, "Hands at ten and two, then." Violet snickers but obeys.