D'oh! The rig hit a dude on a motorcycle. Morales says that the dude "came out of nowhere!" Doris asks if his neck hurts; it does, "a little," and Benton calls for a collar. Morales is still with the damage control, insisting that the biker "pulled out right in front of" the rig, but the biker protests, "I didn't see you!" You didn't see a huge truck with flashing lights and blaring sirens? Maybe you should get your eyes and ears checked. Or a new, less obnoxious and, apparently, vision-impairing helmet. Plus when you pull out in front of traffic when you're on a motorcycle? It's called "the gas." Look into it. You're not riding a damn penny farthing along the seaside at Brighton, fer chrissakes. Doris says she'll go call another rig, and Benton tells her instead to get another backboard: "We'll take him with us." Aw. The sickly retired Science teacher and the blind, stupid biker. This is how wacky UPN sitcoms are born.
After the credits, Abby "Lisa" Lockhart uses the electronic passkey on her ID tag to gain access to the psychiatric ward. As she strides down the hall, we hear a woman's voice saying, "I don't wash my hair. I never wash my hair. You shouldn't wash your hair every day. It gets rid of the natural oils." Abby enters a room, and we see the speaker, sitting up in bed and apparently speaking to Maggie "Sally Field" Wyczenski, who's sitting cross-legged on the bed across from Helene Curtis. Sally's dressed in street clothes and seems pretty calm and stable. She gently asks Lisa what she's doing there, and Lisa says she's on a break. Helene interrupts to tell them that combing your hair too much can damage the ends (true!). Lisa ignores Helene and asks Sally how she's feeling; Sally says she's fine. Helene, sounding slightly more agitated, raises her voice to complain, "Now it's full of static electricity!" Sally calls, "Winona, your hair looks fine -- really." Lisa shoots Sally a sidelong "the fuck?" look, like, hi, Lisa? You're in the Psych ward -- what do you expect? Sally, barely moving her lips, confides, "I don't think she knows where she is." Lisa, continuing to flick through Sally's chart, doesn't answer. A nurse enters and tells Sally it's time for her meds. Sally agreeably downs her pills, helpfully informing the nurse, "I think Winona needs to go to the bathroom. She gets agitated when she has to pee." We can't see the nurse's face, since I guess Sally has it written into her contract that she must be the sole focal point of any scene in which she appears, but I think it's fairly safe to assume that, as the nurse drawls, "Thanks," she's rolling her eyes all, "Thanks for the expert diagnosis, Pillsy McSuicide." The nurse asks Winona (formerly Helene Curtis) whether she needs to use the bathroom, and Winona snaps, "I need to fix my hair!" The nurse tells her she'll be right back. As Winona anxiously sniffs the ends of her hair in the background, Lisa leans forward and tells Sally, "You're going to have to stay here for a little while. They're keeping you on a ninety-day hold. I'm sorry." Wait. We're always hearing about the very few beds there are to be had at the hospital, and they keep Psych patients there for ninety days at a time? Shouldn't Sally be transferred to a psychiatric institution for that length of time? You know, where there might be one or two psychiatrists working there to treat her, as opposed to County, where Legaspi seems to embody the entire psychiatric staff? Shouldn't the beds at the general-admission County hospital be kept empty as much as possible for the as-yet-undiagnosed patients who might need help more urgently than Sally does right now? That seems like a real misallocation of resources. But what do I know? Sally scrunches up her face like a dried-apple doll and then exhales, "No. No, it's me. I should never have put you through all of that. It's me. I'm sorry." Lisa looks slightly surprised by this response, but says nothing.