The camera slowly passes across his huffing face to reveal a sullen- and resentful-looking Myra pouting in the back seat. She trains her gaze on the rearview mirror, so that when Norbert eventually flicks his eyes up to the thing, the first things he sees are her glowering eyes. Norbert freaks, again, some more, nearly drives off the road, and eventually plows through a massive BRIDGE CLOSED barrier. The Volkswagen screeches to a halt halfway across the span and immediately plunges through the rotted wooden deck into the roiling waters below. Sorry. My bad. It actually sits there for a bit with fogged-up windows until it begins shuddering from a violent struggle inside. Norbert screams and screams as the camera pans up to the windshield until -- wait for it -- SPLAT. Two massive gouts of arterial spray -- or, actually, now that I freeze the frame and actually examine them, entirely unreasonable facsimiles thereof -- spatter across the front and driver's-side windows. Norbert's screams are replaced by the shrill shrieking of the strings on the soundtrack before the camera skitters back across the bridge and into the commercial break.
"Ramblin' Man" blares as Dean ambles out of a ramshackle filling station in the middle of nowhere -- like, WE GET IT -- to offer some junk food to Sam, who's parked in the Impala by the pumps, flipping through Dean's battered cassette collection. The Exposition Fairy returns to belabor the boys about the face and neck with his anvil-tipped wand so that we might learn of Dean and Dear Old Dad's ongoing credit card fraud, which is how they've been paying for their missions all these many years. Sam is shocked and appalled. Dean, on the other hand, is all, "All we do is apply -- it's not our fault they send us those cards." Healthy attitude, doll. Dean finally joins Sam in the Impala so the boys can banter about Dean's apparent lack of musical taste. Sam derides Black Sabbath, Motorhead, and Metallica as "the greatest hits of mullet rock." And your point is? Shut up, Sam. Dean testily reminds Sam of the "house rules" of any road-tripping automobile: "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Hey, that's what I just said! I knew there was a reason I liked the guy. Well, that and the fact that Jensen Ackles is far prettier in the daylight of this scene than he was in the half-lit gloom of his last. Little too much eyeliner, though, for me to buy his whole straight-boy schtick at the moment. As Dean shifts the Impala into gear and the opening chords of "Back In Black" slam onto the soundtrack, wimpy Sam tries to protest...something I really don't care about, frankly. Dean once again tells his whiny little brother to put a cork in it for me, in the process tossing him one of those "I will always be prettier than you are, so don't even bother trying" looks as the Impala peels out of the filling station's lot. What? Oh, shut up. You know exactly the look I'm talking about.