Outside the Robinson House of Darkness, Sam quips, "My life was so simple. Just school. Exams. Papers on polycentric cultural norms." What school did you go to, Sam? The University of Right-Wing Caricatures of Higher Education? Sam continues, "I miss boring." Dean tries to distract Sam from his whining by saying, "So this killer truck..." Sam replies quickly, "I miss conversations that don't start with 'this killer truck.'" Me and you both, brother. Dean keeps on, "So this Cyrus guy, evil on a level that even infected his truck." You know, my car's been kind of stinky lately, and I thought it was because I have about forty-two empty cans of Diet Coke rolling around in there, but maybe it is actually because I am so evil that I've infected my Protege. The brothers continue to discuss the boring details: what woke his spirit up, what made him restless, who in their fucking right mind would care about anything they say in this scene. Sam concludes by noting, "You know we're going to have to dredge that body up from the swamp, right?" Cassie comes out, and Dean tells her to not leave the house. She sasses, "Don't be going and getting all authoritative on me. I hate it." Dean complies: "Don't leave the house, please?" Then someone turns the lip mikes up to eleven as Dean and Cassie start smacking away. Wacky and out of place guitar music plays in the background and Sam clears his throat to make the grossness stop. At the swamp, the boys have miraculously found a bulldozer, miraculously found the truck at the bottom of the swamp, miraculously hooked a towline to the front of the truck, and miraculously not gotten wet during any of this. I give up. Oh, then they miraculously open the truck's front door with ease, where the inside of the truck has miraculously not filled with water, and the corpse miraculously is not falling apart and weird despite having lived at the bottom of a swamp for forty years. All the handheld-camera action in the world is not going to confuse me enough to think any of this makes sense. During all this, the boys banter about whether or not Dean loves Cassie. Cut to the boys sprinkling the corpse with fuel and maybe accelerant? They light it on fire, but while they watch it burn, Fat Joe Truck appears out of nowhere, flashing and flexing on them.
Commercials. Home stretch here, folks. Sam tries to understand: "So burning the body had no effect on that thing?" Dean replies with Buffy nonchalance, "Sure it did. Now it's really pissed." Dean heads to the Metallicar and tells Sam he'll draw the Fat Joe Ghost Truck away while Sam figures out how to burn the original Fat Joe Truck. Fat Joe Ghost Truck takes off after Dean. Tires screech. Vehicles swerve. Fat Joe Truck rams the Metallicar. Meanwhile, Sam looks at a map. Sam's cell phone rings, and he tells Dean he's gotta "get back to [him]," which is probably not what Dean wanted to hear. More screeching and swerving. Sam calls Cassie, looking for some "exact" information. Then Sam calls Dean back and tries to find out exactly where Dean is on Route 6. Aren't cell phone conversations inherently dramatic? You should've been here about ten minutes ago when my husband called from his cell at the corner market asking whether he should get the Tomato with Fennel or Lamb and Orzo soup for dinner. Riveting. Dean miraculously knows as he passes "Decatur Road" that he is "two miles off the highway." Fat Joe Truck rams the Metallicar, and it goes sliding around the road. Sam gives Dean very specific directions to "turn right." Dean tells Sam, "You're gonna have to move this thing along a little faster." Oh ho ho, my friends. You're just going to hand it to me on a platter like that?