5:04 AM. Cha-Cha-Cha, last to leave. Oswald emphatically rips open the clue. (I don't know how else to describe it. I'm surprised he didn't say, "Olé!") They are particularly excited when they get in the Cha-Cha-Camper and they find out that it's a Mercedes. Danny voices over that they try to enjoy themselves no matter what. Sniff. They're such darlings. Let's get a pedicure, boys, when all this silliness is over. It's on me.
Teeth Camper, where Blake and Paige are navigating. Boston Camper, where Chris and Alex give each other The Fists Of Friendship. Weasel Camper, where Tara is still bitching about Wil screwing up the car so she can't get it started. I have a theory, incidentally, that they would be five days ahead of everyone now if Wil could drive stick without making little parts of the car scream, despair, and ultimately commit ritual mechanical suicide. Finally, they get going again, and Wil enters his Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me mode. He voices over that he's grown tired of "being a punching bag" for Tara when things aren't going so well. Oh, Wil. You are exhausting, and I am so tired already. "I like to get things done my way," he is at least willing to admit. He and Tara pull over, and as he gets on the phone to try to figure out what they're doing wrong, she starts pouting loudly. "You're a jerk. That's what you are, to talk to me like that." To be honest, I would be a lot more inclined to feel bad for her if she didn't call him an idiot at least as often as he calls her stupid. I recognize that Wil is a far more aggressively unpleasant person than she is, but she seems to be at least complicit in this crap that goes on between them. She voices over that the race is difficult in part because of their past relationship problems. (Amen, sister. I haven't seen so many old issues since I threw out five years' worth of Entertainment Weekly.) Wil says he wants to be in control of his own destiny, and that's what makes him act like a jerk. Shut UP, Wil. Tara finds Picton on the map, and they're off. "I'm gonna get us on the right track," Wil says. "First you're gonna fuckin' apologize to me," she says. "I'm not going to apologize for anything. You're acting like an idiot," he mutters in response. "You need some serious anger management," she finishes. Stop and ponder: these people once married each other. Presumably on purpose. While conscious. I'm just saying, I bet whoever officiated at the wedding had to wear a rain hat to protect him from flying spit.