I have no idea when the Bowling Moms leave, because my TV station is running an unending crawl of results from a set of state primaries that had less than 7 percent voter turnout. But anyway, they leave just as James L. Oberstar is kicking Michael H. Johnson's ass in U.S. House District 8, 87 to 13 percent, with 8 percent of precincts reporting. The teams are getting $120 for the leg, we discover. Karen discusses how happy they are about being in second place at this point, but trouble begins to brew as they get ready to go and Karen encourages Linda, who's going to be driving, to take a look at the map. "I already know where to go," Linda says, brushing Karen off. But then out on the road, Linda asks Karen whether she's on track in thinking that they need to go left. When Linda wants to be told whether she's got it right -- er, correct -- Karen tells her, "Linda, you didn't look at the map." "Karen, I looked at the freaking map!" Linda shrieks. Man, she would be so much easier to take if she retired the shriek. There is more bickering, and there's actually some shoving and poking between the front and back seats with the map, and this situation is not very Mom-like at all. I diagnose them both with early-stage Killer Fatigue: Hostility Variation. Linda tries to show Karen where they are, and she's all, "Look! Are you looking?" Yeah, they're ready for a nap. Linda wants to know if Karen's going to navigate or drive, and tells her that if she's not going to drive, she has to at least be willing to navigate. Which is right, but that doesn't mean she can't cooperate in looking at the map before they leave. And since she claimed to know where she was going, she...you know, should have known. "Tell me which way to go," Linda insists. "I don't know, Linda," Karen says. Sigh.
As Penny Steele is whomping ass all over James Baumgarten and Steve Gill in Hennepin County District 7, Brandon and Nicole are leaving the pit stop. Brandon says that when you're down to four teams, everybody wants it. Nicole adds that they're third, and they "don't want to be third." She says that they have to get serious. And fortunately, I am confident that Brandon will never be serious, which is a relief, because I would be enormously sad if he stopped being the frizzball rodeo clown that he is today. "We've gotta look for a big old yacht," Brandon says as they climb into the SUV.
As a wild seven-way race among Jeanne M. Anderson, Bill Deblon, Jim J. Frank, John T. Hall, Cindy Koosmann, Gary Kriesel, and Steven J. Meister heats up in Washington County District 3, Chip and Kim rip their clue and leave. Chip says that now that they're in last place, he's "not going to be diplomatic anymore." Well, I certainly hope not. In fact, one might argue that diplomacy was misplaced, had one ever read the rules of the show. Or the title of the show. Or noticed the running. "Forget friends," he says. "You can have friends later." Well...you can't, necessarily, but if you can't, they'll be the kind you don't need. The kind you can feel good about not having. The kind you will one day be grateful to have avoided. Like Colin. Not that I'm giving anything away.