Ray and Deana stop their car. Greg and Brian drive right by the door as Ray is hopping out. And the next thing you see is the foot race to the pit stop. In which Ray and Deana both are quite plainly and simply smoked. Smoked. Greg and Brian tear toward Phil, arms pumping, chests thumping, and you can see when Deana gives out, because she knows it's over, even as Ray is still hoping one of the boys will sprain an ankle or some such. Aaaaand up onto the mat comes Brian! And then Greg! And they are team number six! And they are still in the race! And they are hugging! And I can't stop with the exclamation points! And they say they love each other! And Ray and Deana are pouting! Phil congratulates the boys and talks about how much it clearly means to them. A hyperventilating Brian is like, "I rolled that damn car [wheeze] and I thought it was over [wheeze], and it feels good to be on this pad, Phil." "Pad"? Phil tells them that their camera guy will be all right, and then it is time to pull! Ray! And Deana! Over!
Ray and Deana walk up onto the mat. PHILIMINATED! "We deserve to be," Ray snots. "We do. Today, we were awful." Phil asks them if the race brought them closer together, like, duh, Phil, were you watching? Ray says he probably wouldn't compete with Deana again, and then in an interview, he says that he's not sure he can accept her lame-ass nature. Basically. She wants the relationship to work out. He gives a dickwad version of "can't live with her, can't live without her," and we are mercifully free of them. Bleh.
Greatest ending EVAH!
Executive Producer? Jerry Bruckheimer.
Next week: Flat tires! Fighting! Rednecks! Oh, and a clip show, because this show is trying to kill me.