Sean is one of those guys from the Midwest who has "anti-sideburns." The hairline around his ears is shaved a centimeter in, lest anyone think he'd ever try to do anything fashionable (i.e. faggy) to his hair. No one really explains Sean's motivation for helping Mike out -- whether he does this sort of thing professionally or he's just trying to get on TV. Nevertheless, Sean is sitting at some desk back in the States, wearing a sports-related sweatshirt and calling Mike every once in a while in order to update him on his progress -- which is absolutely zilch. I find it rather strange that a company would pass up the option to sponsor someone who is not only going to be racing professionally, but is also a cast member of The Real World. I mean, even if he lost, the company would be getting all this worldwide television exposure, right?
Anyway, Sean calls Mike "Mike Doggy Dogg," and Mike asks Sean if he's gotten to any of the "big dogs" yet. Whatever. "There's no pressure," says Mike to Sean over the phone. "We're all just sitting around waiting on you."
Meanwhile, I can't think of anything better for Mike to do than go and spend money he doesn't have at an auto show with Graham. Mike explains that Graham knows a lot about cars, and to prove that to us -- the viewers -- Graham is shown gesturing at cars and making slicing motions with his hands while he says to Mike things we can't hear.
Mike brings Graham to the house. The housemates all ask Graham what he thinks of Mike's driving. Graham confesses that he's never seen Mike drive: "I've never even seen him ride a bike." But Mike has told Graham how good he is and that's good enough for Graham. I guess because Graham is a lot older than the housemates, the kids start asking him questions in that way that students have of asking questions of their professors simply so that it looks like they're really on top of the material. Lars asks Graham why England is such a prestigious place to race. Graham tells Lars that it's because everyone comes from around the world to race in England. Um, can you say circular argument? Mike glows like a Greek youth who has been chosen to give Socrates a handjob.
Wacky flute music plays as Kat shops for fencing equipment. There are a lot of gratuitous shots of Kat "modeling" her fencing jacket and breeches while pretending to lunge with various épées ["That's 'swords' for the uninitiated, like me." -- Niki]. It ain't exactly Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face, but I am so sick of Mike's story line that I will happily watch Kat wax her upper lip at this point. "Oh my god," exclaims Kat. "I love new weapons!" Wow, how dangerously sexy of Kat to say that. Too bad she's not thinking actual, dangerously sexy thoughts while she says that. No, she really looks psyched to fence, and although I'm happy for her that she's going to try to make something out of herself and follow a dream, I really hate fencing. No, actually "hate" is way too strong a word here. My feelings about fencers were formed by the people I knew who fenced in college and high school. They were usually total geeks who only fenced either as (a) an extension of that whole Renaissance Fair/Dungeons and Dragons head trip, (b) a way to do a sport without having to shower alongside real jocks or, (c) an indignant celebration of being a "different" sort of teenager. Some of them could have been rather sweet, but I never went to their parties.