Meemaw: At what age do guys stop acting like idiots?
Dale: Oh, no. What'd I do now?
Meemaw: Not you. Georgie's dating an older woman and he's lying about his age.
Dale: Oh. That rascal.
Meemaw: You already knew.
Dale: You don't know what I know.
Meemaw: I see it in your face.
Dale: [sighs] Fine.

Meemaw: Where we eating tonight?
Dale: Well, that depends. Why don't you look in the glovebox and check on the Tums situation.
Meemaw: There's five.
Dale: Oh, my, this is tricky. Well, Mexican's at least three apiece.
Meemaw: We might get by with two each if it's Italian.
Dale: You get red wine and then tomato sauce. Hey, if they put lemon in the water, we're dead.
Meemaw: Hmm. That leaves barbecue.
Dale: Sold.
Meemaw: Who gets Tum number three?
Dale: Me. They're my Tums.

Meemaw: I'll have the rib eye, medium rare.
Waiter: And for you?
Dale: Uh, just the house salad, please.
Waiter: Very good.
Meemaw: House salad? You watching your figure?
Dale: I have a physical tomorrow.
Meemaw: Oh, so your plan is to start eating healthy now?
Dale: Can't hurt.
Meemaw: It ain't gonna undo years of red meat and beer.
Dale: I'm not trying to undo it, I'm just trying to hide it under some lettuce.

Meemaw: I got to go open up the gambling room. Can you watch her for about an hour?
Dale: I just had coffee and a bowl of Raisin Bran. Next hour is spoken for.
Meemaw: You could've just said no.
Dale: I'm trying to keep the romance alive.

Dr. John Sturgis: Societal norms are different on road trips. Normally, I don't eat junk food, but here, it's tradition. I'm not even sure what a chicharron is.
Sheldon: It's the deep-fried skin of a pig.
Dr. John Sturgis: That seems like something they should say on the bag.

Pat: Look, you seem like nice folk, but Yankees ain't popular around here. I suggest you be on your way.
Dr. Linkletter: Sorry to have troubled you. Let's go.
Sheldon: Excuse me. My colleagues may be from the North, but for your information, I'm a Texan, born and bred. I know that real chili has no beans, and when my meemaw says, "Bless your heart," she means something very different. Now, my friend here is in need of help, and since our state motto is literally "friendship," may he please use your phone?
Pat: Well, dang. [puts the phone on the bar]
Dr. John Sturgis: And could I trouble you for a yellow pages?
Dr. Linkletter: Oh, boy.

Adult Sheldon: After a quick burial behind the bar, we were back on the road. Dr. Sturgis tried to find some appropriate music for a proper send-off. Three Christian talk shows and a whole lot of static later, he settled on what he declared the Dixieland jazz of West Texas. ["El Son de la Negra / Guadalajara" playing] Mariachi.
Dr. John Sturgis: Vaya con dios, armadillo. Vaya con dios.