George: Okay. Foot on the brake.
Missy: Which one's that?
George: Oh, boy. The one on the left.
Missy: Got it.
George: All right. Now pull the shifter toward you and then down to "D," like this. Here. [gear shifts] All right? Now, the most important step. Do not ever tell your mother we did this.
Missy: I'm not an idiot. Let's go.
George: [sighs] All right. Now take your foot off the brake and gently put it on the... [tires screech]
Missy: [laughs] I'm driving!

Mary: Missy, if you want a minute with Dad before they close the casket, now's the time. [Missy looks unsure] It's okay if you don't.
Mary: I have to. [Missy stands up and walks up to her father's casket]
[flashback:]
George: Here, let me help you with that. Okay.
Missy: [eats] Holy moly.
George: It's good, huh?
Missy: Unbelievable.
George: I'll leave you to it.
Missy: No, sit with me.
George: Okay.
[present:]
Missy: [crying] Thank you for that. Thank you for everything. [sniffles] I love you.

Sheldon: Is Mom okay?
George: How the heck should I know?
Missy: She left. You can say "hell."

Sheldon: While Dad's gone, I'm the man of the house, and the man of the house has to enforce the rules.
Missy: The man of the house is about to get his teeth knocked out.
Sheldon: Puberty's made you mean.
Missy: I need to know what happened on my show.
Sheldon: And you'll find out when your privileges are restored.
Missy: I can't wait that long, each episode builds on the last. Imagine a Star Trek that ends with "to be continued," and you don't get to continue.
Sheldon: That would never happen, because I follow the rules.
Missy: You are this close to a purple nurple.
Sheldon: [covers nipples] You leave my nurples alone.

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.