EXT. DIFFERENT HIGHWAY - DAY
The Mercedes speeds by.
I've got something, Michael.
ANGLE IN MERCEDES
Michael at the wheel. He glances at K.I.T.T.
The two most likely places for intercept are ten point two miles north of Cutter's Crossing and six point seven miles north-northeast of a town called Bridgeport.
Intercut K.I.T.T.'s little TV screen as it flashes maps, indicating each location with a red dot.
Which one's more likely?
They're virtually the same in terms of desirability.
I think Randy worships computers. He'd abandon his own judgment for even a fractional advantage.
In that case, I'd say the Cutter's Crossing location.
Before Michael can respond, the car sputters, coughs, dies and coasts to a stop.
Kitt, what's wrong?
A chronic problem with petrol-dependent vehicles...we're out of gas.
Out of gas? Why didn't you tell me we were running out?
Why didn't you watch the gauge? You're the driver...I'm only along for the ride.
I didn't know, I swear...