Dean shares an incredulous look with Sam before addressing the stranger again, "I what?"

"Oh, well, maybe not always. Not when you was a kid. But when your daddy passed my keys along to you, our relationship... changed, don'cha think?" Thick arms cross over his bare chest as he leans back against the brick of the hotel wall. His eyes hold Dean's. "In fact, I sure do 'ppreciate all them times I prob'ly coulda been left as a scrap heap, but you cared enough to put me back together. You cared, Dean, and it showed."

"You..." Dean exhales deeply and scrubs a hand down his mouth and chin as he processes what he's hearing. Another quick glance at Sam shows his brother is just as confused as he is. Dean shakes his head and looks down. "Man, we have been through some weird stuff." He looks to the dark stranger again, "But this about takes it for me."

He's rewarded for his acceptance with a booming chuckle as the stranger lifts to his feet. Both brothers widen their eyes as the top of the man's head rises above Sam's by an inch or two.

"That's new," Sam croaks. He clears his throat and steals a glance at Dean.

The stranger doesn't seem to hear him. He reaches down with an enormous hand to grasp the handle of the wagon. "Seems to me the easiest way to beach access is through your room. Let's get to it, then." He steps toward the door. Sam moves out of the doorway, closer to Dean, both of them still staring at the impressive height and bulk of this man, this... Baby as he saunters into the hotel room, pulling the wagon stuffed with beach supplies behind him. With the other hand, he whips the towel from around his waist and tosses it over his shoulder, revealing a vivid red Speedo clinging tightly to his muscled bottom.

Dean grips Sam's forearm as though stopping him, though Sam has made no move to follow the man. "What the hell is going on here, Sam?" His jaw clenches. "That's not how I pictured my Baby."

"Dean." Sam takes a breath and sighs. "I don't know, man. But your car turns human, and what bothers you is that he's not how you pictured him?"

"Her, Sammy. My car is not supposed to be a dude."

Sam uses his free arm to indicate the towering figure opening then walking through the sliding glass door on the other end of the hotel room. "I would think he begs to differ. Anyway, don't you think we need to find out how this happened?"

Dean releases his hold on Sam's arm. "You booked this room for a week, right?" Sam nods. "Then I'll be damned if I'm going to waste the entire week on research. Obviously, this is a job. But no one's dying, and we have a vacation in front of us. I am going to enjoy myself, and then we can figure out what happened."

Sam's lips tighten, and he nods again. Dean nods with him this time, "Yeah. Okay." He seems to be talking inwardly, steeling himself before heading through the hotel room. Sam follows, closing the front door behind him.

"By the way," Dean rounds on Sam, spreading his arms wide, taking in the decor of the room. "We were supposed to be in a crap hotel. This," he gestures again, "Is not crap. Real carpet, not peel-and-stick. Actual paintings instead of prints. Sammy," He drops his arms. "We're beach front."

Sam finds his smile again. "Go find Baby. I'm going to change."

Dean shifts uncomfortably. "I never let you call her -him- that before. This is freaking weird, dude." With that, he pulls the black shirt off, crumples it into a ball, and throws it onto his bed before stalking out the still open glass door, following the wagon tracks.