Never caught that movie. Sounds like a form of Inhofe propulsion. You could let him ride shotgun on your sojourns to the past. Always have a source of fuel that way. As long as you don't mind driving with the windows down. Actually, if you topped off before you left, you could leave his ass stranded somewhere in the middle of the Pleistocene, like Magellan abandoning Cartagena to his fate on the lonely shores of an unknown continent. Circle him on the way out, watching him boiling over in rage, spewing forth heat and noxious carbon. All his half-baked conspiracy theories finally emerging from his internal ovens completely cooked and crumbling to creosote before his eyes. When you got back to the present he'd be reduced and compressed into a lovely peat bog, and you could set to work crafting some of the most distinctive single malt whiskies the world has ever known. Bottle it under the name "Mountain Jim". We could get together after a game sometime and toast your success and act of public service. At least that's how I see it.