For a moment, James's mind stumbled over exactly what a road trip might be, but he was quickly letting the thought pass.
"Not that much," James admitted, about how much Lily had told him. And that made him a little uneasy. He knew that Harry had gone off to live with her sister-- an idea that made him more than a little annoyed. He knew what Petunia was like: unfit for the company of children. Especially wizard children. And what business did some muggle woman have raising his son? With muggleborns, it was different, you could hardly ever really tell. But it wasn't as though there had ever been a question about Harry-- of course he was going to be a wizard. And he should have been in their world.
And he might have still been a little fuzzy on the whole horcrux thing, but that didn't seem to be too important at the moment. A bit of thoughtfulness kept James quiet for another moment.
"Okay, there's a difference, you know, between what women need, and what they think they want. And sometimes girls-- women, they're just flat-out crazy. The sad truth is, not all of them are as brilliant as my mother. Was," he had to remind himself to add a beat later. "And seeing as to how she can't reasonably expect you to bend the rules of space and time and go throwing her into mortal danger, I reckon what she needs is for you to just... let her... uh... 'feel what she's feeling'?" Some Hufflepuff girl had said that to James in his third year, around the time every single female he knew had started to absolutely loose their minds. James's father had generally agreed. Not that James's mother had ever seemed particularly crazy. But James's mother had been pretty much perfect in the eyes of the Potter men, so it was perfectly reasonable to bend over backwards to make her happy.
"You can't try to fix them, and you don't have to, and you shouldn't. So you probably shouldn't kidnap her and lock her in your bedroom or something," he shrugged.