This is a true story. It was told to me by a guy I met on a Riverboat. That’s how I know it’s true; who could doubt veracity of a River Rat? He didn’t use any backup singers when he told it to me, but I thought since this is going out on Internet and all, I should shine it up a bit.
I spared no expense to fly these women in from Nashville. They are, I am proud to tell You, same backup singers who did all that “Wah-ooo” stuff on C.W. McCall’s records.
I am laboring under a serious deadline, so singers and I haven’t had much time to practice. We will do best we can. I’ll play part of Trucker (imagine a Red Sovine-ish, Tex-Ritter- On-Acid kind of thing). It goes a little somethin like this:
Singers: It was a Truck Stop Christmas, With a light snow fallin down, In Penciltucky, but it could have been In any other town. The miracle that happened We may never understan, But, here to tell story Is a Truck Drivin Man...
Trucker: Well, I'z—
A Truck Drivin Maa-aan. Wah-ooo.
Skewz me. I'z drivin down a stretch of Interstate, an' I'z really gettin hungry. Every time I'd hit them airbrakes, I'd hear 'em sayin, "Peeech Pie!" And my air horn was tellin me how I like my coffee: BLAAAAAK! BLAAAAK! Oh, I know I shouldn of been barrelin down Interstate, hittin my airbrakes and blarin horn like Judgment Day—that’s what too much marijuana’ll do to a man. Prob’ly why I was so hungry, too. Yeah, I’d of given a month’s pay for a big ol’ piece of “Peeech Pie!” I was tryin to remember if there was a Truck Stop on this p'tickler stretch of Interstate; that big diesel motor kept tellin me that there "Wudden! Wudden! Wudden-Wudden-Wudden!"
Just a homesick gear jammer Runnin low on love and luck, Thinkin 'bout his woman, And talkin to his truck...
I was 'bout to—
Talkin to his truu-uuck. Wah-ooo.
Trucker: I'm sorry...just kind of wave at me or somethin when it’s my turn, okay? I was 'bout to wet my pants when I came whizzin into town; lights of an unfamiliar Truck Stop caught my eye. When I walked in, there was this old waitress draggin a dirty rag across novelty mud flap display. She smiled at me and said, "Merry Christmas, Son." I said, "Lordee, ma'am, is it Christmas already?" She said that yes, yes it was, and I bet my jaw must of hit floor. Seemed like only yesterday it was October—that's what too much crystal methadrine'll do to a man.
She looked at me for a long time, then said, "You know, I had a son who'd be about your age. He took off drivin trucks and I never did hear from him again. I kept hopin he'd stop in here one day—preferably at Christmas, so I'd get a double dose of willies."
Well, I put my coffee back in cup and said, "Ma'am, you can call it coincidence if you want to, but I had a mother who'd be about your age. I talked to Daddy day before he died, and he told me Mama had missed me so bad, she went out and got a job at a Truck Stop, hopin someday I'd stop in."
Singers: A Truck Stop Christmas— Don't it make you weep? The snow continued fallin; It was really gettin deep...
Trucker: She said she—
Really gettin dee-eeep. Wah-ooo.
Damnit! She said she knew her boy was never gonna walk in at Christmas or any other time, for it was on this p'tickler stretch of Interstate, ten years ago, that her son was toppin a hill and had to swerve to miss a bus load of kids. After he'd plowed through a ditch and nearly turned over, he stuck his head out window to cuss at bus driver and his hat blew off. So he jumped out to get it. He should have stopped truck first, because he was goin 90 miles an hour when he jumped out. Yeah, he was in movin violation of law of gravity.