I totally love cheesy old trucker movies. The editing and story-lines may be sub-par, but I’m not really a movie critic. I just love the trucks in the movies. I could list dozens of movies I love to watch, but my two favorites of all time are Smokey and the Bandit and Convoy. When I was a kid, I wanted to BE Kris Kristofferson, because I thought he was so cool as the character “Rubber Duck” in Convoy. My friends nicknamed me Mack, because of my love for the lead truck in that movie. Honestly, I cried when the Duck’s truck was destroyed in the end, but I rejoiced when I learned that he didn’t die in the river plunge with his truck. In Smokey and the Bandit, I idolized Jerry Reed in his role as Cledus Snow, AKA the “Snowman”. It seems as though most people paid more attention to Burt Reynolds in his Trans-Am, but if you’re anything like me, you’d agree that the “Snowman” and his A-model KW stole the show. In this poem, I speculate what it might be like to eavesdrop on a conversation between the Snowman and the Duck if they just happened to meet in a brief encounter, likely in Texas, at some point on their adventurous, impossible runs. I’m sorry if I’ve spoiled the movies for you, but if you haven’t seen Convoy or Smokey and the Bandit, then you’re probably not reading this magazine and, quite frankly, you’re a bit un-American! I hope you enjoy this take on when the Snowman meets the Duck.
THE SNOWMAN MEETS THE DUCK
By Trevor Hardwick
I was sippin’ on an iced tea, at the local Choke-n-Puke,
When I witnessed an encounter, that no one could rebuke.
A fancy short-hood Kenworth, with a mural on the side,
Driven by a slender man, with a basset hound inside.
He pulled around and parked, and then he came inside to eat,
He looked about as weathered, as the boots upon his feet.
And then I saw another rig, a dusty worn-out Mack,
With an Able-Body sleeper, and a single smokin’ stack.
He pulled an old fuel tanker, and he wore an old tank-top,
He looked as though he’d had his share, of run-ins with the cops.
He sat beside the first guy, and ordered coffee, black,
He turned and said, “My name is Duck, I’m runnin’ that old Mack.”
“I came from Albuquerque, dodging cops out on the road,
I guess they want to bust me, and my Nitromannite load.
Other drivers followed, with their reasons, and their rigs,
Some were haulin’ ass, and some were haulin’ pigs.”
“What brings you here to Texas?” the second guy asked the first,
“I’m here to grab a load of beer, to quench a rich man’s thirst.
They know me as the Snowman, but my name is Cledus Snow,
I’m also in a hurry, with a bunch of cops in tow.”
“I came here from Atlanta, with a friend who took a bet,
I’m pretty sure we’ll make it, we ain’t never-not-made-it yet!
My buddy’s blockin’ Smokey, he’s been racing them through town,
I’m here for bread for me and Fred, then I’m eastbound and down!”
“I got here in a hurry, I’ll be back in nothin’ flat,”
The Snowman grabbed his grub, and tipped his Caterpillar hat.
“Duck, it’s nice to meet ya’ and no matter what it takes,
Keep your foot hard on the pedal, son, nevermind them brakes!”
The Duck put on his Aviators, then pushed them with his thumb,
“Snowman let them truckers roll, wherever you come from!”
I watched them walk away, and then they took off in their trucks,
And that’s the way it was… the day the Snowman met the Duck.
