“Ahh, copy you, Roadrunner, she's been
clean all the way from that Grand Island town, so motormotor.”
[A moving van accelerates.]
“How about that Roadrunner, this is Overload
up to 424, that you behind me?”
[The vans headlights blink up and down.]
“Well come on up, buddy, let's put the
hammer down on this thing.”
The voices are nasal and tinny, broken by
squawks, something human squeezed through wire. A decade of televised
astronauts gives them their style and self importance.
We have a rare short story from screenwriter, John
Sayles, the excellent film Lone Star being just one sample of his
Western work.
This was written in 1975 for The Atlantic
magazine; conceived in the midst of America’s CB radio fad.
A pop culture boom that brought us Trucker-as-Cowboy
stories in film and song and spawned many a non-trucker to install a radio in
their vehicle, spawn a handle, hit the highway and see who had their ears on.
This story told almost exclusively in CB jargon, mixed
with screenplay bullet points for action and forays back into standard prose is
more than a pop culture curiosity.
Sayles’ tale is darker. We have a voice out there in the
midst of the chatter that is up to no good—one intent on darker things.
The story of the Voice and how truckers attempt to figure
out who or why this voice is doing what they are doing is mighty intriguing.
The story has a bit of that 1971 film Vanishing
Point’s existentialist vibe to it.
All in all, an interesting story—creative in premise
and creative in execution.
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