BREAKER ONE-NINE

You know, it’s amazin’ to see how many people are drivin’ around talkin’ on their cell phones, especially kids. Now when I say kids, I mean teenagers, and young adults. This may bother some folks, but I know how those kids feel. I used to be the same way, only it wasn’t cell phones. It was CB radios. Ahhhhh, the CB. Man, those were the days. By the way, CB stands for Citizen Band; the poor man’s ham radio. 

I remember the first CB I got. Janet and I had gone over to my parent’s house one Sunday after church to have Christmas, and to open presents.

“Oh Man!” I exclaimed, as I opened one of my presents.

“What is it?” asked Janet.

“A Midland 23 channel CB,” I replied.

“Let’s go put it in,” said my dad, who was as excited as I was.

As my dad, my brother-in-law Tony Patton and I headed out to my Bronco to install the CB, I heard my wife say, “What’s the big deal with men and CB radios?” Well, she was fixin’ to find out.

A little while later, I came back into the house. “Come on Sugar Booger, let’s go.”

“Go?” she questioned. 

“Yeah,” I replied.  “We’ve got to go try this thing out.”

“Brother,” she said, and started gatherin’ up her things.

As she stepped up into my 1971 Durango Tan Bronco, with the oversized tires, gun rack complete with a rifle and shotgun, she cast her eyes on the new radio that hung underneath the dash.

“Cool, huh,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” she said sarcastically.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I pushed in a tape.  I looked at her as the words of the singer blared out of my six inch by nine inch Utah speakers. “Was the dark of the moon, on the sixth of June in a Kenworth pullin’ logs,” ol’ C.W. McCall wailed.

“Turn that down,” she said.

“Hey,” I replied. “I was just gettin’ us in the mood.”

“Mood for what?”

“You know, to talk on the CB.”

“I’m not going to talk on it,” she informed me.

“Why not? This is gonna be the coolest thing we’ve ever done.”

“Right,” she said. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“To the interstate,” I replied.

“What for?”

“So we can talk to some truckers, ten four.”

“What?”

“That’s CB lingo, my little seat cover.”

“Have you gone crazy?”

“Negatory.”

“Brother,” she said again.

“Hey, you’re not gonna believe this,” I said, “but this CB also has a P.A. system built in. Dad had an old speaker, and we installed it under the hood.”

“Rusty, I don’t know what you are talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.”

We pulled up behind a car at a red light. “Watch this,” I said, as I turned the switch to the P.A. setting. It was a hot day for December and the driver in front of us had his windows down. I keyed the mike. (That means I pushed the button on the microphone of the CB, for all you youngsters out there under the age of 40.)  Then I spoke in a low voice.

“Why weren’t you in church today?”  I asked.

The man in the car jumped, and then he looked in his rearview mirror. I was lookin’ around like nothin’ had happened. Then he looked from side to side. I spoke again. “I’m up here,” I said. The man stuck his head out the window and looked up.

“Rusty,” Janet warned.  “You quit that.”

I ignored her. “You better start comin’ to church,” I said, “or things are libel to get mighty hot!”

Janet grabbed the mike away from me.

“Give me that back,” I said.

“No,” she replied. “You are going to be struck by lightning, and I don’t want to get singed.”

“Look,” I said. “I was just helpin’ the Lord out.”

“He doesn’t need your help,” she said, as the light changed. The man slowly took off while still lookin’ up at the sky.

“You probably scared him to death,” she said.

“Naw,” I said and grabbed back the mike.

Needless to say, the rest of the trip to the interstate was pretty quiet inside our vehicle.

“Hey look,” I said. “Don’t be mad. It’s Christmas. As soon as we talk to some truckers, you’re gonna see how much fun this thing is.”

“I’ll bet,” she replied.

As we pulled onto the acceleration ramp on I-20, I could feel my adrenaline start flowin’. I grabbed my mike and keyed it a couple of times, and then spoke.

“Breaker one-nine,” I said. “Anybody out there got their ears on?” Then I looked at Janet and smiled. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to CB heaven,” I said.  anet rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’ve died too,” she said, “and believe me I’m not in heaven.” 

Then a lady’s voice came out of the speaker.

“Go ahead breaker,” she said. “You got the Foxy Lady. What’s your handle?”  

“Hello there Foxy Lady,” I said.  “You’ve got the…uh…hold on a minute.”  I looked at Janet. “I forgot. I need a handle. What do you think I ought to be?”

“Committed,” she replied.

“You’re so funny,” I said. “Ooooo, I know.”

“Sorry about that Foxy Lady,” I said into the mike. “This here’s the Texas Stud.”

“Brother,” said Janet. “More like the Texas Dud.”

“What’s your 20, Texas Stud,” the lady said.

“Well now, I’m west bound on I20 headed for the big D.”

“I’m east bound goin’ to Louisiana,” she came back.

“Ten-four,” I said. “You happen to run into any smokies back behind you?”

“Ten-seventy-four, negatory,” she replied redundantly. “Put the hammer down.”

“Uh ten-four, Foxy Lady. I’m puttin’ the pedal to the metal.”

“Would you like to stop, and buy me a cup of thirty weight?” she asked.

“Thirty weight?” asked Janet.

“She means coffee,” I said.

“Well, you tell her no,” she stated.

“Okay,” I said, and keyed up my mike

“Uh, I’d really like to, Foxy Lady,” I said into the mike,” but the seat cover next to me just gave me the evil eye.”

“Oh! Sorry,” she said. “With your handle, I figured you for a loner.”

Janet grabbed the mike. “Hey Foxy Lady,” she said into the mike. “This is Sugar Booger, and if he keeps talkin’ to you, he will not only be a loner, but there’s a better chance he’ll wind up being a donor.”

“Uh, okay.  That’s a ten-four,” said the lady, “I’m ten-ten and out of here.”

Janet looked at me. “Now,” she said sternly. “Take me home.”

I swallowed hard. “Ten-four.”

Copyright ©️ 2004 
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