Back in ‘89 and ‘90, when I was about 12 or 13 years old, we were living on the outskirts of the northeast side of Amarillo, Texas. Dad was in his mid-30s and truckin’ his tail off for Pirkle Freightlines. He had a big, bad chicken truck and an equally big CB radio to match the overall theme of being large and in charge. Being several years before the cell phone era, dad would call home a few times per week from a payphone, often cheating the collect-call charges by simply saying his location rather than his name and then hanging up before charges could be accepted for connecting the call. When he’d notify us that he was a few hours away, I would go out to our Ford van and get on the Cobra radio and begin calling out for my dad. Sometimes, if the conditions were right, I could hear him on his big echo-mic’d radio, hollering back at me, from as far away as the Oklahoma line. “How ‘bout it, Trev? Got your ears on? Come-on back!” The excitement was overwhelming to hear my dad’s booming voice rattle that little external speaker. I don’t know how true it is or isn’t, but someone once told me that radio waves technically travel on forever. They just get drowned out by other frequencies and noises as they head off to infinity, and beyond. If that’s true then, technically, my dad’s booming, echoing voice is still traveling on the radio waves out there, somewhere beyond my reach. I find myself daydreaming about capturing those radio waves someday, just to hear him calling out to me. This poem attempts to capture that very same sentiment – of a truck driver who has lost a fellow driver, and friend, and they are seeking solace in the white noise on the CB radio, where they hope to hear their friend’s voice, once more.
COME-ON BACK!
By Trevor Hardwick
“Break one-nine…”
I give the mic a crack.
“Have you got your ears on son,
Buddy, come-on back!”
Just to hear your voice,
Coming back to me…
It’s like music to my ears,
Buddy, can’t you see?
For a little while…
You’ve been out of range.
You’ve been gone for far too long,
And I don’t like change.
I wonder where you are…
I wonder what you see.
And I wonder if you hear my call,
Through this Galaxy.
It’s just a Road-King mic…
On a Ninety-Nine.
Sending lots of watts and love,
To a friend of mine.
Oh, I know you’re gone…
And it was way too soon.
But I like to think I’ll find you,
With my Delta-Tune.
I recall the times…
We’d be rollin’ west.
And the miles we ran together,
Simply were the best!
If the radio waves…
From these Wilson whips.
Could carry my words forever,
Once they leave my lips!
I’d turn up the gain…
And I’d tell you this:
There’s an echo in your voice,
That I truly miss!
As the setting sun…
Slowly fades to black.
And I roll that diesel smoke,
From a pair of stacks!
I call out for you…
And my voice just cracks.
That’s a big Ten-Four, buddy,
Come-on back!