I grew up surrounded by trucks. Not just pickup trucks, but big trucks. Our dad drove trucks as part of his work, so my brother and I were riding on 18 wheels from the time we were, as they say, knee-high to a grasshopper. (If I had a dollar for every mile I spent in the cab of an R-600, I'd never have to work again. Man, those were fun days. And, yes, there's another Jim Rockford parallel with my life: a dad who drove trucks.)
It was also the 1970s, the heyday of Smokey and the Bandit and Movin' On and Convoy (the song, and then the movie) and what not, when CB radio was the big thing and "10-4, good buddy!" and "What's your 20?" were commonplace. It was everywhere: in the music, on television, in the toy stores (care to guess how many of these types of things my brother and I built?) and elsewhere.
So whenever there was something truck-themed on television, we'd watch. Movin' On was a staple, and we liked it in our home. (We never did warm up to B.J. and the Bear, I think because it was a bit silly and because it was a bit too pretty-boy for our tastes. Though I think we did watch Sheriff Lobo when it became its own show.)
Back then, the trucking movie that was most widely seen was when ABC's prime-time movie series would show White Line Fever with Jan-Michael Vincent. Back then, it seemed ABC would show it two or three times a year. We'd watch. But a couple scenes would terrify me as a kid. One was when Slim Pickens would get killed. But nothing could match the stark raving terror I'd feel when this scene played. Now I can watch it and laugh, but back then, it scared me to death, and I'd have to turn my head and close my eyes. Go figure.
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