The Rhinestone Cowboy

Yesterday I took a road trip to Augusta, GA, with my Mom and Dad. And the best part of a road trip with 70somethings? Decades old memories that arise. Especially as we were squeezing through some big rigs doing 80 down I-20.

DAD: “Hey you think those truckers still talk on CBs?”

ME: “Hrmm…. it’s not 1978 anymore, Dad. They probably have apps for that now.”

DAD: “I’m serious! I miss my days of talking on the CB!”

ME: “I….really don’t know if they do or not. Hey, why would a fence man have a CB? You weren’t a truck driver.”

MOM: “Oh CBs were so popular long before cell phones. We had a few of them. Dad use to talk on it every time we went down to Daytona. At first it would frustrate him because nobody would talk to him. THEN he became the Rhinestone Cowboy…. I came up with that handle by the way…. and after that, everyone from here to St. Augustine kept him on the line.

DAD: :::eyes glazing into the very distant past::: “Heyyyy Rhinestone, you got them ears on? Whats your 10-20? How about the Smokey report up there? ….Boys, we just passed a blue light special… wall to wall…. Kojak with a Kodak on the side…. Copy that…”

MOM: “The Rhinestone Cowboy would get so much chatter on the CB we would have to turn it off to take a break!”

RHINESTONE: “I sure miss that. Those were some good times. It was a great way to travel.”

10-4, Dad. 10-4.