First Ride of the Midnight Rider

I’m not exactly sure how Marty Reavis and I ever became friends. We had exactly one thing in common: We both attended Briar Bend baptist Church. Daddy was a deacon there and Marty’s grandparents were members. Marty’s grandparents, Whit and Maudie, were raising Marty. His parents had been killed in an auto accident up in Detroit.

Marty and I were as different as two guys could be. We were both sixteen yeas old and that pretty much sums up our similarities. Marty was from Michigan and he talked like it. He had the swagger of a city kid. He was tall and lanky with blonde hair that came down to his shoulders. He had a moustache that made him look slightly older than he actually was. Marty fancied himself a ladies man. He never met a girl that he wouldn’t flirt with. He had a high pitched voice and he hated it, but it came in handy at church. Like all Baptist choirs, ours was always short on tenors and Marty could hit the high notes like few guys could.

On the other hand, I was short and chubby. I wore glasses. My voice was soft and low. I was constantly being told not to mumble. I looked young for my age. I was shy, especially around girls. My parents, especially Daddy, insisted that I always have short hair. I was a teenager in the 80’s, the time of mullets and hair bands.

Somehow, Marty and me had hit it off. He called me “Steve-O” and was always telling me to “loosen up” and “enjoy life”.

Thursday evenings were youth meeting night at our church. Marty’s grandparents had bought him a truck and he would pick me up at my house and drive to the church. Daddy and Mommy always said they were proud of me for being a “Godly influence” on Marty. That wasn’t always the case, but what the folks didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

That Thursday, Marty showed up at 6:30, a half hour before youth meeting. This gave us plenty of time to get to church.

I climbed into the passenger’s side of the cab. Marty had a big grin on his face.

“Notice anything, Steve-O?” he asked.

I saw it right away. There was a CB radio in the truck.

“I remember those. They were real popular when I was a little kid,” I said as I pointed to the CB.

“Yep, I’m behind the times. My Pops had one and I always said when I got my own vehicle, I’d have one, too.”

Just then, a voice came over the CB.

“Breaker 1-9, Breaker 1-9, this here is Two Dogs. Hey, Lady Luck, you got yer ears on?”

“Guy sounds like a total redneck,” Marty said, shaking his head. He pulled out of our driveway and headed down the highway toward church.

Two Dogs got the desired response just a few seconds later.

“Breaker 1-9, Two Dogs,“a female voice said. If syrup being poured on a waffle made a noise, it would have sounded similar to this woman’s voice. “It’s yore lucky day, country boy, you got Lady Luck!”

“Comin’ in loud and clear, darlin’. What’s your 20, ‘bout now?”

“I’m here at home, just got outta the shower. Paintin’ my nails and getting ready to work the midnight shift.”

“She sounds sweet, don’t she?” Marty said. He was grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah, she really does, Marty,” I replied.

Marty grabbed the microphone.

“OK, I’m gonna make my CB radio debut,” he said. He was trying to sound dramatic and failing miserably.

“What sort of work are ya doing?” Two Dogs asked. “I don’t think we ever discussed that.”

“Well, Two Dogs, I am a waitress at a little all night eating place. I ain’t gonna tell ya which one because a wise old gypsy told me that a man needs a little mystery in his life.”

Marty chimed at this point.

“Breaker 1-9, 1-9. If any pretty ladies are out there, this is the mysterious Midnight Rider from Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Looking for a lovely lady, come back?

“Hi, Midnight Rider, you got Lady Luck here.”

Two Dogs didn’t sound pleased when he spoke again.

“Sounds like some punk kid to me, Lady Luck. Probably not worth anybody’s time.”

“Sounds like somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed!” said Marty. “Listen up, I am the ladies’ pet and the men’s regret. I got one more silver dollar and they ain’t gonna catch the Midnight Rider!”

“Ooooh, sounds interesting,” Lady Luck responded. “Now, don’t be a party pooper, Two Dogs!”

“ Movin’ to 1-4, Lady Luck. I’ll be there when you get tired of playin’ games!”

Marty was grinning ear to ear.

“You better hope ol’ Two Dogs don’t track you down!” I warned him.

He handed me the mic.

“Wanna try it?”

It did seem fun.

I depressed the button on the side of the microphone and spoke.

“Breaker, breaker, good buddies. This is the Youth Pastor. I’m looking for lost souls. Midnight Rider, you sound like you could use a good baptizing, my boy! Let’s stand and sing “Just As I Am” with every head bowed and every eye closed.”

Marty snorted with laughter.

“Hey, I’m ditching youth meeting tonight. Let’s go up to Rebel Ridge. They say you get great reception up there!”

“Daddy will kill me if he finds out and your grandparents won’t be too happy either!”

“You really gotta loosen up one of these days. At this rate, you’ll shake hands with a girl on your wedding night!”

I got a mental picture of me, lying on a king size bed in a hotel room. Miss Tutt, my English teacher and secret crush, walked into the room, dressed in a lace negligee. She walked over to the bed and shook my hand! Now, it was my turn to snort!

Another female voice came across the CB. This one sounded younger and more innocent than Lady Luck.

“Got your ears on, Midnight Rider? This is Honey Bee.”

Marty took the mic.

“Honey Bee, you sound awfully cute. “What’s up, sweetie?”

“Just listening to my Papaw’s CB and you sound like a fun guy!”

A new voice broke in. A male voice.

“Honey Bee? This is the Beekeeper! I thought we talked about this at school today!”

Honey Bee replied, “Now, Donnie, I mean Beekeeper, being jealous ain’t no good and you know it!”

I felt a cold chill run down my spine. This was Donnie Akers, All State defensive end and Golden Gloves boxing champ, and his girlfriend, Missy Jordan!Donnie was the toughest guy in our school and he’d dished out some brutal beatings to guys who got too friendly with Missy!

I dragged my thumb across my throat and shook my head at Marty, hoping he’d get the message. He did and he changed to channel 14. Two Dogs and Lady Luck were talking.

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy to tell when it’s some kid goofin’ around his old man’s CB. Once you’ve been on here a while, you can pick up on it right quick!” Two Dogs was saying.

We were on Rebel Ridge now. We came to an old abandoned church and Marty pulled into the parking lot. Then he got on the mic.

“Well, now that’s real interesting information, old buddy!” Marty said. He was doing his best to sound tough.

“Listen, punk,” Two Dogs said, “I’m gittin’ real sick and tired of your crap!” He sounded really angry! I could tell by Marty’s facial expression that he was getting worried.

About that time, a new voice piped up. A young, sweet, feminine voice.

“Breaker 1-4, this is Hillbilly Girl. You got your ears on, Lady Luck?”

“That’s a four fer sure, Hillbilly Girl. Hold on just a sec, okay, hon? Two Dogs?”

“Yeah,” he drowled back.

“Look, sweetie, why don’t ya slide back to 1-9 for awhile?” lady Luck said. “I’ll be by there later on. Gimme a few minutes to introduce the Rider here to somebody closer to his own age, OK?”

“That’s a big 10-4 for sure, Lady Luck. Two Dogs out for now! And Midnight Rider?”

Marty hesitated before answering.

“Yeah?”

“You watch what ya say to Lady Luck, capiche?

“I hear ya, talkin’, amigo!” Marty was trying desperately to sound cool. He was failing miserably.

“Hey, Rider?” Lady Luck said. She didn’t sound as sexy as before. She might have been putting on an act to impress Two Dogs.

“Yeah?” Marty replied.

“I want you to meet a really sweet young thing. Her handle is Hillbilly Girl.”

“Hi, Hillbilly Girl,” Marty replied. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m great. And it’s real nice to meet ya, Midnight Rider!”

“What are you up to this evening?” Marty asked.

“Just playing on Daddy’s base station. My parents are real strict Independent Baptist and we don’t have a TV. So, this is what I do for fun.”

Marty grinned at this.

“Hey,” he said “I’m a Baptist boy myself! In fact, my buddy and me skipped a youth meeting tonight so I could try out my new CB!”

“Ooh, you shouldn’t a done that! That ain’t good at all!”

I looked at my watch. Youth meetings usually lasted about a half hour. It was 7:10. Even if we drove to church now, we would miss almost the whole thing.

“You sound more like a pastor than a young girl. How old are ya, anyhow?”

“I’m 14,“ she responded.

“I’m 16,“ Marty said. “You like older men?”

This was his idea of turning on the charm.

“Not if they lay out of church!” she said, but she was laughing.

“All to Jesus, I surrender,“ Marty sang, “All to him, I freely give.”

“I love that song,“ she said, almost squealing. And you sing so purdy!”

“Thankyouvermuch” Mart said, doing one of the worst Elvis impressions ever.

“No, seriously, you have a nice tenor voice!”

He seriously did. I had to admit that.

“Look,” Lady Luck chimed in, “since you younguns seem to be getting along, I think I’ll sneak on outta here. Lady Luck over and out. G’nite everybody.”

“She’s a nice lady. I’ve met her in person, you know. My parents and me went into the Country Cafe and she was our waitress. She recognized my voice from the CB.” Hillbilly Girl said.

“ Well, I agree,” Marty said, “and you seem like a sweetheart yourself.”

“Yeah, but I need to get off here. My mom is making a quilt and I told her that I’d help her with it. She’s calling for me from downstairs. I better go.”

“Been real nice talkin’ to ya. Maybe we can talk on here again someday.”

“Weekends, I’m on here a lot.”

“I’ll remember that,” Marty said.

“Now, you be good and no more layin’ out of church, you got it?”

“10-4, Hillbilly Girl!” Marty responded, doing a mock salute like she could see him.

“Hillbilly Girl, over and out!”

“Now she sounds like a winner!” I said.

“I heard that!” Marty said, giving me a thumbs up. “What would you say she looks like? How do you picture her in your mind?”

“Long brown hair,” I had closed my eyes and described what I was imagining. “ Not very tall, about shoulder high next to me. Wearing a T shirt and denim skirt. Barefoot. That’s what I see. Sound good?”

I opened my eyes and Marty was giving me two thumbs up.

“ We’ll head back to your place in a few minutes. I wanna switch to 19 again,OK?”

I just nodded. I was already getting a bit bored by the CB thing, but Marty seemed to be fascinated.

He switched to 19 and a conversation was going on.

“Look, Beekeeper, I know you’re a young guy yourself. I got no gripes with you. It’s these disrespectful punks that get on here. I been talkin’ to Lady Luck on here about a month. I was working up to asking her out and meetin’ up in person, know what I mean? Then, here he comes and cuts in!”

“Yeah, he was flirting with my gal tonight, too! And she’s the kind that likes that kind of thing. If I ever figured out who he was, he’d be in big trouble! I’m not some candy! I run about 220 and I’ve won a couple of Golden Gloves tournaments!”

Marty gulped and his face had gone pale. I figured this would be the end of the CB activity for the night. But he picked up the microphone and depressed the talk button.

“The Midnight Rider is back. Boys, I was just having a little bit of fun. I’m sorry if I stole your women. I just can’t help it that I’m this way!”

“Listen, you jerk,” The Beekeper responded. He was practically yelling into the mic. “You ain’t stole nobody’s woman! You ain’t man enough!”

Marty was grinning from ear to ear. He must have been crazy! A few months ago, we had both been watching when Donnie Akers took on two guys at the same time and busted both of their heads!

“I’m more man than you’ll ever be and more man than any woman of your can handle!” he drawled. “You still there, Two Dogs?”

“10-4!” Two Dogs growled.

“That goes double for you, old son, capiche?”

Two Dogs didn’t respond. That was even scarier than it would have been if he had cussed my friend out!

Then, another new voice was heard. A female voice. This one sounded older than the others we had encountered.

“Breaker, breaker! This is Granny Lady! Come back, Midnight Rider!”

Before he answered, Marty spoke to me.

“Good night, Steve-O! I think I know that voice!”

Then, he spoke into the microphone.

“10-4, Granny Lady. You got the Midnight Rider!”

“Hey, Rider, can I ask you somethin’?” her accent was Southern and as country as cornbread.

“That’s a big 10-4!”

“Are you that Marty Reavis boy? You live with Whit and Maudie Reavis over on Boone Road?”

Marty switched the CB off and started the truck.

“Oh, no, Steve-O! That’s Old Lady McGinty! You know, she lives across the road from us! She blew my cover! Them boys know who I am! What am I supposed to do?”

“I wish I knew, Marty. You just got into a bad spot, bud!”

“Don’t I know it! I tell ya what-that’s the last they’ll hear from the Midnight Rider! You know somebody who’d like a CB?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Well, I’ve got one for sale!”

And that’s what happened when I went along for the first and last ride of the Midnight Rider.