By S. Vincent Anthony, Author
In the dusty heart of Iowa, where the cornfields whispered secrets to the wind, there lived a man named C. W. McCall. Well, that wasn’t his birth name—folks called him Bill Fries back when he was sketching signs and dreaming up ads for bread trucks—but when he hit the open road, he became something more: a legend wrapped in denim and diesel fumes.
It was the summer of ’75, and C. W. was hauling a load of Old Home Bread across the Rockies, his rig purring like a contented cat on Wolf Creek Pass. The CB radio crackled to life, voices from the ether calling out handles like “Pig Pen” and “Spider Mike.” C. W. gripped the wheel, his eyes on the twisting asphalt ahead, where the guardrails seemed to vanish into thin air.
“Breaker one-nine, this here’s Rubber Duck,” he drawled into the mic, his voice as gravelly as a backroad. “We got us a convoy rollin’ eastbound and down.” The words weren’t just chatter; they were a call to arms against the smokeys and that infernal 55 mph limit choking the life out of freewheelin’ truckers everywhere.
As the sun dipped low, painting the peaks in gold, trouble brewed. A rockslide blocked the pass, boulders tumbling like dice from a giant’s hand. C. W. slammed on the brakes, his trailer fishtailing wild. But he wasn’t alone—his buddies in the convoy formed up, engines roaring in defiance. With a whoop and a holler, they pushed through, chains clanking and horns blaring a symphony of rebellion.
By dawn, they’d made it to the Old Home Fill ‘Er Up An’ Keep On a-Truckin’ Café, where Mavis poured coffee black as midnight and served up smiles warmer than fresh-baked loaves. C. W. sat at the counter, strumming his guitar, spinning yarns of the road. “There won’t be no country music if they take away our wheels,” he sang softly, the melody catching like wildfire.
Years rolled by like mile markers, and C. W. traded his rig for a quieter life in Ouray, Colorado, where the mountains stood sentinel. But the spirit of the convoy never died—it echoed in every trucker’s heart, a reminder that sometimes, all you need is a good song, a full tank, and the open highway.
And so, the legend of C. W. McCall drove on, forever bound for glory.