Emma flipped on the small map light and aimed it at her copy of Modern Senior Woman Illustrated Magazine. "I still don't know why you like to drive at night, Carl. We could have gotten up early in the morning and headed down the road."

Carl bit off a chew of Red Man tobacco and settled it in his right cheek before answering. "You got to consider the plus things and the minus things about night driving. The minus stuff is that you can't see real good. The plus side is that you can pick up all kinds of neat radio stations. You might not believe this, Emma, but here we are in the Northwest part of the United States, and I betcha I can still pick up Nashville or Memphis on the radio."

Emma looked up from her magazine. "So?"

Carl shifted his wad of chew from right to left. "So? What a dumb-butt question! Don't you know that the very best country and western music comes out of Nashville and Memphis? And the best of the best is on at night, when the truckers of the nation are out there moving stuff back and forth, as needed. You get almost non-stop music, without too many commercials. And the commercials you get are usually pretty cool. For example, those mud-flaps I got on the back with the chromed cut-out of the nekkid woman, I got them from a commercial out of Memphis."

Emma sniffed her nose upward. "Yes. How could I forget? They do add a certain amount of 'class' to our vehicle."

"Right! You might see those kinda flaps on maybe a couple hundred thousand semis, but other than that, they're pretty rare. But enough small talk, let's flip on our new radio and see if we can grab a station out of the air from a couple thousand miles away."

With that, Carl flipped on the "POWER" switch on the brand new Zeppelin Gut Blaster Gronk-0-Matic Stun Fazer Electro-Whackoid Tazer-Blitz Boom-Master Mark 12 plus II Extra Bomber-Blow-Out Digital Flame-Thrower Sonic-A+ System.

He set the scan/search button for eight seconds and hit it.

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... if you're tired of losing money on investments, consider putting your money where the professionals do; in Famous Bowlers Trading Cards. Yes, you score a strike when these nifty cards double, triple or even quadruple in value over the years. Of course, we can't guarantee ..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... so if you think you can't make great meals out of broccoli, you're wrong. Stick with us as we chat with guest chef, Pierre LaPoofe, as he explores the fascinating world of broccoli ..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... save big bucks on your next car. So hurry on down to Fun-Time Motors in down town St. Louis, where we sell and service the very best in new and used Yugos, Fiats and Peugots. Just ask for ..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... best in talk radio with Frank and Fred. Our guest tonight is Bertha Forniscue, from the Save The Gay Whales Foundation. Across from her, is Findley McSweet, from the Wisconsin Ban All Guns and Knives and Clubs Association. And joining us in our last hour, will be Geho Ming, from the Mongolian Anti-Defamation League, so sit back and ..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... and who wouldn't be concerned when your petunias start losing their petals? How to stop it? You might do what champion petunia growers do: use Petunia-Gro! Available in 16 ounce spray bottles and..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... adds up to 15 miles more per tank and literally doubles the engine life of your car. Just pour in a bottle of Lube-A-Lot RX-2000, and forget about tune-ups and expensive rebuilds. Made from space-age chemicals and exotic ..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... yellow teeth and an ugly smile? Well, don't worry about when you use Smile-O-Dent paste. A unique combination of scouring powder, baking soda, fluoride by-products and swimming pool chlorine, it can turn a foul mouth into ..."

... scan ... scan ... scan ...

" ... six in a row coming right up, starting with three golden goodies from Willie Nelson and three recent hits from Waylon. But first, have you ever wanted to get into the exciting and high-paying world of big-rig drivers? Sure you have. Well, now you can do it! Just call the Memphis White Line Fever Trucking School a call. We'll teach you how to ..."

"Hot damn, Emma! I told you we'd pick up Memphis or Nashville! That is one serious radio!"

"It ought to be, since it cost us about six of your retirement checks!"

They drove steadily onward through the night, the four huge pencil beams up front boring a crisp white light through the darkness, and listened to the mellow sounds seep from the radio.

At the end of the six record play, the announcer came back on:

"How 'bout that, folks. Them two is good. And you can't hardly beat a classic like Whiskey River. Which brings us to our fantastic contest: Write a country song and send it in. You could be the winner of $5000 and an all-expense paid trip to the Grand Old Opry, as well as having your song recorded by Ferlin Merlin, and played on the air here for two solid weeks."

Carl turned the radio louder and yelled, "Get a pencil and paper ready, woman!"

The announcer smoothly continued:

"So get a pencil and paper ready, 'cause I'm only gonna give this here address out once. Send all entries to Music Makers Contest, P.O. Box ..."

Emma scribbled as fast as her fingers would allow.

" ... And don't forget to send all your entries on a standard cassette tape. You don't have to sing the words, but you should at least talk your way through the song. All songs must be between two and three minutes long. So get busy, buckaroos,
and ..."

Carl clicked the radio off and smacked his palm on the steering wheel. "Whip out that big yellow note pad in the magazine rack, Emma. We're gonna write us a money winnin' song!"

Emma sighed. "Carl, we don't know anything about song-writing. We'd just be wasting our time."

"Well, you can't exactly paint the Moaner Lisa while we're drivin' down the road, can you?"

"You mean 'Mona Lisa', don't you?"

"Yeah. That one, too."

"But how do we start? How do you know what should go in a country and western song?"

"Easy. You just write about gettin' drunk, evil women, pickup trucks, good dogs, horses, guns, shootin' people, whiskey, beer, good women, more whiskey, beautiful women, ugly women, cheatin' women, cheatin' men, gambling, chasin' after women, gettin' drunk with your buddies, crashin' your truck into rivers and waking up with nasty hangovers. What could be simpler?"

"Well, for one thing, you actually have to write a song. You have to tie it together ... make some kind of story ... start somewhere, and then have a surprise ending, or something like that."

Carl just laughed. "Tell you what, Emma. You get behind the wheel and handle The Whale for a while, and I'll scribble out a prize winning song before you pass the next burger place."

Emma reluctantly got behind the wheel of the huge Suburban and settled in to the comfy Captain's chair. As soon as she got up to 55 miles per hour, she flipped the cruise control on, then, noting that there was no traffic at all on the deserted back road, flipped the switch for the huge 185 watt pencil beam lights on. Fwwooooooomp! The lights literally punched a hole through the darkness.

A suicidal moth fixed its little pea-brain on the left pencil beam and spiraled into it, instantly driving its tiny mind right through its butt. The heat from the light quickly fried it to a cinder and a moment later, the passing wind blew the gray dust that used to be a moth, off into a nearby field. Such is nature.

Meanwhile, Carl scribbled rapidly on the large yellow pad, oblivious to the fact that kamakazi moths were screaming their own version of Tora! Tora! Tora!, and splattering themselves on his expensive night racing lights.

Two hours later, almost to the minute from the time he had started, Carl let out a whoop: "Hah! I got it! And it's a master-piece, lemme tell ya!"

Emma jerked upright, startled. She'd been driving in an almost hypnotic state, caught in the glare of the powerful night lights, much like a deer trapped in the beam, only this deer was behind the wheel of a giant Suburban. "Huh? What? Oh yes. Go on dear."

"Well, I'm done. Ya wanna hear it?"

"Sure. Read it to me."

"Ok, here goes:

I saw her sittin' on a horse while I drove by in my truck,
So I drank some whiskey, and figured I'd try my luck,
I crashed my truck in the river, but saved my gun and dog,
And when I saw her again, she was playing cards on a log,

... now here's the chorus, Emma ...

Oooooooooh, she was on a log, but she weren't no hog'
And all I had to offer her was whiskey and a wet dog!

She smiled at me and dealt me seven cards all in a row,
And said, 'Hey stranger, do you want to play or pay?
I knew right there that it was time for me to go,
Because she was for sure an evil woman, any night or day.
Ooooooooh, she was on a log, but she weren't no hog,
And all I had to offer her was whiskey and a wet dog.

Well, I laid my heart on the line, and hoped she wouldn't cheat,
But just in case, I cocked my gun and set it on repeat,
I flipped my cards and saw four jacks, all in a row.
By she tossed over four queens, and I watched my money go.
Oooooooohhhhhh, she was on a log, but she weren't no hog
And all I had to offer her was whiskey and a wet dog."

Emma held up a finger. "Is there more to this song, Carl? Or does she just sit there on a log and win your money and your dog?"

"Well, yeah, she does win all my money and my dog and my gun, and then disappears into the night, but I follow her to a bar where she's dancin' with a lumberjack, and I shoot them both, then get real drunk and run off with an ugly woman, leave her, rob a bank, get shot, recover, escape from jail, get caught by a jealous sheriff and he hangs me from a tree. Pretty good, huh? So whaddaya think? Do I have a winner here?"

Emma just sighed deeply.

***

Hmmm. Could it be that Carl has a winner? Or will he bomb out horribly? And what will the name of this potential hit song be? We can only wait and hum along ... Oooooooh, she was on a log, but she weren't no hog ...