This here’s the story of Bobby Barnes, baddest trucker ever rolled south of Plantarnes. Drove a Mack rig back in seventy-six, off an eight-foot embankment out in the sticks. They found the truck but Bobby was gone. You can still see him on 95 through Plantarnes.
He haunts the roads, I’ve heard them say. A lot of evil truckers get their revenge that way. But there’s something different about Bobby’s quest that separates him from all the rest. See, he’s a nice guy even though he’s dead, and he likes to have a good time like he always did.
A ghostly shadow truck pulls up from behind, its flashing brights are enough to make you blind. Then suddenly you’re struck with flashing fear when you look into your rearview mirror. The rig heads straight through your bumper, and next you know, Bobby’s sitting right next to you, offering a bowl.
You keep your eyes on the road but accept his gift. He lights it up and you take a hit. His buds are the best in all this world, the goldest of the goldest Montazuma gold. And once you’ve had your rager from his chrome and steel bong, there’s a sudden bright flash and Bobby Barnes is gone.
So keep a sharp eye peeled for Bobby’s ride, a bright green cab, a sunrise painted on the side. Many a weary traveler’s received his gift, many a journey’s turned into a trip. Yeah, keep that sharp eye peeled for Bobby Barnes, next time you’re on 95 in the county of Plantarnes.