I got a call from uncle Milo,

At the still up in the woods,

He said he had a batch for me to take.

I knew what must be done, and he knew that I would come,

Because I’m the best bootleg driver in the state.

Well we got my flatbed loaded,

And we tied those barrels down,

We didn’t want to lose them on the run.

Then we high-tailed it from the still,

Along mountain tracks and tree-lined hills,

And our fifty mile delivery had begun.

I kept my seatbelt fastened and my pedal to the floor,

And never even thought to use the brakes,

I zigzagged through the trees,

But drove that Mountain trail with ease,

Though death awaits my first and last mistake.

The rain had started falling,

And the  trail had turned to mud,

The back wheels spun with each climb and descent,

And with gravel spraying out the back,

Like a shotgun loaded up with tacks,

Ever closer to that interstate we went.

By the time we reached that interstate,

The rain was falling hard,

But I kept that throttle down and let her fly,

The windscreen wipers couldn’t cope,

Just one mistake and that’s all she wrote,

As lightening streaks lit up the darkened sky.

Then with mud caked tyres and the tarmac damp,

I pulled my handbrake as I reached the ramp,

And felt my flat-back’s back end start to slide,

Then as my hood lined up with that “on ramp”,

I gave that throttle another stamp,

And watched that mountain trail roll out of sight.

Well I shot past the cars and truckers,

And a friend of mine named Tucker,

Who I hadn’t seen in almost fifteen years,

So I slowed a little bit, to wave,

And I guess that was my first mistake,

Because that’s when the bubblegum machine appeared.

Blue lights flashed in my rear-view,

And then the red replaced the blue,

As their siren sang their menacing refrain,

Well my heart commenced to thumping,

And those red lights I was jumping,

As I stamped down on that throttle once again.

I did all I could to cut him loose,

But he’d copy everything I’d do,

And I could see this wasn’t his first rodeo,

I pulled handbrake turns and doughnuts too,

Left four wheels and drove on two,

To go down lanes no four wheeled cars should go.

But it was clear that luck was not my friend,

I’d lose him and he’d appear again,

Closer than I ever thought he’d be,

I turned a corner, killed the lights,

Just hoping that he’d drive on by,

But he was always just one step ahead of me.

And when we reached the level crossing, the barrier came down,

And the red light was warning me to stop.

So I had a choice to make,

Should I apply the brakes?

Or shoot that line and at last outrun the cops.

Well I hit that nitro button and my flatbed left the road,

Sailing through the air like it’s a plane,

So I allowed myself a smile, but just for a little while,

Because I looked and saw ol’ Smokey’s done the same.

Well I don’t know what he’s driving but it must be something good,

With a V12 turbo engine and nitro beneath the hood,

And I don’t know where he learnt to drive but I can’t shake him free,

I thought I was the best there was, but he’s as good as me.

So I headed for the marshland were I hoped that he’d get stuck,

But would you believe that mud would not support my flat-bed truck,

And I guess I went a mite too fast as I approached the bend,

The ground gave way beneath me and I knew it was the end.

So with my back wheels spinning across a ditch,

And me calling the whole damned world a bitch,

The only thing that I could do was wait,

And as he approached, I recognised that Trooper,

I believe his name was, “Connor Cooper”,

He was once the best bootleg driver in the state.

(And still is apparently).

By S.E.Ralph

20-6-2023