SHOWCO

Back about 28 years ago I landed a job. A dream job. A job that possibly defined my life from that point on. Or so I thought.

In early Fall, 1976, I was a recently licensed tractor trailer driver for Advanced Moving and Storage in Baltimore, MD. I was on a move to North Carolina and had stopped at a 76 to refuel me and the truck. As I finished my meal of greasy eggs, bacon and homefries, I heard my name bellowed out from across the room. It was Ron, a fellow I had worked with at Advance in years previous. He had left Advance to become a driver for a sound and light company out of Dallas, Texas. That's about all I knew.

Happy to see each other, we sat and talked. He was impressed I had made the move from helper to driver. He had been one of the drivers who had railed on me to get my license. He told me he was on a Willie Nelson tour. He asked me out to the truck to share some doob and talk about what was what since we last saw each other. When we got to his truck, I was definitely impressed. A brand new White Freightliner with a beautiful drop frame trailer. All white with "SHOWCO" on the door. Underneath, it said, "Not for Hire". At the time I was driving a beat Louisville Ford gas rig and a trailer from the early 60's.

His truck was one of 4 in the tour. He was the lead driver. That is, he ran the trucking end of the tour. We split a joint and just talked. I felt like he was sizing me up. Before I left to go on my way, he handed me his card and told me to call and ask for Robert. I asked why. He said that SHOWCO was looking for new drivers. If I called within the next week , he would make sure I was interviewed. I was astounded. Driving a rock n roll truck. 24 years old, no ties anywhere, Life was looking up for me for sure.

Back in B-more, I told my roomate about the job offer. He did not believe me. I don't think he believed me even when he dropped me off at the airport 3 weeks later to fly to Dallas, TX. Jeez, I don't think I believed me. But there I was, on a plane to the Lone Star State, eating bad airline food, and sucking down drinks from tiny bottles.

Ron met me at DFW airport. He was not impressed that I was shitfaced, but he understood. I had been celebrating. He dropped me off at the Arlinton Days Inn, told me to sober up, get a good night's sleep, and be ready to drive the next day. We were heading out on the Who tour.