Hands down, this is the guy. This is the guy you want leaning intimately into you, inviting you to be in cahoots with him, to share the secrets he’s learned on the road.
Forgive me. I was premature in my assumption. THIS is the guy.
Yes, the one with the mutton chops, driving his Rebel Flag-decked out Bandit up to California. Is he sucking a Lemonhead? Is he dipping Skoal? He’s a man of mystery. I just feel a strong sense of… Gary Sandy surrounding him. Yes, that’s it. He must be related to Gary Sandy. You know, Andy Travis from WKRP?
Whoa. Is it hot in here? I’m feeling faint, and it’s not a touch of Johnny Fever. Believe me. Okay, time to refocus. Surely, there’s some trucker in this book who can compete with an aging sitcom star.
Um. No. That is NOT the ticket. Perhaps this young fella?
His head says Yankee, but his body says Confederacy. Who has time for a cocksure whippersnapper with an identity complex? Not me. I haven’t got time for the pain. Okay, let’s spin the wheel. Surely there’s SOMEONE.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH! Make it stop!
I Don't Get It 