Tales from the Wasteland

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Breaker Breaker.

Alright, listen up.

This here CB-frequency* is for TRUCKER TALES.

These are the stories and fables that we long-haulers tell each other to pass the time when on the road.

*yes, yes, I know the GM has already explained that EMPs have destroyed most electronics, thus CBs no longer work. And, in their place is telepathy. But, to be sure, Junior never truly knew how CBs worked in the first place, and given that he can still pick up a mic, press a button, and telepathically talk to other drivers...well, he's never realized that the UI of pressing a button on a CB mic is superfluous.


As we’ve just set out on our first expedition from Huntington’s, I think it appropriate to tell an old trucker tale.

This, my friends, is one of the good-luck tales that mostly Mules share with each other to pass the time, and, in part, as a good-luck incantation.

This is a story of Maxwell the Insane.

This is the version I’ve learned, though I’ve heard many variations.

It’s a fable of sorts, I guess, in the sense that it imparts a moral. Which is why I guess people like to re-tell it.

Maxwell the Insane was a Driver, only not the sort we identify today. He drove like a bat-outta-hell, fast, quick, without peer. Maybe he was an escort, more likely a scout, but in yea olden times I believe he was called a Pursuit. At any rate, Maxwell the Unwell was definitely NOT a Mule. 

Until one day, Maxwell lost his ride. The People, they thought Maxwell was no longer useful. Maxwell, himself, doubted his own ability. But the People had sudden need for a Mule Driver. 

And Maxwell volunteered. 

And the People said, "Maxwell, don't you know you're not a Mule. What are you doing? You can't drive that, especially not in my shoes." 

But. But Maxwell did drive that there Mule, and he lead The People out of certain death and into Freedom.

The moral of the story, friends and neighbors, is never judge a Driver by his or her Ride. That’s the lesson of Maxwell the Insane.

Now, whether ole Maxwell was Good or Evil in the eyes of history is of some point of serious contention, if’n you’re a student of the trucker folk tales as I. Certainly, Maxwell was beset by raiders and reavers and humoungii. And before that, he clashed with some folks who were reported to be overly fond of the night sky.

So, whether Ole Maxwell the Insane was good or evil, or just a man put in a tight spot, I’m not to opine. It’s just a fable to me, I wasn’t there, and never met anyone that was. But, the moral of my retelling this version is simple: don’t judge a Driver by his or her Ride.

/Junior Over


Now, I’m not a trucker, but as a collector of information (and tall tales), I’ve heard this one too.

Except in the version I heard, Maxwell wasn’t insane. He was angry (this divergence may have something to do with an ambiguous word spoken with a heavy accent).

See, the version I heard had a bit of a prologue that you left out. It explains how he got angry at a biker gang, which my research suggests looks something like this:

…though this guy @bizmail_public from our group looks an awful lot like one of the people described in the story:

Maybe he knows more?


Maxwell the Insane?

I believe you refer to Mr. Maxwell Rockastanksy, formerly of the Bronze. Yes, I knew him. I’m the reason he has a brace on his left knee.

I knew his family even better

Mr Rackastanksy had something that set him apart from my other acquaintances of that era.

He had style

He drove escort

He brought a Mechanic along for his legendary Mule run. He partnered with the most stylin’ Scout I have ever seen.

But here’s the thing about Maxwell Rockastansky. He never learned the key to survival: cooperation. That sense of give and take, working together for something larger, that’s what leads to Paradise.

All the style in the world only gets you this.


But do you remember this guy?

Incidentally, I think reports of Maxwell’s death may have been greatly exaggerated.


Jim Goose? That man was well-nigh indestructible, at least when facing Johnny the Boy. We could really use Jim now. Johnny wasn’t worth it – a little cooperation between my pals and folks who ran the MFP wculd have gone a long way.


Breaker Breaker this is Junior on the horn.

Yeah I hear you all talking about Disneyland and the tanker truckers that used to deliver diesel by the convoy there would occasionally slip up and disclose things that ought been non-disclosed according to Herr Maus’s attorneys.

Sure, hospitals and the like need diesel gennys to keep the lights on and the patients alive, but hospitals always had tight budgets. But Disney, Disney had unlimitedly deep pockets and throngs of Joe and Jane Beercans linining up every single day. And, Disney always had paranoid leaders.

We all know the stories of Walt’s eccentricities, but Eisner, he was a moonbat too. Rumor has it that he was always terrified of disappointing the loyal fans who made their pilgrimages. But what made Eisner flip his lid was seeing National Lampoon’s Vacation. He became convinced that if Disneyland ever closed unexpectedly, crazed fans like that Doctorow guy would flashmob the gates and storm the castle.

Of course several of his Veeps suggested just shooting the mob with their already fearsome in-house security force (cutely named The Extras in line with The Castmembers. There was even a shadow of a rumor of the The Extra Specials - a special forces unit, obs). But in the end they decided to create a massive bank of gennies far below the surface, and those gennies needed vast arrays of fueltanks, always topped off and ready. So, even if the end of the world came, that self-sufficient power supply would keep every ride in that park going for a week, or longer…no one really knows.

But you want the opinion of a Burton? - between the cannibal cast and the extras and who knows what sort of automated defenses, it makes the Starkworks sound like a cakewalk.

And we ain’t even done that job yet.


You’re not getting into the Mouse’s fortress without making a stop at US Cryogenics in Anaheim first. That is where Walt’s head is. The Mouse won’t stand down for anyone other than his master. You get the head, you get into Disney. Without the head the Mouse will eat you alive.


Ah, Major. Good to see someone’s still up, mind if sit I with you by the fire?

Here, share one of these Zima’s with me. Funny, I’ve been saving this six-pack since it was found in my Paw’s truck, abandoned by the side of the road. I’d always believed I was saving them for a special occasion, a celebration. But a day like today, well, makes me afraid I might not never see another thing to celebrate. Might as well crack a couple while I still can.

I don’t know about you, but this was a Helluva day. I mean, you’ve been in wars and you been in squads and “taken the hill” and all that “Keep Your Pecker Up” sort of thing, so you might think I’m silly for what I’m about to say. But watching Sir De’Ath drive off like that, well, it made me feel something. Now I’ve been on the road solo driving for nearly all my miles, so maybe I don’t know what it’s really like to lose a brother in arms, but I don’t have the words to explain it otherwise.

And that whole damn thing with the dog. You weren’t there, so maybe you’ll think Ole Junior has lost his marbles, but the moment that armor came off and the living being was revealed underneath, the look in Rex’s eyes…I dunno…it was like a good spirit had been released from the evil demons that were controlling him. The strut in his walk, like he was being given a second chance. And then the silly mutt goes and eats killer coachroaches that rot him from the inside. Maybe we all get a shot at redemption, but some of us are just too dumb to make good on it.

Aw hell. Well, I know this is gonna wake everyone up, but if Gonville is still in hearing distance and not Goneville, then he’s most likely stopped for the night. Too dangerous to escape through Hollywood or Riverside or the Southern route at night, when headlights and engine rumble will attract unwanted attention.

And If he’s stopped for the night, then he’ll hear this, and maybe know we’re thinking about him.



Youtuble link (still not embedding) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBt14glNi6Y

Christ almighty, this Zima sure is terrible. Tastes like someone drank a Nuka-Cola, pissed it out clear back into the bottle.

{Throws the half-bottle of Zima at the side of the rocket, where it shatters in a satisfying shower of glass and malt liquor}

Consider yerself Christened!

Status Update -2 Zimas. 4 left.
[1]: Badass Dragons of the Wasteland - Round 1


<------------------------------------- ------------------------------------->

DJ: This is K.A.O.S.

DJ: You and I are listening to CHAOS, out of Los Angeles.

DJ: Let’s go to the CB-lines now, and take a request.

Caller: Hello. I'm...Jackie. I hear vampyre wayves in my head...

DJ: You hear Vampyre Waves in your head?

I want God to come
And take me home.

Cusz I’m all alone, in this crowd.

Who are you to me?
Who’m I supposed to be?
Not exactly sure.


Where’s this going to?
** Can I follow through?**

Or just follow you?

for a while?

Does anyone, ever, get this right?

I feel, no love.

And all confusion here
It is as I feared
The illusion that you feel
is real

To be vulnerable
is needed most of all

If you intend to truly fall

** You think the worst of all**

Is far behind?
The Vampyre… of time and memories,
has died
** I’ve survived,** …!..
I speak. I breathe,
I’m incomplete

** I’m alive,**
you’re wrong again
coz’ I feel
no love



<------------------------------------- ------------------------------------->

Over the radio, the bumper plays…

    K.L.O.N. Los Angeles 
We play the songs that sound more like everyone else 
than anyone else

**DJ:**Hey alright it’s Kip Casper.
CLONE RADIO, L.A.'s infinite repeat.

How we feeling out there?
How’s your drive time commute?
I need a saga.
What’s the saga?
It’s Willin’

link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrCMlSWlDX8&feature=kp

i been warped by the rain
driven by the snow
i’m drunk and dirty
don’t ya know
and i’m still,

out on the road
late at night
seen my pretty alice in every head light
alice, dallas alice

i’ve been from Tuscon to Tucumcari
Tehachapi to Tonapah

driven every kind of rig that’s ever been made
driven the back roads so I wouldn’t get weighed

and if you give me:
and wine

and you show me a sign
i’ll be willin’,
to be movin’

kicked by the wind,
robbed by the sleet
had my head shoved in,
but i’m still on my feet
and i’m still…
in a whole lotta trouble

now i smuggled some smokes
and folks
from Mexico
baked by the sun,
every time i go
to Mexico,
and i’m still…

and i been from
Tuscon to Tucumcari
Tehachapi to Tonapah

driven every kind of rig that’s ever been made
driven the back roads so I wouldn’t get weighed

and if you give me:
and wine

and you show me a sign
i’ll be willin’,
to be movin

Nervous Mike - Cruising around listening to the radio

The story of the previous caller jarred loose a memory with me, I once heard this epic saga on the radio. About these four guys that were sorta related but also not. They were from a place somewhere far away but came into the very same desert we are in now. And one of them even brought down mayhem from a car. Heck I figure I could go ahead and make a mess of this story by trying to to retell it here but if I remember it correctly I caught the broadcast on tape, I’ll bring it right over.


Breaking News

This is Jason Bentley of Morning Becomes Eccentric, and I’m still holding down the fort here at KCRW.

We’ve received multiple reports of a car double-parked in the bike lanes around the waste. It appears to be a…purple boat with curb feelers…Curb feelers? wow. Anyways, if you see that car parked in bike lanes, please call the Sheriff of San Pedro, and he’ll lower the thunderstick.

Next up in the studio here at Morning Becomes Eccentric, after a long long hiatus, Milli Vanilli have decided this is the time to reunite and launch a reunion tour.

A reminder that support for KCRW comes from Mick Fleetwood, proud Chairman, glorious CEO, and Principle of Fleetwood MacChanics.



Breaking News

This is Jason Bentley of Morning Becomes Eccentric, and I have some more BREAKING NEWS.

We have an eyewitness account of what appears to be a …raid…on one of the Fleetwood MacChanics franchises out near Huntington’s. It appears that at least three rogue mechanics, operating as a part of a larger group, disabled the defenses of Stretch’s local Fleetwood MacShop and turned Fido into dogfood.

I’ll tell you, it’s a grim world out there when someone attacks one of the few remaining supporters of publicly funded radio.

Thus far, neither the Tea Partisans nor the Y2K Preppers have claimed credit for the attack.

In an effort to quell any potential unrest, the Governator has dispatched the Sheriff of San Pedro to the scene to investigate.


And now, we return you to your scheduled broadcasting.


(( ooc: Brilliant stuff, I LOLed :smiley: ))

Gather round, and I’ll tell the tale of the Fury.

'twas a long time ago, in the earliest days after the Little War, while the telepathy technology was still in its infancy, and poorly understood.

Some idiot kid decided he wanted to be a Driver, like the ones he’d heard about. He’d had his eye on a '58 Plymouth for some time, and swindled the owner out of it - buying her for a handful of LPs. He found himself a Fleetwood franchise, and underwent the SHITGO procedure. Something went wrong, though - the mechan-nik was a charlatan, and the work was shoddily done. What the original owner never told the kid was that the Plymouth had been SHITGOed before, but her driver had choked to death on a slice of Hawaiian.

It turns out you should never, ever, SHITGO a car that’s already been SHITGOed. Pretty soon, the kid found he was having thoughts that weren’t his own. He got more and more withdrawn. It was as if the Plymouth was doing the driving herself. People that threatened the kid started ending up dead. Then people close to the kid did too. The Plymouth was always pristine, though - you’d never see a scratch on her, it was as if she was fixing herself up at night. The kid got more and more withdrawn, his personality being subsumed by the Plymouth. It was almost as if he was sinking into his SHITGO. One day, he was gone entirely. That night, the Plymouth disappeared.

Sometimes, if you drive around the highways late at night, you might just catch a glimpse of a red and white Plymouth driving around without a Driver. Don’t go near her. She’s the Fury.


I have friend named Christine. She loved that car.


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