Anybody familiar with an ol’ boy running out of Arkansas, name of Bill Weaver? He’s usually got a guitar with him, and last I saw him, he was hauling Ranger boats with a Freightliner cabover, in and out of Flippin, Arkansas.
Actually, that’s not true. Last we saw him was in Joplin a couple weeks ago, where we had the pleasure of gathering in the courtyard of our hotel every evening after the Guilty by Association Truck Show, to fellowship with one another, have some beers, and listen to some great acoustic music. Bill was able to sing and play most every request made, and if he didn’t know it, he’d try it and finish up the attempt with “Or somethin’ like that.”
He’s an entertainer.
We had a blast with the Weavers, his wife Carol Ann and the group we were fortunate enough to gather each night are some of the funniest, kindest people I’ve ever met. I’m proud to know all of them, and I’d like to list everyone here, but I’d forget at least one, and that would be unkind. You know who you are. The readers won’t be able to replicate the entertainment we got, but they can buy one of Bill’s “Every Mile I Drive” CDs, and if you like old-style Southern Rock-truckin’ music, you’ll enjoy it.
Life experiences are what make a great songwriter, and Bill’s had a few. He was raised in a military family, traveled around most of his life. He did a stint as an Arkansas lawman, and between songs one night, he related an incident to us about his law enforcement days that was not only a good story, but a great life lesson.
He said he’d pulled over a woman (I can’t remember what for), but it was a little old gray-haired lady driving, so he made a mistake, and let his guard down and walked up to her open window without being cautious. It was broad daylight, people in cars and restaurants across the street. He was comfortable in approaching her, until he got up to the window and saw the gun she had leveled at him. Instinct took over, and he swiped the gun away with his left hand while grabbing her by the hair with his right hand, and dragging her out of the vehicle through the window. He said all anyone could see from anywhere but inside the vehicle he was dragging a little old lady out of by the hair, was just that. An Arkansas lawman dragging a poor little old gray-headed lady out of her driver’s side window and throwing her on the ground.
Turns out, her son, the passenger, was an escaped prisoner from Oregon who had killed a cop. Bill Weaver walked up on a very dangerous situation, dragged an old lady out of the car by her hair, and lived to tell about it.
You can’t make stuff like that up.
I may or may not have some top secret scuttlebutt that may be of interest to anyone who would like to see Bill Weaver and Tony Justice play a little gig, but I’m saving it for later. Stay tuned …