It was a Friday night
And I was lookin' sharp,
So I figured I'd stop for coffee
At the Buckhorn Truck Stop.
I wanted to make my entrance real clean,
So I pulled around to the window side,
Where I was sure I would be seen.
My fuel tank felt like a stage that night,
As I stood there in the parkin' lot spot light.
I didn't really have to stretch,
But I wanted to make my muscles flex...
Well, it was then
That this gleamin' star fell
(The soles on them pointy toe cowboy boots
were slipperier than hell!)
I was headin' face first for the asphalt,
When I felt a sudden jerk -
Wallet chain caught on the door handle
(What an embarrassing quirk).
Screams and laughter pierced the air;
Everything happened so fast,
And there I was
On the door of my big rig,
Hangin' by my ass.
My wallet was wedged in my pocket.
They were gonna' have to cut me down!
Some foxy, smart aleck chick
Asked if I was the truck stop clown.
So over they came with acetylene,
The guy fired-up the torch
And smiled real mean.
Sparks flew,
The chain went through,
And down on the pavement I went....
Well, As I got back up
In the middle of that crowd
I never knew silence
Could be so loud.
The points on my boots
Were mashed, almost flat;
And I bent the feathers
In the brim of my ten gallon hat.
My Peterbilt belt buckle
Looked like a wreck;
And everything was red
Between my hair and my neck.
It was one of them times
That you just wanna' die,
But I brushed myself off
And held my head high.
And, wallet chain danglin',
Climbed back in the cab,
And headed back out to the super slab.
Hadda' find a new place to stop.
One without so many windows.