Don't let HIM get a word in edgewise...

Wellsir, I remember back in the winter o' '76. It were a cold winter, that it was, so cold that the bears n' painters fought over rabbit skins for to make coats fer themselves. Why, it were so cold the june bugs stayed froze plumb into June!
Wellsir, I were takin' a load over to Murphy, N.C. and I decided to take U.S. 64 west all the way. I did fine till I got past Brevard, N.C., then that road started snakin'. It was curvy, that road was, with some hairpin bends that would leave you wondering if you was really headed west after all. Boy howdy! I went up Chrysler Hill and there were a curve so tight , I could look outer my windows and check my rear turn signals. I met two other truckers comin' down, they was talkin' on their big ol' Citizens' Band radios. Them radios was so souped up, when them drivers would key up their mikes, iffin they was talkin' too loud, it'd set the woods on fire.
Wellsir, I struck up a conversation with 'em and talked with them plumb into Highlands. They told me there was a Smokey Bear hidin' down in Cullasaja Gorge ketchin' truckers what was misbehavin'. That Smokey had been watchin' the stretch o' curves where the cliff drops off 'bout 200 feet or so, straight down. Seems them loggers had been kickin' their trucks out o' gear and rollin' around them curves 'bout 70 mile an' hour. Wellsir, they warn't goin' to ketch me runnin' that fast, no sir. I'm smarter than that. I keep my rig in gear an' go slow. Why, sometimes I go so slow, that it takes me three days to ketch up to ma' trailer. Heh, heh, heh.
Wellsir, I passed by that Smokey bear, an' he waved at me the friendliest wave as ever a Smokey Bear could wave. I keyed up on my mike, an' spoke to 'im right neighborly like, but he didn't have his Citizens' Band on. That's okay, 'cuz I got no time to talk, but plenty o' drivin' to do. I hammered down just past Lickskillet an' made it up to 35 mile an' hour. Boy howdy! I was a-flyin'. Warn't no Smokey Bears goin' to bother me, though, they got bigger fish to fry.
Wellsir, I said my goodbyes to them truckers with the big radios. They was rollin' through Horseshoe, N.C. by now. They said they could hear me loud an' clear. That surprised me 'cuz I got just a little ol' radio. But it pleased me just the same.
Wellsir, I stopped in Franklin an' got me a bean an' a tater. Them hot vittles was good eatin'. Boy howdy! 'Bout 7 pm I got rollin'. Snow was beginnin' to fall. I hoped to get over Winding Stairs before the road got too bad. Goin' down didn't bother me. Why, goin' up is the tricky part; iffin your tires start to spin goin' up...boy howdy! Well sir, the tires spun once goin' up, but I power braked 'er, an' she caught back right smart.
That was the hard part. By now it was pitch black an' the snowflakes was fallin'. They looked like big feathers. I went on a-believin' this, till I caught up with a chicken truck. That was where the feathers was comin' from. I keyed up my mike, an' started talkin'. I talked fer an' hour , then I stopped an' let that driver get a word in edgewise. Boy howdy! He were hot! He said he'd met some rude cowboys in his life, but I took the cake! Heh, heh, heh.
Wellsir, I 'pologised to 'im an' he said it were okay, he were a bit on edge 'cuz of the weather. I told 'im iffin he wanted, I'd get ahead an' be 'is front door the rest of the way down. He said that were fine, so I hammered on past, then geared down so he could follow me. We crawled down on black ice with the snow pilin' up so thick it looked like mashed taters on yer plate at grandma's house. Boy howdy!
That got me thinkin' 'bout the time I hauled a load of taters out of Spokane, WA. Things went fine, 'til a coal bucket pulled out in front of me. I hit the brake, but it were too late. I hit 'im and there was taters an' coal thrown fer 700 yards. Mashed taters, they was by now, but ever' bit of 'em flecked with pieces of coal. None of 'em fit fer eatin'. Boy howdy!
Wellsir, we was goin' past Shooting Creek when that chicken truck come around like I was settin' still. Talk about yer rude cowboys! He said he couldn't make it at that #@#$! pace, he had to be in Chattanooga by Christmas. I said that were fine, it'd been a pleasure talkin' an ' ridin'.
Wellsir, I made good time an' were settin' in Murphy by 12 am. That were just fine, I'd get some sleep an' be ready first thing. When I woke up, I drove around lookin' fer my destination, but to no good. I asked around, an' nobody knew where the place was. I had to call my dispatcher. I told him I were in Murphy tryin' to find my destination. He said I were mighty fast, to be in California already. I didn't know what he were talkin about. He asked exactly where was I? I told 'im, an' he said some things I'd better not repeat here. He really let me have it. Boy howdy! It seems I were s'posed to take that load to Murphy. Murphy, CA. And it were spelt Murphys, with an 's'. Seems I missed that part. The good news was, I were on US 64, pointed west. Leastways I didn't have to backtrack over them sceery curves. But wait, maybe I'd better. I need to check my turn signals again, an' I...