Wolf Creek Pass

[Author’s note: This post is a continuation of the Welcome to the Future series of essays. If you haven’t read Welcome to the Future, I suggest that you start >> HERE <<]

This is the second installment on C. W. McCall. The first was Convoy (the previous post). By the way I have recently updated the content of my Convoy post. You might want to back and re-read it.

Wolf Creek pass was released in 1975 before Convoy. Before becoming a (albeit short-lived) national sensation, C. W. McCall was becoming a cult hero in Colorado. Many of his songs were Colorado-centric and he won local acclaim. In many ways he was the anti-John-Denver. In the late seventies the Mrs’ parents came out to visit us in Evergreen (west of Denver) while I was still in college. They were going to take a ride on the Silverton Train. To get there they had to go over Wolf Creek pass. I did not know that her father had a fear of heights.

Again not the same version we have (and you can have from iTunes or Amazon), but close enough.


Wolf Creek Pass Lyrics from
http://www.cw-mccall.com/works/wolf_creek_pass/wolf_creek_pass.html

Me an’ Earl was haulin’ chickens on a flatbed out of Wiggins, and we’d spent all night on the uphill side of thirty-seven miles of hell called Wolf Creek Pass. Which is up on the Great Divide.

We was settin’ there suckin’ toothpicks, drinkin’ Nehi and onion soup mix, and I said, “Earl, let’s mail a card to Mother then send them chickens on down the other side. Yeah, let’s give ’em a ride.”

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide
Truckin’ on down the other side

Well, Earl put down his bottle, mashed his foot down on the throttle, and then a couple’a boobs with a thousand cubes in a nineteen-forty-eight Peterbilt screamed to life. We woke up the chickens.

Well, we roared up offa that shoulder sprayin’ pine cones, rocks, and boulders, and put four hundred head of them Rhode Island reds and a couple a’ burnt-out roosters on the line. Look out below; ’cause here we go!

Well, we commenced to truckin’ and them hens commenced to cluckin’ and then Earl took out a match and scratched his pants and lit up the unused half of a dollar cigar and took a puff. Says “My, ain’t this purdy up here.”

I says, “Earl, this hill can spill us. You better slow down or you gonna kill us. Just make one mistake and it’s the Pearly Gates for them eight-five crates a’ USDA-approved cluckers. You wanna hit second?”

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide
Truckin’ on down the other side

Well, Earl grabbed on the shifter and he stabbed her into fifth gear and then the chromium-plated, fully-illuminated genuine accessory shift knob come right off in his hand. I says, “You wanna screw that thing back on, Earl?”

He was tryin’ to thread it on there when the fire fell off a’ his cigar and dropped on down, sorta rolled around, and then lit in the cuff of Earl’s pants and burned a hole in his sock. Yeah, sorta set him right on fire.

I looked on outta the window and I started countin’ phone poles, goin’ by at the rate of four to the seventh power. Well I put two and two together, and added twelve and carried five; come up with twenty-two thousand telephone poles an hour.

I looked at Earl and his eyes was wide, his lip was curled, and his leg was fried. And his hand was froze to the wheel like a tongue to a sled in the middle of a blizzard. I says, “Earl, I’m not the type to complain; but the time has come for me to explain that if you don’t apply some brake real soon, they’re gonna have to pick us up with a stick and a spoon.”

Well, Earl rared back, and cocked his leg, stepped as down as hard as he could on the brake, and the pedal went clear to the floor and stayed there, right there on the floor. He said it was sorta like steppin’ on a plum.

Well, from there on down it just wasn’t real purdy: it was hairpin county and switchback city. One of ’em looked like a can full’a worms; another one looked like malaria germs. Right in the middle of the whole damn show was a real nice tunnel, now wouldn’t you know?

Sign says clearance to the twelve-foot line, but the chickens was stacked to thirteen-nine. Well we shot that tunnel at a hundred-and-ten, like gas through a funnel and eggs through a hen, and we took that top row of chickens off slicker than scum off a Lousiana swamp. Went down and around and around and down ’til we run outta ground at the edge of town. Bashed into the side of the feed store… in downtown Pagosa Springs.

[Chorus]
Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide
Truckin’ on down the other side
Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide
Truckin’ on down the other side

One thought on “Wolf Creek Pass

Leave a comment ... or else ...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s