AERIAL SHOT – TRACKING 18-wheeler owned by David Calarence “DC” Hawkins and Dabney “Doobie” DuBoise SFX KEITH WHITLEY “MARINA DEL REY”

DC, age 49, 5’10” tall, 175 lbs, short well-groomed brown hair molded by the Beaver hat he wears. DC wears Justin silver-tipped boots, concho-laden silver tipped matching belt—one of several silver belt buckles he has won in rodeo events—a button-up white shirts, Wranglers, and a King’s Ranch western vest. The Beaver hat is black felt with a large silver armadillo hat pin.

DC is a 31-year veteran of the open road. He has two ex-wives and six children, three by each wife. He lives out of the truck since all of his earnings go to paying child support. But that isn’t enough. Since winning the Illinois lottery and receiving his half of the $360 million award, everyone is getting greedy. The wives want more, the IRS wants more, the States want more. DC’s vices are Skoal snuff, rodeo, and all things country.

Doobie, age 45, 6’4” tall, 235 lbs, waist-length dishwater wavy hair. He wears a blue bandana around his forehead, aviator sunglasses, a black leather vest with the Freightliner and Harley Davidson logos. He wears the biker boots and a chain belt.

Doobie has three ex-wives and six kids himself. He struggled with child support which forced him to live on the road like his business partner DC. Doobie has received the other half of the Illinois lottery and like DC now suffers the same troubles which are only complicated by the many leeches of society that are trying to win their financial attention with every crazy idea a man can dream up to include goodwill charity funds for people who are suppose to be suffering in some form or fashion. Doobie’s vices: Kool cigarettes, the occasional partaking of marijuana, rock and roll concerts, and a continual flirtatious aura, not to get laid, but to enjoy the game of dating.

DC and Doobie have had to buy ten new 18-wheelers, well, nine new trucks and Sal Seven, which is the truck they chose. The world of con artists and law enforcement are chasing them in nine directions finding they only capture the 18 drivers DC and Doobie employ as decoys. All the trucks are new deep blue Freightliner Conventionals with every extra amenity known to a trucker. DC and Doobie, however, have chosen to drive the old beast, Sal Seven.

Sal Seven is a black Freightliner Conventional, 1982, with 147 clearance lights on each side that completely outline the long nose rig with its 60” flat top sleeper. Sal has extra chrome, polished aluminum fuel tanks and wheels. Sal Seven is hooked up to a 40 Great Dane Reefer unit.


SFX V.O. BILL MAC’S RADIO SHOW, road noises. SHOT is F.G interstate and oncoming traffic across median. PAN to DC behind steering wheel illuminated by the dash lights and oncoming headlights. DC rubs his eyes, yawns, stretches and readjust grip on wheel. SFX CELL PHONE BEEPING accompanied by a SECOND CELL PHONE BEEPING. DC widens his eyes, leans forward to dash and retrieves a cell phone, answers as second cell phone keeps beeping. Howard Lashis, an attorney and financial planner hired to help DC and Doobie sort through the chaos of high finance. INTERCUTS between Howard, DC, and Doobie’s conversation. Howard is in his Chicago office.

DC: Yo—

Howard: DC? Wake Doobie up. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.

DC:  Hold up a minute.

(DC sets phone down, SFX CELL PHONE BEEPING. DC reaches over head and grabs a string and starts jerking it SFX ‘COW BELL’)

Doobie: DC. What the frick man. Get off of that thing.

(DC releases the string, chuckles while picking up phone SFX CELL PHONE BEEPING.)

DC: Give ‘em a minute, Howie. He had a hard night. Big concert in Sacramento. (pins phone in ear, retrieves spitoon, spits) So what’s got you up before the rooster?

Howard: It isn’t early here in Chicago. As for the call? You got about a dozen more lawsuits.

(Doobie stumbles out of sleeper in pants, unfastened, bare-chested unfolding phone.)

Doobie: What—what! This had better be good. I was in the middle of a hot night with Stevie Nicks.

Howard: Twelve paternity lawsuits. Two against you, DC. Ten against you, Doobie. And they’re getting attention too. Maury Povich has called. He wants to know if you two will go on national television to prove you aren’t the the fathers.

DC: What!

Doobie: What!

DC: You’ve got to be out of you cotton pickin’ mind.

Howard: I’m just relaying the message.

Doobie: Oh man! This is way to much bad karma before the first cup of coffee. Who the frick are these broads?

Howard: The two against DC come from Texas and Oklahoma. Surprisingly. Two of those filing against you Doobie claim they were both impregnated after a Guns N’ Roses concert in Orlando during an orgy.

Doobie: That’s totally rad, man. Like, do they give any details?

(DC backhands Doobie on the shoulder. Doobie loses smile, flips hair over shoulder, reclines in seat.)

Howard: Does the name Beth Harmon, Tanya Brussels, Amy Grant, Charlotte Wesson, Amy Simpson, Loretta Gladeaze, Teresa Mimes, Dianne Templeton, Denise Appleberry, or a Suzanne Thomas mean anything to you?

Doobie: Oh hell. I haven’t heard those names in years.

DC: Who filed against me?

Howard: Rose Cleburne in Ft. Worth and one Jaye Fortrain in Lawton, Oklahoma.

DC: Yep! ‘Spects I know ‘em both. And I don’t regret it at all.

Howard: You might now. They’re both asking for one million a piece for past and future child support.

Doobie: How does this Maury dude come into the picture.

Howard: He’s a reality TV nut. His show thrives on making people look real foolish. And he has already said he is gonna bring these women on the show to put pressure on you two if you don’t take him up on the show.

DC: Go figure. What else is going on.

Doobie: Say, do you like have any good news?

Howard: Sorry. I got something else you need to know.

DC: Give it to us.

Howard: The I.R.S. is out to shut you down. You owe taxes. They aren’t buying the 18 truckdrivers you’re paying to drive around in empty rigs. They claim you are not attempting to operate an actual business. I told you, DC. Them trucks have to haul freight.

DC: They’re tax deductions.

Howard: The I.R.S. ‘s definition of business requires some kind of effort to make a profit.

DC: What the hell we suppose to do, Howie. We don’t need to make money. We just don’t want to give it all to the Feds.

Howard: I don’t know, Dee. Anything less than a non-profit organization is required to make a good faith effort at profiteering.

(SILENT BEAT, Doobie lights a smoke, exhales.)

Howard: (CON’T) What do you want me to do?

DC: Tell the boys to call me. We’ll try to line up some kind of business.

Howard: What about Maury Povich?

DC: Tell ‘em to kiss my ass. I don’t need to go on national TV to face a paternity test.

Howard: Anything else?

DC: Nah.

(DC turns phone off, looks at Doobie turning his own phone off.)

DC: An orgy? Ain’ one woman enough trouble?

(Doobie smiles, holds up smoke, blows smoke ring, smiles and nodds no.)



CRANE SHOT: Sal Seven pulls into parking lot. DC and Doobie get out, move toward the front office. B.G. trucks being loaded, entering, exiting. PUSH IN: DC adjusts hat.

DC: Two women at one time. I just . . .

Doobie: What can I say. When you look like David Lee Roth. The chicks come easy.

DC: (holds two fingers up) Two women. Two kids. You make a rabbit look bad.

Doobie: (smiles, smug) Yeah, I do, don’t I?

(DC drops hand, grabs glass door while pulling hat off.)



Lisa Owens secretary races around counter to greet DC as new and young receptionist Priscilla Williams watches.

DC: Can a cowboy get a little lovin’ in this place?

Lisa: (walks into DC’s open arms) That and a whole lot more.

(Lisa kisses DC passionately, Doobie steps to one side, eyes Priscilla while waiting for Lisa to greet him. Lisa slowly pulls back, seductively steps away from DC then leaps wildly into Doobie’s arms with wild kisses. DC glances back then dons his hat.)

DC: Come on, lover boy. Unless of course you plan on another wild night.

Lisa: Aren’t we in a mood.

DC: Sorry, Lisa. It’s just been one of those days and it ain’ even started . . . (points at inner office) What’s Rick in such a foul mood?

Lisa: (returning to desk) Money! What else?

(Lisa picks up phone, punches button.)

Lisa: (CONT’D) DC and Doobie are here. (BEAT, holds phone out) Yes, sir. They are coming in now.

(Lisa holds phone toward door. DC moves toward door, pulls it open. Doobie steps to Priscilla’s desk, leans over it to face her.)

Doobie: Looks like a new kid in town.

Priscilla: Excuse me? I’m no kid.

Doobie: And that is the best part. (holds hand out) Dabney Doobie Duboise. I fear no no encounter that comes my way. But I do prefer to be the mellow fellow.

(Priscilla eyes Lisa surprised.)

Lisa: Priscilla, meet Doobie Duboise. Doobie. Priscilla Williams, soon to be Sims. As in, Mrs. Sims. Doobie is a truly radical Roman rocker.

Priscilla: A radical Roman rocker . . . (takes his hand)

Doobie: (smooth, thumbs the large wedding ring on finger) I’m a radical about drugs, sex and rock n’ roll. And given a little time, I’ll let my roamin’ fingers rock you.

Priscilla: You are sooo bad. But I’m engaged.

Doobie: And I’m horny so . . .

DC: Put the drumsticks away. We got business.

Doobie: (slowly releases hand, steps to door) A cold ring never keeps the soul warm in the cold cold night.

Lisa: (chiding) Get you in there.

(Lisa pushes him inside, closes door then leans on it breathing hard. Priscilla puts hand to her breast, clears throat then tries to concentrate on the phone bank that is lighting up.)



James Richter is a middle-aged balding nervous wreck from a series of hijackings in the Northwest.

Richter: Look. You two are as outdated as that rig you just bought. Not only that. The Fed’s are breathing down your necks for tax evasion. You just bought that old rig. The ink isn’t even dried. And here you sit wanting me to broker a two million dollar load.

Doobie: Yeah? And?

Richter: You two should become comedians. You got one hell of an act. You just won the lottery. You just bought nine brand new trucks that aren’t hauling one iota of freight. And from what I hear, you’re fixing to finance the entire civil court’s systems with suits trying to clean you out. (slaps hands, holds them out) Manufacturers are scared to deal with you. They’re afraid of getting caught in the middle of a three-ring circus full of clowns.

DC: I don’t see nothin’ humorous in all of this. Our legal issues are independent of Sal Seven. She is a clean rig.

Richter: She’s an old rig. Old, DC!

DC: She’s in impeccable condition.

Richter: The shipper requires top notch equiptment complete with GPS. And the insurance is out of this world.

Doobie: Not out of our world.

DC: That’s right. 

Richter: Successful owner operators don’t buy outdated equiptment and then pass themselves off with a self-insuring policy.

Doobie: Why not? Hunt, Walker, CFI and a dozen other big operators do.

Richter: But you aren’t them . . .

DC: No. We are D.C. Doobie. Small fry in a big skillet. (sits up) But if you’ll call the shipper. You tell him we have a ten million dollar security bond with a no-questions-asked clause in regards to stolen or damaged goods. (stands) I’m almost certain they’ll give us the loads.

Richter: (stands behind desk) You just don’t get it. We are in the in the middle of a freight theft epidemic. One out of 18 rigs leaving Seattle gets hit. One out of 30 get hijacked.

DC: We play the odds, Rick. Damn it, man. We’ve hauled hundreds of loads for you. What’s changed?

Richter: The times have changed, DC.

(DC with hard look, turns and walks out door. Doobie crosses leg, smiles and cocks head staring at Richter.)

Richter: (CONT’D) What? My hands are tied.

(Doobie puts hand over mouth and drags fingers over his cheeks as if drawing a spirit out before pointing at Richter.)

Doobie: You know, DC has always been a little impatient. He, uh, he never sits back and waits for the other foot to drop. See, he didn’t wait for you to think back to those days when you couldn’t pay all the truckers that hauled your loads. Nor when certain drivers who needed the better loads gave you the benefit of a doubt and took those little mediocre shipments. See., DC didn’t wait around for your memory to kick in. But me? (throws hands wide open, stands) I understand, baby. You just need a little time to think.

Richter: The times are changing, Doobie. (sinks into seat) I wish I could.

Doobie: You know, (pulls cigarettes, lights one, exhales) in the game of rock and roll, we have two sayings. The show must must go on. And, (takes draw from smoke) it’s still rock and roll.

(Doobie drops hand to side, steps to door, pauses and looks back.)

Doobie: (CONT’D) The question isn’t in how to play the song. It’s: Will you play when the crowd is buying the tickets?

(Richter looks up, nods.)

Richter: Alright. I’ll call the shipper. But I’ll vouch for the load on my insurance. (stands, picks up phone) You two head on over to the plant.

(Doobie holds hand up to his forehead with the cigarette pinched between two fingers winks and walks out.)



Lisa has walked out with DC. Doobie gives Priscilla a wild hands up in passing exits. Priscilla suspiciously looks out glass doors at Lisa, DC, and Doobie. She picks up phone and punches several numbers.

Priscilla: It’s me. There is one load of computers leaving this afternoon. Drops are in Moscow, Utah. Craig Colorado. Kyle Kansas. The major part of the shipment headed to St. Louise. Truck number Sal Seven. . . Oklahoma base plate number A-D-L-9-6-7-O. Independent operators. Old men. No company logo. Black Freightliner with Great Dane Reefer unit. (BEAT, shuffles papers) Insured value. One point five million.

(Priscilla hangs up, glances out door at DC, Doobie and Lisa then sits back and holds hand up to admire the large engagement ring.) CUT TO:


WIDE SHOT: DC stands with Shipper at back of truck as Dock Workers close the trailer doors and seal the load. Shipper signs papers and hands them to DC. DC slips papers in atache case, hops off back dock, moves up passenger’s side, opens truck door and climbs in.



Doobie is sitting in driver’s seat studying map. DC settles into seat and stows the attache case in pocket fastened to console in center of cab below dash.

DC: You got this?

Doobie: (holds up CD while closing atlas) I’ll get us through Idaho.

DC: Good. I’ve had enough of this day.

(DC spins in seat, pulls curtain back, enters sleeper. FRAME Doobie putting atlas away, slips CD into stereo, stabs tranny into gear, releases brakes.)



a) Truck pulling onto freeway.

b) FRAME LONG SHADOW of Rig 1 PAN to wheels, ELEVATE to Doobie talking on CE.

c) SOT Doobie’s P.O.V f.g. SEATTLE SKYLINE.

d) SHOT of setting sun behind Sal Seven.

e) TRACKING rig through night.

f) SHOT, Doobie’s P.O.V. crossing COLUMBIA RIVER, STEAMBOATS passing below.

g) WIDE SHOT, rig slowing, turns into truckstop.

h) Doobie fueling truck, DC clammers out of rig waking up.

i) FRAME Doobie at table playing with calculator, DC walks up, sits.


DC eating as Doobie continues crunching numbers on calculator and writing the numbers down on a pad.

Doobie: It just doesn’t compute. We get 18 mil’ a year for the next 20 years. The I.R.S. gets 40 percent or 7.2 mil’ a year leaving us with 10.8. We split that. Bought nine rigs for 1.3 mil’ and Sal cost us just 65 grand.

DC: So much for tax deductions.

Doobie: The only way to keep the I.R.S. out of our business is to try and make money.

DC: Which we don’t need.

Doobie: The kicking part of this show is that even if we don’t invest. We collect 680 grand a year just in interest.

DC: Which we have to pay more taxes on.

(Doobie crunches numbers on calculator.)

Doobie: Which is 272 grand. (pushes calculator away, grabs cup) I thought Howard was suppose to figure all of these things out. (fidgets with cup in thought) He’s ‘spose to. But only a fool let’s carpetbagger carry a baskey full of eggs.

Doobie: Who would think being rich would be such a drag?

DC: (sips coffee, sighs) That attitude won’t find the light at the end of this tunnel.

(DC picks up check, motions to leave.)

DC: (CONT’D) I ‘spects you got the tip?

Doobie: (pulls a 50 from pocket) It’s got to be the best part of the meal.

(PULL BACK, the two rise and go to leave as Waitress walks up and picks up the bill. She looks at Doobie and DC in shock, flops in seat. Doobie chuckles.)

Doobie: It get’s them every time.

(They exit.)



TRACKING toward rig, Doobie stops to study shiny red Peterbuilt ‘RED DEVIL’. DC walks several steps then stops and looks back adjusting his hat.

DC: Somethin’ on yor’ mind?

(Doobie looks at DC, glances back at Red Devil then walks on throwing his hair back over shoulder. DC gives him peculiar look as Doobie walks past Sal and turns to climb up the passenger’s side. DC walks to driver’s door, glances around suspiciously then boards truck.)



DC settles in seat then turns to Doobie pulling American Flay to one side to enter the sleeper. Doobie pauses.

Doobie: What?

DC: If you got somethin’ on yor’ mind. You need to spit it out.

Doobie: (sheepish smile) We’ve been reeling in the years way too long buddy.

DC: Yeah well—I guess time gives us a single mind. Now, what’s on that mind?

Doobie: (glances at Red Devil, shakes head) Imagination, buddy. Imagination.

(Doobie vanishes into sleeper. DC turns attention to the Red Devil.)



a) TRACKING rig as it moves out of truckstop to freeway.

b) FRAME ‘UTAH STATE LINE’ rig roars past.

c) SUPERIMPOSE TOWN over TOWN as sun rises.

d) FRAME ‘MOSCOW CITY LIMITS’ rig starts slowing while passing.

e) SHOT of rig backing up to loading dock, Moscow High School.


DC takes SHIPPING DOCUMENTS from SUPERINTENDENT as HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS close the trailer doors. DC shakes hands and then hops off dock, moves up passenger’s side, stops and stares at the Red Devil parked near the back of parking lot with engine running. DC hangs head in thought a BEAT, looks up, turns and boards rig.



Doobie sips coffee, smoking cigarette, filling out log book, glances at DC staring at Red Devil.

Doobie: You noticed my imagination.

DC:  Yeah. And uh, you got one hell of’an imagination. When did you notice?

Doobie: Right after we hit the Idaho line. The same headlights traveling in silence. I tried to kick it with them a dozen times. They never answered.

(Doobie folding up log book, crushes out smoke, picks up CD case, studies music collection. DC fills his cup then sips while studying truck.)

Doobie: (CONT’D) Back in Idaho. They parked and never never got out of the truck. That’s when when I knew. But. I couldn’t sware to it.

DC:  That explains why they pulled out of the truckstop without any lights. I saw the reflection of the lights as they crossed the highway. The left light is—

Doobie: Out of adjustment. Yeah. (stabs gear shift, releases brakes) Question is: What do we do? (moving into sleeper) We sleep on it. They can’t steal a moving target.

Doobie: So you sleep while I sweat.

(DC pauses at sleeper entrance.)

DC:  Yep. It don’t seem fair. But I’ll, uh, I’ll cut a log for you.

(DC vanishes into sleeper. Doobie releases clutch, guides truck forward while slipping CD into stereo. Sfx ROLLING STONES “WILD HORSES”.)



a) Rig leaving Moscow, Utah.

b) Doobie on CB talking.

c) FRAME SEVERAL UNKNOWN TRUCKERS responding to Doobie on CB.

d) Rig passing COLRADO STATE LINE sign on Interstate 70

e) Rig pulling off Interstate toward truckstop GRAND JUNCTION CO.

f) Doobie’s hand pulling PARKING BRAKES knobs.


Doobie leans back in seat stretching, sighs. DC exits sleeper with shower bag and change of clothes. DC sits and starts buttoning up his shirt, he already has hat on. DC glances around the parking lot till locating the Red devil in the front of the parking lot. F.g. TRUCKERS moving back and forth from trucks to truckstop building. Fuel Islands and Service Center is to one side of structure. Doobie fires up smoke, exhales, looks at Red Devil then at DC.

Doobie: I don’t believe in coincidence. Maybe we should just. You know. Lock and load then rock and roll. (slipping boot knife into boot) Because we don’t know how many of them there are. They’re running solo so far which means there could be a minimum of four in that rig.

Doobie: Which means one of us has to stay with the truck.

DC: (nods no) We keep on doing what we are doing. If they think we are on to them. They may panic and do some real stupid stuff. (folds pants leg down) We go in just like we don’t know they are there. Maybe we can draw them out. If. There is more than two. Then they have a cavalry tagging along.

Doobie: I don’t like it. I’m for kicking the show off and just getting it over—

DC: If what I’m thinkin’ don’ work, (looks at Doobie) then we’ll do it your way. Right now, we go in. I’m going to go take a shower. And you are gonna let it out that we are taking 17 North.

(Doobie jerks head around to stare at DC with wild eyes.)

Doobie: Did you bump your head back there? I’d rather we just went and hit them head on as to take 17.

DC:  Calm down. It’s nice weather. ‘Sides, I’m driving.

Doobie: What does that have to do with it? Seventeen is a horse and buggy highway as you often say. We were only stretching a 36-foot trailer axle then. In case you’ve forgot. This Great Dane is 42 foot. That’s an axle spread of 39 feet. Seventeen isn’t designed for it.

DC: (pushing door open) It isn’t designed for rigs without power steering either.

(DC climbs out with bag and clothes.)

Doobie: (speaking over seat) It is times like this that makes me wonder just where your common sense is.

(Doobie throws door open and climbs out.)



Doobie slams door, intercepts DC in front of truck.

Doobie: This is not a good plan. You said it yourself. They can’t steal it if we keep moving.

DC: And what are we going to do in Denver? I got a date. And you got a concert you want to go to. (walking on) I can ditch ‘em on 17.

Doobie: They are bobtail. We’re 42-foot long. (holds hand up, keeps walking) Trust me. I got this.

(Doobie glances around, starts walking toward truckatop mumbling, stabs hands into hip pockets b.g. Jeffrey Sims: and Clyde Adams climb out of Red Devil
and follow Doobie into building.)



Maggie: GRANT the 60-ish waitress is a veteran in the truckstop industry meaning she knows almost all long haulers by name and face, especially the flirtatious type like Doobie and the loners like DC. Maggie rushes to serve coffee to Doobie. Sims and Adams enters and sits in booth across isle from Doobie.

Maggie: Where is that no account partner of yours? He find some local rodeo to go play cowboy in?

Doobie: (flips coffee cup over) In the shower. He said somethin’ about about not wanting to face you.

Maggie: (pouring coffee) That’s best for him. Especially after he went and stood me up. You know I may be old. And I don’t expect sex on a date. But when I’m asked to dance, I do put on my spurs.

Doobie: (teasingly gives her flirtatious look) Maybe that is what scared him off. Some men have an aversion to pain.

Maggie: And you?

Doobie: I take it in stride and on the run.

(Maggie studies him aminute, sets pot down and pulls out the order pad, scribbles on it.)

Maggie: I’m not listening to you, Dabney Duboise. You make Bill Clinton look like a saint. You want the usual?

Doobie: Yeah. And put extra cheese on it. DC is fixing to take 17 North and I don’t want to take a chance on having dirty underwear when when the ambulance picks us up.

Maggie: (leans on table) Are you serious?

Doobie: (sips coffee) He’s lost his frickin’ mind. Ever since he met that gal in Cheyenne. (nods head, glances at Sims) At least he is the one behind the wheel this time.

(Maggie shaking head walks away. Doobie turns in booth, glances out window to see DC walking back out to the parking lot.)



DC walks swiftly past first row of rigs, circles around and comes up from behind the Red Devil, stops and studies the reflection in mirror. He sees no one and drops to ground, crawls under rig to engine still idling. Pulling his knife, he grabs a hydraulic line to steering pump and cuts deep enough to weaken the hose.



Maggie returns with platter, sets it down, moves to counter for coffee pot Doobie starts to take bite when he sees DC motioning him from corner of building. Doobie looks around. DC waves at him to come out. Doobie points at food. DC shakes head and waves him to come out as Maggie walks up, notices Doobie acting crazy.

Maggie: What’s wrong? To much Cheyenne pepper?

Doobie: (rises) No. I just—I left something in the truck. (pulls out bills, hands to Maggie) Go ahead and take care of the bill. (picks up plate) I’ll bring this back.

(Doobie walks out. Sims gets up, walks to window to see DC come out from behind the building.)

Sims: Damn it! They made us.

(Rushes to door with Adams following.)



a) DC and Doobie climbing into truck.

b) Sims and Adams running out.

c) DC races rig out of parking lot and back onto Int. 70.

d) Red Devil racing out of parking lot.

e) DC veers the rig off the freeway onto Highway 17 exit, turns North.

f) Red Devil is right behind them.


DC watching in mirror. Doobie eats casully, holds fork toward front of truck.

Doobie: It would help my digestive system if you would pay more attention to where we are going instead of where we have been.

DC:  Seems like our boys have gotten antsy.

Doobie: If this is your idea of giving them the slip, I’d like to be the first to inform you. It didn’t work.

DC:  (mischievous smile) I neva’ said I was gonna give ‘em the slip. I believe my exact words were, I would ditch ‘em. 

Doobie: (looks up chewing) Is there a difference?




a) AERIAL SHOT, DIMMING LIGHT, HIGHWAY 17 quickly narrows, winding sharply.

b) Doobie’s P.O.V. edge of road vanishes into rivines.

c) AERIAL SHOT, Red Devil speeding up to catch Sal Seven.

d) Sal Seven’s trailer wheels barely stay on road.

e) DC shifting gears, working steering wheel, Doobie eats.

f) DC’s P.O.V., Red Devil’s headlights after sharp curves.

g) AERIAL SHOT, lights come on on Sal Seven, RETURN TO SCENE:


Doobie continues to eat. DC continues to drive.

Doobie: You know what I hate?

DC:  I know a lot of things you hate.

(Doobie balances plate in lap, turns to DC.)

Doobie:I hate it when I order extra cheese and they don’t give it to you. (picks up toothpick, picks teeth) I mean, sometimes a man just wants a little extra cheese.

DC:  You didn’t by chance order something for me?

Doobie: Well I didn’t expect you to up and leave so fast.

DC:  (cranking wheel wildly, watching out mirror) Well I’m damn sorry I ruined your dinner plans.

AERIAL SHOT, two rigs driving wildly along the wicked road.

(Doobie is sitting hack with a cigarette, smokes casually, talks casually. DC still driving skillfully, TRUCK rocks violently.)

Doobie: You know we are probably going to buy all of these apples before you get off of this roller coaster.

DC:  We’ll buy em before we let some fools steal em.

(DC reaches up and hits radio. SFX MOE BANDY/JOE STAMPLY “WE AIN”T NOTHIN’ BUT GOOD OLE BOYS”. Doobie perks up, settles in seat, points at radio.)

DC:  Now I can dig country like that. It has a good up tempo with a real story line.

DC:  I’ve always said you should broaden your horizons. A little country has never stopped any rock from rolling.

(Doobie picks up cup, tries to drink but can’t from the rig rocking so wildly. Doobie puts the cup back in its holder.)

Doobie: Somehting tells me this is gonna be one of those trips.

DC:  Not really. We make our drop in Craig in the morning and then you can take us into Denver. (laughs as Red devil veers off road into gulley) Yeah.

(DC slows rig down to a stops staring in mirror. DC looks at Doobie.)

DC:  Like I said. This is not the kind’a road you drive without power steering.

(DC sets brakes, throws door open, exits. Doobie climbs out passenger’s side.)



DC is filling lip with Skoal snuff as Doobie arrives by his side. They peer down the blackened road, SFX DEISEL ENGINE REVVING.

Doobie: You think we should call the local pig patrol?

(DC stows snuff can into hip pocket, spits.)

DC:  Nah! They ain’ hurt. At least not physically. But I ‘spects them two is got a hell of a bruised ego.

(DC turns and moves up driver’s side. Doobie flicks cigarette butt at noise.)

Doobie: Gawd, I love a good show!

(Doobie starts walking along passenger’s side. DC starts driving off. Doobie runs, jumps on running board, opens door.)

Doobie: Oh, now you want to play.

DC:  (smiles, looks at Doobie) You forgot to get my egg and muffins. 

(Doobie slams door, settles back, picks up plate with half eaten meal and holds it out to him.)



DC is alone in cab, Doobie is in sleeper, SFX STEVE WARNER “ALL ROADS LEAD TO YOU”. SFX CS RADIO CALL

Caller: Redman this is Metal Mutt. Do you copy?

(DC’s P.O.V. as headlights come upon two new pickups, one on each side of the road. Four men step out of trucks and face the approaching rig two to each side. DC shifts into a higher gear and floors the pedals blows past the two pickups. SHOT MIRROR REFLECTION of the lights coming on on each truck and racing down road.)



PAN packed PARKING LOT with CONCERT GOERS moving energeticly toward the doors. FRAME Convention Center signs “MARSHAL TUCKER: LIVE”. Sal Seven passes below sign into parking lot, stops at gate, recieves parking ticket, proceeds to outer edge of parking lot, b.g. DENVER SKYLINE. Doobie hops out of driver’s side, slips sunglasses on and moves toward the entrance.



FRAME an old pickup pulling up driven by Caitlin Meadows, age 30, platinum blond, western type. DC pulls door open, kisses Caitlin giggles, slides over to let DC drive.


Doobie walks along a long line of FANS waiting to get in. He stops and looks at three girls: Teresa, age 24, Amanda, age 26, Patricia, age 24, walks over to them, drives off.


Doobie: I got a problem that you three might be able to help me with.

Amanda: We have tickets.

(Doobie pulls out four tickets, holds them up.)

Doobie: Do they have back stage passes?

(All three exchange looks, step out of line and join Doobie. They walk on. DISOLVE to actual concert SPFX LIVE, MARSHAL TUCKER BAND playing “FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN”.)



SHOT of DENVER SKYLIGHTS as DC and Caitlin on horse back come to a stop on a bluff overlooking Denver. They climb off of horses, spread a blanket, and pop open a saddle bag full of iced-down Michelob Light.

Caitlin: I wonder if Doobie is having as much fun as we are?

(They sit side by side looking down at Denver.)

DC: Oh I ‘spects he is. In his dubious sort of way.

(Caitlin giggles. DC holds up bottle for toast.)

DC: You’re the best part of Denver.

(Caitlin sips beer then sets bottle down and moves in on DC.)



Doobie and GIRLS are center stage, dancing wildly. FIREWORKS EXPLODE on stage with music cues to song. SOLAR-IZE to Sunday evening.


FRAME entrance of truckstop as DC and Doobie walk out. TRACKING, they move to their truck.


Doobie: You okay?

(DC nods.)

Doobie: It must be tough. Having feelings for so many women and unable to settle on just one.

DC: As if it’s any of your business.

(The two split, Doobie goes to passenger’s side, DC is driving.)


Both close doors. DC picks up log book and scratches a line on it, closes it. Doobie kicks feet up on dash, pulls cigarettes out, and lights one. Sfx CB RADIO, sfx GEORGE STRAIT “AMARILLO BY NORNING”. DC shifts gears, releses brakes, starts to pull out.

Doobie: Man this is such a drag. You catch a few hours of R and R with a friend and like. The world is—

DC: I’m not low. I’m just holding on to the moments.

Doobie: You got to loosen up dude. You take things so serious. Love is cool. But it’s also free.

(SILENT BEAT as DC guides truck onto Int. 70. Doobie fills coffee cups with thurmous, stows thurrnous then grabs cup and sits back.)

DC: You don’t ever look back at those times that made life worthwhile.

Doobie: Life is worthwhile everyday man. The trick is to know what makes it worth while to you. (sips coffee) Me? I get a kick out of walking down a long line of concert fans and smelling out those little people who are trying to enjoy life as best they can and getting screwed in the process. Promoters sell tickets so far away from the stage, you need a cable TV station just to see the band.

(SILENT BEAT Doobie smokes. DC pulls snuff out and fills his lip, stows can then spits in a Skoal spitoon.)

DC:  Caitlin is one of those real special gals. She’s got money. Daddy’s money. But it’s money. She spends most of it just helping people out in Denver.

(Doobie crushes out smoke, downs coffee, eyes the setting sun in mirror.)

(SILENT BEAT, DISSOLVE TO LATER, darkness, Doobie wakes up, glances at DC illuminated by dash lights and oncoming traffic’s headlights. Doobie turns in seat and moves into sleeper, stops at flag, eyes DC.)

Doobie: Just so you know. I heard what you said earlier. And whatever you think we should do, I’m game.

(DC looks over shoulder.)

DC:  I know.

(DC vanishes into sleeper. DC adjust radio to BILL MACK’S ALL NIGHT RADIO SHOW.)



The sleeper is a cozy little nook with a refrigerator, TV with VCR, closets set to each side behind cab, the upholstery is burgundy leather, tucked around a single bunk with an overhead cabinet. PICTURE FRAMES of both DC and Doobie’s families are anchored on the night stands. DC opens his own CD music case and pulls out a CD, plugs it in, lays back on bunk, lights a cigarette, sfx BOB SEGAR “TURN THE PAGE” begins, he goes to sleep. RETURN TO SCENE;


DC yawns, stretches, adjust grip on steering wheel, tinkers with radio a BEAT, eyes a fire ahead in a field. As he grows closer, he starts downshifting until almost to five when he locks up the brakes. Doobie comes rushing out of sleeper as DC throws truck door open.

Doobie: What the—

DC:  There’s a man hurt over there I just saw fall.

(DC jumps out of truck with fire extinguisher. Doobie grabs CB MIKE flips the station to CHANNEL NINE.)

Doobie: Breaker nine. Breaker nine. Calling for all emergency personnel. Breaker nine. Breaker nine. Is anyone picking up this call?

Voice: I read you, caller. Where are you located and what is the emergency?