35,000 pounds of explosives

[IDBillzFan]

I know you think 35,000 pounds of explosives is bad, but the worst really came from a classic song from Harry Chapin. It's actually based on a true story of a truck driver hauling bananas into Scranton, PA, and lost control of his truck while driving down Moosic Street . The driver was planning to make a stop at the local A&P when the crash took place, and word was that the widow of the driver asked Harry not to perform the song when he had a concert there. (And he honored her request, of course.)

 

A classic Chapin tune. I bold-faced my favorite part.

 

It was just after dark when the truck started down

the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.

Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He was a young driver,

just out on his second job.

And he was carrying the next day's pasty fruits

for everyone in that coal-scarred city

where children play without despair

in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day

about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He passed a sign that he should have seen,

saying "shift to low gear, or a fifty dollar fine my friend."

He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman

who was waiting at the journey's end.

He started down the two mile drop,

the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.

He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.

Just a few more miles to go,

then he'd go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.

and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He was picking up speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.

But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights

delights went through him.

His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.

But the pedal floored easy without a sound.

He said "Christ!"

It was funny how he named the only man who could save him now.

He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,

riding on his fear-hunched back

was every one of those yellow green

I'm telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.

And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.

And he said "God, make it a dream!"

as he rode his last ride down.

And he said "God, make it a dream!"

as he rode his last ride down.

And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,

clipped off thirteen telephone poles,

hit two houses, bruised eight trees,

and Blue-Crossed seven people.

it was then he lost his head,

not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.

And he slid for four hundred yards

along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.

All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

[Gavin in Va Beach]

I know you think 35,000 pounds of explosives is bad, but the worst really came from a classic song from Harry Chapin. It's actually based on a true story of a truck driver hauling bananas into Scranton, PA, and lost control of his truck while driving down Moosic Street . The driver was planning to make a stop at the local A&P when the crash took place, and word was that the widow of the driver asked Harry not to perform the song when he had a concert there. (And he honored her request, of course.)

 

A classic Chapin tune. I bold-faced my favorite part.

 

It was just after dark when the truck started down

the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.

Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He was a young driver,

just out on his second job.

And he was carrying the next day's pasty fruits

for everyone in that coal-scarred city

where children play without despair

in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day

about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He passed a sign that he should have seen,

saying "shift to low gear, or a fifty dollar fine my friend."

He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman

who was waiting at the journey's end.

He started down the two mile drop,

the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.

He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.

Just a few more miles to go,

then he'd go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.

and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He was picking up speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.

But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights

delights went through him.

His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.

But the pedal floored easy without a sound.

He said "Christ!"

It was funny how he named the only man who could save him now.

He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,

riding on his fear-hunched back

was every one of those yellow green

I'm telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

 

He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.

And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.

And he said "God, make it a dream!"

as he rode his last ride down.

And he said "God, make it a dream!"

as he rode his last ride down.

And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,

clipped off thirteen telephone poles,

hit two houses, bruised eight trees,

and Blue-Crossed seven people.

it was then he lost his head,

not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.

And he slid for four hundred yards

along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.

All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

404984[/snapback]

 

I'll see your Harry Chapin banana song and raise you a Gordon Lightfoot iron ore hauling song...

 

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the skies of November turn gloomy.

 

With a load of iron ore - 26,000 tons more

Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty

That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed

When the gales of November came early

 

The ship was the pride of the American side

Coming back from some mill in Wisconson

As the big freighters go it was bigger than most

With a crew and the Captain well seasoned.

 

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms

When they left fully loaded for Cleveland

And later that night when the ships bell rang

Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.

 

The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound

And a wave broke over the railing

And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,

T'was the witch of November come stealing.

 

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait

When the gales of November came slashing

When afternoon came it was freezing rain

In the face of a hurricane West Wind

 

When supper time came the old cook came on deck

Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya

At 7PM a main hatchway caved in

He said fellas it's been good to know ya.

 

The Captain wired in he had water coming in

And the good ship and crew was in peril

And later that night when his lights went out of sight

Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

 

Does anyone know where the love of God goes

When the words turn the minutes to hours

The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay

If they'd fifteen more miles behind her.

 

They might have split up or they might have capsized

They may have broke deep and took water

And all that remains is the faces and the names

Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

 

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings

In the ruins of her ice water mansion

Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams,

The islands and bays are for sportsmen.

 

And farther below Lake Ontario

Takes in what Lake Erie can send her

And the iron boats go as the mariners all know

With the gales of November remembered.

 

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed

In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral

The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

 

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee

Superior, they say, never gives up her dead

When the gales of November come early.

[IDBillzFan]

I'll see your Harry Chapin banana song and raise you a Gordon Lightfoot iron ore hauling song...

 

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the skies of November turn gloomy.

 

With a load of iron ore - 26,000 tons more

Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty

That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed

When the gales of November came early

 

The ship was the pride of the American side

Coming back from some mill in Wisconson

As the big freighters go it was bigger than most

With a crew and the Captain well seasoned.

 

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms

When they left fully loaded for Cleveland

And later that night when the ships bell rang

Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.

 

The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound

And a wave broke over the railing

And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,

T'was the witch of November come stealing.

 

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait

When the gales of November came slashing

When afternoon came it was freezing rain

In the face of a hurricane West Wind

 

When supper time came the old cook came on deck

Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya

At 7PM a main hatchway caved in

He said fellas it's been good to know ya.

 

The Captain wired in he had water coming in

And the good ship and crew was in peril

And later that night when his lights went out of sight

Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

 

Does anyone know where the love of God goes

When the words turn the minutes to hours

The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay

If they'd fifteen more miles behind her.

 

They might have split up or they might have capsized

They may have broke deep and took water

And all that remains is the faces and the names

Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

 

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings

In the ruins of her ice water mansion

Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams,

The islands and bays are for sportsmen.

 

And farther below Lake Ontario

Takes in what Lake Erie can send her

And the iron boats go as the mariners all know

With the gales of November remembered.

 

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed

In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral

The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

 

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee

Superior, they say, never gives up her dead

When the gales of November come early.

404989[/snapback]

 

Outstanding! I will now see your Gordon Lightfoot haulin' ore song and raise you one Little Feat truck-driving drug tune.

 

I been warped by the rain, driven by the snow

I'm drunk and dirty don't ya know, and I'm still, willin'

Out on the road late at night, Seen my pretty Alice in every head light

Alice, Dallas Alice

 

I've been from Tuscon to Tucumcari

Tehachapi to Tonapah

Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made

Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed

And if you give me: weed, whites, and wine

and you show me a sign

I'll be willin', to be movin'

 

I've been kicked by the wind, robbed by the sleet

Had my head stoved in, but I'm still on my feet and I'm still... willin'

Now I smuggled some smokes and folks from Mexico

baked by the sun, every time I go to Mexico, and I'm still

 

And I been from Tuscon to Tucumcari

Tehachapi to Tonapah

Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made

Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed

And if you give me: weed, whites, and wine

and you show me a sign

I'll be willin', to be movin

[Dan III]

I'll see your Harry Chapin banana song and raise you a Gordon Lightfoot iron ore hauling song...

404989[/snapback]

Is this a battle of overly effeminate acoustic guitar players??

[IDBillzFan]

Is this a battle of overly effeminate acoustic guitar players??

405008[/snapback]

Now I can't speak about Gordon Lightfoot (or would that be Lightfeet?), but I can tell you that Harry Chapin raised millions and millions of dollars to feed starving children all over the world.

 

He was a giver, and dare I say...he changed the world.

[jarthur31]

Now I can't speak about Gordon Lightfoot (or would that be Lightfeet?), but I can tell you that Harry Chapin raised millions and millions of dollars to feed starving children all over the world.

 

He was a giver, and dare I say...he changed the world.

405010[/snapback]

 

You mean like Sally Struthers? Did he also partake of the donated sacks of flour?

[stuckincincy]

Now I can't speak about Gordon Lightfoot (or would that be Lightfeet?), but I can tell you that Harry Chapin raised millions and millions of dollars to feed starving children all over the world.

 

He was a giver, and dare I say...he changed the world.

405010[/snapback]

 

He was a remarkable songwriter. Car crash, wasn't it?

[VABills]

He was a remarkable songwriter.  Car crash, wasn't it?

405123[/snapback]

He caught Brett Favre walking on the side of the road with cut off shorts, no shirt and a red hat and so enamored he lost control.

[Ghost of BiB]

He was a remarkable songwriter.  Car crash, wasn't it?

405123[/snapback]

 

Run over driving a VW by a semi on the Thruway.

[stuckincincy]

Run over driving a VW by a semi on the Thruway.

405127[/snapback]

 

Ah, yes - a Rabbit.

[Terry Tate]

I remember back when I was in 2nd grade, a couple miles from my house a truck from the local quarry overheated and caught fire...as people started to approach to help, the driver jumped out and started shouting "Run!  I'm carrying dynamite!" or such.  Truck did eventually blow itself to hell...but the thing that amazes me, thinking back, is that people actually DID run from it.  Nowadays, you'd get a bunch of yahoos pulling out lawn chairs to watch the show, thinking they're safe because no one ever gets hurt by explosions on TV...

That truck blew up at the quarry off Wherle Drive about 1000ft away from my house on Connection. I think it was full of blasting caps. It was heard up to 30 miles away. That'll wake you up first thing in the morning.