CB Radio Man

I’m parked at the jetty. Fog is invading. An old man in a big green truck is parked to my right. He’s got white hair, white sideburns and a white goatee. He’s wearing a black ball cap and smoking. His window is rolled down. He’s talking on a CB radio. I know that because I remember listening to someone else on CB radio around 45 years ago, in their Burt Reynolds heyday.

I crack my passenger window to listen better. I want to know what this man is talking about.

Ospreys fly overhead. Fishing boats bob in the river channel.

059 605 he squawks

He’s talking to someone near the Canadian border.

Then he’s talking to another man about their various radio setups.

059 605 he squawks

Now he’s on to the weather.

I want to hear something interesting. This is all so banal.

I spot an osprey with an eel in its talons. Now that’s much more interesting than CB chatter. I decide to brave the wind and go build a fort.