by Tom Molnar

How about if we ride along with Duke today; see what he sees, hear what he hears, and even tap into his thoughts regarding all the above?

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Duke is coming up the on-ramp to the freeway. He glances in his mirror, sees some cars back there and thinks, "All right you guys, start moving over. Here comes the Duke and I ain't gonna be stoppin' at the end of the ramp so YOU can get by. C'mon, c'mon, let's go!" Duke's truck intimidates the folks and he slides into the slow lane - grinning.

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As Duke is motoring along, a huge bug 'splats' on his windshield right in his line of sight.

"Aw man! Wouldn't you know it! Right where I look, there it is."

Now he's constantly moving his head back and forth, trying to look around, above, below, anywhere else but at the bug. It's right there! Pretty soon he finds a use for this 'splat'. It's an aiming device for his .50 caliber machine gun, mounted somewhere on the front of his truck. He sees some old beater car on the shoulder up ahead. Hood up, people standing around, one guy's butt almost sticking out into the moving lane of traffic as he bends under the hood looking for the trouble.

"Look at these morons", Duke says out loud. "They'll be dead before the end of the day if they keep this up. Here, let me help".

Duke lines the car up with his new 'Target Acquisition Device' and unleashes a barrage of firepower.

"Budda budda budda budda budda. Yeah, you better run", he says as he strafes the offending vehicle and its occupants. Duke moves his head back and forth panning with his 'TAD' to make sure he 'covers' the entire situation with plenty of fire.

Duke zooms by, checking his right mirror as if to see what damage he's done.

"You guys are lucky this time", he says. "Don't be there when I come back. Ya got three hours to get outta Dodge...."

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Duke pulls down his sun visor and looks into the vanity mirror he attached there. He adjusts it up and down to get a full picture of himself. "Looking good", he thinks. Wait, there's a hair out of place in his mustache. Uh oh..... He wets his index finger and begins to stroke the offending hair.

"C'mon, c'mon, what's with this thing?", Duke says as he spends more time looking in the mirror than looking out the window. The offending hair will NOT lay down. Duke wets his finger time after time and still, that damned hair WILL NOT lay down. He reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves a chap stick, strokes it on the hair a couple times, and then rubs it in. Occasionally Duke looks out the window to make sure he's at least on the pavement. He checks the side mirror to see if anyone is coming up from the rear. No one there. Good, it doesn't matter if he drifts from lane to lane while tending to this 'important' work. Back to the job at hand. Duke pulls out his special mustache comb, a teeny tiny thing, and strokes and strokes the mustache.

"DAMN!"

Minutes go by. Duke probably looks like a drunk to someone following, though luckily no one is, as he drifts back and forth across the two lanes, spending way more time in his vanity mirror than looking out in front of him. He still occasionally 'checks six' to make sure no one is in the 'danger zone'.

"That's it! I've had enough! THAT'S IT!!"

Duke pulls off onto the shoulder of the road, not even putting his four-ways on. He mashes the brake pedal to the floor, just shy of locking up. As the big truck comes to a halt, Duke is reaching for his McGiever knife (a.k.a. Swiss Army knife). He opens up the scissors accessory, gets real close to the mirror, and "SNIP", ends the fight right there. A couple extra hairs fall as well, but the major offender is gone. Duke turns his head back and forth, checking his new appearance in the mirror. Every hair is in place. No wild ones sticking out anywhere. All right!

The CB chirps up... "Ya'll right there, eastbound?", the gruff voice asks.

Another big truck zooms by in the hammer lane, creating a wind blast that rocks Duke's truck. It catches Duke off guard for a second, having immersed himself in this battle. He looks around and regroups his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine", he says. "I uh, I just had to draw a line and drain some coffee", he tells the other driver.

Duke folds up the knife, puts the truck in gear, and still checking himself out in the mirror, puts his truck back into forward motion.

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Duke once again pulls down his vanity mirror and checks out his appearance. He sees the mirrored sun glasses polished to perfection, almost giving him a 'fun house' mirror effect, because he also sees himself again in the mirror(s) of his sunglasses. He adjusts his cowboy hat down just a 'chinch' to give him just a bit more "cool". There's something missing. What could it be? His shirt is open three buttons down, with just the right amount of chest hair showing. He just shaved this morning. No nose hairs showing. What is it?

"Ah ha!"

Duke reaches over to his attaché case and pulls out his polished leather three cigar mini-humidor. Since everyone is getting into cigar smoking these days, it is only natural that Duke follow suit. And of course, there's none of this "El Producto" or "White Owl" crap for Duke. No sir. He's been reading magazines like "Cigar Aficionado" and "Smoke" so he can converse with knowledge and authority with anyone who will listen (which to date, has been no one...) Last time he was home, he stopped by the local 'tobacconist' and bought three "Sancho Panza" Coronas, at a moderate cost of $13 each. Moderate to Duke, that is, who is forever in pursuit of the best of everything. Bragging rights are what Duke is after. What matter the cost?

Duke 'checks six', then pulls out his cigar clipper, a guillotine looking affair, and tries to gently clip off just the right amount of tip. It's tough when you're bouncing along the road like this.

"Damn!" Duke clips the tip at an angle. He tries to even it off by taking a second try.

"Damn!" Now he's clipped too much. Well, too late now. He just has to smoke it the way it is. Who'll know the difference?

He takes out his official cigar lighter (not to be confused with a run-of-the-mill cigarette lighter) and fires up the smoke. If he was parked somewhere where people could see him, he'd be lighting it with slim sticks of cedar wood that he would light with the lighter. Duke has all the appurtenances necessary for 'show off' cigar smoking.

Duke finds himself almost on the left shoulder as he drifts back and forth while trying to light his Corona. He quickly 'checks six', finds to his luck there's no one there (whew!), and finally takes a full puff on his now lit stogie.

"Man, this is living", he says out loud. He cracks his window so the smoke, which quickly wafts throughout his truck, gets sucked out. Looking in his mirror, he sees two things. One is the steady flow of cigar smoke streaming rearward, and the second is a car slowly beginning to overtake him. Duke squints and sees it's two women in a Mercedes. Whoa - gotta get ready for this!

Duke momentarily pulls down his vanity mirror, checks everything quickly, and pops it back up. He makes sure he's staying in his lane, checks the side mirror, looks forward again, checks the mirror, and finally as the women come up to his door, he's ready for the meeting.

The lady in the passenger seat glances up in Duke's direction. Duke is ready. He's looking right at her, cigar in his mouth, smoke swirling up and over his slightly opened window. He tips his hat to her and offers up one of his best 'grins'. The cigar is held between his teeth as the smile erupts.

The woman puts her hand over her mouth and quickly turns toward the driver of the car - in obvious laughter. She's never seen anything like it.....

Meantime, Duke is totally satisfied he's impressed the hell out of her and is convinced she's now telling her companion how cool this truck driver is.

The car slowly disappears into the horizon - and Duke makes ready for the next audience.