Smokey and the Bandit

How the Clam Chowder bet came through

Chapter 1

It was 1977 when a man named Big Enos Burdette and his son Little Enos bet a hotshot named Bo Darville to run up to Texarkana, Texas with his pal Cledus Snow to make an $80,000 illegal beer run back to Atlanta, Georgia in 28 hours. It was a treacherous run, and at the end of it all; Big and Little Enos bet double or nothing to go to Boston to pick up some clam chowder, only in 18 hours this time. This tale is called Smokey and the Bandit. What happened to the clam chowder run that should've been in Smokey and the Bandit II? Here's the story….

Well, hello there. My name is Bandit Darville. You're probably wondering why I'm talking to you this very minute, well you can stop wondering. I'm just here to tell you about a double or nothin' run to Boston that me and my two colleagues Cledus and Carrie made in 18 hours flat. Well, here I go. We were just exiting the fairgrounds with Sheriff Buford T. Justice of Texas himself hot on our tail. Of course, he didn't get very far since his car was beat to heck. We lost him but shortly after he switched vehicles, he was on our tail once more. I wasn't going to outrun him in this thing. This Cadillac is built for beauty, not speed. We pulled over up ahead and switched our rides. I picked up a 1978 Trans Am Special Edition from a used car lot, and we were on our way again.

"Hey uh, Bandit? Mind if I ask a little bitty question?" Asked Cledus. I replied yes, and it wasn't as "little bitty" as I thought. This question threw off the whole plan of retrieving the chowder.

"How much clam chowder are we supposed to pick up for these dudes?" He asked curiously.

I realized this big old boat had a car phone in it. Boat is another word for a long car like a Cadillac. I called up the boys, and they kindly accepted my call without any hassle.

"Daddy, I knew we shouldn't have made that bet with that Mr. Bandit sum bitch! I knew he would start asking questions. What if he calls off the whole bet?" The shrimp, Little Enos, said anxiously.

"Don't worry, son. I got it all planned out." He exclaimed, as he talked into the phone to me again.

"Mr. Bandit; you are required to pick up 2,000 pounds of clam chowder to bring back to me and my son here…unless you're just a little bit chicken!"

The word "chicken" struck me as "oh well you're too stupid and ugly to do anything", which is what "chicken" to Big Enos means. I told him off over the phone, angrily. He just hesitated to say another word, hung up the phone, and laughed to his little "fun-sized" son. I then knew what we had to do. We had to buy ourselves a new rig. How would that work? We barely had the money for a Trans Am; I had to sell off the Enos's car.

"Hey Cledus, how are we goin' to afford a rig? We barely had enough for the…..whoa! Look over there, son!"

There it was, a free 18 Wheeler on the side of the road. It was a blue Peterbilt 359 with an extended cab and a blue trailer. It was gorgeous. We accepted it, and found an old CB radio that we cleaned up, and the Bandit and the Snowman were back business!