Smokey and the Bandit Page #2

Dickey is in his early twenties. Blonde, blue-eyed and scared

to death of his old man.

Bandit looks at them for a moment, then casually pulls the

hat back over his face.

KYLE:

Aw, ain't you glad to see me, Bandit?

BANDIT:

(hat over his face)

Yeah, it's the highlight of my day.

There's a long pause interrupted by Kyle's hacking cough.

KYLE:

(to Dickey)

What's he get if he wins here?

BANDIT:

(hat over his face)

If...?

DICKEY:

Five thou.

KYLE:

Chickenshit money.

Kyle coughs again.

BANDIT:

(hat over his face)

Could you turn your head?

Bandit gets up and begins untying the hammock from the tree.

Kyle crosses to him.

BANDIT:

Look, Kyle; I ain't in this Truck

Roadeo for the money. It's the

challenge. You know, the ecstasy of

victory, the agony of defeat.

Kyle looks out at the cheering crowd.

KYLE:

I can't believe there's two thousand

people here to watch a bunch of guys

back up their trucks.

BANDIT:

America's bored.

(then)

Now, what do you want?

KYLE:

You to forget this dumbass Roadeo

and take on a real challenge.

As Bandit turns to him, we:

CUT TO:

BANDIT'S TRUCK - DAY

Bandit, wearing aviator shades and his cowboy hat, is backing

the truck up and shouting down to Kyle and Dickey on the

ground.

BANDIT:

You're crazy, man. Smart dresser,

but crazy.

KYLE:

What's the matter? Legend has it

Bandit LaRue's king of the road.

BANDIT:

I can make it to Texarkana and back

in twenty-eight hours... that's no

sweat.

DICKEY:

It ain't ever been done before, hot

sh*t.

BANDIT:

(smiles at Dickey,

then)

See, running Coors Beer east of Texas

is what bothers me. It makes me a

bootlegger.

KYLE:

I hear a few weeks ago you smuggled

sixteen Beaners up to West Virginia.

BANDIT:

You know how rumors start.

DICKEY:

I think you're just yellow.

BANDIT:

Wonderful psychology. Why don't you

say something about my mom?

(then)

Excuse me.

Bandit drives toward the starting line for another event.

Kyle and Dickey run alongside.

KYLE:

(coughs, then)

Look, you make this little run for

me, I'll buy you a new rig.

BANDIT:

(indicating truck)

Last year, this was a new rig.

KYLE:

But it wasn't a Kenworth.

Dickey turns to his father, stunned, as Bandit stops the

truck.

DICKEY:

(sotto)

Pop, a K-Whopper's worth seventy

thou.

BANDIT:

(correcting)

Seventy-two five.

(then)

Why do you want this barley pop so

bad?

DICKEY:

He's thirsty.

Bandit smiles at Dickey again.

KYLE:

I got a boy running in the Peach

Tree Classic tomorrow and when he

wins, I wanna celebrate in style.

BANDIT:

How much style?

KYLE:

Four hundred cases worth.

(a long pause)

Well?

BANDIT:

(a beat)

You paying for the gas?

Kyle smiles that unwinning smile and takes out a huge wad of

bills, as we:

CUT TO:

GEORGIA COUNTRYSIDE - DAY

Picturesque. Bandit's eighteen-wheeler rolling down the

Georgia highway, past lush green meadows and endless acres

of pines.

Over this:

A WOMAN'S VOICE

Whaddya mean, we're not going to the

show tonight?

INSIDE THE TRUCK (DIALOGUE OVERLAPS)

And for the first time, we get a real look inside the rig.

It's quite a set-up. The opposite of the outside. Home on

the road.

Sheepskin over the two front seats, a poster of Raquel Welch

in a bikini tacked above the windshield, under which is a

bumper sticker reading: "Do It For Truckers." On the dash

board, a St. Christopher medal and a chattering skull. Also,

a stereo tape deck and the best Citizens Band Radio outfit

money can buy.

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