Paddlefoot

As I got into the car on a Saturday morning,
I chanced to turn the CB radio on,
When I heard a female voice asking local information
About how to find a particular place in town.
When no one answered her, I knew that I must try;
Though in a hurry, I somehow couldn’t count the cost,
For I realized I’d been there once myself;
I know how it feels to be lost.

I know how it feels to be lost,
I know how it feels to be lost,
I know how it feels to be lost,
I know how it feels to be lost.

So I spoke into the mic and I asked her location,
And I told her to stay where she was for a while,
And I started off on my mission of mercy
With a hurried and worried smile.
But I’m so bad at giving directions,
I had her head just spinnin’ around;
So instead I led her to her destination.
I know how it feels to be found.

I know how it feels to be found,
I know how it feels to be found,
I know how it feels to be found,
I know how it feels to be found.

About this Song:
Many of you–maybe most–are too young to remember the Citizens Band radio craze that was popular during the early seventies, but it seemed like everyone had a CB radio in the car; many people also had a base station at home. Not only did these radios provide a great means of communication during those days before cell phones, they also provided a wonderful social outlet for many of its users.

My wife of the time and I were among the CB crazies, and we took it seriously. So it’s not surprising that I would have turned the car CB on when we started out to breakfast one Saturday morning. We were living in Easton, Maryland, at the time.

A lady trucker who identified herself by the handle Paddlefoot was on her way from Atlanta–or at least she was from Atlanta–to Waverly Press there in Easton. I knew where it was, but I couldn’t think to tell her over the air, so I found out where she was and asked her to stay there since we were just a couple of minutes away.

I’m a whole lot better at putting things in writing than I am using spoken words, and my attempts to tell Paddlefoot how to reach Waverly Press in an eighteen-wheeler were getting worse and worse. I finally just told her to follow me. We led her there without any problems.

My wife had a pamphlet of Scriptures from Christian Women’s Club in her purse, which she gave to Paddlefoot in an effort to explain why we had gone out of our way to help her.

This song was a lot of fun to do way back then, but with CB radio being so passe, it would be almost meaningless now–even with all the explanation I’m giving you. Nonetheless, I thought I’d share it today because it tells a good story and teaches a good lesson.

Free lead sheets (lyrics, tune, and chords) are available for many of my songs. Click on the Lead Sheets tab at the top of this page to see whether one is available for this song. Videos for many of my songs, some recorded at home and some at our church’s nursing home ministry, can be accessed at my website, RogerBruner.com, under the Listen tab.

Look for me again next Wednesday. Better still, subscribe to receive these weekly posts by email.

Best regards,
Roger

Links you might be interested in:

About Roger E. Bruner

Seventy-four-year-old Roger E. Bruner is the author and publisher of eighteen Christian novels and the writer of more than two hundred Christian songs and choruses, a handful of musical dramas, and a number of shorter works. He sings, plays guitar and bass, and records his original songs in his home studio. He will be active in his church's nursing home ministry again when circumstances permit and in the church choir when it starts up again. In the meantime he'll keep playing bass on the praise team. Married for seventeen years to Kathleen, he has one grown daughter. Kathleen has two. Roger enjoys reading, moderate exercise, photography and book cover design (he's done all of his own except for Rosa No-Name), playing Snood, making walking sticks, and complaining about the state of the nation while continuing to pray for it.
This entry was posted in Atlanta, CB Radio, Lady Trucker, Paddlefoot and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.