Our driver was an outrageously camp fellow from Florence.
That’s Florence, Alabama, by the way.
He used to amuse himself by baiting and flirting with macho truck drivers over the CB radio.
Given that we were often the only such tour bus on most stretches of highway, I thought that there was a good chance we might pull in to refuel and find a lynching party of hostile truckers lying in wait for him and “the horny buffalo”—gay prostitutes he had claimed were his passengers.
We were initially innocent of what this term actually meant, but we definitely didn’t think it was a good idea for his CB handle to be “The Cocaine Kid.” Eventually, we prevailed on him to change it to something more discreet.
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