The Bandit is Gone . . . And Not Just That

Guest Post by Eric Peters

Burt Reynolds is gone and with him a different America.

He was in his early 40s when Smokey and the Bandit appeared back in 1977 – at first, regionally. The flick was meant for Southern audiences but grabbed traction and quickly became a national sensation on par with Jaws and Star Wars in terms not only of the money it made but the effect it had on an entire generation of Americans.

Me among them.

I was just a kid, years away from being even big enough to drive let alone legally drive but when I saw that movie I knew I wanted to drive.

And what.

The what being a Pontiac Trans Am, like the one Burt drove in the movie. A speedy car – purchased by Burt’s character to clear a path for the big rig full of “bootleg” Coors beer that he bet Big Enos Burdette $80,000 he and his partner (played by Jerry Reed) could drive down to Texarkana, TX to pick up and then drive back to Atlanta with in 28 hours . . .  by any means necessary.

What follows is 90 minutes of gear-jamming, cop-flummoxing, tire-squealing, sideways-driving that would almost certainly be considered “terrorism” today.

The Bandit broke every speed law on the books, magnificently. The heroic Trans-Am jumped bridges, assaulted the  asphalt and made armed government workers look like the inept and greedy fools everyone knew them to be.

Jackie Gleason’s Buford T. Justice is both an oaf and a bully but in those bygone days, affronting his Authority – as the Bandit did, serially, across several state lines – was not a capital offense.

Buford T. Justice points his finger – but never his gun – at the Bandit. He did not squeal about his saaaaaaafety. Wasn’t all Hut! Hut! Hutted! up in tacticool gear, either. Had he actually caught up with the Bandit, the worst that would have happened to him would have been a really big ticket.

It was all good fun and it reflected the America of that time. Which was the time of the Drive 55 National Maximum Speed Limit, imposed by Richard Nixon ostensibly as a fuel conservation measure (to combat the “energy crisis” of the early-mid 1970s) but which was enforced as an offense against saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaafety, notwithstanding that faster speeds (most highways had previously been posted 70-75) had been legal and one presumes also saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaafe.

The NMSL codified the cynicism of speed enforcement; everyone knew it was the American equivalent of the Mexican mordita – the bribe you give Mexican cops to leave you alone – but without the honesty. A Mexican cop will leave you alone after you give him $20 but an American one wants more than just your money. He is an unofficial agent of the insurance mafia, for one – and of course also a kind of second-tier tax collector for the state. He usually won’t directly take your money; that would be far too above-board.

Instead, he will pretend he is performing some sort of public service by mulcting you.

Audiences in ’77 got this. The Bandit was the hero of the movie; everyone was rooting for him. If someone had whined that his driving was “reckless” or “unsafe,” they’d have received a beating, probably. Nobody buckled up unless they felt like it. They didn’t have to worry about being harassed and collected if they didn’t feel like it. The black and gold Trans-Am lacked air bags but had tire-frying style.

A better America existed then.

One which Burt gave expression to, mirrored. An America which is – tragically – long gone. Today’s America gave a North Korean-style send-off to a goitered warmongering career criminal who did more harm to this country and its people (leaving aside the harm done to other countries and their people) than all of Burt’s burnouts could ever have done.

Today’s uglified America hardly deigned to notice Burt’s passing.

It is a reflection of the sickness of this America.

Burt spent a lifetime entertaining people, not hurting them. He earned money – as opposed to using force to take it from people. He was, according to most accounts, a mensch. A good dude. He sure as hell knew how to show us all how to have a good time.

He’ll be missed – by those who remember.

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Paul Griffin
Paul Griffin

I got your message and I felt the same way when I heard of his passing- end of an era, end of manliness and only a few of us see it for what is and give a damn. Great article!!!! Thanks !!!!

starfcker
starfcker

The funny thing is those Trans Ams weren’t fast at all by today’s standards. They only made about 200 horsepower at the crank. Zero to 60 was about 9 seconds. Today’s Ford Focus RS does that in four and a half seconds. But they were beautiful, and we were jealous of the kids at our high school that had them. I will miss Burt Reynolds more than John McCain, no question about that. Nice tribute, Eric

LibertyToad
LibertyToad

My brother had a 77 exactly like the one in the photo. It wasn’t very fast, but it was a fun car.

Maggie
Maggie

The daughter of one of the big farmer families (thousands of acres instead of a hundred acres) was 12 or 13 when Smokey and the Bandit came out. Her father bought her that Transam and it sat in their barn/equipment shed until she was 16. She was one lucky (and spoiled) young lady, but what an awesome car!

tsquared
tsquared

Stock it was 200hp, but cut out the cats, change out the cam, port the heads for the intake and headers, and rejet the quadrajet and you were at 400HP. If you were handy with tools this could all be done for less than $350. I had a 78 Firebird Esprit with the 400 that I did the performance upgrades. At wide open throttle it shifted 1st to 2nd at 50ish mph laying rubber, and 2nd to 3rd at 100ish mph. It was a fun car that ran a high 12 – low 13 second quarter mile in the 110-115mph range depending on how good the tires were and atmospheric conditions.

22winmag - Hug a Nazi, punch a Socialist!
22winmag - Hug a Nazi, punch a Socialist!

Didn’t ROCKFORD drive an early Esprit?

Angel Martin
Angel Martin

He sure did

Aquapura
Aquapura

Beat me to it. Growing up we called the TA a “fire chicken.” Granted my adolescent lust cars of the 80’s weren’t much better. Today you can get a stock 4-dr sedan to run under 6 sec 0-60 easily. Since Ford wants to give up on cars I’ve been eyeing a Fusion Sport. AWD and 325HP with comfortable seating for 4 and fuel economy that isn’t too shabby. That vehicle would blow the doors off a Corvette from 30+ years ago, never mind a Pontiac….and it’s a family sedan, not a “sports car.”

The truth is cars today are better than they have ever been on so many metrics – power, handling, safety, economy. I personally LOVE the styling of the 1960’s vehicles but the love ends at the shape of the sheet metal. We can long for the America of the 1970’s but seriously the vehicles shouldn’t be what’s missed.

Unmarried
Unmarried

I was also young when I saw the film. I knew a kid that had a basset hound like from the movie. But, at the time, more than the dog and even the car, I wanted to take home Sally Field.

A very nice commemoration. Thanks

Maggie
Maggie

She added the human element to the Bandit. Otherwise, he was just a big kid.

Lone Wolf
Lone Wolf

I was just a wee lad too, but what I most remember is Sally Fields nice rump in the air…

Disparity Flux
Disparity Flux

This commercial inspired the shades style of many “speed-trap” sheriffs in the early 70’s.

Disparity Flux
Disparity Flux

My post above is a lead-in to this vignette.

While on a family camping trip in the summer of 1972, my father was waved over in a speed trap set up in front of a sheriff’s department building in Signal Mountain, TN. We were traveling downhill in an Olds 98 towing a fully loaded pop-up WheelCamper with a 14ft fiberglass skiff strapped on its top. The speed limit changed from 45 mph to 35 mph just around a blind 90 degree right hand bend about 200 feet uphill from the sheriff’s department building. Although we were already slowing down from 45 to make the bend, my father did not know the speed limit dropped to 35 and before he could slow to 35 he was being waved over by a deputy standing in the road. As the overweight deputy sporting amber tinted shades walked toward the car, my sister, brother and I sitting in the back seat knowingly glanced at each other. But before we could openly remark on how we must be in Dodge commercial, my father turned to us and in his sternest voice said, “Do Not Say A Word.”

subwo
subwo

Driving through Alabama in a 72 Chevy Impala in 1976 with yankee NE plates. Cop pulls over my dad and asks where we are heading and tells us to keep driving. Watermelon were a dime and my dad filled up trunk but his sis had nowhere to put them.

LibertyToad
LibertyToad

Indeed, it WAS a better America back then. Sadly, America is dying.

KaD
KaD

You know what I like about the Trans Am? It’s one of the few cars I can recognize. All the damn cars look the same now! I’m lucky to have a Nissan Cube or I’d never find the damn thing in a parking lot.

Disparity Flux
Disparity Flux

Beer run. Question is, what brand?

Maggie
Maggie

Original Coors. Colorado Kookaid.

My cousin’s boy attended the Colorado School of Mines and he stopped by the Coors plant for the “short tour” almost daily. Any college students from there know about the “short tour.”

https://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g33447-d107876-r133549149-Coors_Brewery-Golden_Colorado.html

Imagine being able to stop by for three beers every day.

Maggie
Maggie

Loren was in the top tier of his class and got the first 90K position out of his classmates as a petroleum engineer, so he’s doing not too shabby for a short tour sort of dude. He and my son are exactly the same age, but very different. My son really never has learned to like beer. He’ll take a shot with Mom once in a while, but he really doesn’t like the beer.

Genetics is not the only factor; there is also environmental input.

Disparity Flux
Disparity Flux

I was fortunate to take several tours of the Coors brewery in Golden, CO in the late 70’s. Due to Coors not being distributed east of the Mississippi during that time period, it was highly prized by southwest Ohio college students over locally produced beers by Hudepohl-Schoenling breweries in Cincinnati.

My 1976-79 winter/summer quarter co-op job as a University of Cincinnati aerospace engineering student was at the Martin Marietta facility in Littleton, CO. Coors was so highly regarded by my dorm mates, even above Rolling Rock and Schoenling Little Kings, that I had to come back with at least two cases of Coors on ice, or in their words “not return at all!” My best 1200 mile non-stop return trip time on I-70 was 21 hours (speed limit was still 55) in a ’69 Chevy Impala 2-door coupe with 4-barrel, 327 v8. And yes, I used a CB to monitor trucker’s “smokey the bear” warnings while traveling 15-20 mph above the speed limit.

subwo
subwo

My neighbors both work at bud plant north a ways. The get 7 cases a month each as employees and cannot drink it all.

Grog
Grog

Why, it must be the Heavenly Goat variety!

I’d suggest the small batch

SMALL BATCH – Tonight We Ragnorok

Imperial Stout aged in a Bulleit Rye Wiskey barrel. (sic)

“The ‘Heavenly Goat’ origin story takes place in Valhalla of Norse Mythology. Heiðrún the Goat, stands on it’s hind legs biting the buds that grow on the ‘Tree of Life’. From her teats runs the mead that fills a cauldron so large that all of the Nordic Warriors that have fallen, and are carried to Valhalla on the wings of the Valkyries are able to drink.”

22winmag - Hug a Nazi, punch a Socialist!
22winmag - Hug a Nazi, punch a Socialist!

Upvote for one Eric Peters article per week MAXIMUM.

Downvote for intravenous Eric Peters articles until the giant EMP in the sky.

KeyserSusie
KeyserSusie

1968 I raced a Firebird up the mountain going to Big Bear Ca. I was driving my older brother’s Austin Healey 100 6, with wire wheel knock offs. I had recently completed – completely rewiring the convertible with a new harness come all the way from England. While home on leave from his Air Force enlistment, my brother had had a slight fender bender that had shorted out the wiring and burned the whole wiring system.

It was an impromptu race as my friend and I cruised in the crisp winter air, late at night. The Firebird came up from behind us and challenged us. So I put the pedal to the metal and took the inside lane of the steep incline. I soon found out what oversteer was, a ubiquitous fault of the little Healey’s. The little racing sportster quickly oversteered and the nose planted suddenly on the mountain side. We were damn lucky not to fall over the downhill side and despite not having seat belts, we both were unharmed but the car was totaled. The Firebird never even slowed down…

And Coors was unattainable outside of Colorado, save a few states. I recall going to the Coors brewery when I was in 7th grade with my father. They served free beer, even to me back in 1961. I recall the taste but not the buzz and feeling pretty special.

And in 1970 I recall visiting my girlfriend in Ft. Collins and going to bars where the 3.2 brew flowed all night long in the college town.

Stay Thirsty my friends…

Maggie
Maggie

Gross. You just reminded me of all the bad 3.2 beer I drank while in Oklahoma, Whosie Susie.

Bleh

TC
TC

I also grew up on the Bandit. It wasn’t until much later that I figured out those cars were heavy and slow. But you have to keep it in context of the other cars that were being made in that era. Every other manufacturer had pretty much given up on performance, and most didn’t even pretend to care. The Trans Am was a big *FUCK YOU* to the status quo of emasculated shitboxes and underpowered land yachts, and it’s just what America needed at the time.

“Let’s paint it black and put a giant screaming chicken on the hood.”
“Fuck yeah!”

Dr. Winston O'boogie
Dr. Winston O'boogie

I have two sons. One is 29; the other is 17. I can assure you they both are aware that Israeli Mossad and the Zionist Neocons conspired to do 9/11. They also know the same cabal killed JFK and RFK. Perhaps they are the exception to the rule. Home schooling has a lot to do with that I’m sure.

Maggie
Maggie

Good for you. I didn’t homeschool. I chose a private school affiliated with a nondenominational church. It was a fair compromise, but I sometimes wish I’d controlled even more of what my son viewed and thought about.

I am betting your sons are quite prepared for the hard truths. Mine is.

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