Reid Ferguson

Lyrics

Made it to the county line
Burning rubber, outrunning siren
And no headlights don't help much
When the sun's on the cusp of rising

I had that '40 Ford done right
A hundred off the heads, brand-new black-wall tires
Some rock-hard springs out back
A weekly load, 200 lb of Wilke's County shine

Well it's 1951 and my Flathead's no match
For this Red-Ram Hemi right behind me closing fast
I'm running more than liquor I am running for my life
I've earned myself six years and every day's been worth my strife

I tried to make it honestly
Back in 1945
I got back home with all I'd learned
And I built the fastest Fords east of Tennessee

I proved my speed against all the best
At Wilkesboro and High Point, and Occoneechee
And it really don't pay too much to win
Just enough to keeps the lights on for the shop and family

Well it's 1951 and my Flathead's no match
For this Red-Ram Hemi right behind me closing fast
I'm running more than liquor I am running for my life
I've earned myself six years and every day's been worth my strife

And ain't no city-folk drive up the mountain
A two-bay shop not even close to town
To have their luxury land-yacht looked over
So I swelled my income running Call's liquor

One last hope before the state gets involved
And up them Brushy Mountain roads in the woods that I call home
Take Midnight Curve with a devil's nerve
'Cause that big old '51 can't turn at all

Well it's 1951 and my luck is no match
For this misconstrued justice in my mirror, closing fast
They know who I am, and I swear I'm a good guy
I need to get out of the car but there's glass all in my eyes