Eastb

(Note to some animal-rights activists who have contacted me about previous columns: In no way am I endorsing the act of striking an alligator or other reptile in the head with a stump or stump-like object. But, in defense of the actions of the aforementioned Mr. Moses, he was, as the song states, used as gator bait by his daddy and later had his left arm bitten off "clean up to the elbow.")

Two years and several hits later, Reed showed up - in cartoon form - on "The New Scooby-Doo Movies," singing "Pretty Mary Sunlite" as the gang searched for his stolen guitar. For an 8-year-old with a stack of Jerry Reed 45s and a brand new second-hand hi-fi, it was nirvana - Scooby and Jerry framed in our GE black-and-white console, big as life on the small screen.

Perhaps bitten by the acting bug or given some good advice by Scooby's agent, Reed then embarked on a successful Hollywood career, with his crowning achievement being, in my view, his portrayal of Cledus "Snowman" Snow (and no, as he tells an operator, he is not Hank Snow's brother) in "Smokey and the Bandit," a movie I watch every time it comes on TV, which actually eats up about 45 percent of my life.

Sure, it's not great. It's silly at times and poorly edited and the cuss-free sanitized TV version has some bizarre dubbing, but it features two of my favorite performances - Jackie Gleason's scene-chewing turn as the foul-mouthed Buford T. Justice and Jerry Reed's wisecracking throttle jockey the Snowman. And a dog named Fred. And lots of car crashes. And the song "Eastbound and Down." And two characters named Enos. Did I say it wasn't great? Right, it's not great, it's freakin' awesome.

When I was 14 and "Smokey and the Bandit" played for countless weeks at the twin cinema on the five-lane, I wanted to smoke the tires on a Trans-Am, outsmart Sheriff Justice, take my hat off for Sally Field's Frog and hang out with the Snowman.

Nearly 30 years later, I still do. But it looks like I missed my chance.