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Jesse hadn't finished the back 40 yet but it was time for lunch. He walked in, happy to see that Daisy already had a hearty meal on the table for him. It was no surprise. He had called her on the walkie talkie a few minutes earlier to let her know he was coming. He sat down, folded his hands and muttered a quiet prayer and starting eating some fried chicken, left over from supper yesterday. Daisy then walked in from her bedroom. She looked at her beloved uncle with concern. "Now Uncle Jesse, you look plumb wore out." He quickly responded. "Now listen here young lady. Don't you worry none about me. Maudeen is doin' all the work....and thank ya kindly for lunch." She still looked concerned, even motherly. "Now, why don't you just plow the back 40 the easy way, with our tractor. You know I rebuilt that carburetor." Jesse put his finger over his own lips and spoke quietly. "Now you just hush. Maudeen's right outside and the windows 'er open. She might hear ya. And by the way, have you heard from dem boys?"

Meanwhile across town, Garrett Duke sits in his small apartment, staring at an old magazine he had somehow managed to keep through his move from Atlanta. Only making him to think back to when life was great and where he felt like he belonged. Knew he belonged. He was accepted. His gang was more than just friends. They were his family. Yet here is stuck in this small hicktown where he stands out from everyone else. He can't escape everyone's judgmental stares and the silence that follows him around when he enters the room. Suddenly a knock brings him out of his thoughts and he stares grudgingly at the door. "Yo Garrett," his neighbor across the hall shouts out to remind him he has one friend who seems to get him and accepts him. One. "you gotta open up and see this!" Garrett rolls his eyes. He may be a friend, but he's always so positive and excited, which gets on his nerves. Garrett slowly stands up to walk across the the small hallway and over to his locked door. "Um. I'm not sure I know who you are," he states dryly, "or if I can trust you." "Trust me?" his neighbor's excited voice cracks, "Who bailed you out of jail a year ago when you moved in? It wasn't your family or your supposed friends back home." He once again throws in his face as a constant reminder of how much he owes him. "It was me. I got you out of jail and out of trouble. And you can't trust me? I guess I should have thought twice before trusting you enough to spend my money and time on you." "Relax," Garrett states as he opens the door, "it was a joke. What's got you all excited for?" "Lookie what's in the paper today!" he shoves the Hazzard daily newspaper into Garrett's chest before he walks past him, welcoming himself into his apartment before Garrett slams the door behind him. Holding the paper and turning around to face him, he points to the paper. "Well...look at it Mr. Serious." Garrett rolls his eyes again before he reluctantly looks down at the front page where the short fat commissioner's picture takes half of the front page of the commissioner smugly standing next to an old race car, his trademark cigar clenched in his mouth. Above the picture in thick black bold letters read: Commissioner J.D. Hogg's Annual Car Race is Back! And Bigger and Badder than Ever Before! Winner takes $1,000 Home with the Gold Trophy! $75 Entry fee! "Why you so excited about this?" Garrett slowly asks, "You know something is in it for him and that dimwitted sheriff of his." "You seriously have to ask me that? You got the winning car right outside!" his neighbor shouts excitedly, pointing out the wind, "Think of what you would do with all that money! Heck forget the money," he laughs, "think of the glory rights when you beat your brother and cousin in that ugly orange car!" Garrett raises a gray eye up at that thought. He was sent to Hazzard to find his long lost twin brother his parents had abandoned in hopes of it changing his ways and to keep him out of jail. Or death. Whatever came first. According to his mother. But it has only built resentment and anger within him at everyone. Especially at everyone ranting and raving about the orange car that can't be stopped. Is so much better than every other car. "Or are you afraid of losing to them?" his neighbor jabs at him. "I won't lose to them. Or to anyone," Garrett angrily corrects him as he throws the paper down on his old scratched wooden table. "So you say," his neighbor shrugs as he plops down on Garrett's old torn couch, locking his fingers behind his head, "but no one around here has ever beat them two. Or that car." "Only because I haven't raced them or that ugly car," Garrett snaps back him before slowly sitting down on a wooden kitchen table chair. "Well...this is your time to prove yoself, Garrett," he intentionally uses Garrett's street language on him with a big confident smile, "to the town. To your family. To yourself." Garrett sarcastically laughs. "I don't have to prove nothing to myself. I already know that I'm better than anyone. My car is better than any other car," he dryly states shaking his head. "But Roy." "Roy's in the house!" Roy grins wildly at Garrett. "Don't remind me," Garrett rolls his stormy gray eyes at him. "Well what's your but Roy about?" Roy questions confidently. "Why are you so excited about this?" Garrett slowly questions as he grabs a cigarette off the table and points at the paper with the cigarette before lighting it, "Why you want me to enter it? Why not you?" Roy laughs hysterically for a moment before calming down to wave the smoke away from his face. "Well bro," he throws the street language at Garrett, "you know I can't drive worth nothing for starters. I don't have a fast car. Nor the money to get a race car. But you," Roy points at Garrett with a broad smile, "got that nice looking Mustang sitting out back that could leave any other car in the dust." Garrett shrugs it off before smashing out his cigarette out in a can. "Yeah maybe so," he dryly responds, "but why you so excited about me entering this so called race? What's in it for you?" "Hey now. I'm your friend...we support each other," Roy smiles mockingly, "plus, I want to be part of Hazzard history when that orange car has found some decent competition out on the race track! As for me," he shrugs, "I'll be riding shot gun...along for the ride!" Garrett slowly nods at the idea. "Well," he finally states, "I got nothing better to do while I'm stuck in your hicktown...I might as well as show them what I got!" "Dang right!" Roys states energetically, "Show them what you are made of!" Cue Roger

UFO Where the Dukes' "Little Cousin" came from.

I love it Hobie!

How's this one? ( Remember this?) " I'm sorry daddy! Am I still your little tic turd? Yes junior....you're still my little tic turd!"

Me either!

No but I do remember the vehicles on the back of the car carrier kept changing!