While surfing the internet one day, I stumbled upon a B-grade horror movie called Joy Ride 2: Dead Ahead. It’s the unheard-of sequel to the equally obscure Joy Ride. It stars a bunch of unknown actors, it’s directed by a nobody, and its entire production budget probably isn’t enough to even hire Vin Diesel’s stunt double for a cameo.
But Joy Ride has an excellent villain in Rusty Nail, whose sheer malice and sadistic streak give the movie some oomph. He might not be as cool as Jason Voorhees of Friday The 13th infamy or Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare On Elm Street, but Rusty Nail has something they don’t have: a big, bad truck. With an evil engine that screams, an almighty air horn that shouts, and a superstructure that looks so sinister. Its massive pair of chimney-stack exhausts spew ominous clouds of smoke. And the colour of the metallic monster is a wicked shade between black and dark.
In the flick, Rusty Nail and his trusty motor charge from truck stop to truck stop at the speed of night, leaving death and destruction in their wake. My unhealthy obsession with the trucking madman grows. By the end of the show, I want to become a bitter trucker, too, but without the blood and guts, which can remain on celluloid where they belong.
Actually, I just want Rusty Nail’s truck – unrated and uncut. I really want to drive his lorry in all its glory.
