I’m going to go ahead and say that I hate story songs. Probably because they were pretty popular when I was growing up and since we only ever listened to country radio stations that played gospel music on the weekends, I heard a lot of this stuff. The funny thing is that gospel shows on the radio thought that if something seemed vaguely sentimental it passed as “Christian” and a lot of these things ended up on there.
Yeah, I know. He can’t walk. And his daddy is dead. Recipe for a good Hallmark Christmas special, if you ask me. But be honest and PLEASE COMMENT if this thing made you laugh. (There’s another song I heard recently that did just about the same thing for me–”Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot”)
The thing that kills this song for me is the use of the CB radio. Folks, if you still have one of these things, don’t let your child play with it. You know, I am glad that lil’ ol’ Teddy Bear’s story ended up pleasant and sweet with 18-wheelers lined up around the block, but that’s dangerous. I can tell you from experience that getting on a CB and letting truckers know you’re a little kid is an invitation for disaster. When I was little my cousins and I played on a relative’s CB out in the garage. Bad idea. Little girls should not talk on a CB because truckers like to say nasty things back.
And that is why when I hear this song I can’t think of kind-hearted souls concerned about a little boy. Instead I think, “Buncha pervs.”
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Oklahoma girl through-and-through. Writer, aspiring domestic goddess and totalitarian dictator. Taking on the world one carb-induced coma at a time. Founder of GodlyGals, a ministry for women established in 2002. Co-host of Picture Shows & Petticoats. 
WHO WRITES THESE THINGS?!?
my uncle is a trucker and my cousin and i got on his CB one time and had vaguely the same experience you did.
gross old men.
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I simply refuse to listen to story songs. Most of them just annoy me to high heaven. I guess I, too, have no heart. There’s only one story song that makes me cry and that’s “Where’ve You Been” by Kathy Mattea and even though it makes me cry I still refuse to listen to it willingly.
Once when we were kids we were playing with some walkie talkies at a friend’s house and some truckers picked up our voices. One got on there and said we were brats for playing with a CB like that and that he knew where we were and was gonna come tell our parents and call the police. I was 8…how was I to know he was full of it? Instead I ran to my mom bawling my face off scared to death of the trucker that was gonna come put me in jail.