The Highwayman! Oy!
Ah, the good old days. The days when you could build an entire network show around a vehicle. Airwolf... Knight Rider... even the Dukes of Hazzard. If a writer came into a network office today pitching a show like that, he'd get laughed out of the room faster than you could say "General Lee." Let's face it: Networks today need to concentrate on important stuff like vampire love stories and shows about storage units.
In the 1980s, vehicle-based shows were all the rage. No "you've been voted off the island" here; Instead, it was all about horsepower, lasers and talking cars. And amidst all of the big movers and shakers of the genre, there existed a short-lived thunderball of fresh, pungent cheese called "The Highwayman."
OK, so get this: Fast forward to post-apocalyptic America. Society is in a shambles, and trying desperately to get back on its feet. Oh, and apparently, everyone seems to live in the midwest near Phoenix. Anyway, the government has appointed a team of federal marshals to "right wrongs where ordinary laws do not reach," and to transport some really secret stuff around. This elite team drives around in a huge 18-wheeler loaded with a bazillion rocket launchers, guns, and a state-of-the-art detachable helicopter. Damn.
The team itself was made up of such stellar actors as Sam J. Jones (aka 1980's iconic "Flash Gordon"), Jane Badler ("Diana" from the timeless, awesome "V" miniseries), Tim Russ (otherwise known as "Tuvok" from the barely watchable series, "Star Trek Voyager")... and last but not least, the "big" draw of the show: JACKO.
Mark "Jacko" Jackson was a former Australian Football player who ignited the screen in the late 80s as the extremely painful-to-watch (yet compelling) spokesman for Energizer batteries: Each commercial ending with his charming "OY!" Apparently, a network executive felt that this was just enough dramatic chops to qualify him to sit shotgun in this televised bizarro "Mad Max."
Thankfully, the public didn't think so. The show lasted a mere 10 episodes and was never heard from again. Some contend that the show was indeed good, but the writers' strike at the time halted production, making it next to impossible to ressurrect the show later. However, common sense tells us that a show about a couple of dumbasses and a battery spokesman riding around in Mack truck armed with warheads wouldn't have survived on the cusp of the "Smells like Teen Spirit" era. Regardless of the underlying reasons for its cancellation, the death of this show was quick and merciful.
And what of Jacko? That's a mystery for another day. But we can only hope he hasn't been spit out the bottom of the Austrailan porn industry. Oy!
In the 1980s, vehicle-based shows were all the rage. No "you've been voted off the island" here; Instead, it was all about horsepower, lasers and talking cars. And amidst all of the big movers and shakers of the genre, there existed a short-lived thunderball of fresh, pungent cheese called "The Highwayman."
OK, so get this: Fast forward to post-apocalyptic America. Society is in a shambles, and trying desperately to get back on its feet. Oh, and apparently, everyone seems to live in the midwest near Phoenix. Anyway, the government has appointed a team of federal marshals to "right wrongs where ordinary laws do not reach," and to transport some really secret stuff around. This elite team drives around in a huge 18-wheeler loaded with a bazillion rocket launchers, guns, and a state-of-the-art detachable helicopter. Damn.
The team itself was made up of such stellar actors as Sam J. Jones (aka 1980's iconic "Flash Gordon"), Jane Badler ("Diana" from the timeless, awesome "V" miniseries), Tim Russ (otherwise known as "Tuvok" from the barely watchable series, "Star Trek Voyager")... and last but not least, the "big" draw of the show: JACKO.
Mark "Jacko" Jackson was a former Australian Football player who ignited the screen in the late 80s as the extremely painful-to-watch (yet compelling) spokesman for Energizer batteries: Each commercial ending with his charming "OY!" Apparently, a network executive felt that this was just enough dramatic chops to qualify him to sit shotgun in this televised bizarro "Mad Max."
Thankfully, the public didn't think so. The show lasted a mere 10 episodes and was never heard from again. Some contend that the show was indeed good, but the writers' strike at the time halted production, making it next to impossible to ressurrect the show later. However, common sense tells us that a show about a couple of dumbasses and a battery spokesman riding around in Mack truck armed with warheads wouldn't have survived on the cusp of the "Smells like Teen Spirit" era. Regardless of the underlying reasons for its cancellation, the death of this show was quick and merciful.
And what of Jacko? That's a mystery for another day. But we can only hope he hasn't been spit out the bottom of the Austrailan porn industry. Oy!
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