Bugles From Heaven
Truck horns were a profound sonic experience.
Part 1: Internationally Trained, Rooted in Canada
After driving 3,000 kilometres across the country in his 2006 Volvo station wagon, Calvin the barber arrived in Ottawa a few days before the truck horns were silenced by a court injunction. Freedom Convoy participants were demanding to be heard. They wanted their lives back. Rather than acknowledging their concerns, officials had smeared and marginalized them. Hell yes, those horns were loud.
Humans respond to sound often unconsciously. Some music brings tears to our eyes. Other music makes us want to dance. Soothing, 432 Hz music is used for meditation.
Calvin says the horns were a profound sonic experience. “The honking on a cell phone, or on the TV, or even through headphones wasn’t pleasant,” Calvin says. “I’m not going to disagree with that.” But on the ground in Ottawa, it was another matter:
When you were there in real life and everyone was honking, I swear to God you could levitate. The horns were like bugles from heaven, bouncing off the cement, bouncing off the Hill, bouncing off the concrete jungle in the nation’s capital.
It was like an angel, a symphonic resonance. It was real, it was very f**king real. You'll never feel that, ever again.
And when they put in the horn injunction, I can only explain it as a dark sludge, like a dark cloud, a mist that crept in.
Revvin’ Kevin, a trucker parked near the stage in front of Parliament Hill, is from Calvin’s home town of Medicine Hat, Alberta. They didn’t know each other beforehand.
Calvin says Revvin’ Kevin - described as a ‘character’ by other Convoy participants - played a crucial role during the Ottawa protest:
There was one guy in the center. He’s the baddest mofo out there. And whether you hate him or love him, he was the heartbeat. Revvin’ Frickin’ Kevin. He held that heartbeat. Because when you walked through the dark sludge after the horn injunction, and everyone was scared to do the horn, he didn't give a f**k.
He would honk his horns, he would rev it, and it was a music box. I still say that truck should be in the Music Hall of Fame. The way he played that Freightliner, that motor. The way he had those horns tuned up.
These guys had a load to deliver. It was a load for the people, and it was called Freedom. On the damn doorstep.
Calvin continues,
There’s always wild ones, right? Kevin kept that heartbeat. He reminded you about that freedom, that you could do anything and be anything in this country if you work hard, if you have heart and spirit, and not have an overlord government crushing your dreams.
Revvin’ Kevin held that shit down. That’s a fact.
Should you, dear reader, click any of the above stills and take the time to watch the 20-minute video featuring Revvin’ Kevin, I guarantee you’ll find something you weren’t expecting behind those tattoos and that larger-than-life personality. (Profanity warning.)
next installment: Everyone Malfunctioned
Sam, the Nova Scotia mechanic, describes repairing Revvin’ Kevin’s drive shaft here.
See also:
The Continuous Honking Myth: No, the truckers didn't honk for 24 days straight.
Sometimes All You Have is Your Horn: 'When a mugger holds a knife to your throat and demands your wallet, you scream to high heaven hoping someone will help.'
I must admit, the sound of a truck horn brought me back from despair.
“…I swear to god you could levitate…” 🎉