The Ding-A-Ling was married to the Golden Ram on Saturday in a formal double ring ceremony over CB radio channel 23, the Rev. Little Bit of Heaven officiating.

It was, as far as anyone could tell, the first CB wedding ever in the area, and everyone, including Mickey Mouse and Moonlight Mama, agreed it was a lovely ceremony.

The bride, who was given away in marriage by her brother, Big John, looked charming in a 1974 Green Pontiac with chrome trimming, while the groom was resplendent in a 1977 gray and red Dodge Aspen. Both bride and groom were too nervous to say their vows, so they were read over the radio by the matron of honor and the best man, until it came time for the crucial words.

"Break for KOQ7026," said Father Daniel O-Leary, known on the air that day as Little Bit of Heaen.

"You've got the Golden Ram- KOQ7026 on, go ahead," said 57-year-old Frank Bozzuto, the groom.

"Will you accept this woman completely as your wife, to love and understand, to stay by her side in sickness and in health, at all times for all the days of your life?" asked Little Bit of Heaven.

"I do," said the Golden Ram, and so did the Ding-A-Ling, whose name on the marriage license was actually Gloria Huneycutt. The wedding party then drove slowly by the carnival rides at the Prince William's County fairgrounds and parked their cars.

The actual exchanging of rings took place on a dusty wooden stage at the fairgrounds before a crow of several hundred CB'ers, in town for a radio jamboree being sponsored by the Citizen's Radio Federation of Virginia.

The wedding was followed by a reception at the Manassas Community Center, where refreshments included popcorn and 10 kegs of beer, and where, of course, the inevitable questions of etiquette arose.

"Are we charging the wedding party for the beer?" Ron Carroll, president of Legal CB operators of America wanted to know. It was decided that, no. the newlyweds needn't pay the 55 cents (50 cents for refills) that the reception guests were charged.

They pondered, too, when to cut the cake, a 60-pound, four-tiered affair that was topped not by the traditional statues of a bride and groom but by a real live CB radio that chattered away with congratulations for the happy couple from passing motorists.

All those present, of course, marveled at this creation, but the baker of the cake, Don Staub, known on the air as Uncle Donut, was not pleased.

"Are we charging the wedding party for the beer?" Ron Carroll, president of Legal CB operators of America wanted to know. It was decided that, no. the newlyweds needn't pay the 55 cents (50 cents for refills) that the reception guests too, when to cut the cake, 60-pound, four-tiered affair that was topped not by the traditional statues of brides and groom but by a real live CB radio that chattered away with congratulations for the happy couple from passing motorists.

All those present, of course, marveled at this creation, but the baker of the cake, Don Staub, known on the air as Uncle Donut, was not pleased.

"To me," said Uncle Donut, "it's very poor. I'm not proud of it at all. I would have liked to put lilies of the valley along the side and covered the antenna wire with a spray of roses. "But," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I didn't have the time!"

And time, it turned out, was what had brought the newly married couple together in the first place.

It was last January, in fact. She, a recent widow, had only had her CB a short time. She bought it, she said, at the insistence of her daughters, Gail (China Doll) and Jody (Teddy Bear), who thought it would make her less afraid to go out at night now that she was on her own.

So, one winter morning, she put out a 10-36, which means, in CB language, that she asked those on the channel what time it was. A voice came on the air. It was 7:20, he said, and suggested they moved to a less crowded channel.

He was charmed from the start, "It was the way she talked," said the Golden Ra. who got his name from the brand of golfballs he uses. "She talked so clearly, I knew she was a person of quality, and that's what you look for, isn't, quality."

Her daughters fell in love with him and, then, so did she, "I never realized how much they missed having a father," said the Ding-A-Ling, who got her handle because she worked for the telephone company. "He was the kindest man I'd ever met."

So, the CB novelty aside, it was still the same old story. As time went by, their morning radio conversations were longer, and soon he persuaded the reculsive widow to let him take her and her daughters on day trips.

"We went everywhere together," said the Golden Ram. "Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Hershey Park, King's Dominion. We saw it all."

Then, in June, as the world grew green and they sat surrounded by their fellow CBers drinking beer at the Lighthouse Restaurant on Rte. 50, he popped the question.

"I said to her, I says, 'how about it Ding-A-Ling?" the Golden Ram remembered. "How'd you like to get married at the Jamborce?"

She said that would fine, as long as it was a formal ceremony.