A cheerful truck driver pulled up at a roadside cafe in the middle of the night for a dinner stop. Halfway through his meal, three wild-looking motorcyclists roared up–bearded, leather-jacketed, filthy.
For no reason at all, they selected the truck driver as a target. One poured pepper over his head, another stole his apple pie, the third deliberately tipped his coffee over. The truck driver never said one word, just stood up, paid his check, and left.
“That truck driver sure ain’t much of a fighter,” sneered one of the bikers.
The girl behind the counter, peering out into the night, added, “He doesn’t seem to be much of a truck driver, either. He just ran over three motorcycles.”