A truck driver stopped at a roadside diner one day to grab some lunch. He ordered a cheeseburger, a coffee and a slice of apple pie. Just as he was about to eat them, three big hairy bikers walked in.
The first biker grabbed the trucker’s cheeseburger and took a big bite from it. The second biker picked up the trucker’s coffee and downed it in one gulp. The third biker ate the trucker’s
apple pie.
The truck driver didn’t do anything or say a word as all this went on.
When they finished, he just paid the bill, nodded politely to the waitress, and walked out without saying a single word.
The three bikers burst into laughter.
“Look at that coward! Didn’t even have the guts to speak up!” one of them snorted.
The waitress, wiping a glass behind the counter, glanced outside and raised an eyebrow. “He may not say much,” she said calmly, “but he sure can drive.”
The bikers looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
She pointed toward the window.
They rushed over — and stared in shock.
Their motorcycles, which had been parked neatly out front, were now a crumpled mess of twisted chrome and shattered plastic.
The trucker was already a tiny dot on the highway, his taillights blinking in the distance.