Never mess with an old trucker

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For 15 years, I’ve worked nights at Ed’s Truck Stop, serving truckers and travelers. One rainy night, an old man in his sixties ordered apple pie and milk, keeping to himself. Three loud, leather-clad bikers entered, looking for trouble. They mocked the old man, stubbed a cigarette in his pie, spit in his milk, and smashed his plate. Unfazed, he paid with two crumpled bills and left quietly. The bikers laughed, but I pointed outside—where their

motorcycles lay crushed under an eighteen-wheeler’s wheels. The old man’s truck roared away. The bikers, stunned, ran out into the rain. I felt a warm satisfaction; the old man handled it calmly, letting their actions teach the lesson. Two truckers chuckled, and one, Marv, toasted silently to those who don’t waste words. The diner hummed on, and I smiled—some nights, karma works perfectly.