A tired trucker pulls into a roadside diner after a long haul and orders a simple meal: a cheeseburger, a cup of coffee, and a slice of cherry pie. He sits quietly at a small table, minding his own business, just looking forward to eating in peace. The diner hums with low conversation and clinking plates, nothing unusual. That calm lasts only a few minutes before the door swings open and three massive bikers walk in, laughing loudly and scanning the room like they own it.

The bikers spot the trucker sitting alone and immediately decide he’s an easy target. They swagger over without asking. When the waitress sets the food down, the first biker grabs the cheeseburger and takes a big bite. The second biker lifts the coffee and drains it in a few gulps. The third biker takes the cherry pie, smirks, and shoves it into his mouth. The diner goes quiet, waiting to see what the trucker will do next.

The trucker doesn’t yell. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t even look angry. He calmly stands up, reaches into his pocket, drops some money on the table, and walks out of the diner without saying a word. The bikers burst out laughing, convinced they’ve just scared off a weak man who didn’t have the guts to stand up for himself.

One of the bikers turns to the waitress and says, “Not much of a man, was he?”
The waitress watches the trucker through the window as he climbs into his rig, starts the engine, and slowly pulls away. Then she looks back at the bikers and shakes her head.

“No,” she says quietly. “And not much of a truck driver either.”

The bikers frown, confused, just as a loud crash echoes from outside. Through the window, they see their three motorcycles crushed beneath the wheels of the trucker’s eighteen-wheeler as it disappears down the highway.