I’ve worked nights at Ed’s Truck Stop long enough to know when trouble walks in. That night, it came in the form of three bikers looking to stir things up. Their target? A quiet old man minding his own business.
They destroyed his pie, ruined his milk, and laughed when he didn’t fight back. He just stood, left cash on the counter, and walked out.
The bikers thought they’d won.
Until they saw their bikes.
Crushed. Under a semi.
The old trucker didn’t gloat. Didn’t stick around. He just drove off, leaving them standing in the rain, staring at the wreckage.
Sometimes, the best revenge doesn’t need a single word.
