The Hell's Angels, back in the day, used to have a pretty funny gag. There they are, a convoy of full-dress middle finger terrorizing some stretch of highway on their way to take over a vacant lot or something, at the height of the biker panic, and they would pull over to politely help some stranded motorist change their tire and hand them a cheeky business card as they left.

I like the bit so much I make a habit of it, and it's nice when I drive down some stretch of road and see a downed tree that I remember moving out of the road before the road crews even knew it was down. It's funny to be the help nobody expected. It's even funnier when I'm dressed like an absolute lunatic and they have to reorient from "My God, Martha, get the revolver!" to "It has been so long since I believed that a stranger would care enough to spit on me were I ablaze." I even have a little catchphrase and everything. After I've pulled the tree out of the road with my super

"The youth of this country have only two heroes, Ralph Nader and Billy Jack."
--Tom Laughlin, filmmaker, actor, and paragon of modest self-assessment.

Like every other kid in the 1970s, I saw Billy Jack (1969-1971... Later rereleased in 1973) and was impressed. I managed to avoid the reviled sequels (though I'm told that The Trial of Billy Jack (1974) grossed more, at the time,* than either Godfather II or Young Frankenstein

"They're late - where are they? Should be home by now. Has it ever been this long? Worried. If they don't come back, what will happen to me?"

It was getting dark out. I couldn't help fidgeting with my toys. They were no longer fun, but I had nothing else. I tried to distract myself.

"Should I call for help?"

Last time I did that, they got in trouble. The people came and wanted to take me away from my own parents! What a relief they let me have my own way. Who did those