Galen and I were both headed south on Interstate 15 en route to Los Angeles. About 50 miles north of St. George Utah, I got on the radio and told him that with his help, we could mess with the minds of the Mormons in St. George. That town had a number of people who had nothing better to do all day than listen to their CB radios.
When we were a few miles outside of St. George, I got on the radio and said, "Hey Galen, what's this I keep hearing about some moron table-knocker choir here in Utah?"
"I don't know. Why would anyone want a choir of morons anyway? And what's with the table knocking?"
That's all it took.
We could hear St. George Mormons ranting about those stupid truck drivers almost all the way to Las Vegas.