When I was at Uni, towards the end of the summer vacation, I used to hitch-hike alone (imagine doing that nowadays!) down to London from Edinburgh, to get a student flight from London Airport to various places.
I carried a little haversack, and weighing only seven stone and with my long hair in two plaits I must have looked about ten.

Lots of lovely lorry drivers used to stop for me, and they were perfect gentlemen, very avuncular.

As I was as thin as a rake, they'd pull in to a lorry-drivers' cafe, and ply me with a full English breakfast (bacon, eggs, sausages, fried bread, black pudding, baked beans etc) and insist on paying for it.
Tea (in giant-sized mugs) was almost black, you could stand your spoon up in it.
Not once was I in any danger from these blokes. And the food was mouth-watering.

When I go to heaven (if I qualify) there will be one of these greasy-spoon cafes near the gate, and inside will be all those lorry drivers waiting to welcome me!