Several years ago our family spent a week as guests at a motel deep in the Appalachian Mountains. The motel manager was a nice enough sort of guy, forty-ish and very talkative. He was an intriguing fellow. The first day there he told my wife of having previously lived in Florida where he worked as a scuba diver. "I only left because I was attacked by a killer shark," he said. "It almost got me. Otherwise, I guess I'd still be there." The following day I was anxious to hear the story for myself. The prospects of hearing the blow by blow details of his encounter with the shark were exciting. At last I spotted him, walked over and said: "I understand you had a real adventure before moving here." Immediately he launched into the story of his prior experiences as a professional boxer, on his wa…